VERMEER, Johannes

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: The painting first appeared in the sale Jan van Loon, Delft, 1736. It was subsequently. bought by John Hope, Amsterdam, in 1774. His sons fled to England when the French invaded Holland in 1794, and the painting seems to have remained the property of the family until the whole collection was sold in 1898 to the art dealers P. and D. Colnaghi and A. Wertheimer. It was acquired by the museum in 1901.

The leaden window to the left was entirely overpainted at the time of the purchase by the museum and replaced by a curtain and a view upon a landscape through an open window. When the painting became part of the museum’s collections, it was cleaned and the overpaints removed, restoring the original composition. This was the time when genre painting flourished, and artists like Pieter de Hooch, Jan Steen, Frans van Mieris, and Gerard Ter Borch, to name only a few, placed their figures into a light-filled room or courtyard, showing them either socializing or preoccupied with domestic chores. Vermeer’s works set the tone for representations of the upper bourgeoisie, a social level more refined than that depicted by his contemporaries. This type of setting required finer and smoother pictorial rendition than, for instance, the Milkmaid.

Consequently, Vermeer adapted his brushwork to the new needs, and more than equaled a Frans van Mieris, for instance, in the delicacy and finesse of the execution. It is proposed by some critics that Vermeer was the originator of the genre. It was he who influenced Pieter de Hooch, not the other way around, as was previously assumed. His elegance, sophistication, and majestic stillness assert the primacy of his conceptions over the more pedestrian de Hooch, who attained brief artistic heights only under Vermeer’s impetus during his Delft sojourn in the late 1650s.

Like A Lady and Two Gentlemen, this seduction scene contains an open window which features the warning figure of Temperance.

Suggested listening (streaming mp3, 2 minutes):

Franz Schubert: Drinking song from the 16th century D 847, quartet

Women who had become intoxicated on wine were considered to be the embodiment of sin, and this is a motif central to Vermeer’s work. According to Jacob Cats, a famous popular teacher of the seventeenth century, women should be forbidden drink altogether, as alcohol was the first step towards whoring.

Like A Lady and Two Gentlemen, this seduction scene contains an open window which features the warning figure of Temperance.

Signature: Signed on the frame of the painting in the background.

Provenance: Probably identical. with no. 35 in the Amsterdam sale of 1696: “A writing young lady; very good, by the same; fl 63.” Sale Van B�ren, The Hague, 1808. Sale Rotterdam; 1816. Collection “Kammerman”, Rotterdam, 1819-23. Sale Rotterdam, 1825. Sale Amsterdam; 1827. Sale Comte F. de Robiario, Brussels; 1837. Art market, Paris, 1907. Collection Pierpont Morgan, New York. Art gallery Knoedler, New York. Collection Lady Oaks, Nassau, Bahamas. Art gallery Knoedler, New York, 1958. Collection Horace Havemeyer; New York. Gift of Harry Waldron Havemeyer and Horace Havemeyer, Jr., to the museum, in memory of their father, 1962.

We have again a single-figure composition. A lady dressed in a yellow jacket with borders of ermine occupies the center of the composition. She is seated at a table, turned toward the left. Her right hand firmly secures the quill that she is prepared to use. In the meantime, she gazes at the viewer. This is a very elegant, though somewhat dark, interior, the only light coming from an unseen source at the left. It bathes the lady and the table, leaving everything else in a warm penumbra. One used to think that this was a portrait in disguise, an assumption that cannot be maintained in view of the quizzical expression of the sitter, who looks pensively beyond the picture frame into space. The painting on the rear wall, probably representing a skull and other paraphernalia, has plausibly been identified with a work by C. van der Meulen.

Vermeer shows himself here again as an exquisite painter of detail. The style is that of his mature years. Having abandoned the clear back wall “à la Fabritius,” he envelops the composition in warm brown tonalities that foster feelings of intimacy, and for once stresses a certain degree of individualization in the model depicted.

Signature: Signed left on the window.

Provenance: It is possible that the painting can be identified with one in the Amsterdam sale of 1696, no. 9, there described as “A merry company in a room, vigorous and good, by ditto, fl 73.” The suggestion is from A. Blankert. Otherwise, we have the first certain mention of the painting in the Braunschweig catalog, ca. 1711, then again in 1744 and 1776. During the times of Napoleon I, the work was part of his spoils of war, and remained in Paris. Restituted afterward, it was again catalogued by L. Pape in 1846 as by Jacob van der Meer. The attribution to Vermeer van Delft originates with Thor� in 1860.

A young woman wearing an elegant red dress is seated in the foreground turned toward the left and looking half-smilingly at the viewer. It is one of the rare instances when Vermeer animates one of his figures with a semblance of expression. She seems to be courted by a fine gentleman, bent over and encouraging the young lady to take a sip from the wine glass that she holds in her hand. Farther back, another. gentleman sits behind a table featuring an exquisitely painted still life of a silver plate, fruit, and white pitcher. The second male figure sits in a pose reminiscent of the Girl Asleep, apparently befuddled by too much wine. A Man’s Portrait in the background may be one of the family portraits mentioned in the inventory of Vermeer’s widow in 1676, which was part of his stock as a dealer. As to the coat of arms prominently displayed in the window, it belonged to a former neighbours family that used to live in a house next to the Vermeers.

The painting has been overcleaned, the last time in 1900, and the sitting man in the background was overpainted during the eighteenth century, as comes out of the descriptions of 1744 and 1776. The room where the artist placed the composition resembles others frequently used by him. Patterns, windows, and walls reappear with minor changes. In this respect, Vermeer did not show much originality. His mastery resides in the delicacy of the execution, the use of light, and the grouping of his figures.

Suggested listening (streaming mp3, 2 minutes):

Franz Schubert: Drinking song from the 16th century D 847, quartet

A young woman wearing an elegant red dress is seated in the foreground turned toward the left and looking half-smilingly at the viewer. It is one of the rare instances when Vermeer animates one of his figures with a semblance of expression. She seems to be courted by a fine gentleman, bent over and encouraging the young lady to take a sip from the wine glass that she holds in her hand.

This detail in the window appears in both the A Lady and Two Gentlemen and A Lady Drinking and a Gentleman. It is an image of Temperance, and was intended to act as a warning to the people in the painting.

The table features an exquisitely painted still life of a silver plate, fruit, and white pitcher.

Signature: Signed along the lower edge of the frame of the painting on the extreme right: IV Meer [IVM in monogram]. Inscribed on the underside of the lid of the virginals: MVSICA LETITIAE CO/ME/S/MEDICINA DOLOR/IS/ [Music is a companion in pleasure, a remedy in sorrow]

Provenance: The provenance of this painting is rather uncertain in its early stages. It may have been part of the collection Diego Duarte in Antwerp, 1682. Then in the Amsterdam sale of 1696, no. 6: “A young lady playing the clavecin in a room, with a listening gentleman; by the same; fl 80.” Afterward, possibly in another Amsterdam sale, 1714. However, the description alludes only to a “woman playing the clavecin in a room,” without mentioning the listening gentleman. Hence, doubt. Joseph Smith, English consul in Venice, bought in 1741 a number of Dutch paintings from the widow of the painter Giovanni Antonio Pellegrini (1675-1741). One was described in Pellegrini’s inventory as A Lady at the Spinet - without mention of the gentleman. When Smith sold his collection to King George III, it contained a painting attributed to Frans van Mieris: A Woman Playing on a Spinnet in presence of a Man seems to be her father. The Mieris is certainly our Cat. No. 13, but whether we have here the painting formerly owned by Pellegrini remains questionable. From the collection of George III to the English royal collection.

The greatness of Vermeer is dependent upon the economy of his style and the precision of his technique, which served to create an enigmatic mood that has become the hallmark of his mature paintings. The apparent simplicity of the compositions, which to a large extent rely on a limited number of studio props, and a restricted number of settings, belie artifice.

There is general agreement that A Lady at the Virginals dates from the 166Os, but it is difficult to be more exact. The subject prompts comparison with Vermeer’s Concert Trio in Boston (Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum), but the bolder, more dramatic use of perspective, emphasising the longitudinal axis of the room, is closer to paintings of the late 166Os such as Lady writing a Letter with her Maid (Beit Art Collection, Blessington, Ireland), The Love Letter (Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum) and The Geographer, dated 1669 (Frankfurt, Städelsches Kunstinstitut). This treatment of perspective is typical of the style developed by painters working in Delft during the 1650s.

The relationship between music and love as a theme was frequently explored by Dutch seventeenth-century painters with varying shades of meaning. Vermeer’s subject matter is often understated, but at the same time objects contained within the picture reinforce the meaning, which in some instances is interpreted on a quasi-philosophical basis. Thus, the two instruments - the virginals and the bass viol - here signify the possibility of a duet symbolising the emotions of the two figures.

Similarly, the painting behind the man can be identified as Cymon and Pero (also known as Roman Charity) in which a daughter feeds her father, who has been imprisoned, from her own breast, a theme that clearly has connotations that are open to interpretation in the context of love. Cymon and Pero is in the style of a Dutch follower of Caravaggio (possibly Utrecht school), although the original has not been identified. Interestingly, a painting of this subject is listed in the 1641 inventory of items belonging to the artist’s mother-in-law, Maria Thins.

The keyboard instrument has been identified as being comparable with those built by Andries Ruckers the Elder. Examples with identical decorative devices on the lid, keywell and fallboard, as well as similar inscriptions, are in Bruges (Museum Gruuthuse), Brussels (Mus�e Instrumental du Conservatoire) and Amsterdam (Rijksmuseum). The lining paper on the keywell, decorated with flowers, foliage and sea-horses, also occurs on instruments depicted by Metsu (A Man and a Woman seated by a Virginal) and Steen (A Young Woman playing a Harpsichord), both in the National Gallery, London. There are specific sources for the patterns used on the lid and the fallboard, but no source for the pattern on the keywell has yet been discovered.

The mirror above the woman reflects not only her head and shoulders, but also the artist’s easel. The fact that there is a diminution in scale of the head in the mirror and that the image itself is slightly out of focus denotes the use of a camera obscura. However, while the box visible behind the easel in the reflection may indeed be a camera obscura, it may also be a paintbox.

The mood of this interior by Vermeer is created as much from the confrontation of the two figures as from the juxtaposition of mundane objects within a space precisely proportioned and subtly lit.

In this imposing composition, Vermeer changed for the first time his handling of space, by moving the human figures and the center of the action to the far side of the room. The use of the inverted Galilean telescope becomes evident if one examines the perspective and the relative importance of the table at the right, covered with an Oriental rug, upon which stands a white pitcher on a silver plate. From there on, the bass viol lying on the floor and the figures at the clavecin recede into space.

Vermeer, who indicates his presence by including in the mirror-image on the back wall parts of his easel and paint box, wants us to view the scene from afar: a distant happening that we are allowed to watch as intruders, but in which we may not participate. Vermeer outdoes even Frans van Mieris in the wealth of details. The tile floor, the rug, and the ornamentation of the clavecin are rendered with minute care. The same applies to the human figures. Altogether, the painting lacks the nearness and intimacy of former works, and seems posed perhaps to serve as model for a musical impromptu at some gathering of rhetoricians, who were numerous at the time.

The use of the inverted Galilean telescope becomes evident if one examines the perspective and the relative importance of the table at the right, covered with an Oriental rug, upon which stands a white pitcher on a silver plate.

White porcelain jugs appear repeatedly in Vermeer’s art. They contained wine, which was supposed to act as a love potion and help men seduce women.

The table at the right is covered with an Oriental rug, upon which stands a white pitcher on a silver plate. From there on, the bass viol lying on the floor and the figures at the clavecin recede into space.

Signature: Signed on the upper left.

Provenance: It may be identical with A Drunken Sleeping Maid at a Table, which was sold at the Amsterdam sale of 1696 under no. 8 for 62 guilders. In the nineteenth century, it passed through the hands of several Parisian collectors and dealers. Acquired by Benjamin Altman, New York, between 1907 and 1909, and bequeathed by him to the museum in 1913.

This painting is the earliest indisputable work by the master. Vermeer’s earliest phase was Rembrandtesque. This can easily be ascertained from the rich and heavily impastoed pigments used in this painting. His subjects are always deceptively simple. He shows us in the left part of the composition a table covered with a glowing Oriental rug pulled up in front. On it is a Delftware plate with fruit, a white pitcher, and an overturned glass or roemer in the foreground. At the far end of the table is a young woman asleep, her head resting on her propped-up right arm and hand; the left one lies negligently flat. To the right is the back of a chair, and in the distance a half-open door that allows the viewer to see into another room.

The theme goes directly back to Rembrandt. One of his drawings, A Girl Asleep at a Window, at the Tuffier Collection, Paris, shows a very similar pose. This, and the type of model, were also adopted by Nicolaes Maes in his Idle Servant, dated 1655, at the National Gallery, London, although there the maid sleeps on her left arm and hand. An identical stance can also be found in Maes’s Housekeeper from a year later, 1656, at the art museum of Saint Louis. It has been suggested that Nicolaes Maes stayed in Delft after having left Rembrandt’s studio, perhaps in 1653 or even later, to move to Dordrecht afterward. In any event, there were ample possibilities for Vermeer to have had access to Rembrandtesque drawings, from a possible stay in the Rembrandt studio to Leonard Bramer and Carel Fabritius. The handling of the light, as well as the deep colouring and heavy paste in the execution, derives from Rembrandtesque techniques of the early 1640s.

Technical examinations revealed that Vermeer made major changes in the course of execution. Thus, he initially put a man in the second room instead of the mirror, and a dog in the doorway. He also enlarged the picture on the wall, which shows part of a Cupid in the style of Caesar van Everdingen, which we shall encounter in toto in other of Vermeer’s paintings. There have been various attempts at emblematic interpretation of the scene, but unless we have a clear case of double meaning, such as we shall encounter in a few isolated instances, this type of interpretation has to be taken with a grain of salt.

The paint surface of the still life on the table has suffered from abrasions and restorations.

At the far end of the table is a young woman asleep, her head resting on her propped-up right arm and hand; the left one lies negligently flat. The lovely sleeping woman is drunk, as her untied collar, the disorder on the table, and the wine pitcher discreetly indicate. Vermeer, like Dutch artists before and after him, used a sleeping woman to moralize on the evils of drink.

The painter shows us in the left part of the composition a table covered with a glowing Oriental rug pulled up in front. On it is a Delftware plate with fruit, a white pitcher, and an overturned glass or roemer in the foreground.

The painter shows us in the left part of the composition a table covered with a glowing Oriental rug pulled up in front. On it is a Delftware plate with fruit, a white pitcher, and an overturned glass or roemer in the foreground.

To the right is the back of a chair, and in the distance a half-open door that allows the viewer to see into another room.

Signature: Signed(?) lower left on the small bench.

Provenance: The painting appeared out of the blue ca. 1900. This painting was bought by an antique dealer from a family in Bristol for 8 sterling. Later, it became part of the Arthur Lewis Collection, London, and was exhibited in April 1901, Cat. No. 1 by the art dealer Forbes and Paterson, London. Mr. W. A. Coats is mentioned in the catalog as the owner. It was at that time that the signature had first become visible. Cataloged by the previous owner, Skelmorlie Castle; Scotland, 1904, no. 37. Bequeathed by the two sons of Coats in 1927 to the museum.

It seems likely that we have here an Italianate copy after a not yet identified original by a minor Italian master. The numerous borrowings from other artists that were easily discovered by art critics point to a pasticcio more than to the youthful work of a potential great. Italian sources, such as the figure of Christ in the picture by Andrea Vaccaro (Naples, Pinacoteca Reggia di Capodimonte), the Christ in another painting by Alessandro Allori (Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum), or the gesture of the Christ’s right arm in a work by Bernardo Cavallino (National Museum, Naples), join evident derivations from the Fleming Erasmus Quellinus (Mus�e des Beaux Arts, Valenciennes). This figure of Christ belongs to the repertory of Italian painters and was used in many studios in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

The signature differs considerably in the writing from authentic ones. It can be considered spurious.

Signature: Indistinctly signed(?) lower left on rock (J. v. Meer; highly unusual for the Delft Vermeer).

Provenance: This painting first turned up at the Dirksen art gallery in The Hague, and was sold to N. D. Goldsmid for fl 175; sale Goldsmid, Paris (Drouot), 4 May 1876, no. 68 as by Nicolaes Maes. There bought by the state of the Netherlands for the Mauritshuis for 10,000 French francs. In 1883, cataloged as “perhaps by Johannes Vermeer.” Then again as N. Maes, later as Jan Vermeer van Utrecht, and now as Vermeer van Delft (since ca. 1901, date of discovery of the Edinburgh picture). The Maes signature was a forgery. The Vermeer signature is now only dimly visible.

Possible attributions: Jan Vermeer van Utrecht; Anthonie Palamedesz.

The artist must have been deeply aware of the great tradition of the theme, the most famous painting being by Titian and the version based on Titian’s by Rubens. Prints were in circulation at the time, so the artist might have seen them for example.

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: This painting first appeared at an Amsterdam sale in 1810 with the attribution to Jan Vermeer van Delft. Subsequently, at two other sales, the same city, in 1811 and 1820. It was then sold at Christie’s in London in 1853, passed through the hands of the art gallery Lawrie and Co., London, and finally the art gallery Knoedler, New York, from which it was finally acquired by H. C. Frick in 1901.

Owing to its very poor state of preservation, which has been remarked upon by C. Hofstede de Groot in 1899, it is difficult to determine whether we have here an old copy or an almost completely ruined and overpainted original. The best part of the painting is the still life. In the background, we find the Standing Cupid, which is already familiar to us from A Woman Asleep at Table. Hofstede de Groot complained in his above-mentioned publication that the bird cage and a violin with a bow on the rear wall were completely new. We still find the bird cage. Violin and bow have been since taken off.

In the composition we find a new twist - the interruption in the interaction of the two figures. The young girl looks out at the viewer, and takes time off from the making of music. It has been suggested that the Cupid on the wall conveys the emblematic meaning of unrequited love. Only the gentleman seems to be fully absorbed by his feelings, whereas the young woman appears distracted and inattentive. The treatment of light, falling in from the left, is also Vermeeresque.

The young girl looks out at the viewer, and takes time off from the making of music. It has been suggested that the Cupid on the wall conveys the emblematic meaning of unrequited love. Only the gentleman seems to be fully absorbed by his feelings, whereas the young woman appears distracted and inattentive.

Signature: Traces of signature (?).

Provenance: Acquired in 1724 by August III, elector of Saxony, together with a number of other paintings bought in Paris. The seller threw in the picture as a present, to sweeten the deal. It was then attributed to Rembrandt, and the ascription was subsequently weakened to “manner” or “school of.” In 1783, it was engraved as a work by Govaert Flinck. The name “Van der Meer from Delft” occurred for the first time in a catalog dating from 1806, to be changed back to Flinck in 1817. From 1826 to 1860, the appellation was altered to Pieter de Hooch. It is only since 1862 that the correct identification obtains. The only Dutch provenance that could possibly apply is the sale Pieter van der Lip, Amsterdam, 1712, no. 22, “A Woman Reading in a Room, by van der Meer of Delft fl 110.” Unfortunately, the text is not specific enough to distinguish it from the one at the Rijksmuseum, Woman in Blue Reading a Letter.

The above underlines the difficulties inherent to the establishment of Vermeer’s catalog. Not a single work can be traced back to the painter’s studio, nor are there any letters or contracts extant. The task of attribution rests squarely upon the shoulders of the individual critic, which explains the multiplicity of divergent opinions. In this painting, a young woman stands in the center of the composition, facing in profile an open window to the left. In the foreground is a table covered with the same Oriental rug encountered in the Woman Asleep. On it is the identical Delft plate with fruit. The window reflects the girl’s features, while to the right the large green curtain forms a deceptive frame. She is precisely silhouetted against a bare wall that reflects the light and envelops her in its luminosity.

We are here confronted with one of the salient aspects of Vermeer’s sensibility and originality. It is the stillness that stands out, the inner absorption, the remoteness from the outer world. She concentrates entirely upon the letter, holding it firmly and tautly, while she absorbs its content with utmost attention.

In the technique, the artist avows again Rembrandtesque derivation. He paints in small fatty dabs to model the forms, and obtains the desired effects by means of impasto highlights opposed to the deeper tonalities - just as the master from Leyden was wont to do. The painting is relatively large, and the smallness of the figure as opposed to its surroundings stresses immateriality and depersonalization. Vermeer considerably changed the composition in the course of execution.

Much has been written about the trompe-l’oeil effect of the curtain. It is a pictorial artifice used by many other Dutch masters and in keeping with an old European tradition. Rembrandt, Gerard Dou, Nicolaes Maes, and many still-life and even landscape painters made use of such curtains as a means of simulating effects that now seem theatrical. The light background can be found in many paintings by Carel Fabritius, the Goldfinch from 1654 at the Mauritshuis in The Hague being the most famous example.

In this painting, a young woman stands in the center of the composition, facing in profile an open window to the left. The window reflects the girl’s features. She is precisely silhouetted against a bare wall that reflects the light and envelops her in its luminosity.

In the foreground is a table covered with the same Oriental rug encountered in the Woman Asleep. On it is the identical Delft plate with fruit.

Signature: Signed top left.

Provenance: The provenance of this painting cannot be traced back very far. All earlier documents or sales catalogs cited by Blankert are pure guesswork. Vermeer seems to have painted a number of “heads,” and various cited ‘tronie’, as they were called, cannot be further identified. We only know for certain that the work was purchased at the beginning of 1882 for the collection A. A. des Tombe of The Hague for fl. 2.30 in the sale Braam of the same city. The des Tombe collection was a public collection and bequeathed the picture in 1903 to the Mauritshuis.

This charming portrait of a girl is unfortunately in a very poor state of conservation and suffered from numerous extensive restorations. It is furthermore marred by an ugly pattern of cracks. Nevertheless, it became famous after its rediscovery and was dubbed the “Gioconda of the North” by many enthusiastic critics. Fortunately, enough of the original is left to permit the savouring of a truly outstanding and partly exotic work.

The girl is seen against a neutral, dark background, very nearly black, which establishes a powerful three-dimensionality of effect. Seen from the side, the girl is turning to gaze at us, and her lips are slightly parted, as if she were about to speak to us. It is an illusionist approach often adopted in Dutch art. She is inclining her head slightly to one side as if lost in thought, yet her gaze is keen.

The girl is dressed in an unadorned, brownish-yellow jacket, and the shining white collar contrasts clearly against it. The blue turban represents a further contrast, while a lemon-yellow, veil-like cloth falls from its peak to her shoulders. Vermeer used plain, pure colours in this painting, limiting the range of tones. As a result, the number of sections of colour are small, and these are given depth and shadow by the use of varnish of the same colour.

The girl’s headdress has an exotic effect. Turbans were a popular fashionable accessory in Europe as early as the 15th century, as is shown by Jan van Eyck’s probable self portrait, now in the National Gallery in London. During the wars against the Turks, the remote way of life and foreign dress of the “enemy of Christendom” proved to be very fascinating. A particularly noticeable feature of Vermeer’s painting is the large, tear-shaped pearl hanging from the girl’s ear; part of it has a golden sheen, and it stands out from the part of the neck which is in shadow.

In his Introduction to the Devout Life (1608), which was published in a Dutch translation in 1616, the mystic St Francis De Sales (1567-1622) wrote, “Both now and in the past it has been customary for women to hang pearls from their ears; as Pliny observed, they gain pleasure from the sensation of the swinging pearls touching them. But I know that God’s friend, Isaac, sent earrings to chaste Rebecca as a first token of his love. This leads me to think that this jewel has a spiritual meaning, namely that the first part of the body that a man wants, and which a woman must loyally protect, is the ear; no word or sound should enter it other than the sweet sound of chaste words, which are the oriental pearls of the gospel.”

From this it is clear that the pearl in Vermeer’s painting is a symbol of chastity. The oriental aspect, which is mentioned in the above extract, is further emphasised by the turban. The reference to Isaac and Rebecca suggests that this picture could have been painted on the occasion of this young woman’s marriage. So to that extent it is a portrait.

There is surely a similar explanation for the Head of a Girl dressed in a smart, grey dress (Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York). One must admire the artist’s technique, which features application of the pigments in juxtaposition and melting, avoiding precise lines, and therefore blurring the contours of different colours so as to obtain effects that foreshadow those of the impressionists. The dark backgrounds that Vermeer chose in these two portraits enhance the plasticity of the models.

Signature: Signed top left.

Provenance: The provenance of this painting cannot be traced back very far. All earlier documents or sales catalogs cited by Blankert are pure guesswork. Vermeer seems to have painted a number of “heads,” and various cited ‘tronie’, as they were called, cannot be further identified. We only know for certain that the work was purchased at the beginning of 1882 for the collection A. A. des Tombe of The Hague for fl. 2.30 in the sale Braam of the same city. The des Tombe collection was a public collection and bequeathed the picture in 1903 to the Mauritshuis.

This charming portrait of a girl is unfortunately in a very poor state of conservation and suffered from numerous extensive restorations. It is furthermore marred by an ugly pattern of cracks. Nevertheless, it became famous after its rediscovery and was dubbed the “Gioconda of the North” by many enthusiastic critics. Fortunately, enough of the original is left to permit the savouring of a truly outstanding and partly exotic work.

The girl is seen against a neutral, dark background, very nearly black, which establishes a powerful three-dimensionality of effect. Seen from the side, the girl is turning to gaze at us, and her lips are slightly parted, as if she were about to speak to us. It is an illusionist approach often adopted in Dutch art. She is inclining her head slightly to one side as if lost in thought, yet her gaze is keen.

The girl is dressed in an unadorned, brownish-yellow jacket, and the shining white collar contrasts clearly against it. The blue turban represents a further contrast, while a lemon-yellow, veil-like cloth falls from its peak to her shoulders. Vermeer used plain, pure colours in this painting, limiting the range of tones. As a result, the number of sections of colour are small, and these are given depth and shadow by the use of varnish of the same colour.

The girl’s headdress has an exotic effect. Turbans were a popular fashionable accessory in Europe as early as the 15th century, as is shown by Jan van Eyck’s probable self portrait, now in the National Gallery in London. During the wars against the Turks, the remote way of life and foreign dress of the “enemy of Christendom” proved to be very fascinating. A particularly noticeable feature of Vermeer’s painting is the large, tear-shaped pearl hanging from the girl’s ear; part of it has a golden sheen, and it stands out from the part of the neck which is in shadow.

In his Introduction to the Devout Life (1608), which was published in a Dutch translation in 1616, the mystic St Francis De Sales (1567-1622) wrote, “Both now and in the past it has been customary for women to hang pearls from their ears; as Pliny observed, they gain pleasure from the sensation of the swinging pearls touching them. But I know that God’s friend, Isaac, sent earrings to chaste Rebecca as a first token of his love. This leads me to think that this jewel has a spiritual meaning, namely that the first part of the body that a man wants, and which a woman must loyally protect, is the ear; no word or sound should enter it other than the sweet sound of chaste words, which are the oriental pearls of the gospel.”

From this it is clear that the pearl in Vermeer’s painting is a symbol of chastity. The oriental aspect, which is mentioned in the above extract, is further emphasised by the turban. The reference to Isaac and Rebecca suggests that this picture could have been painted on the occasion of this young woman’s marriage. So to that extent it is a portrait.

There is surely a similar explanation for the Head of a Girl dressed in a smart, grey dress (Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York). One must admire the artist’s technique, which features application of the pigments in juxtaposition and melting, avoiding precise lines, and therefore blurring the contours of different colours so as to obtain effects that foreshadow those of the impressionists. The dark backgrounds that Vermeer chose in these two portraits enhance the plasticity of the models.

The girl is wearing an exotic turban and is set against a neutral, dark background, very nearly black, which establishes a powerful three-dimensionality of effect - a process recommended by Leonardo da Vinci.

Signature: Monogram(?) upper left.

Provenance: The painting is only known since a Paris sale of 1822, in which it was described as a work by Vermeer van Delft. It was sold for 200 French francs. Subsequently: collection Baron Atthalin, Colmar; collection Baron Laurent Atthalin; art gallery Knoedler, New York, 1925; collection Andrew W. Mellon, Washington. Since 1937, in the museum.

In this painting Vermeer repeated the posture of the arm in The Girl with a Flute, though she is seen from the other side, and is therefore leaning on her right arm, against the backrest of a chair decorated with lions’ heads and rings. This picture was quite evidently painted with the aid of a camera obscura. That is indicated by his use of pointillism, bright dots of paint and occasional highlights on the folds. The light is falling at an angle from above onto her soft, feathery hat; on the top it is vermilion, and the lower shadowed part is a dark purple colour. The intensity of the light is such that the hat appears, at points, to be transparent. Its broad brim has the effect of casting a shadow over most of her face; only her left cheek, below her eye, is lit. The shading of her eyes, the centre of her face, is quite intentional; the principle of dissimulatio, a mysterious disguise, is being applied here, the intended effect being to heighten our curiosity.

It is assumed by some critics that this painting is not by Vermeer, but a later pasticcio. It, and the Girl with a Flute (in the same museum) are painted on wood, whereas all authentic Vermeer paintings are done on canvas. This work has been painted on an upside-down Rembrandtesque portrait of a man, and pigments considered to be older than the nineteenth century found in this painting come from the original and not from the modern pasticcio.

Signature: Signed on the wall to the right of the head.

Provenance: Like the Lady Standing at a Virginal, this painting may or may not have been part of the Duarte collection in Antwerp in 1682; the Amsterdam sale of 1696, no. 37; and the Amsterdam sale of 1714. It was part of the collection of Count Sch�nborn, Pommersfelden, and sold in Paris in 1867. Acquired for Fr 2,000 by W. B�rger, and sold in the sale of his collection in Paris in 1892. Art Gallery Sedelmeyer, 1898. Art gallery T. Humphry Ward, London, 1894 (?). Collection George Salting, 1900. Bequeathed by him to the museum in 1910.

Whereas the Lady Standing at the Virginal (National Gallery, London) is bathed in light, this putative companion piece features a subdued atmosphere. The shade is drawn here, and though we can make out every detail in the limpid light, Baburen’s Procuress hanging on the back wall furnishes the main contrast. It is curious to observe that while inanimate objects - the clavecin, the bass viol in the foreground to the left, and the decorations of the musical instrument - are extremely detailed, the curtain to the left is stiff, and the lady making music is devoid of expression, depersonalized, and faultily drawn (see, e.g., her arms).

There can be no question that the paintings from these last years are vastly inferior to what we have been accustomed to by Vermeer.

It is curious to observe that while inanimate objects - the clavecin, the bass viol in the foreground to the left, and the decorations of the musical instrument - are extremely detailed, the curtain to the left is stiff, and the lady making music is devoid of expression, depersonalized, and faultily drawn (see, e.g., her arms).

Signature: Signed on the instrument.

Provenance: The early documents do not differentiate between a lady standing or seated at the clavecin. It is therefore not certain whether it is this or the Lady Seated at a Virginal (National Gallery, London) that was part of the collection of Diego Duarte in Antwerp in 1682. The same is true of no. 37 in the Amsterdam sale of 1696; and also of the work recorded in the Amsterdam sale of 1714. It is only since the Amsterdam sale of 1797 that the lady is identified as standing, and therefore refers to this painting. Collection E. Solly, London; sale Edward Lake, London, Christie, 1845; collection Thor�-B�rger, 1866; sale Thor�-B�rger, Paris, 1892; art gallery Lawrie, London. There acquired by the museum in the same month (December).

This painting now hangs at the National Gallery, London, together with A Lady Seated at the Virginal. There is no certitude that the two are companion pieces, but they obviously are closely related as to subject matter. The technique exemplifies in both instances Vermeer’s late period.

As we might suspect in an artist with his aspirations, Vermeer injected narrative or allegorical significance even into his domestic interiors. The young woman strokes the keys of the virginal - a smaller version of the harpsichord - but looks expectantly out of the picture. Music, we recall, is the ‘food of love’, and the empty chair calls to mind an absent sitter, perhaps travelling abroad among the mountains depicted in the picture on the wall and on the lid of the virginal. Cupid holding up a playing card or tablet has been related to an emblem of fidelity to one lover, as illustrated in one of the popular contemporary Dutch emblem books, where the image is explained in the accompanying motto and text. It has been suggested, not altogether convincingly, that the painting forms a contrasting pair with its neighbour, Vermeer’s Young Woman seated at a Virginal, where the viola da gamba in the foreground awaits the partner of a duet but the picture of the Procuress (by the Utrecht artist Baburen) behind the woman points to mercenary love.

Whether or not the paintings are thus related, both surely portray young women dreaming of love. But the theme seems commonplace beside Vermeer’s treatment of it. Cool daylight streams in through the window on the left, as it always does in his pictures. The textures of grey-veined marble and white-and-blue Delft tiles, of gilt frame and whitewashed wall, of blue velvet and taffeta and white satin, of scarlet bows, are differentiated through the action of this light in their most minute particularities and specific lustre. Volume is revealed, shadows cast and space created. Yet the real magic of the painting is that all this does not, as it were, exhaust the light. Enough of it remains as a palpable presence diffused throughout the room to reach out to us beyond the picture’s frame.

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We again encounter on the back wall the Standing Cupid Holding a Card Aloft, with which we are familiar from Girl Asleep at a Table at the Metropolitan Museum, New York. One now ascribes rather convincingly this painting to Caesar van Everdingen. The landscape to the left belongs to Jan Wynants, or his immediate entourage.

“Amor docet musicam” - love teaches one to play music. In all probability the artist is making reference to this aphorism known from the literature of symbols. Above the head of the young woman who is preparing to play the already opened virginal, we see prominently displayed the picture of a curly blond Amor with a bow in his right hand and a love-letter held high in his left. This picture within a picture gives a didactic content to this still-life. Such purposefulness explains the somewhat unnatural attitude of the girl. She looks at the viewer before she begins to play: this is not a pose, however, but an invitation to the viewer to look for the hidden meaning. It is one of the traits of still-life paintings with a moral lesson that one of the figures glances out of the picture, sometimes even making a gesture to indicate that the others are conveying an intellectual or moral point.

The companion painting to this brilliantly lit and coloured Vermeer creation also expresses the connection between music and love. In that picture the girl is sitting at the virginal, and on the wall behind her the viewer sees a typical Utrecht bordello scene, with a woman playing the lute and being embraced by a man wearing a hat with a feather, while the procuress looks on.

Young Amor appears in the background of other Vermeer paintings as well and the image of a musical group is also used, in every case with erotic connotations (The Music Lesson, New York, Frick Collection; The Concert, Boston Museum).

The young woman strokes the keys of the virginal - a smaller version of the harpsichord - but looks expectantly out of the picture.

Mountains are depicted in the picture on the wall.

Signature: Signed on the table, under the left arm of the lady writing.

Provenance: This masterpiece has been stolen not once, but twice in the last twenty-five years. The owner, a member of Britain’s Parliament, was targeted by the IRA, who broke into his estate in 1974 and took a total of nineteen paintings. It was recovered a week later, having sustained only minor damage. In 1986, the Dublin underworld stole the painting. Only after more than seven years of secret negotiations and international detective work was the painting recovered. This is the second work, together with the Guitar Player (Iveagh Bequest, Kenwood, London), given as security for a debt of fl 617 by the widow of Vermeer to the baker van Buyten, on 27 January 1676. Sale Rotterdam, 1730. Collection Franco van Bleyswyck, Delft. Mentioned in the inventory of his estate, 1734. Collection Hendrik van Slingelandt, 1752. Collection Miller von Aichholz, Vienna, 1881. Bought by art dealer Sedelmeyer, Paris, same year: Sold to Secr�tan, same year. Sale E. Secr�tan, Paris, 1889. Collection Marinoni, Paris. Art dealer Kleinberger, Paris. Collection A. Beit, London. Foundation Beit, Blessington.

“Lady Writing a Letter with Her Maid” exemplifies Vermeer’s essential theme of revealing the universal within the domain of the commonplace. By avoiding anecdote, by not relating actions to specific situations, he attained a sense of timelessness in his work. The representation of universal truths was achieved by eliminating incidental objects and through subtle manipulation of light, color and perspective.

The canvas presents a deceptively simple composition. The placid scene with its muted colors suggests no activity or hint of interruption. Powerful verticals and horizontals in the composition, particularly the heavy black frame of the background painting, establish a confining backdrop that contributes to the restrained mood.

The composition is activated by the strong contrast between the two figures. The firm stance of the statuesque maid acts as a counterweight to the lively mistress intent on writing her letter. The maid’s gravity is emphasized by her central position in the composition. The left upright of the picture frame anchors her in place while the regular folds of her clothing sustain the effect down to the floor. In contrast, the mistress inclines dynamically on her left forearm. Her compositional placement thrusts her against the compressed space on the right side of the canvas. Strong light outlines the writing arm against the shaded wall, reflecting in angular planes from the blouse that contrast abruptly with the regimented folds of the maid’s costume. The mistress is painted in precise, meticulous strokes as opposed to the broad handling of the brush used to depict the maid.

The figures, although distinct individuals, are joined by perspective. Lines from the upper and lower window frames proceed across the folded arms and lighted forehead of the maid, extending to a vanishing point in the left eye of the mistress. The viewer’s eye is lead first to the maid, then on to the mistress as the focal point of the painting.

Vermeer shuns direct narrative content, instead furnishing hints and allusions in order to avoid an anecdotal presentation. The crumpled letter on the floor in the right foreground is a clue to the missive the mistress is composing. The red wax seal, rediscovered only recently during a 1974 cleaning, indicates the crumpled letter was received, rather than being a discarded draft of the letter now being composed. Since letters were prized in the 17th century, it must have been thrown aside in anger. This explains the vehement energy being devoted to the composition of the response. Another hint is provided in the large background painting, “The Finding of Moses”.

Contemporary interpretation of this story equated it with God’s ability to conciliate opposing factions. These allusions have led critics to construe Vermeer’s theme as the need to achieve reconciliation, through individual effort and with faith in God’s divine plan. This spiritual reconciliation will lead to the serenity personified in the figure of the maid.

In this work, we encounter the characteristics of Vermeer’s late style, as opposed to his period of maturity: his compositions become less compact, the figures monumental but stiff, and their interrelationship negligible.

While the mistress sits at a table, writing and facing the viewer, the maid looks bored through the half open window at some happening outside. Even the curtain to the left and the drapes of the window are treated in a most rigid fashion, sculptural rather than painterly. A large painting, representing the finding of Moses, animates the back wall.

Although works like this retain some of the attractiveness of the artist’s earlier productions, they lack much of the creative spark of yore. While they are decorative, we miss the empathy that previously existed between artist and viewer.

The composition is activated by the strong contrast between the two figures. The firm stance of the statuesque maid acts as a counterweight to the lively mistress intent on writing her letter. The maid’s gravity is emphasized by her central position in the composition. The left upright of the picture frame anchors her in place while the regular folds of her clothing sustain the effect down to the floor. In contrast, the mistress inclines dynamically on her left forearm. Her compositional placement thrusts her against the compressed space on the right side of the canvas. Strong light outlines the writing arm against the shaded wall, reflecting in angular planes from the blouse that contrast abruptly with the regimented folds of the maid’s costume. The mistress is painted in precise, meticulous strokes as opposed to the broad handling of the brush used to depict the maid.

Tthe mistress inclines dynamically on her left forearm. Her compositional placement thrusts her against the compressed space on the right side of the canvas. Strong light outlines the writing arm against the shaded wall, reflecting in angular planes from the blouse that contrast abruptly with the regimented folds of the maid’s costume.

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: The provenance of the painting is fraught with uncertainties, primarily because several times Vermeer treated the theme of a lady receiving or writing a letter while a maid is present. Thus, no. 7 in the Amsterdam sale of 1696 is described: “A young lady who is being brought a letter by a maid, by ditto; fl 70.” It might apply to this painting, or to the Love Letter in the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. The earlier provenance is therefore spotty. Sale Amsterdam, 1738. Art gallery C. Lebrun; Paris, 1807-8. Sale Lebrun, Paris, 1810. Sale Paris, 1818. Collection Duchesse de Berry, sale exh. London, 1834. Sale Duchesse de Berry, Paris, 1837. Collection Dufour, Marseilles. Sale E. Secr�tan, Paris, 1889. Collection A. Paulovstof, Saint Petersburg. Art gallery Lawrie and Co., London. Art Gallery Sulley, London. Exh. Palais Redern, Berlin, 1906. James Simon, Berlin. Art gallery Duveen, New York and London. Collection H. C. Frick, New York, 1919.

The mistress, sitting at a table and turned to the left, wears the same yellow jacket with an ermine border as the Lady Writing a Letter. The maid interrupts her writing and hands her a letter. Both figures are close to the foreground, strongly illuminated, and standing out against the dark background, which lacks further adornment and remains undefined.

For Vermeer, this is an unusually large composition, which focuses on a moment of interaction and interruption, rather than on a contemplation of stillness and introvert thoughtfulness. This new approach enhances the monumentality of the scene.

The mistress, sitting at a table and turned to the left, wears the same yellow jacket with an ermine border as the Lady Writing a Letter.

A new element here is the maid, stepping out of the darkness to hand a letter to her mistress, who has just been writing a few lines. She is evidently being handed a love-letter secretly.

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: This painting seems to be identical with the one listed in the Amsterdam sale of 1696 under no. 11: “A soldier with a laughing girl, very beautiful, by ditto, fl 44.10.” Subsequently, it appeared at a London sale of 1861 as by Pieter de Hooch, and again under the same attribution at sales in Paris in 1866 and 1881. From there it went, via the collection of Samuel S. Joseph and his widow, to the New York art dealer Knoedler, from whom it was acquired by H. C. Frick in 1911.

While painting with a brush loaded with pigments and applying them in a granulous fashion by thick dabs, Vermeer ingeniously develops his mastery as a luminist. The young woman is bathed in light, which streams in through the half open window to the left, and reflects itself from the cream-coloured background that is enhanced to the left by very thin glazes of slightly pinkish tonalities. Her face, exceptionally conveying expression - joy and laughter - appears framed in a kerchief and the collar of her dress. That part of the figure, especially, reveals itself as a symphony of luminosity, set off by the dark sleeves of the yellow jacket on which glittering highlights dance. In contrast, the soldier in the black hat and red jacket is placed close to the viewer, from whom he turns his back. He is hardly more than a silhouette, but rather overpowering, given the relative importance accorded his bodily appearance.

The nearest foreground - the soldier on his chair and the dark-green part of the table cover - are so strongly enhanced that the use of an optical instrument by Vermeer for the structuring of the composition seems indisputable. We have here the typical effect of the inverted telescope: the foreground standing out in the manner of stage scenery, while the figure of the girl recedes into space. On the back of the wall, we find for the first time a map. This element of decoration reappears frequently in the artist’s subsequent works.

The young woman is bathed in light, which streams in through the half open window to the left, and reflects itself from the cream-coloured background that is enhanced to the left by very thin glazes of slightly pinkish tonalities. Her face, exceptionally conveying expression - joy and laughter - appears framed in a kerchief and the collar of her dress. That part of the figure, especially, reveals itself as a symphony of luminosity, set off by the dark sleeves of the yellow jacket on which glittering highlights dance.

In contrast to the young woman, the soldier in the black hat and red jacket is placed close to the viewer, from whom he turns his back. He is hardly more than a silhouette, but rather overpowering, given the relative importance accorded his bodily appearance.

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: The catalog of the 1696 sale in Amsterdam enumerates three different tronies (one described as in antique dress) that may or may not be identical with this painting. Neither this young woman, nor the Girl with a Pearl Earring in the Mauritshuis, wears antique costume. People in the seventeenth century were sufficiently aware of Easterners, such as Turks, so as not to have mistaken a turban for an antique dress. The adducing of the Rotterdam sale, 1816, by Blankert, seems more probable. Certitude starts only with the painting’s presence in the collection of Prince Auguste d’Arenberg, Brussels, 1829. Hidden during World War I (the d’Arenbergs owned vast estates in Belgium but had always retained their German citizenship. Hence, all their belongings there were seized after 1918 as “enemy property” and sold. The Vermeer escaped this fate), it was acquired by Mr. and Mrs. Charles B. Wrightsman, of Palm Beach, Florida, and Houston, Texas, in 1955. It was presented by them to the museum in 1979.

This painting, as opposed to the Girl with a Pearl Earring, is very well preserved and permits us to judge Vermeer’s approach, both technical and conceptual, in all its brilliance. Though more discreet, there is another pearl earring in this picture. The composition is also related to the other painting. Once again, we see this woman from the side, looking over her shoulder, though her face is turned further towards us. Her black hair is combed back severely from her forehead, and is plaited together with her (bridal?) veil. An additional variant is the position of her left arm, which is bent up against a parapet. Vermeer is following a style of portrait which was introduced by Titian’s Ariosto. We certainly do not have here a portrait, but again, as in the Girl with a Pearl Earring, a generalized type that communicates with the spiritual world almost as if in a trance. This part of the painting is delicately executed, while the light-blue robe or loose cloak that the young person is wearing has been more broadly and crisply treated.

Interestingly, this painting was certainly the prototype that inspired the Girl with a Red Hat in the National Gallery of Art, Washington (According to some critics this painting is not by Vermeer but a later pasticcio.)

This painting of Vermeer does not enjoy as much favour as the “Gioconda of the North,” although it is, in many respects, a much better picture.

Signature: Signed(?) twice: MEER 1655 lower left. MEER N… .R. Lower right.

Provenance: Of all the recently proposed attributions destined to enlarge the body of Vermeer’s so-called youthful period, this one is the most questionable. It has a checkered history. Discovered in 1943 in a small New York auction room by a couple of Belgian refugees, the late Jacob Reder and his wife, it was for a long time turned down by all Vermeer specialists. Jacob Reder, who dabbled in the Old Masters trade long before coming to America, was well known as an eccentric with a powerful imagination. After his death, the painting was acquired from his widow by a New York (now Los Angeles) dealer. From there, it passed into the collection of the current owner.

The painting is probably an Italianizing copy after a minor Florentine artist. Some connoisseurs believe that this copy was executed by an Italian in his customary technique. Others are inclined to admit that the painting could have been done by a northern artist, in close imitation of the Florentine original. The latter exists: it is by Felice Ficherelli (1605-69?) and belongs to a private collector in Ferrara. In any case, it is a mediocre painting. The main difference from the Florentine original is the cross in the hands of the saint, which was probably added at the request of a convent or church that had commissioned the work.

An attribution to Vermeer finds its sole basis in the two signatures, because neither style nor pictorial quality are anywhere close to the artistic level of Vermeer. It is extremely important to remember in this context, that false Vermeer signatures occur often and were probably affixed sometime during the eighteenth or nineteenth century. If such an inscription is two hundred years old, as compared with the age of roughly three hundred years for the painting, the contemporaneity becomes almost impossible to prove either way by so-called scientific methods.

An attribution to Michael Sweerts could possibly be considered.

Northern allegories of the Catholic faith were limited to a rather specific iconography. The woman here is a personification of Faith; the crushed snake in the foreground represents the triumph over sin. The colours worn by Faith, white and blue, may represent the virtues of purity and truth. Despite the subject matter, Vermeer remains concerned with the depiction of objects, space, and light. The simplification and hardening of the light in this painting are characteristic of the artist’s late style.

The Globe in the picture is by Hondius, 1618.

Northern allegories of the Catholic faith were limited to a rather specific iconography. The woman here is a personification of Faith; the crushed snake in the foreground represents the triumph over sin. The colours worn by Faith, white and blue, may represent the virtues of purity and truth. Despite the subject matter, Vermeer remains concerned with the depiction of objects, space, and light. The simplification and hardening of the light in this painting are characteristic of the artist’s late style.

The Globe in the picture is by Hondius, 1618.

The glass ball which hangs from the ceiling was borrowed by Vermeer froom Willem Heinsius’ book of emblems; it was described there as a symbol of man’s power of reason. The large Crucifixion on the back wall is by Jacob Jordaens.

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: Sale Herman van Swoll, Amsterdam,1699. Sale Amsterdam, 1718. Sale Amsterdam, 1735. Sale Amsterdam, 1749. Private collection, Austria, 1824. Collection D. Stchoukine, Moscow. Art gallery Wachtler, Berlin, as by Eglon van der Neer, with a false signature of C. Netscher. Bought from this gallery by A. Bredius. On loan to the Mauritshuis, The Hague (1899-1923). On loan to Boymans Museum, Rotterdam (1923-28). Art gallery F. Kleinberger, Paris. Collection Colonel M. Friedsam, New York. Bequeathed by the latter to the museum in 1931.

An unusually large canvas for Vermeer, this is one of the two known paintings of his that have explicitly allegorical content. Vermeer had converted to Catholicism at the time of his marriage, and this work may have been commissioned by a Catholic institution.

The subject matter for this allegory obviously did not suit Vermeer’s taste. In the Art of Painting (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna), he produced, in spite of the intrusion of iconographic material, a composition that conveyed a psychological approach joined to artistic execution. Even so, it was not really as successful as other works that imply thoughtfulness or meditation.

The Allegory of Faith is fraught with details that evidently were prescribed by the spiritual fathers (probably the Jesuits, although the first known owner of the painting was a Protestant) of the composition, but that did not fit into an artistic image with which Vermeer could cope.

Hence, we have here an exercise in classicism, of abstract concepts, which led to a mediocre result. The artist’s creativity had, in any case, declined by then into a brittle style with no more inner warmth or ability to communicate.

Thus, we are in the presence of a rather dry amalgamate, drawn in the main from Cesare Ripa’s book Iconologia, to which a large Crucifixion by Jacob Jordaens on the back wall is added as a backdrop. Hence, this allegorical representation of the “New Testament” can have served as a didactic introduction to some aspects of the Catholic faith.

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: Sale Herman van Swoll, Amsterdam,1699. Sale Amsterdam, 1718. Sale Amsterdam, 1735. Sale Amsterdam, 1749. Private collection, Austria, 1824. Collection D. Stchoukine, Moscow. Art gallery Wachtler, Berlin, as by Eglon van der Neer, with a false signature of C. Netscher. Bought from this gallery by A. Bredius. On loan to the Mauritshuis, The Hague (1899-1923). On loan to Boymans Museum, Rotterdam (1923-28). Art gallery F. Kleinberger, Paris. Collection Colonel M. Friedsam, New York. Bequeathed by the latter to the museum in 1931.

An unusually large canvas for Vermeer, this is one of the two known paintings of his that have explicitly allegorical content. Vermeer had converted to Catholicism at the time of his marriage, and this work may have been commissioned by a Catholic institution.

The subject matter for this allegory obviously did not suit Vermeer’s taste. In the Art of Painting (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna), he produced, in spite of the intrusion of iconographic material, a composition that conveyed a psychological approach joined to artistic execution. Even so, it was not really as successful as other works that imply thoughtfulness or meditation.

The Allegory of Faith is fraught with details that evidently were prescribed by the spiritual fathers (probably the Jesuits, although the first known owner of the painting was a Protestant) of the composition, but that did not fit into an artistic image with which Vermeer could cope.

Hence, we have here an exercise in classicism, of abstract concepts, which led to a mediocre result. The artist’s creativity had, in any case, declined by then into a brittle style with no more inner warmth or ability to communicate.

Thus, we are in the presence of a rather dry amalgamate, drawn in the main from Cesare Ripa’s book Iconologia, to which a large Crucifixion by Jacob Jordaens on the back wall is added as a backdrop. Hence, this allegorical representation of the “New Testament” can have served as a didactic introduction to some aspects of the Catholic faith.

Signature: Signed on map, to the right of the girl.

Provenance: Mentioned in 1676 in an act signed by Vermeer’s widow, conveying the painting to her mother. Acceptance by the mother in 1677. This is certainly not no: 3 in the sale of 1696 in Amsterdam. The description does not agree. Purchased by Johann Rudolf Count Czernin in 1813 from the estate of Gottfried van Swieten, via a saddlemaker. Count Czernin paid 50 Austrian guilders for it. The painting was then attributed to Pieter de Hooch. In 1860, the painting was recognized as a Vermeer by Waagen. In the possession of Adolf Hitler after 1938, and hung at his residence in Berchtesgaden. Acquired by the museum in 1946.

This painting was long called The Artist in His Studio, and we may in effect presume that the artist seen from behind was himself. However, the intention of representing an allegory is stronger here than in all other Vermeer’s works. The heavy curtain on the left, which lets the viewer partake of the scene, has decidedly theatrical connotations. So does the young girl whom the artist portrays, and whose crown of laurel easily identifies her as Fame. A connection with Clio, the muse of history, also exists. She holds a trumpet and a book of Thucydides.

The whole composition is a panegyric to the art of painting. Set in an elegant room, with a chandelier, chairs, the lush curtain, and a large map on the back wall, which shows the northern and southern Netherlands and indicates the area over which the reputation of the artist could spread, its overall meaning emphasizes the attainment of fame to the benefit of the man in the pursuit of his artistic endeavours as well as ‘qua’ citizen of his hometown.

The uncommonly large painting, considered from the pictorial viewpoint only, is rather decorative but lacks depth. Only its meaning makes it of particular interest. Repeated restorations may have contributed to the narrative rather than painterly excellence of the work. Such as it presents itself now, one cannot be astonished that it was formerly attributed to Pieter de Hooch.

The artist is seen from behind, seated at his easel, painting a model who is dressed as Clio, the Muse of History. In Cesare Ripa’s handbook Iconologia, available to Vermeer in a Dutch translation published in 1644, Clio is described as a girl with a crown of laurel, symbolizing Fame, and holding a trumpet and a volume of the Greek historian Thucydides, symbolizing History. The artist is dressed in a deliberately archaic, ‘historical’ costume. Vermeer’s meaning is that History should be the artist’s inspiration. Prominent on the wall behind the artist’s model, and painted with remarkable precision and delicacy, is a map of the United Provinces. The projection is south to north rather than the west-east projection of modern maps: in the border are views of the principal towns. The painter, Vermeer is saying, will bring fame not just to his country but also to his town. In Vermeer’s case, he will bring fame to Delft.

Vermeer made it clear that he was painting an allegorical representation of the studio by the prominence he gave to the curtain which is drawn aside on the left as if to reveal a staged scene. The title is almost certainly Vermeer’s own. In the inventory made after his death, the artist’s widow referred to the picture as De Schilderkonst, ‘The Art of Painting’.

The heavy curtain on the left, which lets the viewer partake of the scene, has decidedly theatrical connotations. So does the young girl whom the artist portrays, and whose crown of laurel easily identifies her as Fame. A connection with Clio, the muse of history, also exists. She holds a trumpet and a book of Thucydides.

This painting was long called The Artist in His Studio, and we may in effect presume that the artist seen from behind was himself. The idea that Vermeer, in his discreet manner, portrayed himself from the rear, painting the muse of history, is attractive, but it must be discarded. Even if a mirror reflected a face, it could not be correlated with a portrait of Vermeer since none has been identified. The painting was done as a celebration of the art of painting, not as a self-portrait. As early as February 1676, less than three months after Vermeer’s death, the artist’s widow referred to it as ‘de Schilderkonst’ (The Art of Painting), not as a portrait of her deceased husband. In the following year she gave it the same title.

Signature: Signed and dated 668 on the cupboard (spurious, later additions).

Provenance: This painting and the Geographer (Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt) are probably companion pieces, in spite of the fact that the sitter is looking to the left in both of them. They share the same provenance until 1778. Thus: sale Rotterdam, 1713; sale Amsterdam, 1720; sale Amsterdam, 1729; sale Amsterdam, 1778. Collection Jean-Etienne Fiseau; art dealer Lebrun, Paris; brought to Paris in 1785; sale Amsterdam, 1797; sale Amsterdam, 1800; sale Paris, 1881; collection Alphonse de Rothschild, Paris, 1888; collection Edouard de Rothschild. Abducted by Hitler during World War II. Restored to owner in 1945. Acquired by Mus�e du Louvre, Paris, 1983.

In view of the fact that the Astronomer and the Geographer are probably pendants, and are the only works in Vermeer’s oeuvre that represent male figures involved in scholarly pursuits, we are treating them conjointly.

Until 1778, they remained together. The signatures and dates on both paintings are questionable, but they must have been executed toward the end of the 1660s.

None of these paintings appears in the sale of 1696, and were therefore commissioned by a patron who was especially interested in astronomy or the celestial sciences. In both paintings, the references to books, scientific instruments, and, in the portrait of the Astronomer, the celestial globe by Jodocus Hondius, are accurately depicted.

The latter painting features on the rear wall a picture representing the scene of the finding of Moses, which has been interpreted as being associated with the advice of divine providence in reaching, in the case of the astronomer, for spiritual guidance.

Although farfetched, it is likely that the content of the painting is associated in some way with the meaning of the work. The sea chart on the wall of the Geographer does not have any religious association. It must be remembered that the rise of interest in scientific research at the time, fostered by the newly established University of Leyden, and philosophers like Descartes, did not have any specific religious associations. Quite to the contrary, the aim was to explore the universe, and simultaneously to further Dutch navigation in its conquest of faraway lands.

Both paintings, with their interiors of scholarly studios and scientific paraphernalia, award Vermeer the opportunity for lightening effects that envelop the scientists in the mystery of an atmosphere that lifts their occupations into the realm of spirituality.

Signature: Signed and dated 668 on the cupboard (spurious, later additions).

Provenance: This painting and the Geographer (Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt) are probably companion pieces, in spite of the fact that the sitter is looking to the left in both of them. They share the same provenance until 1778. Thus: sale Rotterdam, 1713; sale Amsterdam, 1720; sale Amsterdam, 1729; sale Amsterdam, 1778. Collection Jean-Etienne Fiseau; art dealer Lebrun, Paris; brought to Paris in 1785; sale Amsterdam, 1797; sale Amsterdam, 1800; sale Paris, 1881; collection Alphonse de Rothschild, Paris, 1888; collection Edouard de Rothschild. Abducted by Hitler during World War II. Restored to owner in 1945. Acquired by Mus�e du Louvre, Paris, 1983.

In view of the fact that the Astronomer and the Geographer are probably pendants, and are the only works in Vermeer’s oeuvre that represent male figures involved in scholarly pursuits, we are treating them conjointly.

Until 1778, they remained together. The signatures and dates on both paintings are questionable, but they must have been executed toward the end of the 1660s.

None of these paintings appears in the sale of 1696, and were therefore commissioned by a patron who was especially interested in astronomy or the celestial sciences. In both paintings, the references to books, scientific instruments, and, in the portrait of the Astronomer, the celestial globe by Jodocus Hondius, are accurately depicted.

The latter painting features on the rear wall a picture representing the scene of the finding of Moses, which has been interpreted as being associated with the advice of divine providence in reaching, in the case of the astronomer, for spiritual guidance.

Although farfetched, it is likely that the content of the painting is associated in some way with the meaning of the work. The sea chart on the wall of the Geographer does not have any religious association. It must be remembered that the rise of interest in scientific research at the time, fostered by the newly established University of Leyden, and philosophers like Descartes, did not have any specific religious associations. Quite to the contrary, the aim was to explore the universe, and simultaneously to further Dutch navigation in its conquest of faraway lands.

Both paintings, with their interiors of scholarly studios and scientific paraphernalia, award Vermeer the opportunity for lightening effects that envelop the scientists in the mystery of an atmosphere that lifts their occupations into the realm of spirituality.

It has proved possible to identify the book that lies open in front of this mystically-clad astronomer. It is by Adriaen Metius and is called The Exploration and Observation of the Stars. The globe was made by Jodocus Hondius.

It has proved possible to identify the book that lies open in front of this mystically-clad astronomer. It is by Adriaen Metius and is called The Exploration and Observation of the Stars. The globe was made by Jodocus Hondius.

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: The first reference to this painting can be found in the sale Johannes Lodewijk Strantwijk, Amsterdam, 1780, where it is already dubbed a work by Jan van der Meer, de Delfze. Subsequently, sale Monsieur van Leyden, Paris, 1804; sale London (Foster), 1835; sale Admiral Lysaght et al., London (Christie), 1860; sale Demidoff, Paris, 1869; sale (heirs) Thor�-B�rger, Paris, 1892; there acquired by Mrs. Isabella Stewart Gardner. The painting was stolen in 1991 and has not been recovered since.

This painting superficially resembles A Lady at the Virginals with a Gentleman (Buckingham Palace, London) in that it features the making of music in a domestic environment. But there the likeness stops. The Lady at the Virginals was very rigidly constructed, pruned to the point of abstraction, and allowing the viewer only a glance from afar upon the principal scene. In the Concert, we are again part of the happening, although separated from it by the table covered with the familiar red Oriental rug and the bass viol on the floor.

However, the music-making trio in a compact group presents itself sufficiently close to our vision so that the viewer shares in the earnest concentration of the figures. This slightly removed part of the painting is particularly rich in details, almost pictures within the picture. On the far wall to the right, we find Baburen’s Procuress, which was part of Vermeer’s stock as an art dealer. To the left is a landscape in the style of Jacob van Ruisdael. The two are linked by the landscape on the raised cover of the clavecin done in the then-fashionable style of the Italianizing Dutch landscape painters such as Jan Both.

For Vermeer, such a crowding of decorative elements is rather unusual, and has therefore encouraged critics to attempt various interpretations of the meaning of the scene. They range from calling it a brothel (de Mirimonde) to a domestic scene with the lady to the right being the personification of temperance (I. L. Moreno)! In any case, the amateur seeking purely aesthetic pleasure will find delight in the perfection of the composition, the delicate execution of the figures, as well as of the paraphernalia, and the masterly use of diffused light enveloping the actors. In this work, Vermeer stands greatly above his contemporaries de Hooch, Jan Steen, Metsu, and many others, in harmony, grandeur, and artistic skill.

The viewer is part of the happening, although separated from it by the table covered with the familiar red Oriental rug and the bass viol on the floor.

The erotic nature of this scene is indicated by the pastoral landscapes on the wall and the lid of the virginal, and also by the inclusion of Baburen’s The Procuress.

Signature: Signed twice: on the cupboard; and signed and dated 1669 top right. All these inscriptions are dubious.

Provenance: This painting and the Astronomer (Louvre, Paris) are probably companion pieces, in spite of the fact that the sitter is looking to the left in both of them. They share the same provenance until 1778. Thus: sale Rotterdam, 1713; sale Amsterdam, 1720; sale Amsterdam, 1729; sale Amsterdam, 1778. After 1778: in 1785, both paintings were brought to Paris by the art dealer Alexandre Joseph Paillet. He intended to sell them to the French king, but was unsuccessful. Sale Amsterdam, 1797; sale Amsterdam, 1803; collection Alexandre Dumont, Cambrai; collection Isaac Pereire, 1866; sale Pereire, Paris, 1872; collection Max Kann, Paris; sale Demidoff, Palais de San Donato, Florence, 1880; sale Ad. Jos. B�sch, Vienna, 1885. There acquired by the museum.

In view of the fact that the Astronomer and the Geographer are probably pendants, and are the only works in Vermeer’s oeuvre that represent male figures involved in scholarly pursuits, we are treating them conjointly.

Until 1778, they remained together. The signatures and dates on both paintings are questionable, but they must have been executed toward the end of the 1660s.

None of these paintings appears in the sale of 1696, and were therefore commissioned by a patron who was especially interested in astronomy or the celestial sciences. In both paintings, the references to books, scientific instruments, and, in the portrait of the Astronomer, the celestial globe by Jodocus Hondius, are accurately depicted.

The latter painting features on the rear wall a picture representing the scene of the finding of Moses, which has been interpreted as being associated with the advice of divine providence in reaching, in the case of the astronomer, for spiritual guidance.

Although farfetched, it is likely that the content of the painting is associated in some way with the meaning of the work. The sea chart on the wall of the Geographer does not have any religious association. It must be remembered that the rise of interest in scientific research at the time, fostered by the newly established University of Leyden, and philosophers like Descartes, did not have any specific religious associations. Quite to the contrary, the aim was to explore the universe, and simultaneously to further Dutch navigation in its conquest of faraway lands.

Both paintings, with their interiors of scholarly studios and scientific paraphernalia, award Vermeer the opportunity for lightening effects that envelop the scientists in the mystery of an atmosphere that lifts their occupations into the realm of spirituality.

Signature: Signed twice: on the cupboard; and signed and dated 1669 top right. All these inscriptions are dubious.

Provenance: This painting and the Astronomer (Louvre, Paris) are probably companion pieces, in spite of the fact that the sitter is looking to the left in both of them. They share the same provenance until 1778. Thus: sale Rotterdam, 1713; sale Amsterdam, 1720; sale Amsterdam, 1729; sale Amsterdam, 1778. After 1778: in 1785, both paintings were brought to Paris by the art dealer Alexandre Joseph Paillet. He intended to sell them to the French king, but was unsuccessful. Sale Amsterdam, 1797; sale Amsterdam, 1803; collection Alexandre Dumont, Cambrai; collection Isaac Pereire, 1866; sale Pereire, Paris, 1872; collection Max Kann, Paris; sale Demidoff, Palais de San Donato, Florence, 1880; sale Ad. Jos. B�sch, Vienna, 1885. There acquired by the museum.

In view of the fact that the Astronomer and the Geographer are probably pendants, and are the only works in Vermeer’s oeuvre that represent male figures involved in scholarly pursuits, we are treating them conjointly.

Until 1778, they remained together. The signatures and dates on both paintings are questionable, but they must have been executed toward the end of the 1660s.

None of these paintings appears in the sale of 1696, and were therefore commissioned by a patron who was especially interested in astronomy or the celestial sciences. In both paintings, the references to books, scientific instruments, and, in the portrait of the Astronomer, the celestial globe by Jodocus Hondius, are accurately depicted.

The latter painting features on the rear wall a picture representing the scene of the finding of Moses, which has been interpreted as being associated with the advice of divine providence in reaching, in the case of the astronomer, for spiritual guidance.

Although farfetched, it is likely that the content of the painting is associated in some way with the meaning of the work. The sea chart on the wall of the Geographer does not have any religious association. It must be remembered that the rise of interest in scientific research at the time, fostered by the newly established University of Leyden, and philosophers like Descartes, did not have any specific religious associations. Quite to the contrary, the aim was to explore the universe, and simultaneously to further Dutch navigation in its conquest of faraway lands.

Both paintings, with their interiors of scholarly studios and scientific paraphernalia, award Vermeer the opportunity for lightening effects that envelop the scientists in the mystery of an atmosphere that lifts their occupations into the realm of spirituality.

In “The Geographer”, Vermeer presents another individual in an interior. This male figure, though, is endowed with intense energy in comparison to the contemplative women of other compositions. The flow of light from left to right activates the canvas. The flow is accentuated compositionally by the massing of objects on the left. The light spills forcefully into the open area on the right, casting a powerful series of diagonal shadows. Vermeer adjusted his initial depiction of the figure to provide a more active stance. Detailed study of the canvas reveals that the geographer originally looked down at the table, with his dividers also pointed down. Adjusting the composition to align the man’s face and the dividers with the flow of light gave further energy to the movement across the canvas. The folds of the robe also serve to activate the figure, with their dynamic, almost abstract depiction in their sunlit portion.

The painting accurately renders the cartographic objects that express the theme: the sea chart, globe, dividers, square and a cross-staff that was used to measure the elevation angle of the sun and stars. It is probable that Vermeer’s sophisticated presentation of these instruments was informed by his association with famed scientist Anthony Van Leeuwenhoek. Although no documents exist linking the two, they were both born in Delft in the same year. A contemporary portrait of Leeuwenhoek closely resembles the figure in Vermeer’s geographer, and it is very possible that Leewenhoek served as the model.

Another Vermeer work, “The Astronomer”, is commonly considered a pendant to “The Geographer”. In it, the same model is depicted, this time among the instruments of astronomical study. Both paintings dramatically convey the excitement of scholarly inquiry and discovery. Considering these works as pendants offers an allegorical interpretation: the astronomer, student of the heavens, searches for spiritual guidance; the geographer, student of the earth, charts the proper course for temporal life.

Signature: Signed on the right on the lower edge of the curtain.

Provenance: Mentioned in 1676 as the property of Vermeer’s widow and given by her as security to the baker van Buyten, together with Lady Writing a Letter with Her Maid (Beit Art Collection, Blessington, Ireland), for a debt of fl 617. Subsequent sale Amsterdam, 1696, no. 4: “A young lady playing the guitar, very good, of the same; fl 70.” Collection 2d Viscount Palmerston; collection W. Cowper-Temple at Broadland, later Baron Mount-Temple, 1871; art gallery Thos. Agnew, London, 1888. Acquired by the Earl Iveagh, 1889.

An old copy, canvas, 48,7 x 41,2 cm, is in the Museum of Art, Philadelphia. The only difference separating this copy from the Kenwood, London, version is the coiffure of the guitar player, whose style points toward c. 1700. It would be interesting to clean this painting and possibly ascertain, by X-rays, whether the original coiffure is still extant and was overpainted at a later date. Otherwise, both paintings are almost equal as far as pictorial quality is concerned.

Together with the Lacemaker (Louvre, Paris), this painting constitutes one of the best achievements by Vermeer, and certainly a towering success in his late maturity. By now, the artist had attained the mastery of light and colours, together with complete freedom of expressing himself technically by means of looser brushstrokes that are no longer bound to specifics of texture or materials. The model is not drawn inward but looks to the outside world in full communication and radiance of her pleasure simply to make music. Never was Vermeer more able to liberate himself from all constraints and convey his artistic viewpoint in a more masterly manner. The landscape on the back wall seems to be painted in the style of Hackaert.

The pastoral landscape in the background and the guitar are both signs of love. But this is no Arcadia. Love has to hide away in the secrecy of a darkened room.

Signature: Signed top right.

Provenance: We have here a painting that appeared in the Amsterdam sale of 1696 under no. 12: “A young lady doing needlework, by the same; fl 28.” Then, Amsterdam, 1778; sale Amsterdam, 1792; sale Amsterdam, 1813; sale Paris, 1817; collection Baron Nagell van Ampsen, The Hague, 1819-23; sale this collection, The Hague, 1851; collection Blokhuyzen, Rotterdam, 1860; sale this collection, Paris, 1870; resold by Ferral for 7,500 frs to the Louvre. At least four old copies are known, two by Jan Stolker (1724-85). The others are known from two close tracings of the eighteenth century.

“The Lacemaker” is another small scale painting, nearly dwarfed by its impressive wooden frame. Unlike the more contemplative figures in Vermeer’s work, the subject here is very active, intensely focused on a physical activity. As opposed to the full-figure compositions, where furniture and drapery act to facilitate or deflect the viewer’s visual entry, “The Lacemaker” brings the subject dramatically to the foreground. As a result, the viewer is drawn into a powerful emotional engagement with the work. Although the composition is quite shallow, there are different depths of field that draw the viewer into the canvas. The forms nearest the eye are unfocused, which encourages the viewer to pass on to the more distinctly defined middleground.

The intimacy is accentuated by the small scale, personal subject matter, and natural composition. The lacemaker’s total preoccupation with her work is indicated through her confined pose. The use of yellow, a dynamic, psychologically strong hue, reinforces the perception of intense effort. Contrasts of form serve to animate the image. For example, her hairstyle expresses her essential nature - both tightly constrained and, in the loose ringlet behind her left shoulder, rhythmically flowing. Another strong contrast exists between the tightly drawn threads she holds and the smoothly flowing red and white threads in the foreground. The precision and clearness of vision demanded by her work is expressed in the light accents that illuminate her forehead and fingers.

The diffused ocular effect of the foreground objects, especially the threads, was definitely derived from a camera obscura image. Vermeer used the informal, close framing of the composition suggested by the camera obscura to accentuate the realistic, immediate impact of the painting. Contemporary Dutch painting portrayed industriousness as an allegory of domestic virtue, While the inclusion of the prayer book pays fealty to this theme, it is a secondary concern to the depiction of the handicraft of lacemaking, and, in the highest sense, the creative act itself. Once again, Vermeer succeeded in transforming a transitory image into one of eternal truth.

This charming little work enables us to witness not only the intricate craft of lacemaking, but also the application of the young woman to her task. Vermeer again used the inverted Galilean telescope to project the act and divide the composition into two main parts. In the foreground, we see the sewing cushion and the different-coloured threads falling out from it. Owing to the use of the optical device already alluded to, we have red and white colouring effects that strike us as almost brutal. Then comes the lacemaker herself, receding toward the middle-ground, and set off against a unified light wall without any ornamentation. The composition is reduced to essentials, and the colour scheme depicting the young woman - the yellow of her jacket and the execution of the head and hair - remains subdued compared with the vivid accents of the foreground. Some “improvements”, such as the curls of the girl’s hair, are later additions.

In the foreground, we see the sewing cushion and the different-coloured threads falling out from it. Owing to the use of the optical device already alluded to, we have red and white colouring effects that strike us as almost brutal.

Signature: Signed left below the window: I V MEER.

Provenance: This is one of the rare paintings that are correctly attributed to the Delft Vermeer since its earliest documentation. It first appeared in the Amsterdam sale of 1696 under no. 32: “A view of a house standing in Delft, by the same; fl 72.10.” Later, it was in the estate of Mrs. Croon, widow of G. W. Oosten de Sruyn, 1799. Then it was in the sale Van Oosten de Bruyn, Haarlem, 1800, there bought by H. van Winter for F 1,040. Thence inherited by the Six family; later acquired by H. W. Deterding and presented by him to the Rijksmuseum in 1921.

Although the painting represents in truth two houses and was initially described as one house only, there does not seem to be any doubt about the identification. It is a very simple and appealing painting, which conveys to the viewer a typical aspect of Dutch life as one encountered it in the period. The habitation ensconces and protects its dwellers, while the fa�ades show the viewer nothing but the outside of their intimate existence. This essential simplicity is translated by the artist into a representation of a quiet street imbued with dignity.

Contemporaries like de Hooch and Jan Steen also painted bricks and mortar, but their treatment is close only in appearance. Vermeer, as usual, elevated his aim into regions of philosophy that surpassed the pedestrian attempts of others by his calm majesty and feeling for shared intimacy, of which he alone was capable. If superficially, Vermeer resembles his Delft colleagues, he easily surpasses them by the depth of his mastery of light and mood. The painting must be chronologically ranged rather early, because he was the initiator of the genre in this particular fashion.

An X-ray shows that the artist had initially planned to add a standing girl to the right of the open alleyway, but eliminated her subsequently so as not to disturb the stillness and equilibrium of the composition. There are numerous painted and watercolour copies after this composition.

In its strong, yet soft harmonies of the grey and vermilion of the brick buildings and window shutters, of the black and white around the doors, and the blue, red, and yellow accents in the passageway and on the figures, The Little Street is a colouristic jewel.

It is a very simple and appealing painting, which conveys to the viewer a typical aspect of Dutch life as one encountered it in the period.

Signature: Signed on the wall, to the left of the servant.

Provenance: The identification with no. 7 of the Amsterdam sale, 1696, can apply to this painting as well as to the Lady with a Maidservant Holding a Letter (Frick Collection, New York). Collection Pieter van Lennep, and his wife, Margaretha Cornelis Kops, then their daughter Margaretha Catharina van Lennep, and her husband, Jan Messchert van Vollenhoven. His sale, Amsterdam, 1892. In the museum since 1893.

In this painting, the use of the inverted Galilean telescope is apparent without doubt. We look at the principal scene through a doorway. The foreground is enhanced, dark, and lacks precision in the map on the left wall.

The identical map recurs distinctly rendered in the Officer with a Laughing Girl (Frick Collection, New York). The other objects nearest the viewer are also muted and almost blurred. On the other hand, the mistress and her maid, as well as the room in which they are placed, are well defined in spite of their recession into space.

The composition is attractive and treated in a decorative manner, although the two figures are devoid of individualization and resemble puppets rather than persons. Part of this shallowness may be due to damage from the theft and subsequent holding for ransom of the painting, which occurred at an exhibition in Brussels in 1971. The picture suffered much more than was later admitted, and no restorer, however skilful, can equal Vermeer.

Suggested listening (streaming mp3, 2 minutes):

Francesco da Milano: Tre fantasie for lute

The maid has a special function in several of Vermeer’s paintings. She is able to act as a secret messenger for her mistress, who is not able to leave the house, which has been entrusted to her care, alone. In seventeenth-century treatises, sending love-letters was considered a sign that the woman had committed adultery.

In 1888 Vincent van Gogh wrote to Emile Bernard: “It is true that in the few pictures he (Vermeer) painted, one can find the entire scale of colours; but the use of lemon yellow, pale blue and light grey together is as characteristic of him as the harmony of black, white, grey and pink is of Vel�zquez.”

Signature: Not signed.

Provenance: This picture ranges among the most highly appreciated paintings by Vermeer, since shortly after his demise and also in subsequent years, second only to his View of Delft. It also fetched the second highest price in the Amsterdam sale of 1696, no. 2: “A maid pouring out milk, extremely well done, by ditto, fl 175.” The price is reasonable, given the mediocre level at which his paintings traded. The work never left Holland, and its attribution to Vermeer was upheld throughout. Slankert enumerates various Amsterdam sales in which the Milkmaid is mentioned and highly spoken of, until the canvas became part of the Six collection, Amsterdam, in the earlier part of the nineteenth century. It was acquired by the museum in 1907-8 from this source.

Although the genre of “kitchen pieces” belongs to a long tradition in the Netherlands, with Joachim Beuckelaer and Pieter Aertsen in the sixteenth century being its initiators, it lost favour in the subsequent century, with the exception of Delft, where it endured. Vermeer’s realization, however, has nothing in common with his archaic forerunners. His vision is concentrated on a single sturdy figure, which he executes in a robust technique, in keeping with the image that he wants to project. The palette features a subdued colour scheme: white, yellow, and blue. But the colours are far from frank or strident, and are rather toned down, in keeping with the worn work clothes of his model.

The still life in the foreground conveys domestic simplicity, and the light falling in from the left illuminates a bare white kitchen wall, against which the silhouette of the maid stands out. One gains from this deceptively simple scene an impression of inner strength, exclusive concentration on the task at hand, and complete absorption in it. The extensive use of pointill� in the still life lets us presume the use of the inverted telescope in an effort to set off this part of the painting against the main figure and alert the viewer to the contrast between the active humanity of the maid and her inanimate environment.

Nineteenth-century artists from Millet to van Gogh were impressed by this painting’s vigorous paint, powerful realism, and rich texture. The paint is rather thick and grainy, the impasto heavy, and Vermeer’s pontill� technique already begins to play an important role. Yellow (the cook’s blouse) and blue (her apron, the lining of her sleeves, the cloth, and the Nassau stoneware pitcher on the table) predominate.

The bread in the basket, and the rolls on the table, are speckled with shimmering points of light and are fascinating examples of Vermeer’s wonderful pointillist technique.

The still life in the foreground conveys domestic simplicity. The extensive use of pointill� in the still life lets us presume the use of the inverted telescope in an effort to set off this part of the painting against the main figure and alert the viewer to the contrast between the active humanity of the maid and her inanimate environment.

In 1888 Vincent van Gogh wrote to Emile Bernard: “It is true that in the few pictures he (Vermeer) painted, one can find the entire scale of colours; but the use of lemon yellow, pale blue and light grey together is as characteristic of him as the harmony of black, white, grey and pink is of Vel�zquez.”

Signature: Signed(?) and dated(?) lower right 1656.

Provenance: Acquired for the collection of the elector of Saxony in 1741 from the Wallenstein collection. First mentioned in the Dresden catalog of 1765 as by Jean van der Meer, without specifying which Van der Meer. In the catalog of 1782 as by Van der Meer of Haarlem. In the catalog of 1826 as by Jacques van der Meer of Utrecht. First attributed to Jan van der Meer of Delft by Smith, and by Thor� in 1860. Both the signature and the date are old, but not necessarily contemporaneous.

There is no relationship between this painting and other authentic works by the master, neither in the conception nor the execution. One has attempted to establish a connection between this work and the one by Dirck van Baburen from 1622, now in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. However, aside from the subject matter, the Dresden painting has nothing in common with the one in Boston. The latter seems to have been part of Vermeer van Delft’s stock in trade and appears as such in two of his paintings. At one time, it must have been the property of his mother-in-law.

The fact that Vermeer van Delft was a dealer and thus owned a number of works by other masters does not necessarily imply that he took them as models for his own productions; even if he used some of them as background decorations in his paintings.

However, this painting is usually considered as a point of departure for an appraisal of Vermeer’s achievement. There is very little indication of the interior and more action in it than there will be in the later paintings. The erotic subject, size and decorative splendour are all closely related to the Utrecht Caravaggisti painted a generation earlier. The chiaroscuro effect and the warm colour harmony of reds and yellows also indicate a connection with works painted in the early fifties by Rembrandt and his followers; perhaps Maes, who had settled in nearby Dordrecht by 1653, was the conduit.

It has been suggested that the smiling man on the left holding a lute and a glass is a self-portrait. If so, it is the only time Vermeer allows us to approach him on such intimate terms. But the identification remains speculative; no visual or documentary evidence corroborates it.

Signature: Signed with monogram, below left on the boat.

Provenance: This, the most famous painting by Vermeer, was part of the Amsterdam sale of 1696, no. 31: “The town of Delft in perspective, to be seen from the south, by J. van der Meer of Delft; fl 200.” Sale S. J. Sinistra et al., Amsterdam; 1822, no. 112. For F 2,900 to de Vries. Purchased by the state of the Netherlands.

Topographic views of cities had become a tradition by the time Vermeer painted his famous canvas. Hendrik Vroom was the author of two such works depicting Delft, but they are more archaic because they followed the traditional panoramic approach that we remember from the two cityscapes by Hercules Seghers at the Berlin museum. The latter artist was one of the first to make use of the inverted Galilean telescope to transcribe the preliminary prints and their proportions (more than twice as high as wide) into the more conventional format of his paintings.

Vermeer executed his View of Delft on the spot, but the optical instrument pointed toward the city and providing the artist with the aspect translated onto canvas, which we admire for its conciseness and special structure, was not the camera obscura but the inverted telescope. It is only the latter that condenses the panoramic view of a given sector, diminishes the figures of the foreground to a smaller than normal magnification, emphasizes the foreground as we see it in the picture, and by the same token makes the remainder of the composition recede into space. The image thus obtained provides us with optical effects that, without being unique in Dutch seventeenth-century painting, as often claimed, convey a cityscape that is united in the composition and enveloped atmospherically into glowing light.

We admire the town, but it is not a profile view of a township, but a painting, an idealized representation of Delft, with its main characteristics simplified and then cast into the framework of a harbour mirroring selected reflections in the water, and a rich, full sky with magnificent cloud formations looming over it. This is chronologically the last painting by Vermeer that was executed in rich, full pigmentation, with colour accents put in with a fully loaded brush. The artist outdid himself in a rendition of his hometown, which stands as a truly great interpretation of nature.

Signature: Signed with monogram, below left on the boat.

Provenance: This, the most famous painting by Vermeer, was part of the Amsterdam sale of 1696, no. 31: “The town of Delft in perspective, to be seen from the south, by J. van der Meer of Delft; fl 200.” Sale S. J. Sinistra et al., Amsterdam; 1822, no. 112. For F 2,900 to de Vries. Purchased by the state of the Netherlands.

Topographic views of cities had become a tradition by the time Vermeer painted his famous canvas. Hendrik Vroom was the author of two such works depicting Delft, but they are more archaic because they followed the traditional panoramic approach that we remember from the two cityscapes by Hercules Seghers at the Berlin museum. The latter artist was one of the first to make use of the inverted Galilean telescope to transcribe the preliminary prints and their proportions (more than twice as high as wide) into the more conventional format of his paintings.

Vermeer executed his View of Delft on the spot, but the optical instrument pointed toward the city and providing the artist with the aspect translated onto canvas, which we admire for its conciseness and special structure, was not the camera obscura but the inverted telescope. It is only the latter that condenses the panoramic view of a given sector, diminishes the figures of the foreground to a smaller than normal magnification, emphasizes the foreground as we see it in the picture, and by the same token makes the remainder of the composition recede into space. The image thus obtained provides us with optical effects that, without being unique in Dutch seventeenth-century painting, as often claimed, convey a cityscape that is united in the composition and enveloped atmospherically into glowing light.

We admire the town, but it is not a profile view of a township, but a painting, an idealized representation of Delft, with its main characteristics simplified and then cast into the framework of a harbour mirroring selected reflections in the water, and a rich, full sky with magnificent cloud formations looming over it. This is chronologically the last painting by Vermeer that was executed in rich, full pigmentation, with colour accents put in with a fully loaded brush. The artist outdid himself in a rendition of his hometown, which stands as a truly great interpretation of nature.

The most significant effect is the lighting. Dark clouds overhanging the city cast the foreground in shadow. This not only calls attention to the vastness of the sky, but serves to draw the eye into the heart of the city, which is bathed in warm sunshine. Vermeer also used various textural effects to convey the physical presence of Delft. Anticipating Georges Braque by 250 years, he blended sand with the paint used to render the stone facades, bridge and roofs. In the tallest tower, Vermeer applied a thick impasto of yellow to accentuate the sunlit areas.