Part 21 (2/2)

Chapter 12.

AS JAN LED THE WAY THROUGH SEVERAL ROOMS TO THE STUDIO he asked Francesca about the training she had received from her father and nodded approval when he heard that basically it had followed the pattern of Hendrick's own apprentices.h.i.+p.

”Here we are!” He flung open the studio door for her to enter. It proved to be a somewhat grand room for an atelier and was a full twenty feet or more in length. Situated at the front of the house, it looked out on the market square, but as the ground floor was above street level there was no question of anyone being able to look in, even though one of the windows with its coat of arms set in colored gla.s.s was open. An ornately fas.h.i.+oned chandelier flashed back the brightness of the morning and the walls were cream-colored, one half draped in a rich wool tapestry in shades of russet, dark orange, yellow, green and a sharp blue. A darker blue cloth over a brown one covered one table and on another was all his artist paraphernalia. In the middle of the black-and-white-tiled floor stood two easels with stools in front of them. She guessed that one was for her, but she went to the other, on which was propped a painting that was all but finished.

She saw at once that Jan Vermeer was an artist who used pure light like paint on the tip of his brush. It was as if she was seeing her own aims made visible, for here was the masterly technique that she had always worked for without ever having seen anything that came near it. What had always been in her head and in her heart was before her in this painting of Catharina, the whole scene bathed in clearest daylight that caused textures and surfaces to refract, absorb and reflect its intensity, all there for a purpose, nothing by chance. Francesca's grat.i.tude sped out to Willem, who had seen something in her work that was akin, in a small undeveloped way, to that of this master. She was too choked to speak and took in every detail of the subject matter in silence.

The painting showed Catharina in a yellow silk jacket trimmed with ermine and a skirt of slightly deeper hue, sitting with a lute in her left hand as if interrupted while playing. Her right hand was upraised and holding a letter that had just been handed to her by Elizabeth, who was clad in the same white kerchief and blue ap.r.o.n in which she had opened the door that morning.

Both Elizabeth and Catharina were viewed through a doorway and not only was the painting astonis.h.i.+ngly beautiful but there was also much symbolism in it. The maidservant's encouraging smile and the woman's half-startled, half-wary look showed that she was uncertain whether the letter would contain good news or bad. That it was from a lover was made clear by her lute, linking music with the pleasures of love, and there were several sheets of music on a chair in the foreground. Lying on the tiled floor was a pair of shoes, a symbol of s.e.xual pa.s.sion. Yet Francesca knew, as any other viewer would have known, that all would be well with the romance, for a seascape hanging on the wall behind the woman was of a s.h.i.+p on a calm sea. Had it depicted a storm with rough waves then the outcome would have been different. A broom, shown propped by the shoes, further endorsed that the woman would be a good housewife. In all it told a story full of love and desire that was destined for a happy ending.

”There can be only one t.i.tle to this painting,” Francesca said quietly, ”and that is The Love Letter.”

”Correct,” he answered.

She glanced keenly about the studio. ”You didn't paint it in here, did you?”

”Not in the beginning. I chose the dining hall. I wanted part of that colonnaded fireplace for the composition and the richness of the gilded leather on the walls. I wasn't popular with Catharina,” he added with a rumbling laugh, ”for choosing to stand my easel in that doorway at intermittent intervals, blocking the way. We all had to eat in the kitchen until the painting had reached its present stage, when I could move back here.”

”I like the theme of the letter.”

”It's one I've used many times before and I daresay I'll use it again.” He did not offer an explanation and she did not question him. Her gaze was held again by the painting. Suddenly she spoke low and intently as she turned a desperately serious face to him.

”Teach me to paint with those condensations of crystal light! That quicksilver play over silks and satins! Nothing in this work of yours is indifferent to the brilliance of day and yet, whether figure or object, all is in total harmony. Show me what I must do!”

He did not answer her immediately but rested a hand on the corner of the painting's stretcher frame, his eyes narrowing at her. ”I would say from your painting of your two sisters that you're more than halfway there.”

She became pale at his praise. ”I thank you, but there is still a long way to go.”

”Agreed, but I wouldn't have taken you on as a pupil if you had not been thus far advanced. As you may or may not know, I simply don't have the time to start from first rules. The instruction and advice you receive from me will be concentrated and that is what you need.”

”You'll find me attentive to all you say.”

”Good. De Hartog told me that your training with your father had all but faded out. Yet you should always be grateful to Hendrick Visser, because it is he who has given you the rocklike foundation on which to build your work.”

”I realize that. I've heard him say often enough that so much can be taught and so much is basic talent, but the interpretation of a visual experience onto canvas comes from the very soul of an artist.”

”Indeed it does.”

”Long before I understood its meaning, my father used to quote Leonardo da Vinci's advice-observation, experimentation and a.n.a.lysis.”

”A golden rule for any artist.” His gaze became more speculative. ”I see you as one of those diamonds that find their way to the gem dealers of Amsterdam. Your ability as an artist has been rough-cut by an experienced hand. My role is that of polisher. What happens during that latter process will be entirely up to you.”

”I want only to strive forward.”

”Then I foresee a future of achievement for you, perhaps beyond the realms of your present imaginings, but time will tell.” He relaxed on a more jovial note. ”At least by coming into my studio with so much training behind you, all the ch.o.r.es usually allotted to an apprentice in the first year are far behind you.”

She gave a little laugh. ”I was well taught in that respect. Everything from making brushes to binding drawing pads!”

”My daughters Maria and Aleydis are my willing a.s.sistants when I require their help in that respect. My elder son Johannes used to be mainly in the studio, but gradually he realized a painter's path was not the one he wished to follow. Now he is apprenticed in Haarlem to a silk merchant, learning to design silks, as did my father at that age. By rights I should have done the same, because that was what I was taught when I was growing up in my childhood home on Voldersgracht. My father still had his silk business when he became more prosperous and began to deal in works of art. When he bought the Mechelin he continued to buy and sell paintings as well as spirits, wine and beer.”

”You have only kept to art dealing in addition to painting yourself?”

”That's right.”

”So who is to follow in your footsteps?”

He shook his head. ”If you mean as a painter, none of my children as far as I can tell. Unless Ignatius should surprise me one day.” He grinned as he mentioned his youngest son.

”May I see your gallery when you have time one day to show me?”

”What better time than now?” He threw out his hands. ”You can't work this first morning when you are getting to know us all. You'll meet the rest of the family at the noon meal, except, that is, Johannes. As he is an apprentice, he is not often at home.”

The gallery had once been an extra-wide corridor with a wooden floor along which barrels had been rolled to a door into the Mechelin's taproom. That door was now locked, but Jan had retained the corridor when leasing the tavern, for it had its own entrance from the side alley with good light from two large windows. Down the length of it was a long oaken table stacked with etchings and drawings for customers to browse through and the walls were covered with paintings of every size. A cool place in summer and able to be kept moderately warm in winter, it was perfect for paintings, especially for those on wood, for panels would crack or split apart in extremes of temperature.

She wandered around looking at the work. ”I'm sure you sometimes get paintings to sell that you'd prefer to keep.”

”Quite often. I've a little masterpiece here by someone who taught me much about painting when I was young, but as I have three of his works already, I have to let this one go.” He beckoned her across to a painting on the wall that she had not yet reached. ”It's by the late Carel Fabritius, a former pupil of Rembrandt. I'll be offering it to de Hartog next time he's here, but I'll not like to see it go. Superb, isn't it?”

She nodded and yet the subject matter saddened her. It was a goldfinch perched on a wall box and held by a chain about its leg that was only long enough to let it flutter a few inches into the air. Many people kept captive birds, but there had never been one in her home, because that would have gone against Hendrick's principles of freedom. It was odd that he should have deprived her of that same freedom now. She was chained as securely by his and Geetruyd's restrictions as that beautiful painted goldfinch on its box.

Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face, for Jan's gaze became hard on her. Leisurely he perched his weight on the edge of the table, speaking straightforwardly.

”What's all this about your having to be escorted everywhere? Vrouw Wolff came to see me yesterday, full of demands that you should never be allowed out of this house to sketch anywhere on your own and other such tomfoolery. I heard her out and I'd like to hear your side of things. I abhor tyranny and all that Geetruyd Wolff said smacked strongly of it.”

Francesca explained fully. Since she was to spend many months under his tutorage she was glad to have the situation clear from the start. Jan listened to all she had to say, frowning deeply when he heard of Geetruyd's ugly threat about the inst.i.tution.

”Are you sure there is no other reason why these stipulations should be laid down?” he queried when he had heard everything. ”Has your father any cause for personal dislike of Pieter van Doorne?”

”None at all. I would have known. My father can never hide his feelings. Yesterday, when I was leaving home, he welcomed Pieter to the table to eat with him. Yet all the time that letter had been written to Geetruyd Wolff. I simply don't understand and, as I said to you, I can only blame it on some quirk of his melancholia. Even a while ago when Pieter asked his permission to court me, my father did not just send him away, which was an arrangement he and I had about suitors. Instead he gave me the chance to think again about Pieter. That can be summed up as my father encouraging me toward a courts.h.i.+p as never before, except that I stipulated friends.h.i.+p with Pieter instead.”

”So what are you going to do?”

”For the moment my hands are tied. Until my father relents, which I hope won't take too long, I am a prisoner of Geetruyd Wolff's unnecessarily harsh discipline.”

He smiled grimly. ”I do advise you most strongly to beware of her power. She is a tartar, the scourge of many a committee, and will not be crossed. I could have saved you all this if I had insisted in the first place that you had bed and board under my roof, as is usual for apprentices, but I thought that, as you were older, it would be better for you to be accommodated with some liberty away from the studio. Also-to be frank-I wanted to spare my wife from having another adult female in the house. It did not work when my late mother lived under the same roof for the first year of our marriage, and although the circ.u.mstances would have been entirely different, I vowed then that it should never happen again.”

”I quite understand.”

”I do sympathize with your predicament, and should you find yourself in special difficulties at any time, please remember Catharina and I are here to help.”

”I appreciate that.”

<script>