The Chrysalis (8 page)

eleven

NEW YORK CITY, PRESENT DAY

M
ONDAY MORNING, AN ASSISTANT SO FLINTY SHE SPARKED
led Mara deep through Beazley's labyrinth to meet with Lillian. Their appointment had been canceled and rescheduled more times than Mara could count due to Lillian's travel demands, and Mara was both relieved that it was finally to happen and apprehensive about its outcome. She had gone as far as she could with the case on her own; now Lillian's cooperation and information were vital. While Mara had no reason to doubt that Lillian could provide her with all the supporting documentation she needed, she sensed that she would have to work pretty hard to earn Lillian's full assistance.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair facing Lillian, Mara felt like a wayward student called in for a reprimand by her headmistress. Lillian sat behind her commanding desk and glowered out at Mara through her pince-nez. Mara had chosen a favorite Armani suit in hopes of running into Michael, but she still felt cheap and flimsy in Lillian's scrutinizing presence.

Mara knew that she should be paying very close attention to Lillian, but Michael was all she could think about. He was right here in the building, just a few floors above her, just a short elevator ride away. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath on her neck, a residue from the morning, and it sent shivers through her. When they had first awoken on Sunday, entangled in each other's arms, however, she had felt differently. Dread had filled her veins like lead, and she could barely breathe. All she could envision were the faces of her coworkers, Sophia, and Harlan. But over brunch and dinner, and later in bed, Michael had reassured her again and again of his deep feelings for her and of his determination never to allow their relationship to jeopardize her standing at Severin. His promises alone assuaged the romantic in her, but the pragmatist in her had insisted on absolute secrecy for at least as long as she was working on
Baum.
He had readily agreed to anything and everything, and so, in a very different way, had Mara.

Lillian jumped up and disrupted Mara's reverie. She adjusted the equestrian-themed Hermès scarf at her neck, flattened her pressed heather-gray skirt, and marched out of the room without even glancing to see if Mara was following.

Mara scrambled to gather her belongings. After they had passed down a series of winding hallways, Lillian nodded to the two security officers guarding an old oak door sized for a giant. “This is PROVID,” she announced as the guards unlocked the door.

Mara stepped into the jewel-box library of her bookworm dreams. Rows of French doors looked out over Central Park on the west wall, while the other walls boasted sumptuous paneling, leather-bound books, and stepladders. The ceiling arched high above them, airy with the gilded mural of a blue sky and wispy clouds. Four long worktables, dotted with computers and flanked by upholstered chairs, dominated the center of the room. Another similarly goliath barricade guarded the back, east wall. Mara wondered if Michael had ever been so lucky as to work here.

Lillian poured herself a cup of steaming tea from a silver service and begrudgingly offered one to Mara. Then she headed to a work area near the French doors. She gestured for Mara to sit beside her and commanded, “Come on, Ms. Coyne, enough staring. Let's get you what you came here for—
The Chrysalis
provenance.”

Mara nodded and surrendered to the subordinate role she knew she must play. With great flourish, Lillian handed her a document.

JOHANNES MIEREVELD

The Chrysalis
Oil on canvas
45 x 35 inches
Signature lower right

Provenance

Johannes Miereveld, Haarlem, the Netherlands (1660–61)

Jacob Van Dinter, Haarlem, the Netherlands (1675)

Erich Baum, Amsterdam, the Netherlands (1908)

Albert Boettcher & Co., Zurich, Switzerland (1944)

Blank (1944).

         

Exhibitions

New York, New York, National Museum of Catholic Art and History, “Northern European Painting from the Time of the Reformation,” October 14, 1970–April 20, 1972, No. 34, illustrated

Boston, Massachusetts, Museum of Fine Arts, “Sixteenth-and Seventeenth-Century Dutch Art,” November 24, 1985–February 22, 1990, No. 12, illustrated

Washington, D.C., National Gallery of Art, “De Hooch and His Compatriots,” May 18, 1993–August 31, 1993, No. 28, illustrated

Literature

Arthur Childs. Vermeer. London, 1968.

Charles Harbison. Delft Artists around 1640. New York, 1975.

Lois Magovern. Dutch Painting. The History of Art. New York and Toronto, 1979.

James Alexander. Dutch Genre Painting and Portraits of the Seventeenth Century. London, 1983.

Natalie Pollard. The Dutch Golden Age: Popular Culture, Religion, and Society in Seventeenth-Century Holland. New York, 1991.

Goerdt Kopf. “The Artist's Religion: Paintings Commissioned for Clandestine Catholic Churches in the Netherlands.” Gerontius 42 (1998).

Lillian sipped from her delicate porcelain cup as Mara reviewed the document. “Now, you understand, of course, that
The Chrysalis
's provenance was first assembled by Beazley's in the 1940s, when we initially sold the painting to the current owner. Since
The Chrysalis
has not changed hands since that time, updating the provenance for the Dutch art auction was relatively simple. We needed only to add recent references to
The Chrysalis
from publications and exhibitions and do some general double-checking through any newly surfaced documents. So that you can fully understand the provenance I have just handed you, I want you to see how a provenance is done. You have to be familiar with the process in order to prove just how clear
The Chrysalis
's title is, don't you?”

Lillian walked Mara through the work behind the title portion of the completed
Chrysalis
provenance and then interpreted the final document for her. “As far as we know,
The Chrysalis
began its long, quiet life in the studio of Johannes Miereveld and Nicholaes Van Maes, in the burgeoning commercial and artistic center of Haarlem in what is now the Netherlands. We know little about the life of the artist Miereveld, except that he and Van Maes were the favored portraitists for politicians and prominent Calvinist families in their region in the mid-1600s. While Van Maes's portraits are attractive, they are quite typical for the day, with standard poses and symbolism. Miereveld's paintings, on the other hand, are ground-breaking. Not only are they masterful renderings of his subjects' features and dress, but they also use revolutionary color, brushstrokes, and iconography to capture his subjects' essences.” She sighed with obvious respect. “His portraits are really quite extraordinary.

“In any event, we think that Miereveld finished
The Chrysalis
in the early 1660s, although this is only an educated guess based on scientific dating techniques and the evolution of his style: Virtually no contemporary documentary evidence of
The Chrysalis
exists. Then, in about 1662 or 1663, Miereveld painted a group portrait for the Brechts, an established political family in the region. Afterward, he seems to have disappeared, not painting again before his death three years later, in 1665.”

“Why didn't he paint again?”

“We really don't know. I have my own theory, though. The iconography of
The Chrysalis
is very Catholic; whether this reflects Miereveld's sentiments or a client's, I don't know. While Catholicism was tolerated in the seventeenth-century Netherlands, it was frowned upon, even scorned, in the devoutly Calvinist upper-class circles in which Miereveld traveled. If his patrons learned of
The Chrysalis,
perhaps they ostracized him because they couldn't fathom his painting their portraits by day and religious Catholic paintings—banned by their own religion—by night. If so, they might have lodged grievances with the artists' Guild of Saint Luke, which controlled all art commissions and could have prohibited him from working. But so little documentation from the artists' guild survives,” Lillian confessed, “that we don't have any specific evidence supporting my theory.”

Lillian returned to the provenance. “After Miereveld's death, many of his paintings languished for hundreds of years in the attic of the ancestral home of the Steenwyck family of Delft. It seems as though one of the Steenwyck ancestors went about the region purchasing the portraits in the years after Miereveld's death. This explains why most of his paintings survived. When the few extant portraits began to surface and gain in popularity in the late 1800s, the Steenwycks unearthed their cache of moldy paintings and held a large auction in 1908. Not surprisingly, at this time,
The Chrysalis
was rediscovered. Interestingly, it was found not in the attic of the Steenwyck family home but in that of the Van Dinters, an old Calvinist Haarlem family.” Lillian pointed to the printout.

“Do you think the Van Dinters commissioned
The Chrysalis
?”

“While I can't say for certain, I think it's unlikely. The Van Dinters were a prominent Calvinist family, so
The Chrysalis
would have been anathema to them. But while it's a mystery as to why the Van Dinters had
The Chrysalis
in their possession, it's certain that the painting was in their custody for hundreds of years.
The Chrysalis
is listed on the 1675 death inventory of the Van Dinter family patriarch, Jacob.”

“And the Van Dinters put up
The Chrysalis
for sale along with all the other Miereveld portraits in the 1908 auction?”

“Yes. It seems our Erich Baum bought it at that auction, often referred to as the Steenwyck auction.
The Chrysalis
found a home—for a while, at least.”

The two women deliberated the critical wartime journey of
The Chrysalis,
starting with Hilda Baum's version. According to Hilda, as the war escalated, her father's painting sailed to Nice, France, in early 1940 to the safekeeping of a now-deceased family member, as evidenced by a cryptic note from her father. Somehow, she claimed, after the Nazis reigned victorious over France in the summer of 1940, the ERR stole
The Chrysalis
from her family's care, trading it as currency until it ended up in the hands of Swiss art dealer Albert Boettcher. In Hilda's tale of
The Chrysalis
's travels, it then made its illicit trip from Boettcher to Beazley's, and then to Beazley's anonymous client in the American art market.

Lillian shared her opinion that Hilda's account of
The Chrysalis
's World War II expedition was pure confection. It was gossamer spun sugar that dissolved under the weight of related provenance evidence uncovered by Lillian—namely, that Erich Baum sent the painting to Nice not to family but to his longtime art dealer Henri Rochlitz. Lillian maintained that Baum must have authorized Rochlitz to sell
The Chrysalis
to Boettcher, a rare-art dealer with a squeaky-clean reputation, making Beazley's title, and therefore its current owner's title, clear. Mara grew more and more enthused about the strength of the
Baum
case, even on the title issue, which she had previously perceived as a possible weak point.

“Is the provenance finished?” Mara asked, believing the lesson had reached its end.

Lillian brimmed with superior knowledge. “Yes, the provenance is complete. However, there is some additional documentation I uncovered in a box of recently declassified reports that isn't useful for the provenance per se but that you might find interesting.” She typed with great alacrity, screens flying through the Postwar Art Restitution category.

Lillian read aloud from the screen. “In a statutory declaration, Hilda agreed to the following:

I have submitted no other applications for compensation for the artistic works which are the subject of the reimbursement proceedings before the Restitution Offices of Berlin, be it on my own behalf or through any institution, organization, or authorized agent, nor will I do so in the future against this entity or any other.

You see, Mara, in the late 1940s, Hilda filed applications with the Dutch and German art restitution commissions, seeking the whereabouts of her family's collection. As it did with many of the applicants, the German commission proposed that the parties enter into an agreement to ‘completely settle' the claims for fifty percent of the artwork's stated value. Hilda agreed.”

Mara was stunned. Her success with this case was beginning to seem inevitable, and she began to devise ways to use this new information.

Mara needed the papers for discovery, so Lillian led her toward the blockade at the back of the library. She input a code into the security panel, then pulled from her inside blazer pocket a set of keys of varying shapes and sizes, some of which looked medieval in their design and weight. Lock by lock, she unsealed the heavy door.