Radiant Angel

Radiant Angel (corrected translation)

Radiant Angel

A Historical Fantasy about the Life, Art, and Love of the 17th-Century Dutch Painter Johannes Vermeer of Delft

Chapter 1: The Betrothal of Jan and Catharina

A young man of medium height, strong, well-built, and quick, wearing a long dark cloak and a wide-brimmed hat, from under which thick, wavy chestnut hair fluttered in the wind, was walking hurriedly through the narrow streets of Delft, holding a bouquet of crimson roses in his hand. The sparse rays of the Dutch spring sun, struggling to break through the dense clouds, played upon his face, making it seem as though the young man was smiling. Or perhaps he truly was smiling, for he was rushing to the betrothal to his beloved girl, Catharina!

This event had been postponed several times. The reason lay in the fact that Catharina’s mother, Maria Thins, was opposed to the marriage. Their family adhered to Catholicism, whereas her daughter’s chosen one—the artist Jan Vermeer—was a Protestant. Furthermore, Maria believed that he lacked business acumen, being a man of art to his core, and therefore a dreamer "not of this world," and she doubted whether he would be able to properly support his family.

Catharina was accustomed to living in comfort, knowing no want. Her father, Reynier Bolnes, a prosperous brickworks owner, enjoyed a considerable income. He managed his business skillfully but possessed a difficult character—despotic, coarse, and cruel, frequently mistreating his wife and children. Because of this, Maria Thins had divorced him, though she remained a wealthy woman. Having had her own difficult experience of an unhappy marriage in the past, she loved and spoiled her daughter and worried deeply for her future.

One evening, three respected citizens paid Maria a visit: the painter Leonaert Bramer*, Captain Bartholomeus Melling, and the lawyer Jan Rank. They came to convince the woman that their protégé—the young and talented artist Vermeer—was a good match for her daughter. Catharina’s entreaties also played a significant role. Reluctantly, Maria gave her consent to the union. "Bramer assures me that Vermeer is a worthy, noble young man, and everyone in town knows that his father was a good family man, business-minded and practical," she reasoned, trying to soothe herself with these arguments. "He bequeathed an inn and a tavern to his son, was a member of the Guild of Saint Luke in his time, an experienced weaver, and, moreover, traded in works of art. Surely these qualities of the father must manifest in the son's character over time..."

Catharina had fallen in love with Jan from their very first meeting. A bright spark instantly ignited in her heart. "He is so different from everyone else!" she thought, her breath catching. The young painter seemed to have cast a spell on her, calling her into his world, and she was willing to follow him even to the ends of the earth!

And on that happy day of their acquaintance, Jan realized immediately that this girl was made for him, that only she, and no other, would be his wife!

It had happened at a dinner party hosted by their mutual acquaintance Margaret, an ardent admirer of music and the arts. On a spring day, a large company gathered at her house. Jan arrived last and was introduced to the hostess’s friends. They all bowed politely, stating their names. He knew almost all the men gathered at Margaret's house—they were painters, poets, and musicians. Jan warmly greeted his friend Pieter de Hooch, bowed to Gerard ter Borch*, who was visiting Delft briefly on business, and greeted with great warmth his mentor Carel Fabritius, who had once studied under the great Rembrandt*** and was considered his best pupil.

Margaret asked Carel why he had come without his spouse, and the artist replied that she was unwell due to a cold. The hostess shook her head with regret:

"I wish her a speedy recovery. In spring, especially in our climate, the weather is very deceptive, and one must take care of oneself."

While waiting for dinner, the guests engaged in lively conversation. Jan joined the general chatter. Several of Margaret's friends were busy at the table, setting out the utensils (in those days in Holland, noble ladies did not consider it beneath them to perform simple housework alongside the maids). A beautifully dressed girl entered the hall, carrying pastries on a large blue delftware plate—stately, blooming, fair-haired, with a gentle smile on her delicate oval face. Following her, a middle-aged but brisk maid brought in a dish of oysters. Jan admired the young stranger and her soft, cat-like, supple movements. She leaned over the table to set down the pastries, allowing the young man to notice the enticing contours of her slightly exposed bosom.

The stranger was not an irresistible beauty, but there was something more to her than cold, flawless comeliness. Her almost childlike charm, reflecting a purity of soul, immediately captivated Jan.

The girl’s soft, golden-brown hair was smoothly combed back and gathered in a bun at the top, while a red ribbon shaped like a five-petaled flower adorned the side of her head. How touching! Vermeer thought. A yellow satin jacket trimmed with ermine fur fit her shoulders beautifully, shimmering like gold in the candlelight (it seemed to be a source of light itself). Pearl earrings played in her ears like large, shining droplets, and on the girl's delicate neck, Jan noticed a string of large pearls. These ornaments, mesmerizing with their mother-of-pearl luster, brought to mind warm seas and oceans, the splashing of waves, wondrous shells, and mysterious fish in the depths of the sea. That is exactly how I will paint her! I must paint her! he thought at the moment the stranger, accompanied by the hostess, walked toward him to exchange greetings and introductions.

"Catharina Bolnes, my lovely friend," Margaret introduced the girl, and a faint blush bloomed on Catharina’s cheeks.

Vermeer bowed and gave his name, while the hostess hurried over to the other guests.

"I have already heard of you and your talent," a smile illuminated Catharina’s face.

"And who went to such trouble?" Jan asked, surprised.

"Ah, that I will not tell you," the girl replied playfully.

Jan smelled of paint, and this greatly thrilled Catharina. She did not find the artist's intense gaze presumptuous—Vermeer’s attention was pleasing and flattering to her. This penetrating look made her think that Jan resembled a clear-eyed falcon. She kept trying to discern the color of his eyes: were they dark gray or brown?

"If I invite you to dance later, will you not refuse?" asked Vermeer, whose heart was already rejoicing in anticipation of happiness.

"I suppose I won't," Catharina replied with sweet coquetry, tilting her head slightly to the side, causing her red ribbon to flutter like a flower in the wind.

The hostess invited everyone to the table. There were about twelve guests. The young men helped the ladies seat themselves comfortably, pulling out leather-upholstered chairs with embossed patterns on the backs and seats. One of the poets read his verses dedicated to spring with deep feeling. After the first toasts, the room instantly became noisy and cheerful. The maid repeatedly served wine and appetizers to the guests.

"Did you know that our Holland is called a country that smells of herring?" one of the young men asked.

"Well, that is true," Margaret replied, "and I see nothing wrong with that."

"Though we may smell of herring, we are a strong people: our ships roam the open seas, we have colonies in the East and in America, and we fight for every inch of our land, refusing to let the sea swallow it up... What can I say, our Holland is a country of victors, a country of democracy..." Gerard ter Borch declared with pride, clearly taking pleasure in his words. His plain, elongated face seemed illuminated from within.

"Exactly, it is not about colonies and material wealth, but about the fact that freedom and equality are declared the primary values of our society and are truly so to us," the poet who had previously read the verses about spring continued somewhat grandly.

"And our scientists and artists!" a musician chimed in. "We have much to be proud of! And we need not look far: some of them are right at our table."

"Yes, in our small country, there are more painters than in the whole of Europe combined, and what painters!" smiled one of Margaret's friends.

"I propose a toast to Holland and the Dutch!" Vermeer exclaimed with enthusiasm, raising his glass.

Catharina cast an admiring glance at him. The feasting continued. Soon the musicians began to play, and the young men started inviting the ladies to dance. Jan approached Catharina, bowed slightly to her, and she gave him her hand. There was so much feminine grace, warmth toward him, and a kind of inner tremor in her gesture that Jan’s heart filled with tenderness.

He thought that this year of 1653 had turned out to be exceptionally fortunate for him—he had met the kind of girl he could only dream of, and by all appearances, she favored him. How beautifully everything was falling into place! So beautifully, in fact, that it became frightening to lose it all... If only fate will be merciful to us! flashed through his mind. But the anxious thoughts vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Jan shook his head as if chasing away sudden fears the way one shos away bothersome mosquitoes, smiled at Catharina, who looked delightful, flushed from the dance, and paid her a compliment. He wanted to fully enjoy this happiness, so sudden and overwhelming, and think or worry about nothing else!

When the dance ended, the young man kissed the girl's hand and suggested they step over to the window. Their reflections drifted across an oval mirror hanging on the wall, and the artist noted that he and this young enchantress looked wonderful together!

The candle flames reflected in Catharina’s brown eyes, making them resemble two radiant pieces of amber. Conversing with the girl, Jan stood very close to her, feeling her warm breath and catching his breath from the fruity fragrance of her body. This aroma reminded him of the scent of ripe peaches—yes, precisely peaches—so delicate, barely perceptible, and alluring... The painter imagined himself in a beautiful garden among fruitful trees and fragrant flowers, over which bees bustled busily, gathering sweet nectar, and birds sang with all their might—a garden where everything was infused with the inexhaustible joy of life and happiness!

The young man adjusted the lace on his white shirt and asked Catharina if she played any musical instrument. The girl replied that she had learned to play the harpsichord and had taken singing lessons. Jan asked her to perform something. A flutist and a violinist offered to play along with Catharina, but she declined. Looking at Jan with a smile, she sat down at the harpsichord, leisurely smoothing the folds of her dress, began to play, and started to sing. Her voice was pure and clear, and her sensitive fingers touched the keys habitually and deftly. The sounds of her voice, blending with the notes of the instrument, echoed in Jan’s heart with bursts of joy.

The eye of the enamored artist noted every detail—Vermeer mentally transferred everything he saw onto canvas. But how best to convey this mood, the atmosphere, and the light diffused within it? How to capture this light? That is the ultimate challenge! he mused, continuing to admire Catharina.

Finishing her performance, the girl stood up and, responding to the applause, bowed with emotion, still under the spell of the music that had just faded away. Jan looked at her with pride.

One of the guests invited Catharina to play a game of trick-track. She agreed and, smiling conspiratorially at Jan, walked past him, her dress rustling. At that moment, Carel Fabritius approached him.

"Well, how is your progress?" he asked. "Are the new works moving along slowly?"

"Yes, I continue to experiment," Jan replied. "As you know, I relentlessly struggle with how to harmonize color and light. Some things are already working out thanks to your advice. It is difficult to find the key to these mysteries... It is a long road."

"Each of us has our own path..." Carel said thoughtfully. "Previously you practiced your hand in Bramer's workshop, which is a good school, but I have already told you that you should not imitate him or anyone else: you possess such a gift that you will certainly be ahead of everyone. You only need to find your own theme and develop what you already have."

"Do you hold me in such high esteem?" Vermeer asked with embarrassment. "I did not even expect it. But you are incomparably above us all: the freedom with which you paint is magnificent! And your brushwork, and your light... One can only hope to approach it..."

"That is an exaggeration. I, too, am constantly searching for the key to all these secrets."

Margaret loudly announced that after the dancing and games, she was once again inviting everyone to the table—to drink tea with sweet pie and sample exotic fruits. Everyone sat down cheerfully and continued socializing. Jan, sitting next to Catharina, leaned toward her—noticing, with the eye of both an artist and an enamored man, that the girl not only smelled of peaches but also had a peach-like complexion—and whispered:

"May I invite you on a date?"

In response, Catharina cast a quick glance at him.

"Shall we meet next Thursday by the New Church?" Jan continued anxiously. "I will finish work around four o'clock that day. Will you come?"

"Very well," the girl replied quietly. "I will tell Mother that I am going to see my godmother, and my godmother will surely support me."

"I will be eagerly waiting for this meeting," Jan whispered fervently.

Catharina lowered her eyes to hide the emotions that overwhelmed her.

The candles were burning down. The guests thanked the hostess and began to disperse. The young men offered to escort the ladies home. Jan walked with Catharina, holding her arm.

"Where do you live, sweet Catharina?" he asked, and the girl gave her answer.

Jan was surprised and puzzled to learn that she lived in the Catholic quarter, but he tried to hide it. Nothing will prevent us from being together! he thought. Then it occurred to him to ask her where she had met Margaret.

"At a well-known milliner's," came the reply. "We were placing orders and began to consult each other on which fabrics were best to choose. That is how we met."

Having escorted Catharina to her house, Jan kissed her hand in farewell and reminded her of their date.

"I will certainly come," the girl assured him, blushing deeply.

For all the following days, it seemed to Catharina that time dragged on endlessly. She seemed to see Jan everywhere—all her thoughts were occupied with him. Looking out the window, she would invariably see someone who resembled Jan, and when she and the maid went shopping, she scrutinized everyone who bore even a remote resemblance to him. Jan appeared to her in dreams, and in the mornings, she tried to reconstruct these dreams in her memory. But sometimes at night, her mentally ill brother Willem would rage in the next room; the girl would wake up, and her reveries would vanish.

"Something is happening to you," her mother noted one day. "You have become so distracted!"

"No, no, it is just your imagination, I am perfectly fine," her daughter replied quickly, trying to compose herself, though it was not easy.

Catharina performed her household chores as quickly and deftly as before, but mechanically. She was afraid that her mother would find out about her feelings for the painter prematurely, and she carefully concealed these emotions, for Jan had not yet confessed his love or proposed to her.

On Thursday at the appointed time, she stood by the fence of the New Church, shifting slightly from foot to foot. A gusty wind, full of the thrilling spirit of spring, bold and exultant, tugged at her clothes and tried to tear off her head covering. Jan was late, and Catharina began to grow nervous, but then she decided that he must have serious business at the guild or an important meeting. At last, she saw the familiar silhouette and smiled joyfully. The young man was walking fast, very fast, and when he drew near, they rushed toward each other as if they had not seen one another for long months!

"I was delayed by business, but I hurried so!" He pressed Catharina’s hands to his chest. "I thought of you constantly, I missed you terribly! I simply did not know how to survive until this hour!"

"I felt the same," the girl allowed the young man to embrace her and felt how warm and cozy she was in his arms.

They walked along the embankment beside the canal, chatting about everything under the sun, skipping from topic to topic. Catharina animatedly answered Jan's questions and asked about his life and his paintings. An hour or more flew by unnoticed. The girl became so engrossed in the conversation that she almost forgot her godmother’s invitation to come over for dinner. Remembering, she told Jan, and he agreed.

Agnes, an amiable middle-aged woman, was delighted by the guests and called them to the table. After dinner, as was the custom, they began to play music. The godmother played the lute beautifully, and Jan loved the soft, crooning voice of that instrument. Agnes and her goddaughter sang more than one duet, which brought great pleasure to everyone. Suddenly Catharina realized that it was quite late, and Jan went to escort her home.

When the young people reached the bridge over the canal, the girl suggested:

"Let us stand by the water for a little while."

"Let us," Jan agreed.

"Sometimes, on my way somewhere, I stop here and look at the boats and barges—usually when Mother sends me to the market for groceries or with treats for my godmother."

Twilight enveloped the city, and it suddenly seemed somehow special, full of mystery, intended for the two of them alone. Singing could be heard somewhere in the distance. The early stars, yellow and not yet bright, peeked timidly through the swiftly drifting clouds that resembled huge, billowing sails.

"Every time I look at our sky, I never cease to marvel: what colors, tones, and half-tones!" Jan said with delight. "Look, over there the clouds are deep lilac and jet-black, and following them drift burgundy-red ones with yellow and greenish stripes..."

"True! I, too, sometimes cannot tear my eyes away from such a sky, but more often than not it is gray here, like unbleached linen."

"But try to look closer at it even then—and you will see what you could not discern before. It is so fascinating! There are things you do not see right away."

"I will try to look closer, but will I really see something else?"

"Undoubtedly!"

"Many call our sky dull and colorless..."

"But to me, it is always thrilling and mysterious. I dream of painting a view of Delft such that the sky occupies the greater part of the canvas, and showing how the clouds drift after the rain—slow, majestic, while the silhouette of the city will be visible from afar like something beautiful... I want to divide the canvas into four parts: the embankment, the river, the buildings, and the vast sky. I do not know if I will succeed in reflecting on canvas all the charm of our city and our sky as I see it... For now, these are only plans. I do not like to rush such things; the conception must mature."

Having listened to Jan, Catharina asked slyly:

"I hope I will be the first to see the painting?"

"Of course. It is just a small matter—it remains only to paint it," the artist replied jokingly.

Below, dark and shimmering like antique silver, the water gleamed. Jan, pointing to the light, gray-olive waves, said:

"Look, Catharina, in the water, as in a mysterious mirror, the clouds, the shadows of passing birds, the light of distant stars are reflected... And the wind, like an artist, paints its own picture. One could compose a fairy tale about this."

"How beautiful it is," the girl whispered.

"It is all thanks to you. You inspire me."

Catharina’s eyes were very close, those eyes shining brightly in the twilight. Jan's gaze dissolved in them. The young man embraced the girl and gently touched his lips to hers. His heart stopped for a second, then pounded as if it were about to leap from his chest.

"Will you agree to become my wife?" he asked softly.

"I agree," Catharina replied, and happy tears, large like a child's, rolled down her cheeks. "Now we only need Mother's consent."

This evening remained forever in the painter's memory, in the depths of his heart.

Even now, on his way to Maria Thins’ house, he recalled those unforgettable hours in full detail.

Vermeer arrived in the part of town where the Catholics lived and stopped at the entrance of a large two-story house with a mezzanine. Standing for a few minutes to calm his agitation, he knocked on the door with a silver knocker. Maria opened it for him. Jan bowed to her.

The woman wore an austere gray dress with a white lace collar; a small bonnet covered her gray hair. Her small, yellow-brown eyes were cold. She glanced at the bouquet of roses in Jan’s hands and said, with difficulty restraining her irritation:

"You have arrived late, young man."

There were icy notes in her voice, like the crunching of pieces of ice in a metal mug. Jan felt somewhat uncomfortable.

"A friend of our family, who will be a witness at the wedding, is already here, and we are waiting for you," she added.

"Please forgive me," the artist bowed to Maria once more. "I was delayed at the guild."

"On one's betrothal day, one could arrive on time!" she snapped, and turning around, headed into the living room, her hem rustling, austere and straight.

The embarrassed Vermeer followed her.

She is right, he thought. Even with my busy schedule, I should not have been late!

Cleanliness reigned in the house; it smelled of freshness. The floor in the hall, laid out in light and red marble squares, gleamed. High-backed chairs were neatly arranged, the stained-glass windows tightly closed, and the timid rays of the young spring sun, peeking into the room through the colored glass, played with highlights on the squares of the floor, walls, and furniture, creating a joyful, stirring atmosphere.

The venerable, silver-haired Leonaert Bramer sat in an armchair by a low table. He stood up to meet Jan, and they embraced. The groom asked Maria where Catharina was.

"She is arranging the fruit, she will be out shortly," Maria’s voice remained just as icy.

Catharina brought a dish of fruit into the hall, smiled at Jan with her sunny smile, greeted him, and, glancing briefly toward her mother, warned Jan with her eyes that he must tolerate her character. He understood this silent sign.

The girl placed the dish on the table and turned her radiant gaze back to Jan. The young man noted for the umpteenth time that she possessed a remarkably bright and attractive smile. Smiling, she seemed to bestow her warmth upon him. In those moments, it felt to him as though hot sparks were igniting in the depths of her golden-brown eyes, warming his heart. My love, my radiant angel! he repeated enthusiastically to himself, like a poem.

"Catharina, these roses are for you," he said, handing the bouquet to his fiancée. She pressed the flowers to her chest and lowered her face into their crimson petals.

Maria invited everyone to sit down and, by right of being the bride's mother, began the speech first.

"I was opposed to this marriage, but the young people insisted," she said sternly. "We must arrange all the details: when and where the wedding and the wedding feast will take place, and where the young family will live. And, most importantly, I would like to remind Jan that I am entrusting him with my most precious possession—my Catharina. He must give me his word that he will care for her and endeavor to keep his family in comfort."

Maria delivered all of this while addressing Leonaert Bramer for some reason, as if not noticing Vermeer.