Restoration
Page 25
Why?
“Integrated physical-chemical and analytical methodologies have further confirmed the authenticity of the painting,” she hears the director say. “The ground layer, characteristically left visible in more than one place, is Caravaggio’s typical red-brown mixture of calcite, minerals, and lead . . .”
She can picture her former colleagues, so dedicated and thorough, so diligent and patient, applying their tools— X-radiography, infrared reflectography, pyrolysis, gas chromatography—to analyze pigments and layers in minute detail, only to reach the wrong conclusion. She can predict almost every word from the director, which only compounds her feeling of guilt.
“The obtained results indicate that Caravaggio used white lead and natural earths; malachite, cinnabar, kermes, and cochineal; umber and ocher . . . The considerable amount of amorphous particles of copper chlorides found in the green pigment verdigris suggests that it could have been produced according to the ancient recipe of veride salsum . . .”
She watches the backs of her former colleagues: the manager of the scientific department, a man in his early fifties, leaning forward a bit when the director details his department’s examination, as if to make sure his superior doesn’t deviate from the careful script, the press secretary looking around, discreetly reading the audience. There is a spotlight on the covered painting, and the veil ripples gently in the slight draft.
“While it’s clear that the painting has undergone significant restoration—particularly the head, the jewelry, and parts of the background—we cannot accurately determine its time or place, partly due to the excellent care taken in using almost exclusively materials employed in the original painting . . . It is quite possible that this expert restoration is the work of Robert Marshall who we know restored paintings by Ghirlandaio and Lippi for Count Contini Bonacossi, a supplier of art to the Germans. There is, however, no evidence of this since much of Mr. Marshall’s dealings during the war are still murky, as are the facts surrounding his alleged escape to Berlin in the spring of 1944 where he and his family are believed to have perished a year later . . .”
She’s never believed that story. For years after she moved to London she was convinced that he was there, sometimes spotting him in the street, sometimes in a store or even the museum. The first time that happened, she was stunned by her own reaction. Fear mingled with relief and even longing. She started running after him but stopped when she realized how absurd her feelings were, how ridiculous to believe that he was there. But those arguments had all evaporated a few weeks later when she thought she caught sight of him again.
Hope and despair. And then the aching loneliness. Again and again. For years.
“As is the case with several of Caravaggio’s paintings, the provenance of this picture is uncertain. The early Caravaggio biographer Giovanni Bellori, writing in 1672, mentions a Portrait of a Young Woman sent by the artist to the Grand Master of the Knights of Malta in the hope of regaining favor after having been expelled from the Order in 1608. While we cannot be absolutely certain that Bellori was referring to this particular painting, we know of no better candidate . . .”
The director pauses, reaches for a glass of water before adjusting his glasses slightly on his nose. She had always admired his scholarly enthusiasm, his tireless advocacy for the museum, and his unwavering support of his staff. A decent man, that’s how she would describe him, a trustworthy man. He looks at the painting on the easel before continuing, and her eyes follow his.
“In the light of concern that some works of art now in public collections may have been improperly acquired during the period 1933–1945, without restitution having been made, the National Gallery has paid particular attention to the whereabouts of its paintings during those years. While we cannot rule out the possibility that the Portrait of a Young Woman, as we have officially termed the painting, may temporarily have been in the possession of the Germans during the war, and while it’s also conceivable that they may have hidden it at San Martino on their retreat, this is only speculation, as there is no record of it prior to the war and no claim asserting that it was at any time improperly acquired. Perhaps we will never know more than our donor, Mr. Cecil Pritchett, whose will I quote: ‘A portrait of a girl, now on the north wall in my study, shall be donated to the National Gallery in London. Found in 1951 in the attic of the fattoria amongst other items.’ ”
Pritchett. He must have kept it hidden the whole time, she says to herself, for how would she be able to know that some nights, when only he and the cicadas were awake, he would sit in his study and stare at the painting, trying to place the girl. There were times when he felt he was only a corner away from finding her in his mind’s labyrinth, but as the years passed, those times became less frequent until, at the end, he had given up. When Alice was still alive, he would only take the painting out when he was alone, leaving it otherwise hidden in a closet. It was only after she passed that he put it on the north wall in the study.
When he lost his sight, he would every now and then ask one of the maids to describe it to him. He would sit in front of it and pepper them with detailed questions in his attempt at piecing it together in his mind’s eye. “What do you see?” he would ask again and again. “Tell me what you see,” becoming frustrated and even angry as failure visited him once again.
She isn’t listening anymore, but the director continues, speculating whether the painting may have been on the property prior to the Orsinis’ purchase of San Martino or whether the Germans may have left it there, mentioning Marshall again and making doubly sure it’s clear to all that there is no record of the painting prior to the war and no dispute about Mr. Pritchett’s rights to it, pointing out the poor documentation of Caravaggio’s works (“By 1921 there were only thirty paintings attributed to Caravaggio, according to a catalogue edited by Lionello Venturi”), before finally citing three renowned experts who have concluded that Portrait of a Young Woman is without a doubt the work of the troubled master. There is a din in her ears, but when the director finally raises his head, looks at the easel and says, “And now the moment has finally come . . . ,” she turns her back on the crowd and hurries out. Her leg aches but in the distance she sees the exit, the gray light entering through the door, accompanied by determined visitors. She gropes her way forward as if in semidarkness, her master’s voice loud and merciless in her ears: “You’re capable of this . . .”
Suddenly she stops as if someone has caught hold of her. She hears the moment the painting is unveiled, the gasps from the guests, the ensuing noise. She stands without moving, and gradually the shadows retreat and the mist dissolves before her eyes. She stands absolutely still, trying to get her bearings, then slowly looks over her shoulder.
People have moved closer to the painting, which is bathed in bright light. She can see its upper half, the wet hair, the delicate shoulders, the cheek in blue half-shadow. Inadvertently, she raises a hand to her face and gently touches her cheek, then lets it fall to her side.
She forgets to retrieve her umbrella from the cloakroom. The rain has dwindled to a light drizzle, and the sun is trying to break through a gap in the clouds over the buildings across the square. She hesitates, waiting for the ground to stop undulating beneath her feet, then grips the handrail and sets off slowly down the long, broad flight of steps.
Acknowledgments
Many books and sources were important to me in my research for this book. I am particularly indebted to a few: the diaries kept by Iris Origo during 1943–44, and later published as War in Val d’Orcia; Caroline Moorehead’s biography, Iris Origo: Marchesa of Val d’Orcia; and The Rape of Europe by Lynn H. Nicholas.
Parts of Restoration are inspired by and draw on the life of Marchesa Origo who, with her husband, restored La Foce, their Tuscan estate, in the 1920s and sheltered allies and partisans during World War II. While Alice Orsini undoubtedly shares similarities with Iris Origo, it is important to stress that the former is a purely fictional construct. The sam
e applies to other characters and historical figures. They may share their names or certain features with characters in the book but that’s where the similarities end. I have treated real places and events in the same cavalier manner, while sticking to “historical fact” to the best of my abilities.
I am also indebted to my agent, Gloria Loomis, for her care and support; Jason Epstein, who read this book in an early draft, for his friendship and wisdom; Dan Halpern and the team at Ecco—in particular my editor, Lee Boudreaux, who worked her magic on these pages with infectious enthusiasm.
And to my wife, Anna, whose patience makes this all possible.
About the Author
OLAF OLAFSSON was born in Reykjavík, Iceland. He is the author of three previous novels, The Journey Home, Absolution, and Walking into the Night, and a story collection, Valentines. He is the executive vice president of Time Warner and lives in New York City with his wife and three children.
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Also by Olaf Olafsson
Valentines
Walking into the Night
Absolution
The Journey Home
Credits
Cover design by Allison Saltzman
Cover photographs: Tuscan villa by Cornelia Doerr/Getty Images,
airplane © by Joseph Sohm/Corbis, picture frame by iStockPhoto
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
RESTORATION. Copyright © 2012 by Double O Investment Corp. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Map by Chris Costello
ISBN 978-0-06-206565-0
EPub Edition © FEBRUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780062065667
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Map
Historical Note
I
II
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Olaf Olafsson
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher