On June 27 the Mauritshuis reopens in The Hague after two years of ambitious refurbishment and extension. And — I mean that as a sincere compliment to the director, architects, and staff — it’s almost exactly the same as it was before the 30 million euro reconstruction work was begun. But perhaps I’d better explain why that’s such a good thing.
The Mauritshuis is the perfect gallery of 17th-century Dutch painting. Perhaps on a crass masterpiece count it somewhat lags behind the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam — though even there one could argue the point. Among its Rembrandt roster is the grisly “Anatomy Lesson of Doctor Nicolaes Tulp,” 1652, a group portrait of early surgeons, boldly investigating where more squeamish cultures hesitated to look: beneath the waxy skin of the cadaver of a deceased thief named Aris Kindt.
Less gruesome and even more sublime as a piece of oil painting is a “Self-Portrait” from the last year of the painter’s life, 1669, in which Rembrandt seems to be gently melting away: his hair soft as the finest duvet stuffing, the lines of his face pouching and sagging, his eyes full of a searching sadness.
Even so, the Mauritshuis loses on points to the Rijksmuseum in the Rembrandt stakes, but on the other hand it has an unparalleled assortment of Vermeers. The Mauritshuis has three — a total other museums could rival, even though Vermeer is a rare artist — but among that tally are two of the world’s most famous pictures: the “View of Delft,” c. 1660-61, and “Girl with a Pearl Earring,” c. 1665. The latter, following the novel by Tracy Chevalier, a film, and a world tour — the Tokyo leg of which was the single most popular exhibition of 2012 anywhere in the world — is in danger of becoming too famous for her own good.
The paintings of the Mauritshuis, as the museum’s dynamic director Emilie Gordenker was heard to say on press day, have the power to inspire novelists. In addition to “Girl with a Pearl Earring,” “The Goldfinch,” 1654, by Carel Fabritius, takes an important role in the recent bestseller by Donna Tartt of the same name; the splendid but gruesome Rembrandt mentioned before is the subject of a historical fiction by Nina Segal. Most distinguished of all is the role played by Vermeer’s “View of Delft,” c. 1660-61, in Marcel Proust’s great “À la recherche du temps perdu,” in which a character swoons and dies in front of the picture, happy to expire in the presence of such beauty.
In fact the picture is not a health hazard although Proust had a point when he deemed it the world’s most beautiful painting. That is a hard competition to adjudicate, but the “View of Delft” is most certainly a candidate. It combines a wonderfully lucid cityscape, surely studied by the artist through a camera obscura, with a transient light effect caused by a cloud covering the sun that could only have lasted in reality for a minute or two.
You will have spotted that, having labelled masterpiece counting “crass,” I’ve gone on to do just that. Nonetheless, though the star pictures are perhaps the reason most of us will make a journey to The Hague, the true charm of the Mauritshuis is that is such an ideal ensemble. It is a high-quality, smallish collection — around 800 works in total, on the low side for a major institution — which all belong harmoniously together.
The great majority of the pictures are 17th-century Dutch, with a few works from later and earlier (including a fine clutch of Holbeins). And the whole array is shown in a perfect setting: a grand but not particularly big 17th-century town house, which is itself one of the finest examples of classical Dutch architecture. This means that the paintings are seen in exactly the kind of context for which they were intended in the first place.
As I say, it’s perfect. If you went there before the revamp, you probably won’t notice much difference within the galleries themselves. The decor has been spruced up. There are new wall coverings and Murano glass chandeliers; the hanging has been slightly aerated. But pretty well all the pictures are where they were before. Leaving things as they were — on the basis that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it — is a decision I applaud.
The novelties are hidden away neatly underneath the forecourt of the Mauritshuis itself and in an adjoining building: a new entrance hall, restaurant, temporary exhibition gallery, and all the amenities that a 21st-century museum feels it ought to have. These have been deftly and elegantly fitted in. In the old days you entered through the rather scruffy basement of the 17th-century structure, not that I minded much.
More people will visit the Mauritshuis now, and rightly. It’s one of the world’s great treats for those who like looking at pictures. But let’s hope it’s still possible, as it used to be on a quiet day, to spend some quality time alone with the girl and her pearl. Increasingly, she has the “Mona Lisa of the North” tag hung around her neck. But you’ll never, ever get the Mona Lisa to yourself like that. Paradoxically, its lack of popularity was one of the nicest things about the old Mauritshuis, and that is one attribute that is likely to change.
