A New Take on the Iconic Girl Reading a Letter by Vermeer

The early provenance of the painting is unclear. It was acquired in Paris on behalf of the Elector of Saxony, August III, in 1742. At the time, it was thought to be a Rembrandt, and was apparently added to the group of 30 paintings in the transaction as something of an “extra.” The painting then came to Dresden after that purchase, where, other than a brief period in Soviet possession after World War II, it has been for nearly three centuries. It is unclear how the painting first left Vermeer’s studio, how it found its way to Paris, and who had the painting for those 70 years. Regardless of that mystery, the painting that arrived in Dresden looked like this:

It is noteworthy that the wall behind the girl is blank. That is unusual for Vermeer. He is usually quite generous in including a painting or a map on the wall to point us toward the overall meaning of the painting. It seems out of character to have not given us a hint in this instance.

As it turns out, Vermeer did provide us with such a hint, and a fairly large one at that. Imaging studies done in 1979 revealed that there originally had been a painting on the wall recognizable as a nude Cupid that Vermeer had used in three other paintings (A Maid Asleep, Girl Interrupted in Her Music, and Lady Standing at a Virginal). In our case, the Cupid image is rendered particularly large, making the Cupid about the same size as the girl herself.

Why would Vermeer have changed his mind and painted out this oversized Cupid? If he had left it there, it would have told us that the letter in the girl’s hand has something to do with love. Did Vermeer take out the Cupid because he wanted to keep us guessing? That also seems a bit out of character for him. Did he perhaps think that the Cupid would point us in the wrong direction and thus decided to take it out to avoid confusion? That, too, seems unlikely.

The answer to this riddle was revealed in 2017 as a restoration of the painting was being started at the Gemäldegalerie in Dresden. While removing layers of yellowed varnish on the painting, it was discovered that the paint over the Cupid had solubility properties different than the paint Vermeer used elsewhere on the painting.

In addition, microscopic analysis showed there was a layer of dirt on the painting between the Cupid and the overpainting, suggesting that some time had elapsed between the time Vermeer painted the Cupid and the overpainting. In other words, Vermeer didn’t paint over the Cupid—someone else did. Between the time Vermeer created the piece in the late 1650s and its arrival in Dresden in 1742, someone with an artistic sense different from Vermeer’s painted out the nude Cupid.

We don’t know when the Cupid was painted over. We don’t know who made the decision to remove the God of Love and for what reason. Perhaps a well-meaning revisionist thought that the full-frontal nude of the boy on the wall was too much of a distraction from the lovely woman reading the letter. Nevertheless, the restoration, done largely with a microscope and scalpel, reinstated the Cupid to the scene. Now, we see the painting as Vermeer intended it.

Given that Cupid is again presiding over the scene, it seems that Vermeer is telling us that the letter the girl is reading does indeed concern love. The fruit bowl in the foreground gives us the same suggestion. Fruit is a clever strategy that flowering plants use to spread their seeds. Love letters are designed to accomplish the same thing. Hence depictions of fruit in paintings quite often symbolize love. But in an otherwise orderly room, this fruit dish is askew and some of the fruit has fallen out. If fruit represents love, there must be something amiss in this love affair.

Nothing about the painting suggests that the girl is happy with the letter. She shows no sense of joy. We see her in profile and can’t get a good view of the expression on her face. She is flushed, but not because she is aroused by some amorous words on the page. Her lips are parted as if she is gasping at what she reads. Her eyes are downturned to look at the letter, so we get no hint of her emotional state from her eyes. The reflected image in the windowpane helps, but only a bit. In that view, she is a ghost-like gray and seems older and perhaps wearier. If there is any emotion in that reflection it is one of sadness.

The letter she is holding has been crumpled up. It would not have been in such a state by accident—letters in the 17th century were treasured objects. However, all the six Vermeer paintings that contain letters are all well-kept—except for this one.

In Woman in Blue Reading a Letter, also a painting of a solitary woman reading a letter, the letter retains a crispness. It appears to have been treated with a respect that is quite unlike the letter in the hands of the Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window. Letters in other Vermeer paintings are treated with a certain reverence whether being delivered (Mistress and Maid and The Love Letter) or when being written (A Lady Writing and Lady Writing a Letter with her Maid). It is only in the Dresden painting that we see a letter in such a sad state.

It seems to me that we are not looking in on the first reading of the letter. Perhaps she opened the letter the day before, was not happy with the contents, crumpled it up, and tossed it aside. After a restless night, she has carefully dressed for the day and returned to this nook, picked up the crumpled letter, and is now rereading it with fresh eyes in the light of a new day. But the second reading brings her no consolation.

The way Vermeer shows us the Cupid on the wall gives more insight into what is happening. The curtain in the painting has been pushed aside, allowing us to peek in on what would otherwise be a private scene. The curtain hides nearly a third of the room, including the upstretched left hand of the Cupid. Vermeer has hidden that left hand for good reason.

The Cupid is likely a painting by Cesar van Everdingen (which is lost) which in turn was based on an emblem in Otto van Veen’s Amorum emblemata, a popular book from 1608.

The emblem shows Cupid holding aloft a card emblazoned with the Roman numeral “I”. Cupid stands on a card embossed with other numbers, trampling them out. The emblem’s motto, “Perfects Amor non est nisi ad unum”, states that “a perfect love involves only one lover”. People seeing this painting in Vermeer’s day would have known that the message of the “I” on Cupid’s card is one of fidelity in love. Vermeer used this Cupid in other paintings to convey that same idea about faithfulness.

By hiding Cupid’s message behind the curtain in this case, Vermeer is telling us that the letter writer has been blind to Cupid’s admonition. He has not been faithful—he has found someone new. The role of Cupid in this painting kept hidden for nearly 350 years and still partly hidden by the Vermeer’s curtain, is to hint about the character of the man who wrote the letter and to dispel us of the notion that the girl is reading a faithful love letter. The letter writer has not appreciated Cupid’s hidden message.

Vermeer’s rendition of van Everdingen’s painting in The Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window has Cupid standing on an actor’s mask, rather than standing on the card with the other numbers. By making that replacement Vermeer is underscoring the false visage that had been put forward by the letter writer.

The girl’s restless night has done nothing to soothe her heartache over the letter. She is still shocked at what she reads. Her lowered eyes hide the tears welling up with the pain and longing of unrequited love. Cupid’s admonition of faithfulness has been ignored. The promise of true love has been upended like the fruit bowl. Clearly, this is not a love letter that she is holding in her hands.