Spotlight on music in paintings
Part 2: Music as a worldly pleasure in the art of Leyster and De Heem
Since Antiquity, as explored in Part 1 of this series, music has been intertwined with divine worship, a practice rooted in the belief of its sacred force. However, from early Christianity onward, this positive view was also placed in a stark duality: music was seen as a profane, sensual temptation — a notion central to sixteenth- and seventeenth-century views of musical instruments and their representation in art. While Part 1 revealed how Ribera and Baldung illustrated music’s ability to lift the soul closer to God, here in Part 2, we will examine how Leyster and De Heem expose its seductive pull toward moral descent.
Fig. 1: Judith Leyster, Merry Company, c. 1629, The Klesch Collection.
As the Dutch poet Jan van der Veen wrote: ‘The fiddle or violin is alas used more in the service of vanity than in the praise and glory of God’.1 In her vibrant Merry Company (c. 1629), Judith Leyster depicts a lively party, possibly amidst Shrovetide celebrations in the lead-up to Lent, with revellers drinking, singing, dancing and playing music (fig. 1). Especially when paired with its presumed pendant The Last Drop (fig. 2) — where revelry meets the spectre of death — the Klesch Merry Company suggests an implicit moral commentary, a warning against the dangers of excessive indulgence in the earthly pleasures condemned by Calvinism, which could lead to moral decay or neglect of one’s (religious) duties. Yet, as an artist specialised in depicting daily life, Leyster’s main subject here is music as a central element of communal enjoyment in seventeenth-century Dutch society.2 Leyster likely painted the violin from direct observation, faithfully capturing period-accurate details, including playing techniques (fig. 3).
Fig. 3: Detail of Merry Company, showing the violin.
Fig. 2: Judith Leyster, The Last Drop (The Gay Cavalier), c. 1629, oil on panel, 89.1 x 73.5 cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, John G. Johnson Collection, 1917.
Fig. 3: Detail of Merry Company, showing the violin.
The fiddler plays the violin in the downward position, holding it against his collarbone, common practice before the invention of the chin rest. His grip on the short Baroque bow, with its characteristic pike head shape, is accurately depicted, with four fingers above the stick and the thumb placed on the hair to control tension.3 The violin features distinctive half-moon-shaped tuning pegs, typical of the 1620–1640s, and a black head at the end of the pegbox where one would expect a scroll.4 Previously believed to be carved of wood, recent research reveals that these heads could have been cast, perhaps in wax or soft metal.5 Leyster’s husband, the painter Jan Miense Molenaer (1610–1668), included a violin with a similar head several times in his own paintings.6
Fig. 4: Jan Davidsz. de Heem, A Still Life of Luxuries, mid-1660s, The Klesch Collection.
Jan Davidsz. de Heem’s A Still Life of Luxuries (c. 1665–1670) demonstrates how musical instruments’ association with these worldly pleasures made them a powerful subject to invite reflection on the brevity of human life (fig. 4). In this lavish work, a type of lute which could be a gallichon (later also called a mandora), a recorder and a pochette (pocket fiddle) appear alongside an array of luxurious objects.7 While each instrument is carefully observed, the lute in particular is meticulously depicted, highlighting the cultural significance of the lute as one of the most important instruments of seventeenth-century Europe.8 Based on the number of pegs, it is a seven-course lute, here resting on its front, as if placed down by its player only moments earlier. Its striped back is composed of thirteen ribs of shaded yew, with the alternating colours creating a striking effect.9 The shape of the end clasp, the pegbox and tuning pegs, and the use of a strip of parchment to seal the soundboard edge indicate that this instrument was made around the same time as the painting.10 The instrument is strung with gut strings in varying colours, likely dyed to aid identification, and they were also used for tying the eight frets.11
Fig. 5: Detail of A Still Life of Luxuries, showing the recorder.
Fig. 6: Bassano, Tenor Recorder, c. 1600, boxwood, 32.5 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
From beneath the lute we see part of a late Renaissance alto or tenor recorder, identifiable by the flared bell and dual bottom holes (figs. 5–6).12 A pochette, a ‘pocket-sized’ bowed instrument with four strings, known as ‘the dancing master’s fiddle’, is also included, its narrow boat-like shape and C-shaped sound holes clearly depicted (figs. 7–8).13 By elevating the lute as a main focal point in the composition, De Heem likens his artistic composition to musical harmony — a motif widely explored in 17th-century Dutch art theory — even signing his masterpiece at the bottom of the lute’s tablature.14 As symbols of earthly luxuries, the instruments serve as a memento mori. This is further emphasised by the lute and recorder’s suggestive shapes, alluding to the pleasures of the flesh.15 With this careful arrangement, De Heem reminded the viewer that earthly desires are as fleeting as the sound of music.
Fig. 7: Detail of A Still Life of Luxuries, showing the pochette.
Fig. 8: Pochette, 17th century, Germany/Europe, purpleheart, ivory, spruce, snakewood, ebony and maple, 44.5 cm, Paris, Musée de la Musique. Photos: Jean-Claude Billing.
An integral part of human existence, music serves as a profound expression of the soul, evoking deep psychological and emotional responses even in its silent representation. From Baldung’s angels and Ribera’s King David to Leyster’s joyful revellers and De Heem’s still-life realism, these works reveal music’s rich symbolic resonance and how artists used it as a means to connect with their viewers’ emotions, bridging aesthetic beauty with spiritual, moral and cultural reflections across both sacred and secular realms.
Notes
1. ‘The fedel of fiool die wert God betert, meer Gebruyckt tot ydelheyt, als tot Godts lof en eer’. J.A. Welu and P. Biesboer (eds.), Judith Leyster: a Dutch Master and her World, exh. cat., Worcester Art Museum, Worcester; Haarlem, Frans Hals Museum, 1993, p. 155.
2. Welu and Biesboer 1993, p. 254.
3. As the mechanical screw-frog had not yet been invented, this bow would have had a ‘clip-in’ frog, which required manual adjusting of the tension of the hairs. R. Gwilt, ‘A Timeline history of the Violin Bow – from c. 1600 – 1800’, Baroque Violin, accessed 9 November 2024, http://www.baroque-violin.info/bowtimeline/source/prin.html.
4. W. Raymaekers, ‘De vormkenmerken van de instrumenten der vioolfamilie in de 17de-eeuwse Nederlandse schilderkunst’, in Musica antiqua. Actuele informatie over oude muziek 6, no. 3 (1989), pp. 98–105.
5. Correspondence Hubert de Launay, 6 November 2024. I thank Hubert de Launay, early Dutch violin expert, for kindly sharing his research with me, and Matthew Huber, for lending his expert eye. An inventory of the workshop of an Amsterdam instrument maker from 1670 lists ‘veertig plijster mallen om fiole hoofden te gieten’ (40 plaster molds to cast violin heads). Carved wood heads were usually reserved for viola da gambas, instruments for the elite, which would have been labour intensive and thus expensive. In Leyster’s time, the violin was a relatively new invention, having been developed only in the previous century as an instrument for people in lower strata of society. It is possible that in an effort to make this new instrument more appealing, luthiers emulated the decorations of the desirable viol family. Casting the heads would have been a quick and cheap alternative to suit a modest budget. Unfortunately, none of these cast heads have survived, likely due to their fragility or because they were later replaced with scrolls.
6. It is known that Molenaer owned musical instruments, as his inventory listed a ‘viool’, three citterns, two transverse flutes and a pocket violin. L.P. Grijp, ‘Conclusions and Perspectives’, in E. Buijsen and L.P. Grijp (eds.), Music & Painting in the Golden Age, Zwolle, 1994, p. 112.
7. Correspondence Jurgen De Bruyn, 16 November 2024. I thank lutist Jurgen De Bruyn and Dirk De Hertogh, luthier specialised in lutes, for their expert opinions.
8. In 1618, the German composer and theoretician Michael Praetorius called the lute ‘fundamentum et initium’, the basis and the origin. It was the most common instrument for solo music-making and had an aristocratic aura. J. Burgers, The Lute in the Dutch Golden Age: Material Culture in the Netherlands 1580–1670, Amsterdam, 2013, p. 7–10.
9. Since the gallichon has fourteen rather than thirteen strings, it likely had a doubled top course instead of a single chanterelle. To obtain the striped effect, the luthier cuts the yew to balance the sapwood (lighter colour) and heartwood (darker colour) in each rib, creating a tonal contrast that gives the illusion of twice as many ribs.
10. Correspondence Jurgen De Bruyn, 16 November 2024. The end clasp is the piece of wood on the outside of the lower end of the back, used to finish and further secure the point where the ribs meet.
11. In De Heem’s time, strings were sold in multiple lengths, and the excess length tied in a bundle is here depicted dangling from the peg box. Frets are placed at specific intervals corresponding to different musical pitches, and when the player presses a string down against a fret, it changes the string’s pitch, allowing for accurate note production. While gallichons usually had ten to twelve frets, some examples survive with eight.
12. These dual holes enabled the musician to play with either hand on top.
13. M. Remnant, ‘Kit’, Grove Music Online, 20 January 2001, https://doi-org.lonlib.idm.oclc.org/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.15075
14. The lute was associated with harmony, status and refinement. Burgers 2013, p. 10; Ember 1984, plate no. 41. The tablature is rendered in great detail and can be identified as the French style of fingering notation, the preferred notation style in the Netherlands at that time.
15. Inscriptions on prints inform us about these instruments’ sexual symbolism. The couplet to the left in a print of a young man with a traverso flute by Bartholomeus Dolendo (1589–1626) after Lucas van Leyden says: ‘Wel lusti[c]h fluyterken, wilt mynen lust coelen. / Fluyt met u luytken, dat ickt mach voelen’ (Well lusty flautist, please cool my lust; Flute together with your lute, so that I can feel it). Burgers 2013, p. 208
Spotlight on music in paintings
Part 2: Music as a worldly pleasure in the art of Leyster and De Heem
Since Antiquity, as explored in Part 1 of this series, music has been intertwined with divine worship, a practice rooted in the belief of its sacred force. However, from early Christianity onward, this positive view was also placed in a stark duality: music was seen as a profane, sensual temptation — a notion central to sixteenth- and seventeenth-century views of musical instruments and their representation in art. While Part 1 revealed how Ribera and Baldung illustrated music’s ability to lift the soul closer to God, here in Part 2, we will examine how Leyster and De Heem expose its seductive pull toward moral descent.
Fig. 1: Judith Leyster, Merry Company, c. 1629, The Klesch Collection.
Fig. 2: Judith Leyster, The Last Drop (The Gay Cavalier), c. 1629, oil on panel, 89.1 x 73.5 cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, John G. Johnson Collection, 1917.
As the Dutch poet Jan van der Veen wrote: ‘The fiddle or violin is alas used more in the service of vanity than in the praise and glory of God’.1 In her vibrant Merry Company (c. 1629), Judith Leyster depicts a lively party, possibly amidst Shrovetide celebrations in the lead-up to Lent, with revellers drinking, singing, dancing and playing music (fig. 1). Especially when paired with its presumed pendant The Last Drop (fig. 2) — where revelry meets the spectre of death — the Klesch Merry Company suggests an implicit moral commentary, a warning against the dangers of excessive indulgence in the earthly pleasures condemned by Calvinism, which could lead to moral decay or neglect of one’s (religious) duties. Yet, as an artist specialised in depicting daily life, Leyster’s main subject here is music as a central element of communal enjoyment in seventeenth-century Dutch society.2 Leyster likely painted the violin from direct observation, faithfully capturing period-accurate details, including playing techniques (fig. 3).
Fig. 3: Detail of Merry Company, showing the violin.
The fiddler plays the violin in the downward position, holding it against his collarbone, common practice before the invention of the chin rest. His grip on the short Baroque bow, with its characteristic pike head shape, is accurately depicted, with four fingers above the stick and the thumb placed on the hair to control tension.3 The violin features distinctive half-moon-shaped tuning pegs, typical of the 1620–1640s, and a black head at the end of the pegbox where one would expect a scroll.4 Previously believed to be carved of wood, recent research reveals that these heads could have been cast, perhaps in wax or soft metal.5 Leyster’s husband, the painter Jan Miense Molenaer (1610–1668), included a violin with a similar head several times in his own paintings.6
Fig. 4: Jan Davidsz. de Heem, A Still Life of Luxuries, mid-1660s, The Klesch Collection.
Jan Davidsz. de Heem’s A Still Life of Luxuries (c. 1665–1670) demonstrates how musical instruments’ association with these worldly pleasures made them a powerful subject to invite reflection on the brevity of human life (fig. 4). In this lavish work, a type of lute which could be a gallichon (later also called a mandora), a recorder and a pochette (pocket fiddle) appear alongside an array of luxurious objects.7 While each instrument is carefully observed, the lute in particular is meticulously depicted, highlighting the cultural significance of the lute as one of the most important instruments of seventeenth-century Europe.8 Based on the number of pegs, it is a seven-course lute, here resting on its front, as if placed down by its player only moments earlier. Its striped back is composed of thirteen ribs of shaded yew, with the alternating colours creating a striking effect.9 The shape of the end clasp, the pegbox and tuning pegs, and the use of a strip of parchment to seal the soundboard edge indicate that this instrument was made around the same time as the painting.10 The instrument is strung with gut strings in varying colours, likely dyed to aid identification, and they were also used for tying the eight frets.11
Fig. 5: Detail of A Still Life of Luxuries, showing the recorder.
Fig. 6: Bassano, Tenor Recorder, c. 1600, boxwood, 32.5 cm, New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
From beneath the lute we see part of a late Renaissance alto or tenor recorder, identifiable by the flared bell and dual bottom holes (figs. 5–6).12 A pochette, a ‘pocket-sized’ bowed instrument with four strings, known as ‘the dancing master’s fiddle’, is also included, its narrow boat-like shape and C-shaped sound holes clearly depicted (figs. 7–8).13 By elevating the lute as a main focal point in the composition, De Heem likens his artistic composition to musical harmony — a motif widely explored in 17th-century Dutch art theory — even signing his masterpiece at the bottom of the lute’s tablature.14 As symbols of earthly luxuries, the instruments serve as a memento mori. This is further emphasised by the lute and recorder’s suggestive shapes, alluding to the pleasures of the flesh.15 With this careful arrangement, De Heem reminded the viewer that earthly desires are as fleeting as the sound of music.
Fig. 7: Detail of A Still Life of Luxuries, showing the pochette.
Fig. 8: Pochette, 17th century, Germany/Europe, purpleheart, ivory, spruce, snakewood, ebony and maple, 44.5 cm, Paris, Musée de la Musique. Photos: Jean-Claude Billing.
An integral part of human existence, music serves as a profound expression of the soul, evoking deep psychological and emotional responses even in its silent representation. From Baldung’s angels and Ribera’s King David to Leyster’s joyful revellers and De Heem’s still-life realism, these works reveal music’s rich symbolic resonance and how artists used it as a means to connect with their viewers’ emotions, bridging aesthetic beauty with spiritual, moral and cultural reflections across both sacred and secular realms.