A Lady Seated at a Virginal
(Zittende virginaalspeelster)
c. 1670-1675
oil on canvas
20 3/4 x 17 7/8 in. (51.5 x 45.5 cm.)
The National Gallery, London

This curtain bears a certain resemblance to the ones seen in Vermeer's Art of Painting and Allegory of Faith. As in the other pictures it functions as a repoussoir devise to heighten the perspective and spatial contrast by placing a large figure or object in the immediate right-hand foreground.
Although the curtain does introduce a note of sensuality in the rectilinear composition, it fails to create much depth. In fact, this painting is frequently considered the artist's final work and some experts perceive signs of artistic decline, which was presumably brought on by extreme economic and personal hardship due to the war with France which had destroyed the art market. Vermeer died a few years later and left his beloved wife Catharina with 11 children and enormous financial debt.
From a technical point of view, the curtain is not executed with the same vigor and subtlety that we are accustomed to in other versions. Even the presence of the pointillés, the spherical dots of light-colored paint meant to imitate one of the effects of the camera obscura, seem to be scattered randomly with little conviction.
The Procuress
Dirck van Baburen
1622
102 x 108 cm
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
This picture, The Procuress by Dirck van Baburen, most likely belonged to Vermeer's mother-in-law, Maria Thins, who had patrician connections in Delft and a discreet art collection of the so-called Utrecht Caravaggists.
It portrays a young female lutenist to the left who is a prostitute, a bearded man who is the client and an older woman who is a procuress. She points to her opened hand soliciting payment. Although these ribald low-life subjects had lost their appeal in the late 17th century, Vermeer seems to have appreciated them not only as a way of introducing comments on the scenes which were represented in his own paintings, but for their technical mastery as well. Although Van Baburen's painting has lead some critics to interpret the woman's gaze as an illicit invitation to profane love, it is more likely that her virginals, often employed as a symbol of harmony, had associations with a far more elevated form of love. Thus the presence of the Van Baburen establishes a thematic contrast between the uncontrolled libido of the bordello scene and music associated with harmony and moderation.
Van Baburen's painting is now housed in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and is the only object which materially links us to Vermeer's world other than his surviving 36 paintings. It also appeared in Vermeer's earlier Concert and seems to have a similar thematic function as in the present work even though the golden Italianate frame has replaced the somber ebony one of the Concert version.
This blue curtain, presumably made of blue velvet with darker blue fringe below, appears only one time in Vermeer's oeuvre. It covers the upper two windows from incoming light and gives a touch of refinement to the scene.

The young lady wears a formal silk multi-colored garment called a tabbaard, a combination of a stiffened gown and a matching bodice called a tabbaardslijft. These bodices were heavily boned making them very uncomfortable and were thus worn only in formal occasions.
Noting the lack of refinement in the gown's blue overskirt, some critics perceive a decline in Vermeer's artistic powers. However, since in the same painting there are some exquisite passages of painting technique such as the standing viola and the marbleized surface of the virginal, the approximate rendering of it could indicate that it was left unfinished.
Even to the untrained eye, this mass of unruly folds of this blue gown appears to be painted rather crudely and can hardly compare with the incredible delicacy of the silk gown in this work's counterpart, A Lady Standing at a Virginal. Neither the gown's fold nor its texture can be comprehended.
The lids on the virginals of the Lady Seated at a Virginal and the Lady Standing at a Virginal both display pastoral landscapes which were frequently associated with the beauty of woman or idyllic lovemaking. Although they appear quite normal as regards to their perspective geometry, in truth they are most unusual.
If we reconstruct the image of the landscape as it would be if it were seen frontally, we find that the scene would appear excessively stretched out. Vermeer writer and camera obscura expert Philip Steadman pointed out that such images appear to be related to those anamorphic landscapes that only look realistic when seen very obliquely. They are like those puzzle pictures often concealing politically subversive or pornographic subjects, which became popular from the 17th century, such as the skull in Holbein's The Ambassadors which is one of the best-known examples. The explanation for these anamorphoses might be that Vermeer traced the virginals or studied their images as would appear on the screen of a camera obscura and found them disturbingly foreshortened and distorted. He therefore decided to fill in the painted lid ignoring the steep perspective of the real surface of the instrument itself. Indeed, we are not visually disturbed by this mild deception since no Vermeer scholar before Steadman had ever remarked on this anomaly.

The sheet of music is so highly stylized that only a few notes can be made out. Analogous works by Vermeer's colleagues often show sheet music so meticulously rendered that the score can be read.
It is not known if Vermeer was a practicing musician or even the level of his knowledge of music matters but documents reveal that Vermeer's grandfather was a musician and had owned more than one musical instrument.
The viola da gamba makes four minor, but iconographically significant, appearances in Vermeer's musical theme paintings: the Music Lesson, the Woman with a Lute, the Concert and A Lady Seated at a Virginal. Never once does he portray it being played. In all four paintings it remains quietly unattended, perhaps meant to suggest someone who will gather it up and make music.
Together with the lute, the viola da gamba is probably the most frequently represented instrument throughout the centuries, whether in painting, sculpture or miniature. Its deep tone and unusual stature are associated with the male while the virginals is associated with the female.
Here, it has particular prominence and from a technical point of view is a tour de force of observation and pictorial synthesis. It would be noted that the viola's complicated shape has always been a challenge to correctly render especially when seen from an oblique angle as the case in the present work. Even though this painting fails to compete with other late works, it nonetheless contains some finely-painted passages worthy of the artist's best works. For those who are familiar with the personal tragedy of Vermeer's final years when this work was being completed, it cannot help but resonate with pathos.
A Lady Playing a Clavichord (detail)
Gerrit Dou
c. 1665
Dulwich Picture Gallery
Although none of the sitters of Vermeer's paintings have ever been identified, a few seem to have been repeated and critics often maintain that those were members of the artist's family circle. Although the features of this young girl have been highly abstracted, it would seem that she did not pose for any other of the artist's works.
Curiously, she bears a resemblance to the young musician in Gerrit Dou's composition (see detail left) of some years earlier which no doubt provided Vermeer with the direct inspiration for the present work. Although Vermeer's girl smiles somewhat benignly towards the viewer, it is not given for the observer to fully comprehend her thoughts or emotions allowing each individual to read into the work his own expectations and subjective sensations. While her face is modeled with daring simplicity and delicacy, her lips and eyes are rendered so conventionally that her doll-like countenance may easily lead the observer to look elsewhere in the painting for deeper satisfaction.
Even thought Vermeer's late works have been judged somewhat negatively, they contain some of the most exquisite details that he painted. Vermeer critics have singled out the daring calligraphic brushwork used to portray the fake marbling of the virginals' side panel, perhaps the most daring technical passage of this work. It is also a feat of absolute technical economy.
Vermeer first laid down a rectangle of a warm brown and a gray one below of unmodulated paint. Once dry, he mixed two fluid gray mixtures for the veins and applied them with quick, spontanous brushwork. The wet-over-dry brushwork used to represent the veins is so suggestive that it recalls the almost anarchic spontaneity of Jakuchu's ink drawings of birds and vegetables, but at the same time it miraculously evokes the objective visual impression of veined marble. One author has compared the effect to Jackson Pollock's drip paintings.

Perhaps the puffed linen sleeve of the young musician's elegant attire is the most suggestive detail of the work. Even though the exact tuck and fold of the fabric is not clearly defined, its substance and "feel" are perfectly rendered: as critics have put it, suggested rather than described. The bold yet controlled brushwork is worthy of the best 20th-century abstract painter. Although it cannot be seen in reproduction, the white paint is laid on thickly yet fluidly. The Dutch were renowned producers of the only stable white pigment available to oil painters called lead white.
Prepared artificially since the earliest historical times and used until the 19th century, this warm white is very opaque; it possesses outstanding brushing qualities and mixes well with every color on the artist's palette. As the name lead white suggests, it is a by-product of lead, and whatever the form of manufacture used, the purity of the color depends on the purity of the lead. Purifying processes greatly increase the cost of the product. Lead white has always been one of the most important pigments in many painting techniques. In the 1620s, the Dutch greatly increased the availability of lead white and lowered the costs by the extensive usage of the so-called stack process which had already been described in ancient sources by Theophrastus, Pliny the Elder and Vitruvius.
In the Old German or Dutch stack process strips of lead rolled up into spirals were placed in closed earthenware jars containing acetic acid, and then the pots were buried under tanner's bark or dung; the heat evolved by fermentation aids in the formation of white lead through an increase of carbonic acid. Very soon a thin coat of the basic lead carbonate forms. This product was scraped off, dried and washed to free it from any impurities.
Often, this lead corrosion product on the plates took the form of thick, curling crusts or scalloped flakes, earning the trade name of schulp white, or flake white which was held as the best quality available. A cheaper mixture of lead white extended with chalk, very common in the Dutch industry, may be the product known as lootwit, and served for less demanding applications, for example in grounds, and was used also for underpaint layers or layers in which translucency was required. The addition of chalk to lead white reduces the opacity of the pigment when used in oil. Dutch painters could obtain a pure lead white called schelpwit (shell white). Lead white is extremely poisonous and must be handled with care.
The young girl's arms have been remarked on by different critics. Some perceive evidence of technical weakness that announce artist's presumed decline. Others, however, note one of the peculiar trademarks of Vermeer's concept of painting, the so-called "optic way," a term coined by Vermeer writer Lawrence Gowing.
Gowing advanced that the basis of the artist's mature style was his commitment to optical fidelity, perhaps bolstered by the use of the camera obscura, a sort of precursor of the modern photographic camera. In Gowing's words, the artist's brand of description "is always exactly adequate, always completely and effortlessly in terms of light. Vermeer seems almost not to care, or not even to know, what it is that he is painting. What do men call this wedge of light? A nose? A finger? What do we know of its shape? To Vermeer none of this matters, the conceptual world of names and knowledge is forgotten, nothing concerns him but what is visible, the tone, the wedge of light."
Along the same lines, Kenneth Clark was puzzled by Vermeer's "uncannily true sense of tone'" deployed with an "almost inhuman detachment." It is this truth to tonality—not any minute attention to detail—that gives the paintings the "photographic" quality that has fascinated photographers since the mid-19th century and filmmakers in the 20th century.
Whether technical failing or triumph of style, each and every detail of Vermeer's paintings continues to be pondered.
Vermeer writers have variously explained the curious facture of the huge, Italianate gilt frame that adorns the Procuress by Dirck van Baburen. Seen from reproduction or from life, Vermeer's rendering fails to convey the gleam or color of a real object. The details of its intricate carving have been so radically abstracted that what they represent is undecipherable. Fascinating as they may be in their own right, they conjure up more the "dots" and "dashes" of Morse code than a finely carved frame.
Some art historians prefer not to judge the frame's treatment as faulty or incomplete but an intentional stylistic devise. However, even if in his final pictures Vermeer deliberately did abstract form to a surprising degree, the frames in the Guitar Player and the probable pendant of the present work (Lady Standing at a Virginal) leave little doubt that the frame in question may not reflect Vermeer's initial intentions.
While it is true that on close inspection the frames of the Guitar Player and the Lady Standing at a Virginals are executed with an analogous shorthand of flecks and dabs of thick and thin paint, their optical and material qualities are exalted rather than concealed. One has the sensation that no amount of accuracy or descriptive detail could evoke the sensation of gilt frames more than these. By comparison the frame of the Lady Seated at a Virginal seems to express a sort of bizarre lifelessness.
A probable explanation for the questionable quality of the frame is that the picture was not finished. We note an equivalent technical weakness in the blue silk overskirt. Both passages seem blocked in with rudimental attention. In other passages, instead, the viol da gamba for example, the rendering is highly abstracted yet astoundingly successful in conveying its form, color, texture and lighting.
Vermeer writers have variously explained the curious facture of the huge, Italianate gilt frame that adorns the Procuress by Dirck van Baburen. Seen from reproduction or from life, Vermeer's rendering fails to convey the gleam or color of a real object. The details of its intricate carving have been so radically abstracted that what they represent is undecipherable. Fascinating as they may be in their own right, they conjure up more the "dits" and "dahs" of Morse code than a finely carved frame.
Some art historians prefer not to judge the frame's treatment as faulty or incomplete but an intentional stylistic devise. However, even if in his final pictures Vermeer deliberately did abstract form to a surprising degree, the frames in the Guitar Player and the probable pendant of the present work (Lady Seated at a Virginal) leave little doubt that the frame in question may not reflect Vermeer's initial intentions.
While it is true that on close inspection the frames of the Guitar Player and the Lady Standing at a Virginals are executed with an analogous shorthand of flecks and dabs of thick and thin paint, their optical and material qualities are exalted rather than concealed. One has the sensation that no amount of accuracy or descriptive detail could evoke the sensation of gilt frames more than these. By comparison the frame of the Lady Seated at a Virginal seems to express a sort of bizarre lifelessness.
A probable explanation for the questionable quality of the frame is that the picture was not finished. We note an equivalent technical weakness in the blue silk overskirt. Both passages seem blocked in with rudimental attention. In other passages, instead, the viol da gamba for example, the rendering is highly abstracted yet astoundingly successful in conveying its form, color, texture and lighting.
critical excerpt


c. 1675
Arthur K. Wheelock Jr. (Vermeer: The Complete Works, New York, 1997)
c. 1670-1672
Walter Liedtke (Vermeer: The Complete Paintings, New York, 2008)
The fine, plain-weave linen support has a thread count of 14 x 14 per cm². The original tacking edges have been removed. Cusping is visible along top and bottom and very faintly along both sides. The support has been lined. The double ground consists of a pale gray beneath a pale, warm gray buff. The first layer contains lead white, chalk and charcoal black; the second contains lead white, chalk, and a red-brown earth.
The flesh color was painted with green earth over a pink layer; the shadows with two additional layers, a mixture containing green earth followed by a deep red shadow. The blue upholstery was underpainted with a a gray-blue layer; the highlights were modeled with a blue, then a pale blue layer and and the shadows with gray. The outlines of the tiles at the- bottom of the wall were scratched in the wet paint. A pinhole by which Vermeer marked the vanishing point is visible in the paint layer on the sleeve of the woman's dress.
There is some abrasion in the three paintings within the painting, in the lady's right cheek and the dark blue of her tunic, and in the blue upholstery. The ultramarine pigment in the darker blues of the chair has deteriorated.
* Johannes Vermeer (exh. cat., National Gallery of Art and Royal Cabinet of Paintings Mauritshuis - Washington and The Hague, 1995, edited by Arthur Wheelock)
literature

- (?) Diego Duarte, Antwerp (1682, sold before 1691), or (?) Dissius sale, Amsterdam, 16 May 1696, no. 37, or (?) Nicolaes van Assendelft, Delft (before 1692) and widow Van Assendelft, Delft (1711);
- (?) sale, Amsterdam, 1714, possibly no. 12;
- Lothar Franz von Schönborn, Schloß Weissenstein, Pommersfelden (c. 1714-1729);
- Count von Schönborn sale, Paris, 17ff. May 1867, no. 78 (to Thoré-Bürger);
- Thoré-Bürger (Etienne Joseph Théophile Thoré), Paris (1867-d.1869);
- Paul Lacroix, Paris (1869-1884, inherited from Thoré-Bürger);
- widow Lacroix, Paris (1884-1892);
- Thoré-Bürger sale, Paris, 5 December 1892, no. 32 (to Sedelmeyer);
- [Sedelmeyer, Paris, 1892-93];
- [Lawrie & Co., London, 1893, from Sedelmeyer];
- [T. Humphry Ward, London, 1894];
- George Salting, London (before 1898-d.1910);
- The National Gallery, London, Salting Bequest, 1910 (inv. 2568).
exhibitions

Woman at the Clavichord (detail)
Gerrit Dou
c. 1665
37.7 x 29.8 cm
Dulwich Picture Gallery, London
In 17th-century Dutch, both virginals and clavichords were called clavecijn, clavesingel or clavecimbael, which understandably leads to confusion. The virginals portrayed in Vermeer's painting is of the muselar type. Because the keyboard is fairly high up, it was not unusual to play standing; the seated lady is not ergonomically sound, her elbows lower than her hand.
The origin of the word virginals is obscure but it is usually linked to the fact that the instrument was frequently played by young women. In the late 16th and early 17th century, muselar virginals were appreciated for their unique sound quality. They were made only in Northern Europe.
The placing of the keyboard to the right enables the playing mechanism to create a rich and full sound by plucking the strings right in the middle of their sounding length but this places the action for the left hand in the exact middle of the highly resonant soundboard. This occasionally results in inevitable clicks, faithfully amplified by the soundboard and make rapid left-hand scales somewhat problematic. In addition to mechanical noise, the central plucking point in the bass makes repetition difficult, because the motion of the still-sounding string interferes with the ability of the plectrum to connect again. A rather prejudiced 18th-century comment goes so far as to say that instruments "which have the keyboard on the right-hand side are good in the right hand, but grunt in the bass like young pigs."
Some virginals were mounted onto a self standing box like the one in the present work. Other Dutch genre painters portrayed the box-like version (see detail above) which was set on a table.

Other than two simple white jugs seen in his earlier compositions, these hand-painted baseboard tiles were the only homage Vermeer paid to the renowned Delft porcelain production. The humble tiles, which were so cheap that they sometimes served as ballast in ships sailing abroad, protected the plaster walls from the daily assault of brooms, mops and scrubbing brushes of the zealous Dutch housewife. Each tile was decorated separately with scenes of daily life including of children's games such as walking on stilts or flying kites.
The tiles in this picture are difficult to make out since the precious blue paint (made of crushed lapis lazuli imported from Afghanistan) which Vermeer used to paint them has lightened considerably. This defect can be seen in other paintings of the time and is known as ultramarine sickness. It is now believed that the fading is caused by deterioration of the binding medium and not the blue pigment itself.

Female keyboard players were a popular subject in 17th-century Dutch art. Music making was often associated with love and at times with amorous seduction. For example, in verses by Jacob Westerbaen we read: "learn to play the lute, the clavichord. The strings have the power to caress the heart." The virginal, however, had highly civilized connotations since it was often played by a woman in a family or musical gathering, thus being used most often by artists as a symbol of harmony and concord. The unattended viol da gamba in the foreground further strengthens the association with harmony. The woman, like the male musician in Jacob Cats' well-known emblem "Quid Non Sentit Amor" (see left), plays her instrument while a second lies unused. The emblem's text explains that the resonance of one lute echoes onto the other just as two hearts can exist in harmony even if they are separated.
Woman at the Clavichord (detail)
Gerrit Dou
c. 1665
37.7 x 29.8 cm
Dulwich Picture Gallery, London
The remarkable similarity between this painting and Gerrit Dou's Woman at the Clavichord c. 1665 proves that Vermeer derived his composition from the work of the Leiden fijnschilder (fine painter) who was one of the most highly paid artists of the time. The pose, the pulled-back curtain, the viola da gamba and even the girls' faces share much.
This kind of artistic borrowing of successful motifs was quite common among Dutch painters who were always strained to produce enough works for the voracious art market. However, the difference in execution between the two paintings can be easily discerned. Dou spares no amount of pain to render each and every detail with the utmost fidelity while Vermeer broadly applies paint which suggests, rather than describes, form, texture and light. Vermeer improved on Dou's composition by moving the viewpoint closer to the subject which draws the observer into closer contact with the girl who has just turned her head away from her music in order to engage the viewer's attention.
Genre painters were often open to thematic collaboration with their elite patrons who compensated leading artists with considerable sums for their efforts. This painting may be an example of this practice since it fits the description of a painting by Vermeer in the art collection of Diego Duarte, an immensely rich Antwerp banker and accomplished musician and composer. It is generally accepted that the luminary and art connoisseur Constantijn Huygens was aware of the painting of Johannes Vermeer and it is also likely that he brokered the sale of the "young lady playing the clavecin, with accessories" to Duarte which was listed in the inventory of Duarte's art collection in 1682. To give some sort of idea of the stature of Duarte's collection it is enough to know that he possessed more than two hundred paintings by masters such as Holbein, Raphael, Titian, Rubens and Van Dyck.
Although Dutch music was considered rather conventional, a few musicians such as Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck composed music of quality. He is noted for his compositions for the flute, virginals and organ. It is tempting to imagine the young girl playing one of Sweelink's delightful pieces such as Malle Symen "Silly Simon."
A Lady Standing at a Virginal
Johannes Vermeer
c. 1670-1673
51.7 x 45.2 cm
National Gallery, London
Vermeer scholars have been unable to decide if this picture was intended as a pendant to the Lady Standing at a Virginal. The two pictures are almost precisely the same size; both represent a stylishly dressed young woman playing a virginal in an elegant setting. If hung side by side, the virginals would be placed back to back and the light airiness of one is complimentary to the darkness of the other. This play between complimentary values is characteristic of the Dutch pendant and Dutch painters rarely lost the chance to cleverly investigate the underlying psychological and aesthetic diversities between similar subjects. In particular, the background paintings would seem to reinforce the complimentary nature of the pair. The standing woman is accompanied by a picture of a standing Cupid drawn from a popular emblem book which encourages faithfulness in love while the seated woman rests in front of a low-life scene which alludes to illicit lovemaking.
The theme of Sacred and Profane Love would have inevitably come to mind to an educated 17th-century Dutch viewer trained to look at pictures' and images' concealed moral meanings. However, the two works differ in technique to such a degree that critics generally date the seated lady four years later than her presumed companion. We cannot rule out that they were simply variations on a same theme. In any case, destiny has it that after more than 300 years the two have once again been joined and hang side by side in the National Gallery of London.
Diego Duarte, an immensely wealthy Antwerp jeweler and banker, may have purchased this picture directly from Vermeer. We know that Duarte maintained contact with Holland through Constantijn Huygens, who, like the sculptor Johan Larson, lived in The Hague. Larson possessed a tronie by Vermeer presumably bought on a trip to Delft in 1660.
However, Duarte's ties with the picture may have to do as much with artistic affinity as friendship. Duarte's father had a clavecin made for Huygens, and Duarte corresponded with Huygens about music. He also was an accomplished organist and composer. With the musical interests it is appropriate that Duarte's Vermeer represented in his inventory number 182 "a small painting with a lady playing the clavecin, with accessories."
The picture was valued at 150 guilders, not a great sum for a picture at the time when Gerrit Dou was getting ten times that ammount for a similar-sized painting.
Almande De Symmerman [236 KB] very likely Almande The Carpenter (anon.) from The Susanne van Soldt Manuscript (1599)
Malle Symen [236 KB] "Silly Simon"
(Jan Pzn. Sweelinck) from The Leningrad Manuscript (1646)
Courante Daphne [236 KB] The popular melody Daphne as a French "Courante" dance (anon.) also from The Leningrad Manuscript (1646)
* all three music files were kindly selected and performed for the Essential Vermeer website by Joop Klaassen, contributor to the Stichting Clavecimbel Genootschap Nederland.
The virginals are a kind of harpsichord. Mr Klaassen's muselar virginals were built by Louis van Emmerik, after the Ruckers virginals of 1611 in "Het Vleeshuis," a museum in Antwerp, Belgium. The muselar virginals have the keyboard on the right, and they have a richer sound than the spinet virginals, which have the keyboard on the left. The virginals in Vermeer's paintings are of the muselar type.
For more information on Vermeer and the virginals, click here.
Solfaing Song à 5 [3.45 MB]
by Thomas Tallis
from: Ancient Instruments – Tuxedo (various artists)
The Viola da Gamba
The viol or viola da gamba has its early ancestors in medieval waisted fiddles and rebecs played like viols: with the instrument held downwards resting on the lap or between the knees and the bow held above the palm.
Iconographic evidence from the Renaissance period suggests that the viol was the result of applying the traditional Aragonese technique of rebec-playing to a new bowed instrument whose size and construction was similar to those of the vihuela de mano (a plucked instrument, similar to the guitar), so that the term "vihuela de arco" for such an instrument seems appropriate.
This bowed instrument quickly spread from Spain to Italy. The Italian instrument makers with their excellent craftsmanship developed the vihuela into the viol form, and the 'viole grande' enjoyed lasting popularity at the European courts.
The most famous viol players in the 17th century were undoubtedly Sainte-Colombe who introduced the silver-covered strings and added a seventh low string, as well as his pupil Marin Marais, who even surpassed his master Sainte-Colombe and brought the viol to its highest point of perfection, both with his outstanding virtuoso playing and with his most excellent compositions.
During its history the viol appeared in many different sizes: 'pardessus', treble, alto, small tenor, tenor, bass and violone (contrabass), but only the treble, tenor and bass viols belong to a usual consort.
The distincive shape of the viol shows characteristic down-sloping shoulders and a narrow upper body. Together with deep ribs, middle bouts, a gently arched belly but a flat back this form became fairly standard during the 17th and 18th centuries. The viol has usually six strings, but the solo bass viol played on the Continent during the Baroque period often had seven (invented by Sainte-Colombe).
The frets, made of streched gut, are tied round the neck in a special fret knot. There are usually seven frets placed at intervals of a semitone.
The early viol bow is rather convex and is held in an underhand grip which enables the player to control the bow's pressure on the strings at will.
The musicologist Marin Mersenne once considered the viol as the instrument which most perfectly imitated the human voice.






