Boston's Gardner Museum is one of the city's hidden gems, tucked away in the Fenway near a quiet expanse of park, just a Hulk-sized home run's distance from where the Red Sox play, yet seemingly a world away from the sports bars and peanut vendors. Walk a block in either direction and you'll hit a few cautious drug dealers lolling about, or a gay cruising zone, but on the Gardner's stretch at least, an Old World dignity prevails.

The Gardner was always a joy to visit; despite a bland exterior, entry into the museum revealed a large garden courtyard modelled on the Palazzo Barbaro's exterior. Wandering through the museum itself was a singular experience: there was no "theme" per se, just an idiosyncratic collection of European fine art and bric-a-brac — from stained glass to statues — that spanned centuries, enlivened by the fact that every now and then you'd step into a room and discover a Rembrandt or a Vermeer.

The museum was bequeathed to the public by Isabella Stewart Gardner (1865-1920), who demanded that it be left untouched after her death; the museum itself was her artwork. And so it continued in its casual, unpretentious way until March 18, 1990, when thieves gained entry to the museum at night, bound the guards, and made off with the museum's most impressive paintings: Vermeer's "The Concert," three by Rembrandt, a Flinck, five by Degas, and a Monet.