Treasures of the Louvre Page #8

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the most expensive

and hugest cigars they could find.

But these May days of hope

were also accompanied

by intense fighting

around the Louvre,

as civil war between left

and right turned bloody.

On 23 May, the Palace of the

Tuileries was set on fire

and its dome blown up

with explosives.

The place that had been home

to kings, queens and emperors

burned for 48 hours.

The destruction of the Tuileries

left a gaping hole that created

this skyline,

with its clear views

all the way to the Arc de Triomphe.

As for the Louvre, I think

that this was a defining moment.

The residence of royals

and emperors, the Tuileries

had always been the symbol

of autocratic rule to Parisians.

Yet the Louvre was by now

a different place

in the eyes of the people,

so it was spared the torch.

Perhaps the presence of publicly

available art

guaranteed its survival.

Why destroy the People's Museum?

That would be vandalism.

And by the time a Third Republic was

established in 1870s,

there was much more to be enjoyed

in the museum.

There were wonderful new paintings

donated by benefactors

like the generous Dr Lacaze.

One of these is The Club Foot

by Jusepe de Ribera,

a 17th-century portrait

of disability.

The boy smiles

and reveals his broken teeth.

He looks us straight in the eye,

he wants something.

So look at his hand holding

a piece of paper, a begging letter.

"For the love of God, give me alms,"

it reads.

And visitors could marvel at

this fabulous marble statue,

the Winged Victory of Samothrace,

which had arrived

from an excavation in the Aegean.

Over 2,000 years old, it's a

depiction of the Greek goddess Nike,

thought to be celebrating

a naval battle.

She's got a kind of still beauty

and grace,

but her flowing drapery gives

a dynamism and movement.

I feel as if she could

take wing at any time

and fly through

the miles of galleries.

The Louvre was now established

as a democratic space

open free to the public

six days a week.

And visitors from all over France

and beyond

were eager to visit this must-see

part of the Paris experience.

By the late 19th century,

there was no question that Paris was

the cultural capital of the world.

And that the Louvre was the most

potent symbol of this domination.

By now, it was well established

as a public space

open to all who wished to visit.

The artists of the day would

congregate in places like this,

Cafe La Palette.

And the Impressionists were the

most regular visitors to the museum,

taking their inspiration from

the past, to look, learn and copy.

Here in the Louvre is a pastel

drawing by Degas, La Sortie Du Bain.

Here's a Monet.

At the time, works like these

were considered avant-garde,

scandalous even,

and as such, were rejected

by the Academy

that still controlled the Salon.

So these painters were forced

to exhibit in a Salon des Refuses.

Here's a Pissarro.

He once said to Cezanne that he'd

be glad to see the Louvre burn down.

But Cezanne himself valued

the museum.

He wrote to a friend,

"Keep the best company,

"spend your days at the Louvre."

Which is just what he did.

Cezanne loved to contemplate

the work of Chardin -

his visual language,

his depiction of nature,

simplicity of his composition.

And all of this

he put into his own work.

But composers could be

similarly inspired.

Claude Debussy

stood in front of this painting,

Embarkation For Cythera,

by Jean-Antoine Watteau.

Who wouldn't be captivated by

the playful flirtatiousness

of the couples?

And who wouldn't be mesmerised

by its mystery?

Debussy saw all of this

and wrote a piece for piano,

L'Isle Joyeuse.

And writers too enjoyed the museum.

Not only as a place of culture, but

also as somewhere to meet friends.

And even sometimes to meet lovers.

The Louvre was a place

of amorous assignation

for the American writer

Edith Wharton.

This is where she met her lover,

the Paris correspondent of

The Times, Morton Fullerton.

They used to send each other secret

notes in the Paris postal system.

It was a kind of early 20th-century

form of text messaging.

One from Edith simply said,

"At the Louvre, one o'clock,

under the shadow of Diana."

But speaking of mysterious ladies...

..after all these many years,

what had happened to you-know-who?

The Mona Lisa remained in the royal

collection until the Revolution.

Then, in 1800, Napoleon demanded

that she join him in his bedroom

in the Palace of the Tuileries.

So, not tonight, Josephine.

But in the 19th century,

La Joconde was back in the Louvre.

Now scrutinised

by tortured aesthetes.

That smile on her face was surely

the oh-so cruel and mocking pout

of the femme fatale.

Then, on 21 August 1911,

the painting was nicked.

The heist was both daft and daring.

What actually happened was that

a young Italian workman,

a painter and decorator

called Vincenzo Peruggia,

just walked out off the building

with the Mona Lisa under his coat,

presumably whistling a cheery aria

as Italian workmen are wont to do.

He took it back to Mama Italia.

Pandemonium broke out.

The museum was closed for a week,

the director was sacked,

and two new guard dogs were

appointed, Jacques and Milord.

The whole of Paris

had a right good laugh

at the expense

of a red-faced Louvre.

New lyrics were set

to favourite melodies

which satirised

the cheeky abduction.

And these were sung in musical halls

and cabaret clubs across the city.

One dirty ditty found the Mona Lisa

in a place of ill repute.

"Mon poteau.

"Embrasses-moi,

je suis pas begueule.

"Mais je m'ennuyais beaucoup

dans ce palais.

"Un soir que le gardian criait,

"'On ferme!' J'ai repondu,

'Ta gueule!'

"Et je suis carbatte toute seule."

Which roughly translates as, "Hey,

mate, give us a kiss, I'm not fussy,

"but I was so bored in that palace.

So one night when the guard cried,

"'Closing time!' I just said,

'F*** you, mate!' and scarpered."

The year the painting returned

to the Louvre,

after being found in Italy,

was the first of a World War

when a generation bled to death

for France.

Then, in 1940, a second war erupted,

bringing humiliation and occupation.

And after that, there was

the loss of empire.

So after all this,

how to project the prestige of

France in diminished times?

Why, with art, of course.

And the Louvre had a role to play

in a piece of cultural diplomacy.

In 1962, General De Gaulle decreed

that the Mona Lisa

should visit the USA.

So La Joconde left Le Havre

on the luxury transatlantic liner

SS France in a first-class cabin,

cocooned in a waterproof container

that would float if the boat sank.

On her arrival in New York, she was

received by President Kennedy

like a head of state,

before doing her duty for France

and becoming a massive hit

with the American public.

KENNEDY:
Monsier Malraux, I know

that the last time the Mona Lisa

was exhibited outside Paris

in Florence,

a crowd of 30,000 people

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