December 30, 1942

Montauban

"What a magnificent obligation we have, what a privilege. We have had to watch over it, to act, to battle, to conserve, protect, to save this supreme wealth that comprises artistic masterpieces of all time. So far, we have kept it sheltered from all dangers."

Jacques Jaujard, Director of the Musees Nationaux

It's a story that's stuck with me from my first introduction; a curiosity that Elizabeth Gilbert says causes you to turn your head just a fraction as it interrupts your thought. In August of 1939, almost a year after their first practice run in September of 1938, the staff of the Louvre packed up all of the most valuable artwork that was possible to move, including the Winged Victory of Samothrace and the Mona Lisa, and spread the treasures across the French countryside.

They would remain hidden away from their home in Paris for six years.

It is the magnitude of this effort that astounds me, and the people who endeavored to protect our cultural heritage. The story first caught my attention in the superb documentary "The Rape of Europa." A young teenager at the time told of the Mona Lisa being transported in the back of an ambulance hermetically sealed as protection against humidity, with a museum staff member riding along inside. Fortunately for him, the trip was short as he was nearly unconscious upon arrival at their destination. Frederique Chamson spoke of the moments when they would check on the Mona Lisa, secure in her custom built poplar case, how the enigmatic smile would emerge from her deep red velvet cushioned wrappings, almost as if she was saying, See? It's not so bad.

And it was true, for the Mona Lisa first journeyed to France from Italy in 1516 by mule when her creator was offered the title of First Painter and Engineer and Architect of the King. It took three months.

The Louvre museum staff would move the treasures four more times over the six year period - the Mona Lisa would travel from Paris to Chambord to Louvigny to Loc-Dieu Abbey, from there to Montauban and the Musee Ingres, and finally return to Paris in June of 1945. They would provide guard coverage, conduct fire drills in these insecure locations, continue their scholarly research, and join the resistance, using their protected status under the terms of agreement between the Germans and the Vichy government to store and transport weapons, cash, and leaflets.

We always encounter Art (with a capital A) in museums, so it is difficult to imagine crated paintings traveling in the back of a wood-fired truck, moving between enemy lines and just missing bombs. And while men always seem to be the heroes of war stories, in this story, women courageously rode motor bikes across the countryside as couriers of essential information and documentation, as Frederique's mother Lucie Mazauric did, or leveraged their museum positions, as Egyptologist Christiane Desroches Noblecourt did, as she traveled the countryside ostensibly on museum business, but also as a courier for the Resistance. She was instrumental in creating a detailed list of the depots and locations of the hidden art that was smuggled to Allied forces once Germany invaded free France in late 1942. She was also part of the collection of staff and artists who barricaded themselves in the Louvre to protect the building as the battle for Paris began in the summer of 1944. It was a woman, Madame Eugny, who was considered the best driver of the convoy and thus given custody of another priceless da Vinci work.

These names are given but a sentence or two in history books, yet it is not hard to imagine their full lives. I have a friend who is an art conservator, a fierce and unapologetic protector of the defenseless, who sends her children off to school with hollered directives guaranteed to both embarrass their teen sensibilities and bolster their courage. I picture Lucie Mazauric and I see my friend, buzzing through the countryside on a motorbike, her short platinum hair ruffling in the breeze under her helmet, and her green eyes noticing everything around her. She would fearlessly carry documents for the cause, and spend the evenings tutoring her children about the art they were protecting.

Christiane Desroches Noblecourt comes alive as another friend who is dedicated to her work, unmarried and unapologetic, guided by the principles she was raised with and willing to sacrifice her safety as she used her elevated position to ensure the Resistance communication lines continued.

Finally, there is Rose Valland, a volunteer staff member and administrator of the Jeu de Paume Museum, and a quiet hero of the Resistance as she meticulously listed the museum assets seized by the Germans, including the confiscated Jewish owned assets otherwise undocumented as they were prepared for shipment to Germany. She quietly collected tossed documents, eavesdropped on conversations, and developed a network of informants amongst the packers and drivers. Every evening, she thoroughly noted everything she learned, and relayed information to the Resistance. She quietly and without fanfare put herself in danger daily, her spectacles shrouding her keen observations, her unassuming manner drawing little attention from the greedy Germans.

They haunt me, these brave women and men, who spent six years of their lives away from the homes, protecting the priceless, and fighting for something larger than themselves.

Another day I will write about the places the Mona Lisa landed during the war, but for now I'll leave you with the images that haunt me. All images are from the Louvre's archives.

Winged Victory of Samothrace prepared for removal. 1939

The descent of the Winged Victory of Samothrace. 1939

Sleeping with the Mona Lisa