Plunder: Napoleon's Theft of Veronese’s Feast

"One of the things that Napoleon aimed to do when he was in his pomp—and this was very much in line with his being a figure of the Enlightenment —was to make Paris the cultural centre of the world. As his empire expanded, he would take things from these newly acquired lands and bring them back to Paris as a treasure trove. It was plunder and one of the things he wanted above all was Veronese’s absolutely enormous, sumptuous masterpiece. Yes, it does. It completely overshadows the Mona Lisa in terms of its artistic genius. It’s a riotously colourful biblical scene with an enormous cast of characters. It depicts The Wedding Feast at Cana , when Christ turns water into wine. It’s also about Venice. Venice, a once great maritime empire, by this time is in precipitous fall. In Venice it had hung in San Giorgio Maggiore, which was a kind of diplomatic centre where the Republic of Venice greeted distinguished visitors. To be taken to France it had to be taken off the wall and cut in half. It was brutal in the way it was done, but Napoleon makes a kind of science of plunder. Get the weekly Five Books newsletter The old Louvre had been renamed the Musée Francaise in 1793. Then, in 1803, in an act of megalomania, it was renamed the Musée Napoléon. The plan was to bring the greatest things from Rome, Florence and Venice. In April 1797 a French ship—which ironically is called the ‘Libérateur d’Italie’ — enters the Venetian lagoon and the captain is shot. In the following months, Napoleon declares war on Venice and this works out very nicely because his commission has identified 20 works of art in Venice to take back to Paris, 16 paintings and the four bronze horses which reign over the facade of St. Mark’s Basilica, which are supposed to be the work of the ancient Greek sculptor Lysippos. They themselves were looted from Constantinople by the Venetians during the Fourth Crusade in 1204. We talked about how moving Ruth Scurr’s book is. This one is also very moving about the way this vast masterpiece is ripped from the wall of the refectory of San Giorgio Maggiore. It’s rolled up and packaged for this perilous, damp voyage to Paris. And yet, it survives. It’s still there now in the Louvre. It’s never been returned. What Saltzman does is she tells the story incredibly well, so you get a really thrilling blend of historical narrative and art criticism. You get to understand a lot about Veronese’s technique and the use of these incredibly sumptuous, expensive colours that he was allowed to work with. What’s interesting about The Wedding Feast at Cana is it’s not the creation of a workshop. Veronese painted it all. The book raises questions that are very pertinent and very modish at the moment about where works of art belong. Should it be returned to San Giorgio Maggiore? I don’t think France is going to give it back anytime soon. Saltzman argues that it’s a superior work to the Mona Lisa, with which it shares a room at the Louvre. The Mona Lisa is a remarkably simple painting, whereas Veronese’s is full of narratives and of scenes within scenes. It takes an awful lot to read and Saltzman shows us how to read it. It’s a thrilling story in all kinds of dimensions. And it’s beautifully done."