By now you’ve probably heard or read about the robbery at the Louvre, where daring thieves made off with a sackful of the French crown jewels. I seriously doubt the malefactors were interested in the items’ historical value. More likely what drew them to make the attempt were the thousands of diamonds, sapphires, pearls and such of which said objects were composed.
The larger stones included in the theft are too easily identifiable to be readily sold or otherwise dealt with, and may be stashed away for disposal or ransom at some future date. But the smaller ones can easily be recut, to vanish into the black market, and the gold content of several pieces quickly melted down for their metal value. Too bad for France, but jewel thieves have been around since the beginning of time. Not to mention the beginning of motion pictures (that dagger in the film Topkapi really is stunning in person).
The entire operation consumed seven minutes, from the setup of the elevator construction ladder outside the museum that allowed them to access an upper floor to the thieves making their getaway on motor scooters (how thoroughly Parisian). A professional operation, we are told, save for one of the miscreants dropping the crown of the Empress Eugenie on the way out. Outside the museum, no less. I keep imagining some kids picking it up before the gendarmes got to it and wearing it as part of a Halloween costume. A dedicated fashionista, the Empress might even have approved (as a loan, anyway).
Art has always existed in this uneasy partnership with money. None of that purloined jewelry was fashioned of paste or papier-mache. Most wouldn’t know the difference. Besides, it’s the historical value that’s important, right? Not the monetary equivalence. Real diamonds, fake diamonds — it’s supposed to be about the jeweler’s art.
But we’ve become so obsessed with the monetary value of art that it’s become almost impossible to look at something like the French crown jewels without imagining what they must be ‘worth.’ To me they’re worth what it took for a jeweler, or more often a coterie of jewelers, to render the finished object real. We have this fascination with cash value that overwhelms the art that goes into the making of beautiful things. When I look at a Faberge egg, I see the height of a certain style of art, not what it might be worth in dollars or rubles. By the way, the Russian Imperial jewels make those in the Tower of London look like costume jewelry — but no thief is breaking into the Kremlin.
I wouldn’t mind if the French crown jewels (the remaining ones, anyway) were replaced tomorrow by top-quality replicas. The jeweler’s art would remain for all to see: only the components would be different. Who would know? Perhaps only other professional jewelers, a very small minority of viewers indeed. I would wish the same substitution for every fancy piece of jewelry on display in the world’s museums. Museum directors would breathe an immediate sigh of relief. The real works, perhaps to be brought out for viewing only on special and heavily guarded occasions, would still exist, locked safely away in some impenetrable underground vault.
The purloined French crown jewels are far more important for their historical value than for the number of euros they could, if broken down into their component stones, bring on the market. The same goes for any piece of great art from our past. Sure, there is a definite frisson to be had from viewing any original piece of art. But is it still worth the risk to expose the irreplaceable to theft, not to mention damage by fire, flood or misguided protestors, knowing that excellent copies can be made and the originals protected for future generations?
I don’t need see the original Hope diamond when it can be matched in color and brilliance by a top-flight copy. Gems especially lend themselves to this kind of protection. I doubt anyone is going to walk into and through Notre Dame de Paris exclaiming, “Well, it’s very impressive, but it’s not the original.” Many of the most impressive dinosaur skeletons in major museums around the world are actually casts of the originals. They’re not only cheaper to acquire, they’re easier to mount and reposition. And if the building in which they are housed collapses, no great loss.
We now have AI to aid us in such worthwhile endeavors. Maybe it can help find the thieves before they unload their irreplaceable booty onto the jeweler’s equivalent of a chop shop.
Prescott resident Alan Dean Foster is the author of 130 books. Follow him at AlanDeanFoster. com.
