Looted Treasures in
Pandora's Box
By Lynn H. Nicholas in
the Wall Street Journal
According to the
German news magazine Focus, which broke the story on Sunday, it all began in
September 2010 when an elderly man, Cornelius Gurlitt, was found by customs
officials to be carrying 9,000 euros ($12,175) and some empty white envelopes
while on a train between Zurich and Munich. This prompted them to launch an
investigation into tax evasion, which led them to raid Mr. Gurlitt's Munich
apartment in February 2012 and discover the art, which they then removed.
The hoard includes
paintings and works on paper—some completely unknown—by Henri Matisse, Pablo
Picasso as well as German modernists such as Otto Dix, Max Beckmann and Ernst
Ludwig Kirchner. All were artists vilified by the Nazis and many were included,
along with a wide range of other modernists, in the Nazis' 1937 exhibition of
"Degenerate Art," which opened in Munich and then traveled throughout
Germany and Austria. Mr. Gurlitt is believed to have inherited the trove from
his father, Hildebrand Gurlitt, an art historian dedicated to modern German art
who was dismissed in 1933 by the Nazis from his museum post for his
"degenerate" acquisitions; he later became an art dealer. The discovery
was not publicly acknowledged until Tuesday when, in the outcry following
publication of the Focus story, officials held a press conference in Augsburg,
Germany.
No one should be
surprised by this sort of discovery. Indeed there have been quite a number of
these during the past 25 years or so. One thinks of the Quedlinburg church
treasures that turned up in Texas, sent there by a G.I. from Germany, and, more
recently, the discovery that Bruno Lohse, a henchman of Hermann Göring's , had
a Swiss vault full of loot. There will surely be more discoveries in the future
as the wartime generation, and now even their heirs, dies. The difference
between the latest revelation and the others is its magnitude: This huge find
is said to be worth billions, a figure that impresses.
Few outside the art
world are aware of the fact that Nazi art and looting agencies operated large
bureaucracies that not only purged the museums of Germany itself of the
so-called Degenerate Art, but ran confiscation programs at home and in the
occupied countries. They also had phalanxes of dealers who bought approved art
on a gigantic scale for the Nazi leaders and museums of the Reich, thereby
creating a huge boom in the European art market.
Much fell between the
cracks in these efforts, and the various agents and dealers involved, almost
without exception, were found to have private stashes after the war. Many of
these holdings were taken into custody by the Allies and are enumerated in some
detail in the reports of Allied investigators who, between 1945 and 1952,
returned many millions of objects to the countries from which they had been
taken. They clearly did not find it all.
Hildebrand Gurlitt
figures strongly in these reports. Arrested in 1945, along with others of the
same ilk at the home of one Baron von Poellnitz at Aschburg, he was
interrogated by both French and U.S. officials working in Germany. More than
200 works of art, said to be Gurlitt's personal collection, were also taken
into custody at the time and kept at the Wiesbaden Central Collecting Point. An
unknown number, found to belong to France, were returned there and, after five
years, 134 paintings and drawings, as well as a number of objets d'art,
were returned to Gurlitt, including some mentioned in the current news reports.
A list of what these were can be found on the U.S. National Archives document
website at www.fold3.com (keyword: Gurlitt).
Also easily available
is the testimony of Gurlitt's boss, Hermann Voss, who, though known to be
anti-Nazi, became head of Hitler's art agency, the Linz organization. Voss sent
Gurlitt to France and Holland to acquire art. Voss also describes Gurlitt's
flight from Dresden and states that Gurlitt left before the official holdings
were evacuated. So even in 1945 it was known that Gurlitt's collection had not
all been destroyed. Much later, in a 2005 article published in the American
Association of Museums publication "Vitalizing Memory," German
provenance researcher Katja Terlau described Gurlitt's life and activities in
detail and warned that any ownership history that listed him should be
investigated.
Much puzzlement has
been expressed at the fact that Gurlitt was part Jewish, yet still traded in
objects taken from Jews, especially in France. This was far from rare.
Providing a steady supply of art to the Nazi leaders was one of the best
survival policies there was for a Jew. And Gurlitt, known for his promotion of
Degenerate Art, and fired by the Nazis from his job as director of the Art
League of Hamburg in 1933, needed protection.
Like Gurlitt, some of
the most notorious players in the looted-art business had good reason to deal
with Hitler and Göring. Alois Miedl, who worked for Göring in the Netherlands
and "bought" the Goudstikker firm—at the time the most important
Dutch dealer in Old Master paintings—had a Jewish wife; Wilhelm Wickel, who was
the Nazi liason between dealers in the Netherlands and the Linz organization,
was part Jewish. He in turn recruited Dutch-Jewish dealers, who were exempted
from wearing the Star of David and from deportation as long as they kept the
art coming. (The documents of this form of blackmail, available in the German
archives, make nasty reading.)
The same was
undoubtedly true for the swarm of Jewish dealers who hung around the French
headquarters of the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg, one of the Nazi
agencies in charge of expropriating cultural property, and marketed the things
from confiscated collections that the Nazis could not take home to their degenerate-art-free
country. But theirs was a schizophrenic existence; in saving themselves the
dealers often made considerable fortunes and were able to acquire plenty of
stocks for the future, such as those in the Munich trove.
According to the
provenance researcher Ms. Terlau, Gurlitt was known after the war to have been
instrumental in urging the restitution of works hanging in the museums he
bought for. But he seemingly did not apply this altruistic attitude at home.
Not surprisingly,
potential claimants of all varieties, outraged by the secrecy surrounding the
Munich discovery, are making themselves heard. Prominent among them are the
heirs of Paul Rosenberg, one of the most important dealers in modern art in
Paris—or anywhere—before the war. The blame game is in full cry. In particular,
the German authorities are being criticized for not immediately publishing an
inventory. And it was certainly naive of them to think that a find of this
magnitude could be concealed. Authorities have countered that before releasing
a list they first need to determine what is in the hoard and to whom it belongs
so they can collect unpaid estate taxes and prepare to handle claims. Some
details were given out at Tuesday's press conference—a mere handful of artists
and artworks. But the current media circus is not going to make it easy for
them to maintain their silence as they have done so far.
There are a number of
probable categories for the contents: First, works that can be proved to have
been looted from individuals inside Germany and other nations that should be
returned immediately once identified. Second, works purchased from private
individuals that may or may not have been sold under Nazi duress. Third, works
obtained while Gurlitt was involved in the mad sell-off of "degenerate"
works by the Nazi government, that, if stolen by him might be returned to the
museums, but if bought by him would technically be his and therefore, now, his
son's. Finally, works legally owned by Hildebrand, who, like the rest of his
family, was a dealer and collector in pre- and postwar Germany. There might be
quite a few of these—an artist relative named Louis Gurlitt is represented by
some 20 entries on the list of the objects returned by the Allies in 1951.
There is much more
about this trove that needs to be investigated. It is especially odd that
Cornelius Gurlitt (where could he be?) was able to make a deal with the
claimant heirs of the dealer Flechtheim, after his detention for tax evasion
but before the seizure of the stash, for more than $1 million for a work by Max
Beckmann; supposedly at the time no one knew yet of the existence of these
works. In the immortal words of Ludwig Bemelman's Miss Clavel : "Something
is not right," and further revelations are certain.
Ms. Nicholas is the
author of "The Rape of Europa: The Fate of Europe's Treasures in the Third
Reich and the Second World War."
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