R. A. Scotti (1945–2010)

On August 21, 1911, a 400-year-old matron absconded from Paris’s art trove, the Louvre. Born within relative obscurity, she had been transported across various state lines. Often belittled within Florence’s Medici confines, certainly a visitor in the bathroom of France’s François I and later celebrated in Louis XIV’s bedroom, she became a near-forgotten hostage, chained on the museum’s wall for nearly one hundred years before being liberated.

R.A. Scotti breathes life into a show more century-old mystery surrounding the theft of Leonardo da Vinci’s celebrated painting of Lisa Gherardini del Giocondo, La Gioconda, or as commonly called, Mona Lisa. Scotti’s breezy style paints a lively discussion of a theft that aroused worldwide furor, exposed the ineffectiveness of museum security and international policing, and prompted bewildering—and as yet unresolved—theories as to the nature of the crime.

Initially, lack of museum security was blamed, which called for the head of its director. Flummoxed due to lack of any obvious clues to the heist, French authorities initially lassoed la band de Picasso, a group of cultural anarchists led by Pablo Picasso and Guillaume Apollinaire. But that resulted in the two being found guilty of harboring the theft of several Louvre antique statues lifted by a kleptomaniac group-member.

In 1913, the Louvre’s Italian glazier, Vincenzo Peruggia, approached a Florentine art dealer to sell the painting that he had kept hidden for two years. Peruggia underwent a sensational trial, but he was released under celebratory relief that the original painting had been retrieved. The Mona Lisa eventually returned to the Louvre.

In 1914 in Casablanca, a scam artist using the moniker Marqués Eduardo de Valiferno disclosed his version of the theft to Hearst reporter Karl Decker. According to Valiferno, he had duped—and paid handsomely—Peruggia and two other Italians to manufacture the actual burglary. The marqués had employed a master forger to replicate six copies to be sold to collectors on the black market, not caring what happened to the original. A question still remains: What ever happened to these half-dozen forgeries if his version were true?

Eighteen years later, Karl Decker reframed and embellished another heist description through an article published in the June 25, 1932 issue of the Saturday Evening Post. Decker’s story was based primarily on information from Valiferno but was exaggerated to the degree that cast considerable doubt upon any account’s accuracy. His article merely stirred the controversy without confirming who or why the theft had been perpetrated.

Today, the Mona Lisa has become the world’s most secured lady; yet questions about her previous larceny remain unanswered. The La Gioconda story remains as mysterious as her smile continues to baffle art aficionados.

A well documented, global discussion with several illustrations, Scotti’s work includes five pages of notes and a five-page bibliography for eager detectives relishing further investigation. Her slim volume is a must-read for any Leonardo fan. show less

The August, 1911 theft of the Mona Lisa from Paris's Louvre is one of history's most famous art thefts. Despite the involvement of top criminologists such as Alphonse Bertillon, French authorities were unable to locate the missing painting. The few available clues were either contradictory or led to dead ends. Early suspicion centered on artist Pablo Picasso and his close friend, writer Guillaume Apollinaire. At one point, Apollinaire was arrested for the crime, but after a short stay in show more jail, he was released for lack of evidence. Several years after the trail went completely cold, the painting resurfaced in Italy. Scotti details how the theft was carried out and the thief's motivation for the crime. (I was surprised by the similarities to the museum theft in the movie How to Steal a Million.) However, some experts question whether the thief acted alone or had accomplices who were never identified.

I listened to the audio version of the book (coincidentally, almost exactly 100 years after the theft). The book's biggest flaw is its structure. Scotti breaks up the discovery and investigation of the Mona Lisa's disappearance and its eventual reappearance and explanation of the theft with a long digression on Leonardo da Vinci's life, the identity and life of the painting's subject, and the early history of the painting. It seemed like padding to stretch the material to book length, and it disrupted the flow of the narrative. If you're reading the book rather than listening to the audio, I think you could skip that section without feeling like you're missing something. show less

Imagine walking up to the Mona Lisa, removing it from the wall, and carrying it down the corridor for a private viewing. Keep it as long as you like! It seems absurd, doesn’t it? And yet that was possible a century ago. Museum policy permitted photographers to remove art from the Louvre's galleries with no prior request.

Security at the Louvre has improved substantially since then. For that — credit its infamous failure in 1911. A museum visitor, anxious to see Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona show more Lisa, grew impatient one summer morning. The painting was gone and the security guard assumed it was down in the studio. Later, feeling his entire morning was being wasted, the man inquired again. Museum personnel casually asked around and checked the studio. “Anyone have La Gioconda?” Only when met with silence did museum officials begin worrying. And rightly so. The Mona Lisa had been stolen.

Before reading R. A. Scotti’s Vanishing Smile: The Mysterious Theft of Mona Lisa, I knew Leonardo’s masterpiece had been stolen long ago, but had long forgotten any details. That made the story all new to me.

The author describes the last day at the Louvre before the theft, the slow realization that it was missing two days later, the flurry of police activity, and the fury of popular opinion. The theft catapulted the well-known painting into a popular culture icon. Mona Lisa became the most recognizable portrait in the world that summer. It was said that there had never been a line to enter the Louvre before the theft, and yet when the museum reopened a week later, thousands of visitors queued to see the four hooks on the wall where the Mona Lisa had been. I found that both amusing and astounding: Parisians lined up to NOT see the painting.

Scotti follows with chapters on the investigation and the rampant speculations. Theories included wealthy American art collectors, botched conservations, and workers making a labor statement. Young Pablo Picasso was even involved in the case; he was held and questioned for a time. The painting was eventually recovered (you knew that) and given a much more secure home.

This was an enjoyable read. I’ve read about Leonardo and his art many times before, but this book centered much more on crime and detection than art. It reminded me of Matthew Hart’s The Irish Game, a book I read (and reviewed) two years ago about another famous art heist: A Vermeer taken from an Irish country estate in the 1980s.

Find more of my reviews at Mostly NF. show less

An extremely detailed and well researched book, written from a geographical perspective following the course of the hurricane up the coast. Tales of devastation and survival are mixed in well with scientific and factual detail. I enjoy history, anyone's history and I enjoy reading about natural disasters since find them a humbling experience. We like to think as a species we control our environment, no, the earth only needs to sneeze to tell us who's boss.

I would recommend to anyone who show more enjoys books on disaster and survival. show less