Sometimes reality surpasses fiction. Everyone remembers the movie Monuments Menby and with George Clooney, released in 2014, featuring the guardian angels of heritage during the Second World War, embodied by some of the most handsome faces in Hollywood. For dramatic reasons, the historical fiction focused on the Nazi treasure hunt: the hunt for looted works, with the aim of returning them to their rightful owners, is the most romantic dimension of this epic. However, it is only one facet of the extraordinary action carried out by a few men armed with astonishing determination and courage. An exhibition, designed by a very young historian (23 years old) passionate about this period, tells the incredible but true story of this squadron of volunteers – museum directors and curators, artists, architects and art historians – who risked their lives to save the treasures of Western art. This is particularly the case of Ronald Balfour, a medievalist who fell on the field of honor while trying in vain to save the city of Cleves. A suicide mission, or at least an impossible one, given their immense task and their paltry means. An inter-allied section of the American and British armies, the group called Monument, Fine Arts, and Archive Program (MFAA) did not even have its own means of transport. As crazy as it may seem, it was not uncommon for its members to have to hitchhike to get around. The commando did not operate as a single unit, like a military corps. On the contrary, its meager personnel were left to their own devices and acted alone or at best in pairs. A shame for a brigade of around thirty men whose role was to crisscross France, Italy, Belgium and Germany. The “Monuments Men” followed the progress of the front to indicate to the general staff the historical sites to protect and to avoid their bombing as much as possible, including those of the Reich. While some of the Allied targets could not be spared despite their reporting, such as in Cologne, their intervention was decisive in the partial rescue of Aachen. Without them, Charlemagne’s capital would have been wiped off the map. Because, as we do not know, the main part of their mission was to inspect the heritage, carry out emergency repairs to damaged sites and prevent damage caused by their own troops.
9/13 May 1945. American Sergeant Harold Maus is photographed with an engraving by Durer, found among other art objects in the Merker salt mine in Germany.
© National Archives and Records Administration
A commando of experts
“We often hear that this section was born in the run-up to the D-Day landings, but it is a reflection that emerged well before the attack on Pearl Harbor, before the United States became involved in the conflict.”explains Mattéo Grouard, the curator. The awareness of the urgency of preservation was made very early on by the main instigators of this section. One of them, George Stout, a curator and pioneer in restoration, was a veteran of the Great War. It was his experience on the battlefield in 1914-1918 and the impact of conflicts on heritage that encouraged him to study art after his demobilization. He was logically one of the spearheads of the creation of the MFAA: a brigade composed of artists, historians, curators and architects. Stout is one of the rare veterans of the commando. “There are two ranks among their troop, says Mattéo Grouard. Those who were completely from civilian life and were not at all familiar with military authority, its procedures and how it worked. And those who had already fought, like Stout who came from the Navy. The presence of these veterans was crucial because they knew the military organization and the concrete impact of the war on heritage. Obviously, the presence of “blues” caused difficulties, because the “Monuments Men” had no authority other than intellectual over the rest of the troops. It was often difficult for them to make their voices heard by the general staff, which did not take them into consideration. These specialized art officers were thus integrated with very low ranks: most were at best second lieutenants, sometimes even privates first class. An imbalance all the more disconcerting since they were generally mature men, between 40 and 60 years old. Their belonging to the civilian world did not, however, only have disadvantages. Their lack of military ambition allowed them to stand up to their hierarchy: an unthinkable attitude for a career soldier who would have legitimately feared being demoted. James J. Rorimer is remembered as the most reckless of the section. The emblematic curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York) had no military training. He had wanted to enlist after hearing the story of the French Campaign, but had been discharged for health reasons. When he had the opportunity to enlist in the “Monuments Men”, he did not hesitate. His mission in Europe was punctuated by tense episodes with his hierarchy: he ordered the high-ranking officers not to occupy certain buildings to be protected and forbade them to seize works of art to decorate their HQ. An audacity that could have earned him a court martial.
Sergeant Harry Ettlinger inspects a Rembrandt self-portrait found in the Merkers salt mine
© National Archives and Records Administration
A fight against time and the general staff
To establish their authority, these extraordinary recruits had a powerful sesame: a mission letter from General Eisenhower. A document explaining that the squadron had the power to decree which monuments could or could not be affected, and which sites should be spared during bombing raids. This last prerogative was the most delicate to enforce since until that date war damage was considered inevitable during combat. Especially since the recommendations of the “Monuments Men” sometimes went against strategic issues. After D-Day, they had to wage an exhausting standoff with the military command to ensure that the bell towers of Norman churches were not systematically destroyed. These old stones were indeed strategic targets that could shelter German snipers, or which were booby-trapped to explode and cause maximum Allied losses. When men’s lives were at stake, the “Monuments Men” laid down their arms. They fought on other, lesser-known but equally important fronts: education. One of their roles was to raise awareness among troops so that they would not damage buildings, for example by defacing them with graffiti, or by dismantling them stone by stone in order to salvage materials. Unromantic but essential tasks.
American GIs descend the steps of Bavaria’s Neuschwanstein Castle with artwork under the supervision of Monuments Man James J Rorimer.
© National Archives and Records Administration
Oddly enough, the film directed by George Clooney did not give the real name of the “Monuments Men”. An artifice offering more fictional latitude, but harming the tribute paid to these unsung heroes. The exhibition, which is a vibrant homage to this mythical brigade, comes to shine a spotlight on its protagonists. Three hundred costumes, mannequins, objects and archival documents attempt to reconstruct reality and move away from the Hollywood vision. The tour deployed in the salons of the castle, which was the headquarters of Marshal Rommel’s staff, tells the context of the creation of this section dedicated to the protection of heritage in war zones and paints a portrait of its main members as well as an assessment of their action. Immersive sequences also reconstruct the famous salt mines and the “collecting points” where the stolen works were stored and found at the end of the war.
Isabelle Manca-Kunert
“Monuments Men”,
Château de La Roche-Guyon, 1, rue de l’Audience, La Roche-Guyon (95), until November 24, 2024.
Protection of castles in times of war
Castles and museums in the Paris region during the Second World War: strategic protection, 292 pages.
© A co-edition of the Château de Versailles – Éditions Hermann
A mountain of sandbags, masterpieces packed in makeshift crates, outdoor sculptures protected by tree trunk mikados, or even prestigious monuments whose windows were urgently covered with flimsy wooden planks. The abundant iconography of this work offers an edifying and original synthesis of the protection strategies implemented during the Second World War in the castles of the Paris region. In addition to its numerous illustrations, which testify to the sometimes derisory means of protection available to the monuments, the work, resulting from a conference, draws up a remarkable inventory of the safeguarding procedures in rarely documented sites. While the cases of museums and Versailles are now well known, the fate of the castles of Rambouillet, Sceaux, Chantilly and Vincennes remained mysterious. This very complete book, accessible to all, recounts in detail their astonishing destiny during the war.
Isabelle Manca-Kunert