Daniele da Volterra Descent from the Cross 1545 detached fresco mounted on canvas Chiesa di Santissima Trinità dei Monti, Rome |
"After the Revolution, the technique of removal was used to enable transport to Paris of paintings that the French government wanted to acquire. It fabricated mobile objects to fill gaps in the museum that was opened in 1793 in the Louvre Palace. The most significant interventions were carried out under the Empire, primarily in Italy. One of the most famous was undertaken by Pietro Palmaroli, who was charged with detaching the Descent from the Cross painted by Daniele da Volterra in 1545. In his Report dated June 28, 1794 (10 Messidor of Year II), Varon was already dreaming of "ripping it off the walls of Rome" and transporting it to the museum to complete the collection. The National Museum called in vain for a single production by Daniele da Volterra, and did not know where to go to find it. The superintendent's storehouse at Versailles has a Christ in the Tomb by this master. How can we not rip from the walls of Rome that sublime fresco at the Trinità dei Monti, which posterity has ranked among the three masterpieces of painting? . . . According to this rhetoric, the French government only had to desire artworks for them to be removed from their support and transported to Paris. The operation was, however, more complex. For instance, a first attempt at stacco a massello was unsuccessfully undertaken on the work by Volterra. The board of the Musée Central learned in October 1798 that an attempt was being made to remove the painting without its consent. The French administration was worried at that time about the loss of the artwork. Ten years later, it took over the initiative on its own behalf. In 1809, Denon "longed for the time when, separated, it could be shipped to Paris." In December, the painting was removed and had to be retouched by the restorer. In March 1810, the intervention that Palmaroli was performing on the surface of the artwork was still not completed. Denon wrote: As for the Daniele da Volterra fresco, I beg you to tell Mr. Palmaroli to accelerate his work as much as possible, because his Majesty asked me if it was completed and when we would receive this masterpiece, which it would have been to my advantage to offer to the public at the forthcoming opening of the exhibition of masterpieces at the Musée Napoléon.
In 1811, the painting was in Palmaroli's workshop, where it was admired by Stendhal and Goethe. A letter dated March 18, 1812, confirms that the work was still there four years after the start of the intervention. In April 1812, Palmaroli was urged to transport the painting to the Vatican at Denon's orders, "so that it may be viewed by the curious and artists." While Denon was longing to see the canvas in the Musée Napoléon, the idea of taking the work to Paris seemed to be gradually abandoned in favor of exhibiting it in Rome. According to the director, it was no longer as important to transport the painting to the French museum as to avoid its deterioration. As the proportions of this painting would be an obstacle to its current transportation, my Lord, I pray you order that it be placed in a room of the Vatican buildings where foreigners and artists might view it and, even if the Emperor consents to it remaining there, his Roman subjects would see with the greatest recognition that, when his Majesty has ordered that the famous fresco be removed, his intention was to save it from the ruin that threatened it in order to preserve it for his good city of Rome. My Lord, I leave it to your Excellency's wisdom to weigh the proposal I have the honor of making to you and pray you to authorize the Intendant of the Crown in Rome to have this fresco taken from Mr. Palmaroli and have it brought to the Vatican without saying whether or not it will remain there temporarily.
The Descent from the Cross removed by Pietro Palmaroli never left Rome. Today it can still be seen in the church for which it was painted. So the wishes of the French government did not always come to fruition. Furthermore, the arguments used to justify removals changed around 1810. In 1812, seeing that the departure of the Descent from the Cross was constantly being postponed, Denon said he preferred to preserve the painting rather than transport it to Paris."
Bartolomeo Schedoni Entombment 1613 oil on canvas Galleria Nazionale di Parma |
"At the turn of the nineteenth century, the importance attributed to the original dimensions of a painting was explicitly stated in a document produced by the administration of the Musée Central des Arts. After the Revolution, the issue of dimensions in fact solidified various tensions within the institution. In 1797, there was criticism of the changes in format made to paintings in the museum. . . . On December 31, 1797 (11 Nivôse of year VI), a panel of experts reviewed the accusations. For the most part, they excused the institution's practices, but they did not legitimize the format changes made to the artworks. . . . Only Joseph Lavallée, father of Secretary Anastase Lavallée, in a subsequent document, tried to put the importance of the intervention into perspective. And they want to cry attack, rape, murder, because a three-inch (not a nine-inch) strip was cut from a painting by Schedoni, which had an absolutely black background, insignificant, needless for the effect, which the master had extended only to fit the space. If they wanted an operation prescribed by taste to be considered a crime, they should not have cited the authority of Citizen Lebrun, who teaches us that we can safely cut in half a painting by Guido, which is as good as the Schedoni. If they further wanted the accusation to retain at least a semblance of credibility, they should not exploit the administration's veracity with regard to Schedoni by assuming that ten other paintings had been cropped and designating them by name in order to give more weight to the supposition. Lavallée waxed ironical about the "rape," "murder" and "attack" that cropping of artworks represented. Despite his irony, the vocabulary reflected the vehemence of the accusation, which interpreted trimming as mutilation. . . . As for the Schedoni, this master's works are extremely rare. This one is the only asset the nation possesses. This painting was eight feet four inches high. It depicts Christ in the Tomb. To enhance his composition, inspire the sadness and the contemplation in the viewer commensurate with its subject, the painter had set his figures on a dark background in a dark cave. A nine-inch strip forming the background was cut from the top of this painting. This pushed the figures outside the painting and destroyed the entire effect the painter sought. The purpose of that operation was to pair it with a painting by Bononi that was not considered worth placing in the museum, and the administration had the effrontery to call the piece it cut from the Schedoni painting an extension. So when a war hero has the misfortune to lose an arm, that arm should be called an extension.
Faced with criticism in December 1797, the administrators of the Musée Central sought to rectify the situation and attempted to return the paintings to their former dimensions. The restorer Joseph Fouque, who had cut the strip of canvas from the Schedoni painting, was summoned to return the removed part. But Fouque had burned the fragment. He wrote a brief release, stating, "I, the undersigned, certify that the strip removed by me from the Schedoni painting, when I relined it, was burnt as I do all the pieces I reline for individuals, which happens very often." So the restorer did not hesitate to destroy the strip from the painting belonging to the national collection, using industry conventions in this situation."
– Noémie Étienne, from The Restoration of Paintings in Paris, 1750-1815, published in French in 2012, translated by Sharon Grevet and published by the Getty Conservation Institute in 2017
[after the Empire collapsed in 1815, the Schedoni was returned to Italy, nine inches shorter than it had been when the French looted it]