Robbery of the century in the Louvre: The value of the stolen crown jewels is almost impossible to quantify

France is in shock. It's being called the robbery of the century. The material value of the jewelry stolen from the Louvre on Sunday morning, which is part of the French crown jewels, is immense. It's probably impossible to quantify it at first. However, it's already clear that its sentimental and historical value is far greater, as it constitutes a cultural heritage.

The jewelry for the French court was made by leading jewelers of the early 19th century. They created tiaras, necklaces, and earrings studded with pearls, emeralds, and sapphires. These unique pieces originated from the coffers of leading women at court, who were dynastically connected, and who wore them at ceremonies and other festive occasions.

Their names are Hortense, Marie-Louise, Marie-Amélie, and Eugénie. The former was the daughter of Joséphine de Beauharnais from a previous marriage. She was adopted by Napoleon Bonaparte and married to one of his brothers. Hortense was the mother of Emperor Napoleon III, who married the Spaniard Eugénie and made her Empress at the beginning of the Second Empire.

The other two women were "First Ladies": Bonaparte's second wife, Marie-Louise, and Marie-Amélie, the wife of the "Citizen King" Louis-Philippe, who reigned from 1830 to 1848. Thus, the Crown Jewels reflect French history between 1800 and 1870 par excellence. However, some of the stones among the stolen pieces are older than the jewelry itself. They were taken from ensembles from earlier centuries and re-set.

The stolen goods are not readily saleable, which is why speculation about a contract is rife. However, the thieves may have intended to remove polished stones from their context, thereby destroying the works of art to which they were attached.

The somewhat precarious structural condition of the Louvre became a matter of national concern last January. At that time, President Macron rushed to announce long-term investments in a hastily arranged speech in the "Mona Lisa" gallery. Even more than the historic theft of the "Mona Lisa," which was stolen in 1911 by an Italian living in Paris and only resurfaced two years later, the focus was on the problem of the enormous influx of visitors who are magnetically attracted to Leonardo's masterpiece.

Just this summer, it was revealed through striking supervisory staff that not only water damage and broken toilets and elevators were to be complained about, but also a severe staff shortage and numerous weaknesses in the security concept. Now, just a few hours after the robbery, passages from an alarming preliminary report by the State Audit Office, the final version of which was due to be presented next month, have been made public. According to the report, the Louvre has long been dramatically behind in terms of security. One-third of the rooms in one of the building's wings lack a single surveillance camera. In other museum areas, corresponding technology is lacking in three-quarters of the rooms.

Unlike in 1911, when Leonardo's "Mona Lisa" represented the stolen goods, this time the objects could simply be packed away in bags. The scene of the crime was the Galerie d'Apollon, considered one of the most magnificent rooms in the old Louvre Palace and a sight in its own right. It dates back to the 17th century. Eugène Delacroix had last contributed to the ceiling paintings in the 19th century. The large hall is reserved for a series of display cases displaying the precious objects of the French crown that the thieves were now after.

The security gap, however, wasn't inside the building. The alarm system was working, and visitors present were ushered out of the relevant room by security staff, who found themselves briefly locked between hastily locked intermediate doors. Apparently, no one had anticipated that thieves could break in from the street via a balcony and a high window. These thieves didn't come at night, but shortly after the museum opened at 9:00 a.m.

The half hour after the first visitors arrive is considered a critical moment. Staff take up positions shortly beforehand, as is the case in the Apollo Gallery. It is located under the glass pyramid, about a ten to fifteen-minute walk from the central entrance area. The first museum visitors had arrived there around 9:30 a.m. to admire the magnificent exhibits when a window pane was suddenly smashed. The gallery has windows on two sides, including those facing the street along the banks of the Seine, which at this point is called Quai François Mitterrand and has a wide sidewalk.

The four perpetrators had parked a vehicle with a lift they had brought with them at the bottom of the facade, donned high-visibility vests, and, as is customary, secured the area around the vehicle with traffic cones. They hid motorcycles behind the vehicle, which they eventually used to escape. While retreating along the route they had taken to the crime scene, they lost some of their loot on the street.

In France's highly turbulent history, following the Great Revolution of 1789, the proclamation of Napoleon as Emperor of the French, his exile, and further revolutions in 1830 and 1848, a temporary lull returned with the Second French Empire. Napoleon III reigned at that time, bringing a golden age to the country and its capital. The World Exhibitions of 1855 and 1867 were held in Paris and attracted the attention of all over the world. The Emperor's Prefect for Paris, Georges Eugène Haussmann, had begun to replace the medieval maze of streets with the perfectly straight avenues, wide boulevards, and magnificent buildings that still characterize the cityscape today.

The greatest adornment of the imperial family, however, was the Empress. Eugénie's splendor lay not least in her jewelry, which the thieves had a particular interest in. Her crown alone, dating from 1855, which the thieves lost on the sidewalk below the facade and which was recovered damaged, consists of 1,354 diamonds and 56 emeralds set between stylized eagles beneath an imperial orb with a cross.

The missing stolen goods include two tiaras, two necklaces, two brooches, and earrings, whose effect is based on the use of gold as well as pearls, diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. The tiaras and necklaces feature a classic design. One brooch, in contrast, is designed like a large bow—it was used to fasten the corsage. Each piece, which is part of an entire ensemble, is so richly encrusted that the number of precious stones runs into the thousands.

The jewelers who created the pieces are known by name—although not to a wider public. Among them is François-Régnault Nitot, who learned his craft from his father and became Napoleon Bonaparte's personal jeweler. In 1810, he made one of the stolen necklaces for Marie-Louise, which she received as a wedding gift. It only entered the Louvre collection in 2004. Some of the Crown Jewels only came to the Louvre in the 20th century, or even at the beginning of this century, because a distinction was once made between official and private jewelry.

While "state jewels" had to be handed over at the end of a reign, jewelry considered private could be kept and inherited. Even at the beginning of the Third Republic (from 1870), jewelry belonging to royal and imperial French ruling families was sold to the highest bidder to replenish the state coffers. Awareness of their historical value prevailed only later. Criticism now centers on the lack of video cameras, as well as the blatant lack of security in the historic and listed windows, which only have single glazing, which is also a concern for indoor climate control.