The Mona Lisa Vanishes: A Legendary Painter, a Shocking Heist, and the Birth of a Global Celebrity

A problem with the “Consummate Professional” theory about the thief was that it would be impossible to sell a painting “so obviously stolen” (127). Worth had understood this. He had never intended to sell Gainsborough’s painting, only to blackmail its owner for money to pay his brother’s jail bond. When his brother got out on his own, Worth never attempted to sell the painting.

Lépine knew, however, that a Consummate Professional could be contracted to steal the painting, introducing “the Rich American” theory (128). In America, the 19th century’s Gilded Age enabled a small number of men to amass massive fortunes, widening the gulf between rich and poor. To mask their brutal fortune-building tactics, they founded philanthropic organizations to make their wealth seem respectable and spent the rest on mansions, antiquities, and especially art.

The theory that a rich American contracted the Mona Lisa thief gained traction. The number one suspect was wealthy and powerful American business J. P. Morgan, who was in Italy at the time of the theft. The rumors surrounding him reached such a fervor that he was forced to publicly state he had not been offered the painting.

The theory of a refined and dashing Consummate Professional stealing Great Art for no other reason than to appreciate it made a captivating story. It elevated art theft to an art form in itself, but the story did not match reality.

In 1961, for example, Francisco Goya’s portrait The Duke of Wellington disappeared from London’s National Gallery. A florid ransom note arrived a week later, and newspapers assumed it must reflect thieves “of intelligence and sophistication” (133). Years passed with no clues. The imagined thief was incorporated into the first James Bond film, whose villain, Dr. No, has the portrait in his evil lair. Finally, in 1965, the painting was deposited in a Birmingham railroad station. The thief was Kempton Bunton, an unemployed truck driver in his sixties who felt the British television and radio tax of 14 dollars was unfairly high. This story is not remembered, because Kempton Bunton did not fit the mold of the ideal art thief.

In 1911, Lépine and Bertillon did not understand that they were looking for a story rather than a thief. Leonardo did understand this. A riddle from his journals writes of giant human figures that grow smaller when approached. He was referring to “[t]he shadow cast by a man at night with a lamp” (136).

In London, Henry Duveen ran a serious, prominent art gallery that matched Rich Americans with Great Art. It was a flawless business plan: Europe boasted many “minor nobles with more culture than money” while America had “people with more money than culture” (137).

Shortly after the Mona Lisa’s theft, a man came to Duveen’s gallery and asked if he wanted to purchase the painting. Duveen wanted nothing to do with either the painting or the investigation. Either could compromise his reputation. He chose to laugh off the question as absurd and walked away.

Thirty-year-old Francesco del Giocondo was a widower with a young son who needed to remarry. A successful silk merchant and trader, Francesco would have been able to choose any girl with a large dowry. For reasons unknown, he accepted Antonmaria’s offer of property rather than cash.

Lisa would not have had a choice in the matter. Women in Renaissance Florence could not own property of any kind, live alone, become educated, or make any decisions independent of a male guardian. As a traveler to Florence a century later would remark, they viewed the world only from “the small openings in their windows” (147).

Years later, Francesco commissioned a portrait of his wife and mother of his children. He could have chosen from any number of brilliant painters in Florence. He chose Leonardo.

In Florence once more, Leonardo brushed off painting commissions. He had moved on to other interests, such as geometry and engineering. He went to work for one of the cruelest, most brutal and greedy figures to come out of Renaissance Italy, Cesare Borgia, “a high-ranking Catholic official and the son of a future pope” (150). Leonardo was known for his gentleness and aversion to violence, but Borgia offered him an opportunity to bring his sketches to life. It never happened: Leonardo eventually left Borgia, and in 1503, having turned down prominent commissions, accepted Franceso’s. Why he did so is one of “the greatest mysteries in the history of art” (151).

Leonardo mentioned nothing about the Mona Lisa in his journals, neither a contract or sketches nor why he chose to paint it and what he hoped to achieve by it. It remains unclear whether the portrait was finished. It broke all the rules of painting prominent women: Lisa wears plain clothes and no jewelry, and she looks directly at the viewer. Her eyes seem to follow the viewer wherever they go, and her smile is mysterious. The painting is open to interpretation. It is technically brilliant, exemplifying sfumato and Leonard’s understanding of how to paint in layers that give the illusions of light reflecting out of the painting.

However, none of these reasons are why the painting became so famous. It became famous because it was stolen, and to remain famous, it would need to be found. By the end of August 1911, this began to seem possible.