Persistence pays
Susan Moore
Exceptional works of art are becoming real rarities at auction. And if our masterpiece-starved international art market does deliver the kind of object that stops you dead in your tracks at 50 paces, there is a good chance that the work on offer is restituted Nazi loot. Two spectacular Renaissance silver-gilt cups and an ewer gleam in the spotlight at Christie's on 11 June, reclaimed after nearly 50 years in the Rijksmuseum. Their restitution by the Dutch government, along with some 230 other works of art from the collection amassed by Eugen Gutmann and his son Fritz, is the culmination of an extraordinary saga. The persistence of Eugen's grandchildren and, latterly, their children, in pursuing their claim to works of art in the US and in the Netherlands proved the catalyst for the radical revision of international restitution law.
Eugen Gutmann, who founded the Dresdner Bank in 1872, was a keen-eyed and passionate collector. Like the Rothschilds, Julius Wernher and J. Pierpoint Morgan, he collected everything from Old Masters, Renaissance bronzes and maiolica to 18th-century gold boxes and miniatures, but it was in Renaissance and Mannerist silver that his collection excelled. His youngest son Fritz left Berlin to run the London branch of the bank and, later, moved to Amsterdam to found a Dutch branch. He added Old Master and Impressionist paintings to the collection. Although Eugen had converted to Protestantism in the late 19th century, and his children were baptised, the family art collection was irresistible to the Nazis.
Even before the invasion of Holland in 1940, Hitler's scouts had targeted it for their wish-list. In 1941, the leading Nazi art dealer, Karl Haberstock, paid his first visit to the Gutmanns — now reclassified as Jews — to 'buy' their art collection. Fritz had no choice hut to agree to some sales hut he refused to sell his father's collection which he held in trust for the family. More threatening visits followed, By 1943, he and his wife had negotiated a safe passage to Italy, but their train never arrived. He was beaten to death in Theresienstadt, presumably for still refusing to sign away the collection, his wife was deported to Auschwitz. They were the only members of their family to perish.
When their children, Bernard, who had stayed in England after graduating from Cambridge, and Lili, who was living in Italy, returned to Holland after the war, they found their home stripped bare. They registered their losses with the Dutch authorities — fortunately the collection had been published — and set about tracking down their heritage. Initially, the Dutch restitution commission refused to return the works 'sold' to Haberstock, claiming that the sales were voluntary. Ever legalistic, the Nazis 'bought' the works of art they wanted but since Jews were not allowed bank accounts, payments could never be received. Bernard and Lili took their case to court in 1951, and won, but they were still obliged to buy back at current market value what family possessions they could afford. Most of the collection remained missing.
In 1996, one of Bernard's sons found an illustration of the family's missing Degas, now in a private collection in Chicago. A claim for restitution was made but this was rejected by the owner. Lili, then a sprightly 78, asked Anne Webber to help her make a film about the family's plight, Making a Killing. When the owner saw it, he asked to settle out of court and the Art Institute of Chicago acquired the Gutmann's half share. The case prompted the US state department to convene a conference involving 44 nations which endorsed a series of principles for identifying and resolving cases of Nazi loot. Anne Webber was asked to set up a body to represent families and assist them in their searches, and thus the London-based Commission for Looted Art in Europe was born.
Three years ago, the Commission took up the Gutmann cause to recover looted property that was now in the possession of the Dutch state. It turned out that there was far more than anyone had anticipated. Crucially, the committee also lobbied for an independent committee to consider such cases, and for a change in Dutch restitution law. In 2001. the Dutch government decreed that their policy had been 'callous' and 'unjust', and the first case the new committee considered was the Gutmann's. Since then 12 other cases have been heard or are hearing, and more are pending. The Dutch government still holds around 4,000 unclaimed works of art.
Some 73 pieces of the recovered Gutmann collection were offered at Christie's in Amsterdam earlier this month, and realised almost £750,000. The pieces de resistance go under the hammer in London next month. Each is a testimony to the genius of the silversmith. There is the sculptural silver-gilt ewer of around 1625 by the Augsburg silversmith Johannes Lencker I in the form of a triton blowing on a conch shell with the sexiest and most elegant nude nereid on his back (estimate £500,0004800,000). Of around the same date is the cup by Hans Ludwig Kienle of Ulm, this time in the form of a rearing silver-gilt stallion, his rider a gleaming, muscular silver male nude (estimate £350,000£450,000). Another technical tour de force is the 21 inches-high Gothic silver-gilt double cup, with the mark of Hans Petzolt, Nuremberg, 1596, which opens to reveal portrait medallions and the coat-of-arms of the husband and wife who commissioned it (estimate £150,000-£250,000). Let us hope that this bittersweet saga concludes with the Rijksmuseum being able to buy back at least one piece.
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