
Outside the pages of literature (or ancient history) Ferrebeekeeper has no love for monarchs/tyrants/autocrats/warlords. Hopefully you have similar feelings and enjoy the opportunity to go out and speak openly of why life was never meant to be lived in subjugation to suchlike despots! Yet one of our most popular categories here at ye olde blog has always been “crowns” [indeed, the top post of all time has long been this essay about the red, white, and blue crowns of Ancient Egypt] Why do we care so much about these preposterous jeweled hats and the quasi-mystical status that somehow becomes attached to garish objects which would seem better suited to gangsta-rappers than an art museum?
Beloved late fantasy author, Terry Pratchett, had a loose theory that there is an empty place in the human brain where people always want to put kings. This seems functionally correct– although perhaps the clinical language of primatology explains it better than the fun and sparkling language of Pratchett-fantasy: status hierarchy is such an innate part of part of primate behavior, self-understanding, and organization that finer attempts at self-governance and equality can easily be highjacked by certain dominance behaviors (this perhaps also explains why the loudest, orangest, & fattest man in America commands such unwarranted thralldom from so many otherwise sensible citizens…and why that same orange fat man is always waving or hawking gaudy gilded objects).
All of which is a circuitous introduction to the remarkable events which took place yesterday in Paris, when old-fashioned jewel thieves used a cherry picker and angle-grinders to rob the Louvre’s second floor gallery of crown jewels! The thieves arrived at the Louvre at 9:30 AM (just after opening) with fluorescent workman’s vests and a monte-meubles (a hydraulic lifting machine for moving furniture). They cut through the barred windows and jewelry display cases with power tools and then sped away on motor bikes all within about seven minutes. The brazen daylight theft shocked the French state and has already engendered much hand-wringing about the security of cultural sights and national treasures in nation still on edge after the fire at Notre Dame Cathedral.
The burglars successfully stole two historical diadems (detailed below) as well as a number of jeweled necklaces and earrings, however they did not successfully make off with their biggest prize, the coronation crown of Empress Eugénie (pictured at the top of this post) which was damaged during the heist, but recovered outside the building. The pieces the thieves did manage to snatch were the pearl tiara of Empress Eugénie seen here:


The thieves also made off with the sapphire-diamond tiara (and matching parure set) of Queen Marie-Amélie. Here is a picture of the rather splendid Georgian tiara:

Although these magnificent pieces of jewelry are extremely valuable and of great historical interest, they are not commensurate in value with some of the other art treasures of the Louvre (like the Mona Lisa, or Venus De Milo which would be difficult to sell in the criminal underworld). Hopefully the pieces will be recovered before they are melted, recut, or defaced!
Also, even French historians or French monarchy enthusiasts might be somewhat forgiven for not knowing who exactly Queen Marie-Amelie and Empress Eugénie are or how they fit into the larger pageant of French history! Queen Marie-Amelie was the wife of King Louis Phillipe, “the citizen king” who was placed in power in 1830 after the epic events of the French Revolution and the Age of Napoleon. She never even properly thought of herself as the true queen of France and just used her own personal jewelry as the crown jewels (although the fact that she was married to a duke and had personal jewels worthy of being the French crown suggest she was still pretty fancy). Louis Phillipe abdicated during the February 1848 Revolution which ushered in the Second French Republic. Empress Eugénie was the wife of Napoleon III, the first president, second emperor, and last king of France, who was deposed when the Second Empire fell during the disastrous 1870 Franco-Prussian War (to be replaced by the Third Republic). Louis Phillipe and Napoleon III were both venal and ineffectual monarchs who were sort of lumped into the “Reaction” half of the 19th century “Reaction-Versus-Progress” chapter of my Modern European History textbook in high school. Although a historian of the 19th century struggles of French democracy, might say otherwise, today these pettifogging kings are less famous than their wives’ tiaras, and now even those are gone!














































