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Press and Journal
11-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Press and Journal
Exclusive: Inside council's frantic search for £13m masterpiece missing from Peterhead as global panic 'throws bosses into the fire'
Panic erupted within Aberdeenshire Council as theories were flung about, accusations issued and dusty records ransacked when it emerged the authority had completely lost track of an Italian masterpiece worth millions. Paolo Veronese painted the massive Pool of Bethesda in Venice in the 16th century and the valuable piece was later shown off on Catherine The Great's Russian palace walls. Ultimately, the 6ft by 12ft painting ended up being displayed in Peterhead's Arbuthnot Museum by the end of the 19th century. How it got there is a story in itself, but it remains one with an ending mired in mystery. Nobody has any idea where it is now. That's if it still exists. And if it does, experts say it would be worth about £13m. In 2022, Australian academics thrust the vanished Veronese into the spotlight as they launched a search for the piece due to its Melbourne connections. But Aberdeenshire Council has since been tight-lipped on its own efforts to right the historic wrong and solve the 'puzzle of international significance'. Now, using Freedom of Information legislation, we can paint a picture of the internal strife at the local authority as word of the missing artwork spread… And we find out exactly what the council has been doing to provide some answers now more than three years since the saga first hit the headlines. The missing painting has quite a past… Painted in Venice in the 16th century, where it hung until the mid 1700s. It went on sale in London in 1764. And was picked up by Catherine The Great, Empress of Russia, who may have hung it in the Winter Palace in St Petersburg. In the 1790s it was given to Aberdeen University lecturer Alexander Baxter. By 1868 it came into the hands of Robert Black, thought to have travelled to Melbourne with it, where it was displayed in public. In 1882, James Volum shipped it to its last known home – Peterhead. The wealthy brewer James wanted to gift the valuable painting to his hometown in the final years of his life. And it hung in the Arbuthnot Museum for decades, with seemingly few aware of its importance as the years went by. It wasn't until 2022, when flabbergasted academics from the University of Melbourne launched an international hunt for it that it once again became a talking point in the north-east. The Australians first contacted the council about it in January that year. An email between staff in the Aberdeenshire Council museums department from January 29 reveals some early concern about the issue – but one worker did claim to have 'found several clues'. It states: 'We have had an inquiry all the way from Australia regarding a 'lost' painting that once hung in the Arbuthnot Museum. 'Have you ever come across anything regarding The Pool of Bethesda by Veronese? 'We have found several clues.' Over the next few weeks, more would emerge as panicked staff tried to peer through the mists of time to find out just how something so valuable could disappear. This museum worker adds that an image confirmed it to be hanging in the Blue Toon museum in 'the early 20th century'. And the employee revealed some frustration that this academic report from Australia would soon be published online. 'We have been thrown into the fire there with no opportunity to review this publication or look into it on our end,' they fumed. The following day, a reply arrived from a council worker expressing some sympathy surrounding the publication of the news down under. They say: 'Doesn't it really make your heart sink when you get blindsided like this? 'I never came across a painting in the collections by Veronese.' But they also explain that they had previously compiled a catalogue detailing paintings at the Arbuthnot Museum that had been 'lost by 1975'. 'I cannot recall if Pool of Bethesda is among those lost paintings,' they add. This worker, who seems to know their stuff about Arbuthnot artefacts, signs off by offering to meet up at the council's Mintlaw museums HQ for further discussion. 'It might be helpful to you in finding some of the files I have mentioned, and it might also be useful for you in picking my brains on anything else while I am there.' The offer was duly accepted, with senior staff also to attend the talks as the mystery sent ripples across the local authority. Another email arrives at this time. Names have been redacted but it appears to be from an individual with a long-term memory of the council's practices. They warn: 'Mind you, in the terrible 1970s they SOLD lots of stuff – and things disappeared, I was told.' The University of Melbourne emails on January 31, 2022, offering some more ideas. They say: 'I suspect it went out on loan early on, to a church, a civic office, where it languished unrecognised and unloved.' A reporter from The Press and Journal gets in touch about the picture too (the name has been redacted but I can reveal it was me). I was looking for an interview with someone from the museums team who was leading the hunt for the missing masterpiece. But the approach appeared to spark some concern when the communications department approached bosses about it. A fraught email from top brass sought some assistance on the matter. It stated: 'I need to ask for some help, in confidence, from you both on an inquiry that will be all too familiar – potential 'bad news' stories around lost/missing collections. '[The painting] was 12ft by 6ft in size so not easy to lose you would think. 'We need to go through any papers we can find here to see what might have happened to it, but our papers are not so easy to search at the moment. 'However, I know that a lot of material was given to other museums in the 50s–70s when the librarian-curators at Peterhead 'rationalised' the collections. 'Please don't share more widely for now as I would like to keep this fairly low key until we have a clearer idea what happened (or can say categorically that there are no records of what happened to it). 'I am trying to manage quietly.' On February 2, Aberdeen City Council gets involved. The Aberdeen authority suggested the National Gallery of Scotland might have it. They added: 'Def worth asking if they hold such a work even if you don't say why at this stage (followed by a 'winking' emoji).' Aberdeen's archives team scoured any records for clues, but didn't find any. They suggested: 'There was certainly a practice of farming out to civic offices when a pieces was too big, 'permanent loans' to benefactors or landed gentry and swapping.' Aberdeen City Council offers help with 'further digging' into minutes from committee meetings. There's an exchange on Teams on February 3, with one employee racking their brain for an expert to help out… They say: 'There was a lecturer at Aberdeen Uni considered to be a bit of an international expert in Veronese. 'I am FURIOUSLY trying to remember his name.' They later add that this academic might actually have been an expert in Caravaggio. Later that day, there appears to be a twist in the tale. One message reads: 'it's about us losing a Venetian masterpiece painting.' The reply states: 'Whaaat.' But then emerges the claim: 'It wasn't really us who lost it.' What this indicates is unclear, as thus far nobody appears to know anything about the painting. Never mind who was responsible for losing it. Top official Avril Nicol then requests councillors be briefed on the unfolding saga. She wants everyone to be aware of the 'actions that we need to take forward to help find the painting'. Head of education Laurence Findlay then sends a report on the issue to chief executive Jim Savege on February 7. The Press and Journal's first article on the missing painting is published on February 6, 2022. And the following day, having read our article, a reporter from The Times gets in touch about it. The spotlight seems to spur on some extra efforts. An Aberdeenshire worker is back in touch with Aberdeen City Council on February 8. They must have been doing overtime on the issue, as this email is sent at 11.52pm… They write: 'Now the quest for the Veronese is public….. Can I follow up on your offer of a wee bit of help from someone to look at the archives for us? We've looked at digitised copies we have here of the Peterhead Library/Museum minutes and checked most of them but there some issues we have encountered. 'We are missing the whole run from 1936 to 1957, and for all the others, we don't seem to have the text of the curators' reports to committee which I think is the thing that probably holds the full acquisitions / disposal info.' So what DO they know, by this point? Now about a week into the search, Aberdeenshire Council officials suspect the painting was 'probably safe' in the Peterhead museum until 1949… They add: 'The family were strong supporters of artists and knew the value of artworks it seems, and it would be unlikely they would remove it (although nothing is ever impossible).' There followed a 'period of significant change', though, culminating in lots being removed to Royal Museum Edinburgh and Aberdeen University in the 1960s and 1970s. The email continues: 'We wonder if that is the most likely timeframe for it vanishing. 'There is also a small chance it could have been removed for safety in the war, and then misplaced, hence why tracking down the 1936-1957 minutes would be useful.' Investigators also explored the theory of the Veronese painting being stored in Peterhead's Arbuthnot House. But, this email adds: 'I am struggling (having poked round most corners of that building for another project) to see where they could have been 'stored'. 'I am suspicious that there might have been under pavement storage at the rear of the building, where a door is now blocked from the house but looks like the typical Georgian cellar arrangement under yards etc. 'I was wondering if the archives hold any plans or drawings of Arbuthnot House? 'Appreciate some of the above may be a long shot but as your guys know the archives better than we do I suspect they may be able to point us more quickly where we need to go?' The Aberdeen historians pledged to trawl their records for 'anything relating to the painting', and even look out the Arbuthnot House blueprints for any hidden storage areas. While Aberdeen archivists were examining the layout of the building to see if the masterpiece was in some underground bunker, Aberdeenshire experts studied the museum's past management. And some suspicion is thrown on a Mr Scott – who ran the facility from 1898 to 1911, but apparently wasn't a fan of the artwork. A written note was discovered where he 'recommends that it be insured only for a few hundred pounds'. He 'was not sure of the provenance and doesn't believe it very good'. The email, sent in February 2022, suggests 'there is a possibility that it may have been disposed of in/around his tenure if he (or his wife or daughter) believed it worthless?' And, even if it survived Mr Scott's disapproval, there's a theory that a painting depicting a miracle in the Holy Land would not have fit in at the Peterhead venue in later decades. From 1949 to 1975, two successive librarian-curators 'sought to change the nature of the displays at the Arbuthnot significantly'. The email states: 'They focused on local history, particularly whaling, shipping and fishing, and material which they felt to be 'surplus to requirements' was sold, given away or disposed of. 'Some taxidermy and geology is known to have gone to Aberdeen University's geology department and to Peterhead Academy. 'Other material was taken by the RSM in Edinburgh but none of them mention the painting in listings they make of artefacts.' By February 15, Aberdeen City Council archive experts have responded with building plans for Arbuthnot House… The trail seems to grow cold at this point, and there is no further mention of it being secreted under the town's pavements. On March 20, the Aussie arthounds are back in touch asking if any breakthroughs have been made. And on April 4, I'm checking in again. Around this time, Australian art aficionados were growing impatient. One professor told The P&J: 'It would be astonishing, indeed scandalous, if such a large, important and extremely valuable item had simply disappeared without trace. 'Even if – God forbid! – it was simply sent to the tip, this ought to have been recorded by both the museum and the town council.' And in September, Melbourne academics again seek further info. 'Is it hanging in a Scottish castle or a church? I am longing to know.' In May 2023, 15 months into the saga, another 'long shot' piece of speculation on the missing painting arrives in Aberdeenshire Council's inbox. Did a local luminary have it painted over – with a portrait of HIMSELF? This email states: 'I have traced back that the picture was seen in early 1904. 'In 1899 a provost Leask was appointed, prior to his appointment he was the foremost person in Peterhead, believed to be the richest, most powerful person of this time. 'He was not a man to be crossed as local recant.' It continues: 'In 1895, he commissioned a portrait of himself which is still in hands of Aberdeenshire Museums. I would like to find out if this was painted on part of Veronese' s canvas. 'Among some of the 'stories' is that although a church attender he was not keen on icons like paintings. He was manager of many Peterhead institutions, Masonic lodges and committees.' This informant also wonders if the painting was placed in a private home for protection during the Second World War – and left there. Council chiefs appear doubtful this was the case. So now, more than three years into the search, I checked again on where things stand… An Aberdeenshire Council spokesman last night confirmed that the 'last known physical record' of the missing painting being in the museum comes from 1905. He added: 'Museums staff have been interrogating documentation from the 1900s onwards. 'Unfortunately there is, as yet, no useful information to explain what happened next to the painting.' Are Aberdeen St Nicholas Kirk saviours taking over Peterhead's Carnegie building? Revealed: New Peterhead museum will showcase Annie Lennox, 'weird and wonderful' relics and stories of Aberdeenshire
The Guardian
09-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The week in dance: Romeo and Juliet; Deepstaria
With its 537th performance by the Royal Ballet, Kenneth MacMillan's sumptuous Romeo and Juliet is back for its 60th anniversary season. Not much has changed since its premiere in 1965, with a 45-year-old Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev, nearly 20 years her junior, as the star cross'd lovers. Nicholas Georgiadis's imposing designs, slightly revised in the 2000s, still move the action swiftly from a dusty Veronese square to the bedroom to the tomb – the costumes in dusty oranges, yellows, plum reds providing grandeur and vivid life. And the Royal Ballet company still absolutely understands the work's heady mix of impassioned naturalism and soaring classicism. Each detail is considered and performed with infinite care to Prokofiev's racing score. Reaction emerges from action. When Matthew Ball's Romeo first encounters Juliet (Yasmine Naghdi) at a ball, where she is supposed to be dancing with someone else, their entranced duet stops the other guests in their tracks. Each face registers shock; each member of the crowd has a view on what's happening. Equally, Joseph Sissens's Mercutio and Leo Dixon's Benvolio aren't stock figures. They are utterly convincing as lads about town and as Romeo's mates, expressing their relationship not in looks and slaps on the shoulder but through dancing that's at once technically sharp and dramatically shaded. Ryoichi Hirano's Tybalt isn't a generic bruiser but a frustrated, furious man, desperate to assert himself. It is all beautifully drawn, nothing wasted or lazy. Little grace notes are paid due heed. There's a marvellous moment at the start of Act 2 when Romeo dances in a circle, jumping lightly, flicking his hands with the pleasure of being alive. Ball makes it count; he's a dancer in his prime, taking the balcony scene in great arcs of exuberance, registering every note of Romeo's exhilaration, disillusion and eventual despair. His understanding with Naghdi (they've been dancing together since their school days) reveals itself in duets of sculpted loveliness. She dances beautifully, and acts with deep intelligence, charting Juliet's journey from silly, flirtatious girl to doomed heroine. Yet there's a flicker between Naghdi's thought and her movement; she never quite abandons herself in the way her partner does. Over at Sadler's Wells, Wayne McGregor, the Royal Ballet's current resident choreographer, has unveiled Deepstaria, his latest work for his own Company Wayne McGregor. It's a glorious piece, named after a rare jellyfish and danced in a set coated in Vantablack– a synthetic material that absorbs light – yet carved by Theresa Baumgartner's lighting design into dazzling channels of expressionistic black and white or turquoise depths. The subtle richness of the changing colours is as surprising as the darkness, or the odd notes in the recorded score, created by music producer Lexx and sound designer Nicolas Becker to mimic music played live. Yet the technology exists to showcase the nine remarkable dancers moving across a reflective floor. McGregor's choreography is densely varied, from a solo under dappled light to a long and sinuous duet for two men, to hands wafting like anemones and sea urchins. The dancers might be sinking in the deep or floating in space; their diaphanous forms constantly morph and beckon, pictures of light against the darkness, full of life and love. Star ratings (out of five)Romeo and Juliet ★★★★Deepstaria ★★★★ Romeo and Juliet is at the Royal Opera House, London, until 26 May
Saba Yemen
05-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Saba Yemen
Britain.. Original Sonetih of William Shakespeare Found in Oxford Library
London - Saba: English language professor Leah Veronese found a manuscript copy of William Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 116 in a collection of texts dating back to the seventeenth century, and it differs slightly from the original version. Veronese discovered, while conducting research in the old Bodleian Library at Oxford University, an amazing poem dating back to the seventeenth century. It soon turned out that it was a manuscript copy of a musical adaptation of William Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. The adapted version differs from the original at the beginning and end, and contains additional lines. Veronese said: "These additional lines may have been used to lengthen the song or to express political motives." It is worth noting that early modern poetry was often distributed in written collections, and in this case, as the research showed, the collection also contained several original poems by the poet Elias Ashmole. However, when one of his poems was examined by Dr. Veronese, it turned out to be a strange copy of Sonnet 116. The catalogue accompanying the collection was only prepared in the 19th century. It turned out that the description of the works in the collection was not accurate. The poem itself was not described accurately, as it was classified in the catalogue as a work "On the Constancy of Love". In addition, Shakespeare was not mentioned in the catalogue. For this reason, the manuscript, which turned out to be a copy of Sonnet 116, remained undiscovered for many years. Moreover, it turned out that the discovered manuscript represents a modified version of Shakespeare's sonnet, which differs from the original sonnet. This means that we can now read additional lines that we did not know about before.
BBC News
04-03-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Shakespeare sonnet copy from 17th century found by Oxford researcher
A rare hand-written copy of one of the most famous love poems ever written has been discovered after hundreds of Leah Veronese uncovered the version of William Shakespeare's Sonnet 116 tucked away in a 17th-century poetry collection at the University of manuscript was found among the papers of Elias Ashmole, founder of Oxford's Ashmolean Emma Smith, an Oxford expert in Shakespeare, said the "exciting discovery" would help researchers understand the Bard's popularity in the decades following his death. Dr Veronese found the sonnet featured in a miscellany - a type of manuscript which contains a selection of texts from different authors on various subjects - stored at the Bodleian Library."As I was leafing through the manuscript, the poem struck me as an odd version of Sonnet 116," the university researcher explained."When I looked in the catalogue (originally compiled in the nineteenth century) the poem was described, not inaccurately, as "on constancy in love" – but it doesn't mention Shakespeare." In Ashmole's version, parts of Sonnet 116 - also known as Let me not to the marriage of true minds - have been altered, and additional lines Veronese said she thought the changed first line and the lack of mention of Shakespeare were the reasons "why this poem has passed un-noticed as a copy of Sonnet 116 all these years".The sonnet sits in the miscellany alongside "politically charged" works from the 1640s - the decade of the English Civil War, fought between Royalists and was a strong supporter of the monarchy, and the lines added to the sonnet could be read as an appeal towards religious and political loyalty. The added lines "potentially transform" the sonnet from "a meditation on romantic love into a powerful political statement", researchers Smith said: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds is now one of Shakespeare's most famous sonnets, but it doesn't seem to have been very popular in his own time.""What Dr Veronese shows in her investigation of this new version is that the sonnet being understood in the context of Royalist politics – a long way from its role in modern weddings," she added. You can follow BBC Oxfordshire on Facebook, X (Twitter), or Instagram.
The Guardian
19-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Hamlet review – RSC's bold seaborne concept really pushes the boat out
Thematic merchandise is common at Shakespeare productions: Veronese pizzas before Romeo and Juliet, meat pies at Titus Andronicus. The new RSC Hamlet, unusually, has a tie-in cruise. The programme advertises a collaboration between the theatre company and Cunard: seven days on the Queen Mary 2 'putting the power of Shakespeare to sea'. Which is the course on which director Rupert Goold sets the court of Elsinore. His version takes place entirely on a sort of Royal Yacht Scandinavia during what seems to be a honeymoon cruise for Claudius and Gertrude. A ship of state, this is also, metaphorically, a ship of fools. The budget really pushes the boat out. A roiling wake of waves down-stage (video design: Akhila Krishnan) makes the play seem to be sailing towards us, while a monumental deck (designer: Es Devlin) sometimes violently lurches: in the climactic duels, poisons may not be necessary as sea sickness threatens to do for Hamlet and Laertes. This bold concept, though, is justified by Hamlet being such a coastal play. Four characters are put to sea (in this version, corpses also get a naval burial) and fear is expressed at the number of 'shipwrights' working in Norway to prepare its invasion of Denmark. Cleverly, the word 'bough' in the original is heard, in this context, as 'bow.' Elsewhere, Goold and dramaturg Rebecca Latham tinker to render speeches sea-worthy: 'chamber' becomes cabin, 'earth' is overtaken by 'sea'. Ingenuity is required to explain why Yorick's skull is not in the drink with the rest of him and the biggest loss is Gertrude's haunting speech about Ophelia's river death. Here, she just goes over the edge. Where, it must be acknowledged, many Shakespeare purists will follow her. But, with the RSC economically required to stage the major plays in quick rotation, each iteration should surely be significantly different. Apart from the off-shore setting, bold ideas include the novel suggestion – via a red digital onstage clock, 'witching hour' signalled as 00:00 – that the whole play takes place during one long night. And, unlike in some opera productions, high-concept never cramps performances that would grace any staging. Luke Thallon's Hamlet, student-cool and with an alternative-comedian vibe, plays against the speeding clock, notably taking his time. Pauses before and during the great soliloquies make the words about death and revenge sound newly thought-out and forced-out rather than learned by schoolchildren for hundreds of years. Jared Harris's Claudius exudes the sexual and political ruthlessness of a man willing to kill for a crown and to keep it, and Nancy Carroll, with typical poetic intelligence, captures the growing guilt of having betrayed both son and husband. Elliot Levey's Polonius is strikingly more dapper diplomat than the standard windbag. The unravelling of Nia Towle's Ophelia has a clinical reality that adds another layer to debate over whether Hamlet's descent is pretended. And, whereas every Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (or vice versa) are shadowed by the Stoppard spin-off, Chase Brown and Tadeo Martinez find undiscovered country as preppy Americans who must have met Hamlet on a scholarship. There will be questions about whether Goold should have gone to sea or not to sea but – for its vivid atmosphere and intelligence – this is a must-see. Traditionalists are warned that the RSC will also soon launch a Shakespeare-Radiohead mashup, Hamlet: Hail to the Thief. At the Royal Shakespeare theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until 29 March
