The Mystery of the Missing Lambs: The Turbulent History of the Ghent Altarpiece
- Anne Childress
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
You might not have heard of the “Ghent Altarpiece,” also known as the “Adoration of the Mystic Lamb,” but it holds a distinction no artwork wants: the most stolen masterpiece in history. Completed by the Flemish masters Hubert and Jan van Eyck in 1432, this massive, multi-panel polyptych is not just a dazzling work of early Renaissance art—it’s a survivor, a national treasure, and the center of one of the art world's most enduring cold cases.
Let’s delve into the incredible, often violent, history of this painting and the panel that remains missing to this day.
About the Altarpiece!
The Ghent Altarpiece, currently housed in St. Bavo’s Cathedral in Ghent, Belgium, is a visual masterpiece, widely regarded as one of the earliest major oil paintings. Its vibrant realism and groundbreaking technique were revolutionary for its time. However, its value and religious significance have made it a target for nearly six centuries.
16th Century Iconoclasm: It narrowly escaped being destroyed by Protestant mobs during the Great Iconoclasm of 1566 when its Catholic guardians managed to hide it in the cathedral's bell tower.
The Napoleonic Wars (1794): French troops under Napoleon plundered the central panels and took them to the Louvre in Paris. They were only returned to Ghent after Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo in 1815.
The 19th Century Sale: Following its return, a renegade vicar sold six of the panels (excluding the central ones) to an art dealer, and they eventually ended up in a Berlin museum.
World War I & Versailles: The remaining panels were seized by the German army during World War I. The Treaty of Versailles (1919) mandated the return of all panels, reuniting the work for a short time.
World War II & The Monuments Men: Coveted by Adolf Hitler, who believed it held coded occult secrets, the altarpiece was again stolen by the Nazis, who hid it deep within the Althusser salt mine in Austria. It was dramatically rescued at the end of the war by the legendary "Monuments Men" (the U.S. Army's Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program).
The Unsolved Mystery!
While its wartime history is dramatic, the most persistent mystery dates back to a single night in 1934.
On April 11, 1934, two panels were stolen from the cathedral: the lower-left exterior panel, a grisaille of Saint John the Baptist, and the lower-left interior panel, The Just Judges (also known as The Righteous Judges).
A note was left behind, written in French, claiming the theft was an act of vengeance for the Treaty of Versailles, which had forced Germany to return the panels after WWI.
The Ransom, the Confession, and the Missing Piece
Ransom Demands: A series of thirteen ransom letters, signed with the initials "D.U.A." (often speculated to be a pseudonym or a clue), were sent to the Bishop of Ghent demanding one million Belgian francs. The Belgian government refused to pay.
A Gesture of Good Faith: As proof, the thief returned the panel of St. John the Baptist, but the panel of The Just Judges remained missing. Crucially, the thief had sawed the single wooden panel in half, separating the two painted sides.
The Deathbed Confession: Seven months later, a wealthy stockbroker and devout Catholic named Arsène Goedertier collapsed and, on his deathbed, confessed to his lawyer, "I alone know where the Mystic Lamb is. The truth rests in my study, in a cabinet. Take the key."
Goedertier died before he could reveal the exact location. His lawyer later found copies of the ransom notes and an unsent letter with a tantalizing clue: the panel "rests in a place where neither I, nor anybody else, can take it away without arousing the attention of the public."
A Century of Theories
To this day, the original Just Judges panel has never been recovered. While Goedertier is widely believed to have been the culprit, many questions remain:
Did He Act Alone? Given that the panel was high off the ground, heavy, and Goedertier reportedly had poor eyesight, which made seeing in the dark difficult, many speculate he must have had an accomplice, perhaps a cathedral insider.
What was the Motive? Goedertier was wealthy; the ransom money seems unnecessary. Was it an elaborate act of revenge against the church, or simply a megalomaniacal desire to commit the "crime of the century," like a real-life version of his favorite fictional thief, Arsène Lupin?
Where is it Hidden? Theories abound, ranging from being buried under a busy Ghent square to being hidden within the walls or crypt of St. Bavo’s Cathedral itself.
Today, the Ghent Altarpiece is complete, but the lower-left panel is a brilliant, though clearly distinct, replica painted by copyist Jef Van der Veken in 1945. A detective on the Ghent police force is still assigned to the case, ensuring that the 90-year-old hunt for the single missing panel of the most stolen artwork remains very much alive.
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