Lost history – The missing panel of Just Judges

On the 25 November 1934, Arsene Goedertier, a Flemish stockbroker, lay dying in the city of Ghent. As he wheezed his last gasps, the man’s solicitor leaned in to hear his client’s final words. To the lawyer’s surprise, the stockbroker didn’t express some expected reflection on the transience of life, nor did he stipulate further provisions for his heirs. Instead, he confessed to being the mastermind behind one of the most famous art heists in history.

The Just Judges, a panel from van Eyck’s The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, had vanished seven months before, along with another piece of the priceless polyptych, a section showing Saint John the Baptist. The stockbroker reportedly whispered into his attorney’s ear “I alone know where the Mystic Lamb is”, ending persistent speculation about the identity of the thief in the eyes of some observers. Twelve ransom notes had been sent to the diocese of Ghent and in Goedertier’s desk, the drafts of those letters, with lines for a thirteenth unsent message, were found. The thief returned the panel of John the Baptist as an “act of goodwill” while negotiating the return of the Just Judges with the Belgium authorities. But, to this day, the location and condition of the finishing piece to van Eyck’s astonishing allegorical puzzle remains a mystery.

Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Mystic Lamb is deemed a seminal accomplishment in the development of western painting. Started by Jan van Eyck’s older brother, Hubert, in c.1430, Jan reputedly completed the complex masterpiece in 1432 after his brother’s death. It marks a departure in European art from the surreal and ungainly portrayals of divinity that characterised medieval depictions. The stark realism of van Eyck’s altarpiece exerted an enormous influence on numerous artistic endeavours over the subsequent centuries, inspiring the most notable names in the European canon. Both earthly beauty and heavenly perfection were paid equal attention by van Eyck, arguably causing a Copernican turn for the treatment of worldly subjects in visual art.

The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb is one of the earliest examples of an oil-based painted work. Oil paint is often conducive for its vivid clarity and resplendent colouring. The detail of the twelve-panelled altarpiece, achieved in part by these technical means, is extraordinary. From trinkets to flowers, the elaborate yet accurate representation of minor objects raised the professional standard for successive painters. It has been described as the “most coveted” work of art ever, having been the target of thirteen crimes and seven thefts. After the French Revolution, it was transported to the Louvre in Paris but was returned to Ghent once the Napoleonic regime was conclusively overwhelmed at Waterloo. Several side panels at different intervals were also pawned off by the Cathedral to private collectors to replenish their empty coffers. In World War One, the altarpiece controversially came into the possession of the German Empire, but at Versailles, the reparations specified against the defeated superpower included the restoring of the altarpiece to its home at St Bavo’s Cathedral in Ghent. By the time the panel of Saint John the Baptist and the Just Judges disappeared, the altarpiece had endured a long and arduous journey, being divided and reassembled multiple times by numerous custodians in various countries.

Aresne Goedertier was a quiet and reserved man. He belonged to a dutiful middle-class family with a well-observed tradition for volunteering at their local places of worship. Living adjacent to Saint Bavo’s, Arsene, like his father, volunteered as a sexton. He allegedly maintained a fascination for the world treasure his cathedral housed and, interestingly, favoured crime fiction over other genres. After Arsene Goedertier’s lawyer, Georges De Vos, discovered the carbon copies of the ransom notes that the Ghent police had received, he unfortunately found very few clues pertaining to the whereabouts of the lost panel. One tantalising and suggestive line from the unsent missive did, however, outline the sort of place it was likely hidden in. The line read, “the panel rests in a place where neither I, nor anybody else, can take it away without arousing the attention of the public”. A fan of detective fiction, Goedertier may have been tickled by the notion of cleverly concealing the panel in plain sight; but where could this be?

A curious key recovered from Goedertier’s home may answer that question. Investigators determined that it opened the rood loft of Saint Bavo’s. In the loft, a small corner of a neglected wall displays a faded segment where an object was certainly installed, undisturbed, for some time. The shape of the fading is near-identical to the missing panel. Arsene was known to skulk in the medieval nooks and crannies of the cathedral. If it was there, it is now long gone, leaving no clues as to where it went and who took it.

In recent years, fresh attempts have been made to find van Eyck’s Just Judges. With the advent of forensic technology, investigators are now able to radioactively scan large areas for an object that resembles the Just Judges. In 2019, a small square very near to the cathedral, called Kalandeberg, was suddenly dug up. Magistrates revealed that the excavation was being conducted to find the missing panel. Regretfully, the venture proved fruitless. Many claims and rumours arose regarding the locale of this lost prize. Its recovery would restore an essential pillar of western art to its full and former glory. But I suppose the city of Ghent is well-compensated for this famous tragedy by the international recognition its central and unending enigma receives. The continuous failure to find it will hardly hurt the subdued city’s tourism industry.