Goya’s Portrait of the Duke of Wellington Theft
Spoiler alert: in 1961 Francisco de Goya’s painting, Portrait of the Duke of Wellington was stolen from the National Gallery in London. For more than 50 years following the theft the identity of the thief and their motivation remained a mystery.
Portrait of the Duke of Wellington
This painting by Francisco de Goya, an important and prominent Spanish painter and printmaker, was created between 1812-1814. The subject of this painting is British General Arthur Wellesley, the first Duke of Wellington; he was painted during his service in the Peninsular War. (If you don’t know what that war is, I didn’t either. It was a conflict fought on the Iberian peninsula between Spain, Portugal, and the UK against the invading and occupying forces of the first French Empire during the Napoleonic Wars). Now that we’ve all learned something new, back to the painting.
This portrait was one of three that Goya painted of Wellesley. It was begun in 1812 when Wellesley first got to Madrid showing him as an Earl in an all red uniform wearing the Peninsular Medal but Goya modified it in 1814 to show him in full dress uniform with braided black and gold lapels and The Order of the Golden Fleece and Military Gold Cross with three clasps, both of which he had been awarded in the meantime.
This painting was really brought into the public consciousness in 1961 when New York art collector Charles Wrightsman bid £140,000 for it at auction at Sotheby’s. However, this provoked some outcry from the British media and parliament because the UK really wanted to keep the painting, it is their guy after all. So the Wolfson Foundation offered £100,000 and the government was pressured into adding a £40,000 grant on top of that to match Wrightsman’s bid. For his part, Wrightsman graciously ceded it to the UK where it was granted to the National Gallery.
The Theft
Now we’re all caught up on the painting and the context. So everyone is really excited that this painting will stay in the country, people are saying that it was ‘saved’ from export and everyone wants to see it. Because of this media attention there was a big public interest in this piece. It was first put on display at the National Gallery on August 2, 1961.
But then, just under three weeks later on August 21, 1961, disaster struck. Just before dawn a thief climbed over the brick wall surrounding the gallery, then used a ladder left outside by workers to enter the building through an unlocked window in the main building of the gallery. The painting was on an easel at the top of the main set of stairs, in a place of pride. All the thief had to do was take the painting off the easel and retrace his steps to his car and get away scott free.
That’s it. That’s all anyone knew about this theft (honestly what I wrote here is probably even more than people knew) for a long time.
The Investigation
Of course the police were called. This is a national treasure that a foundation and the government just shelled out hundreds of thousands of pounds just to keep in the country so they were determined to get it back.
The investigation was led by Lord Bridges and they were able to uncover the fact that the thief had been able to enter the gallery through the unlocked window in the men’s bathroom, maybe that the thief themself had left unlocked the day before. They also identified the ladder as the thief’s way of scaling the building and entering/exiting the window. Pretty obvious stuff tbh.
The director of the gallery at the time, Philip Hendy, offered his resignation over the matter but the trustees refused to accept it so he stayed. He spearheaded some important security improvements following the theft (but ya know, too little too late). A night patrol with a dog was started, as well as a new position was created for a senior police officer to serve as a security advisor for all national collections, a role that has evolved into National Security Advisor.
It seemed like after that the trail was going a little cold. Until…
The Notes
On August 31 the thief mailed two notes to the media. These notes said, in part, “The act is an attempt to pick the pockets of those who love art more than charity…the picture is not, and will not be for sale – it is for ransom – £140,000 – to be given to charity. My sole object in all this was to set up a charity to buy television licenses for old and poor people who seem to be neglected in an affluent society” (Nairne, 2011).
Obviously the press had a field day with these notes, causing even more stress for the gallery. One article speculated that maybe the theft had to do with controversial restoration tactics at the gallery. In 1963 another article tried to persuade the thief to talk to comedian Spike Milligan who apparently wanted to help. “[Milligan] sympathizes with them and would like to attempt to meet them with a view to raising money independently…to be donated to a charity of their choosing. This is a sincere offer and done without the connivance of the police or the authorities” (Nairne, 2011). But it came to nothing. They didn’t get any response from the thief.
Finally, in July of 1963 the media heard from the thief again. All the third envelope contained was a label from the back of the painting. Presumably to confirm that they actually had the real painting and this wasn’t all a hoax. Then a fourth note was received with a suggested way that the painting could be returned. The thief wanted £140,000 to be given to an agreed upon charity and immunity from prosecution for themself. The writer encouraged the board of the gallery to “assert thyself and get the damn thing on view again. I am offering three pennyworth of old Spanish firewood, in exchange for £140,000 of human happiness” (Nairne, 2011). But again, nothing was done by the police or anyone following this note to either set up this deal or otherwise track down the thief.
Then in March 1965 a note arrived labeled “5th and Final Com”. It read, “Goya's Wellington is safe. I have looked upon this affair as an adventurous prank – must the authorities refuse to see it this way. I know now that I am in the wrong, but I have gone too far to retreat” (Nairne, 2011). The thief then proposed a new plan, he would anonymously return the painting and it would be put on public display where people would pay five shillings to view it. All the money would be donated to charity and the police would drop the investigation and not pursue the thief.
The Daily Mirror newspaper took on the challenge of organizing such an exhibit for the painting. They became almost a mode of communication between the gallery and police, and the thief. Even though they couldn’t offer immunity in May 1965 a luggage tag from New Street Station was sent through the newspaper to the police. Using this tag they found Goya’s Portrait of the Duke of Wellington in good condition without its frame waiting for them. The painting was shown at a press conference on May 24, 1965 and was put back on display at the National Gallery almost four years after it was taken.
That’s all great but the police STILL had no idea who had taken it in the first place. Until someone came into the station in July of 1965 to turn themselves in.
The Reveal
To understand this whole story we have to rewind a little bit. Let’s go back to 1961. A war vet named Kempton Bunton finds out that the UK government is paying £140,000 to keep Goya’s Portrait of the Duke of Wellington in the country, a price that shocks and disgusts him when he knows that so many people are struggling just to get by (including him and his family). Some important context here is that Bunton had many causes and things that he felt strongly about and one of them was the fact that senior citizens had to pay British television licenses. He didn’t believe they should have to and had a record of not paying his in protest, just keep that in your back pocket for later.
So Bunton has been complaining about this painting and the huge sum to his wife and also to his son, John Bunton (we’ll refer to him as Bunton Jr. for the sake of clarity). It turns out that it was actually Bunton Jr. who stole the painting. Allegedly motivated by his father’s outrage he, somewhat impulsively, crafted the plan to steal the painting and hold it for ransom while also raising awareness about the TV license issue that his dad cared so much about.
After Bunton Jr. sneaks back out of the gallery the night of the theft in 1961 he put the painting on the back seat of his car and drove to his accommodation where he slept that night with it under his bed, unsure of what to do next. He thought about hiding the theft from his father but eventually tells him what he’s done and together they concoct a plan where Bunton will take the fall if they ever get found out. For the next four years they send the notes we talked about above to the press in an attempt to get attention and hopefully some money towards a good cause.
Finally, in 1965 Bunton decided to turn himself in. On that day in July it’s Kempton Bunton that walks into the police station to confess. He had a prepared statement with him explaining his surrender, “(1) My secret has leaked – I wouldn't like a certain gentleman to benefit financially by speaking to the law. (2) I am sick and tired of the whole affair. (3) By surrendering in London I avoid the stigma of being brought here in ‘chains’” (Nairne, 2011). He was charged on five counts; with the theft of the painting, the theft of the frame, demanding money from the gallery trustees with menaces, demanding money from the editor of the Daily Mirror with menaces, and causing a nuisance to the public by removing a public painting from the National Gallery.
At trial Bunton did very well, his lawyer was able to successfully argue that in order to convict Bunton of stealing the prosecution would have to prove the intent to keep or sell the work. He made it very clear that the painting was only taken to generate £140,000 for charity and that Bunton always intended to return the painting to the National Gallery. Thus, in the strictest sense of the word, Bunton didn’t steal the painting, he merely borrowed it. (Which I know is also not allowed but that wasn’t what he was on trial for here). Bunton ended up getting acquitted on four charges and convicted of stealing the frame, since it was never returned, for which he was sentenced three months in jail.
Seems like that’s that. Maybe not. Even though the police had a confession, and now a conviction, for this case it never sat right to some of them that this older, heavyset man with an injury was the one scaling walls, climbing up and down ladders, and shimmying through windows. They thought maybe he had an accomplice. But, Bunton Jr. said nothing throughout the entire trial per his father’s wishes.
Then, in 1969 Bunton Jr. was arrested and fingerprinted in Leeds for a minor offence but he panicked thinking that the police would be able to match his fingerprints to those found at the Goya crime scene and he confessed that it was him who did the actual theft that night in 1961. As it turned out, the fingerprints they had from the Goya crime scene weren’t identical to Bunton Jr. so they wouldn’t have made that connection on that evidence alone. But it didn’t matter, they finally had their answers.
Bunton Jr. told them the whole story that I laid out above and about his father’s plan to be the one to take the fall for him. Bunton Jr. said that it never crossed his mind to sell or destroy the painting, it was always his plan to give it to his father, “he intended to use it as a tool in his campaign and that it should ultimately be returned to the National Gallery” (Travis, 2012).
The police said that Bunton Jr’s admission wasn’t enough to prosecute him on and as for Bunton, they said it would be really difficult to prosecute him on a perjury charge so no further action was taken. Looks like Bunton Jr. got away with one of the most famous art heists in history.
P.S. They made a movie about this whole thing in 2022 with Jim Broadbent and Helen Mirren called The Duke. I may have to give it a watch and see how true it stays to the story!
Works Cited
Barron, Katie. “The Curious Case of the Stolen Portrait”. The Wolfson Foundation. 2022. https://www.wolfson.org.uk/goya-wellington-stolen-portrait/
Escalante-de Mattei, Shanti. “‘The Duke’ Paints a Touching Portrait of the Family who Stole a Goya”. Art News. 2022. https://www.artnews.com/art-news/reviews/the-duke-film-goya-art-heist-review-1234626376/
Nairne, Sandy. “How Goya’s Duke of Wellington was Stolen”. The Guardian. 2011. https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2011/aug/05/art-theft-duke-wellington-goya
Travis, Alan. “Revealed: 1961 Goya Theft from National Gallery was a Family Affair”. The Guardian. 2012. https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2012/nov/30/1961-goya-crime-national-gallery