The Duke

In 1961, the National Gallery in London was the scene of a daring heist, one that would go down in the annals of crime history. On the night of August 21, 1961, an unlikely thief, a 60-year-old taxi driver named Tom Keating, stole Francisco Goya's portrait of the Duke of Wellington. This infamous painting, also known as 'The Duke of Wellington', had been hanging at the National Gallery for over 30 years, and it was the first and, to this day, the only time the gallery was ever burgled. Tom Keating was a seemingly ordinary man with an extraordinary talent – he was an accomplished artist in his own right, known for his paintings of horses and landscapes. However, what the public didn't know was that Keating had a deep love for art forgery as well. He began by creating fake artworks that were so convincing that many people thought they were the real deal. This talent was going to come in handy in the heist that was about to unfold. The theft of the painting was orchestrated with Keating's unique skill set in mind. To avoid suspicion, he didn't use a sophisticated team of thieves or a high-tech security system to gain entry to the gallery. Instead, he opted for a more low-key approach, using his extensive knowledge of art and art history to outsmart the gallery's security team. On the night of the heist, under the cover of darkness, Keating snuck into the National Gallery through a ventilation shaft. From there, he expertly navigated the maze-like corridors, knowing exactly where to go and how to get there unseen. Once inside the gallery, Keating made his way to the Wellington portrait, expertly reproducing the lighting and angles of the room in his mind to avoid detection. The painting was a large and impressive piece, measuring over six feet tall, and it weighed approximately two hundred pounds. Keating carefully cut the painting from its frame and rolled it up, before making his way back down to the gallery's entrance and then out into the night. The public, the police, and the art world were all left stunned by the theft. The gallery had been robbed before, but never in the course of its history had it suffered such a significant loss. The authorities swung into action, with detectives reviewing surveillance footage and interviewing potential witnesses. Despite the best efforts of the police, no one had any idea who could have pulled off such a brazen heist. In fact, it was so brazen that the public began to wonder if the theft was staged, or maybe even the work of the police themselves. Meanwhile, back home, Keating couldn't help but bask in the glory of his incredible achievement. He would often spend hours admiring his stolen masterpiece, carefully studying every detail and trying to decide how he would part with it. The art world was abuzz with theories and speculations, but the truth of the matter remained unclear. Had the painting been stolen by an experienced thief with a deep knowledge of art and a network of underworld connections? Or was it the work of an amateur, who stumbled upon the perfect opportunity and made the most of it? As the investigation continued, detectives were left floundering, unable to determine the identity of the culprit. They interviewed potential suspects, but none seemed to fit the bill. The only lead was a suspicious taxi driver who was last seen driving near the gallery on the night of the theft. The authorities were not aware that this taxi driver was, in fact, Tom Keating – a seemingly innocent man who had been keeping a low profile while basking in the knowledge of his incredible achievement. It was later reported that Keating had made an astonishing revelation to a friend. According to this friend, Keating had said that he had stolen the Wellington portrait 'as a joke', and that he didn't need the money because he was 'already wealthy'. This enigmatic statement only further fuelled speculation about the true intentions of the master thief. As the years went by, the Wellington portrait remained a mystery. Despite numerous investigations and tips from the public, no one could find any clue as to its whereabouts or its fate. Some said it was hidden away in Keating's attic, while others believed it was hidden in a safe in the English countryside. The painting's owners, the National Gallery, were beside themselves with worry, but they knew they would never see their beloved masterpiece again. In a twist that would be almost too ironic, the Wellington portrait was eventually found, but unfortunately not by Keating. In 1990, the painting turned up at a small auction house in the United States. It was later identified and returned to the National Gallery, much to the relief of the art world. Meanwhile, Tom Keating returned to his everyday life as a taxi driver and artist. He continued to create his own artworks, and many of them fetched high prices at auction. No one suspected him to be the mastermind behind the daring heist, not even the detectives who had investigated the case. It was as if he had managed to pull the perfect veil over his identity. However, it must be noted that the film of Tom Keating's life, "The Duke" tells a different and more personal story. The film, released in 2020, tells the story of how a man, living in poverty and facing the consequences of the post-war world, used art to survive.