Lady with an Ermine

by Leonardo da Vinci

Ludovico remained devoted to the mother of his son and continued to support her. He also chose her future husband: the selected match was Count Ludovico Carminati de Brambilla, known as Bergamini, whom she married in 1492 at the age of nineteen. In addition, Ludovico granted her the splendid Palazzo Carmagnola in Milan as well as a fief in Saronno, allowing Cecilia, as a countess, to live the life of a noblewoman.

Cecilia must have remained very beautiful in her later years; her beauty was the subject of numerous contemporary letters and poems. She was also considered intelligent and highly educated. She spoke fluent Latin, played music, wrote poetry, and was known as a charming conversationalist. As the hostess of literary salons, she discussed religion, art, and philosophy with prominent figures. These gatherings are regarded as the first salons in Europe. Cecilia also supported writers, among them the novelist Matteo Bandello.

The Duke of Milan, Ludovico Sforza, was overthrown by the French in 1499, lost his power, and died in French captivity in 1508. Their son Cesare pursued an ecclesiastical career, became an abbot, but died already in 1512 – four years after his father – at only twenty-one years of age. 

With her husband, Count Ludovico Carminati de Brambilla, Cecilia had four more children. The eldest son, Giovanni Pietro Bergamini, married Bona di Monastirolo, a daughter of Lucrezia Crivelli. The Milanese noblewoman was Cecilia’s successor as Ludovico’s mistress, mother of two sons of the duke, and was presumably portrayed by Leonardo as La Belle Ferronnière. The count died in 1514. Cecilia Gallerani outlived him by twenty-two years and died in 1536 at the age of 63 at her husband’s castle in the small community of San Giovanni in Croce (Italian “Saint John of the Cross”) near Cremona, about one hundred kilometers southeast of Milan.

Leonardo’s painting remained in her possession until her death.

The ancient Greek word for weasel—the ermine belongs to the weasel family—is galê or galéē, which can be understood as a reference to Cecilia’s surname, Gallerani. Leonardo da Vinci and his patrons had a fondness for wordplay; it was a fashion of the time.

Another portrait attributed to Leonardo shows Ginevra de’ Benci. She sits in front of a juniper bush. Juniper is ginepro in Italian—a word that sounds similar to Ginevra.

A similar play on words can be found in the portrait of Lisa del Giocondo, known as the Mona Lisa. Gioconda means “the cheerful one” in Italian. It is therefore assumed that her cheerful smile alludes to her surname, del Giocondo.

From the 14th century onward, ermine coats became a symbol of the wealth and power of the nobility. Because these garments were made from the fine white winter fur of the ermine, they were extremely valuable and affordable only to members of the high nobility. At times, non-nobles were even forbidden to purchase ermine coats. The ceremonial robes of emperors, kings, dukes, and cardinals were from then on made of the white winter fur with its characteristic black tail tips. The motif of the ermine cloak still adorns the coats of arms of the European high nobility today.

The ermine’s fur changes color depending on the season, while the tip of its tail always remains black.

The traditional role of the nobility was threefold.

• to take on military defense in times of war (strength)
• to ensure offspring in order to secure the dynasty (fertility)
• to serve as a moral example, that is, to embody the proverbial chivalrous conduct (virtue)

The ermine symbolically unites all three qualities:

1. Strength – The ermine is muscular, agile, and combative. It is highly aggressive and fiercely defends its territory. It does not shy away from fighting dangerous snakes or much larger animals – in a well-known video, an ermine can be seen killing a much larger hare
2. Fertility – In the wild, ermines usually live only 1–2 years. However, they are extremely fertile; even young females can become pregnant. Up to 18 young are born per litter. Ermines therefore reproduce very rapidly
3. Virtue – Because the ermine’s winter coat is white, it is a symbol of purity. The white ermine thus came to represent the virtuous disposition of the nobility

For a long time, it was unknown that Ludovico Sforza was also referred to as the “White Ermine.” Historians have discovered that in 1488 Ludovico was admitted to the Order of the Ermine by the King of Naples. There he held the rank of an “ermine.” Orders of the Ermine were special chivalric orders founded in Europe at that time. Admission to such an order was a great honor but also served as a diplomatic gesture. 

Ludovico Sforza therefore bore the epithet “Ermellino Bianco” (Italian for “White Ermine”). However, this was not an official title; it was mostly used descriptively, for example, in a sonnet by the poet Bernardo Bellincioni.

The depiction of the white ermine in the painting can thus also be understood as a symbol of the duke. This could explain why the ermine in the portrait appears much more muscular and almost twice as large as it would be in reality. If the duke was to be represented as a weasel, then at least as the largest and strongest of them all.

The ermine is associated with the legend of the birth of Hercules. Hercules was the illegitimate son of the mortal Alcmene and the father of the gods, Zeus. Although he himself was not a god, as a Greek hero he stood above ordinary mortals. He is known for his immense strength and numerous heroic deeds. The legend shows remarkable parallels to Cecilia’s own story.

The ancient legend of the birth of Hercules

As in many Greek myths, there are several versions of the birth of Hercules, though they share the same core elements. The following version is based on the work “Metamorphoses” by Antoninus Liberalis (2nd century AD), which is also transmitted by other ancient authors.

The father of the gods, Zeus, impregnated the mortal Alcmene and conceived Hercules by disguising himself as her husband, Amphitryon. When Amphitryon later learned of this, he forgave her and also impregnated her with Iphicles.

Hera, the jealous wife of Zeus, took revenge by instructing the goddess of childbirth, Eileithyia, to sit on her altar with her knees tightly crossed, so that Alcmene, under this spell, could not give birth to her twins. After Alcmene had suffered seven days and nights of labor, her maid Galanthis deceived the goddess: she called out that the birth had already taken place. The startled Eileithyia jumped up—the spell was broken, and Alcmene gave birth to the twins Hercules and Iphicles. As punishment, the goddess transformed the maid into an ermine.

After the birth, Alcmene abandoned the infant Hercules out of fear of Hera’s wrath. He was found by the goddess Athena, who brought him to Hera. Hera, not recognizing him, took pity and nursed him. Through Hera’s divine milk, Hercules gained supernatural strength. When he suckled so forcefully that it caused Hera pain, she pushed him away, and her spilled milk spread across the heavens, creating the Milky Way. Athena then returned the child to Alcmene. His first heroic deed came at the age of eight months when the already strong Hercules strangled two snakes sent by Hera to kill him.

The Hercules legend and Cecilia’s pregnancy

During the Renaissance, it became fashionable for rulers to identify themselves with ancient gods. Princes and lords deliberately had themselves depicted in the roles of ancient deities or heroes. The constellation of Zeus, Alcmene, her husband Amphitryon, and their son Hercules strikingly resembles the relationships at the Milanese court. 

Ludovico (Zeus) “disguises” himself as the duke—at that time, he was not yet the legitimate Duke of Milan—to seduce Cecilia (Alcmene) as if he were her husband Giovanni Stefano Visconti (Amphitryon)—Visconti being Cecilia’s first fiancé and a member of Milan’s former ruling dynasty. Cecilia then becomes pregnant with Cesare (Hercules). But just as in the ancient myth, Cecilia too is not allowed to give birth to her child in peace: she is banished from the court by Beatrice d’Este (Hera), Ludovico’s jealous wife.

The painting can be understood in several details as an allusion to the ancient legend of Hercules:

• the mask of Zeus
• the pregnancy of Alcmene
• the ermine as the transformed maid Galanthis
• Hera’s nursing breast
• Hercules’ vigorous suckling and the Milky Way
• the strength of Hercules

Cecilia’s face is framed by a sharp dividing line created by a close-fitting, transparent veil that tightly holds back her hair. This makes her face appear like a mask—a possible allusion to the disguise of Zeus, who in the Hercules legend assumes the form of Alcmene’s husband.

Cecilia became pregnant while the painting was being created. Leonardo, however, avoided showing the pregnant belly directly—he sought to preserve Cecilia’s youthful beauty for eternity, not her appearance at the moment of pregnancy. Nevertheless, he hints at the pregnancy in subtle ways.

The ermine now appears as the transformed maid Galanthis, who deceived the goddess of childbirth, Eileithyia, in order to end Alcmene’s labor pains. As punishment, Eileithyia transformed her into an ermine.

The head of the ermine blends almost seamlessly in color with the skin tones of Cecilia’s décolleté A. Its tapered shape resembles an exposed female breast turned outward for nursing. At the same time, Cecilia’s hands, viewed in isolation, appear like those of a mother holding her child. Thus, Cecilia transforms into Hera nursing the infant Hercules—who, within the painting’s symbolic logic, appears as the ermine.

The reddish spots around the ermine’s mouth refer to the pain the infant Hercules caused the goddess Hera while nursing, after which she pushed him away. According to legend, the milk that spurted from her breast then formed the Milky Way.

The ermine—especially its right foreleg—is depicted as unnaturally muscular. Its overall size also far exceeds that of a real ermine, giving the animal a supernatural appearance akin to that attributed to Hercules.

Ludovico Sforza was the absolute ruler of the Duchy of Milan. Under his reign, the court experienced a period of political, military, and cultural prosperity. He attracted numerous scholars and artists, including Leonardo da Vinci, the architect Donato Bramante (the first architect of St. Peter’s Basilica), and the mathematician Luca Pacioli (founder of double-entry bookkeeping).

A defining feature of the Renaissance was the return to antiquity and its pantheon of gods. Many rulers viewed their courts as a new Olympus—the seat of the gods. The prince naturally appeared as the father of the gods, Zeus; the artists as Apollo; the warriors as Ares; and the ladies of the court as Hera, Athena, or Aphrodite, and so on.

Zeus is best known for his numerous love affairs. Ludovico’s “heroic” conquest of Cecilia, who was originally promised to Giovanni Stefano Visconti, clearly mirrors Zeus’s seduction of the married Alcmene. Cecilia’s pregnancy also fits this parallel: as a non-noble, mortal woman, she could not bear a divine child, yet Ludovico, appearing as Zeus, could not father a mere mortal either—their son Cesare thus had to be, in a figurative sense, a “demigod,” strong and powerful like Hercules. In this interpretation, Hercules appears in the painting as an oversized, muscular ermine in Cecilia’s arms.

That Ludovico was proud of his illegitimate son is evident in the so-called Sforza Altarpiece (see above), where Cesare is depicted alongside Ludovico’s legitimate offspring with Beatrice d’Este. Leonardo’s allusions to the Hercules legend suggest that the ermine was added to the painting only after it was certain that Ludovico had a son—that is, in May 1491. Until then, as Pascal Cotte’s findings indicate, the gray weasel was likely still visible.

With the birth of her first son, Cecilia gained a special status that justified her portrayal with an ermine—the symbolic animal of the high nobility. Had Ludovico Sforza remained on the Milanese throne until his death and had no further male heirs, it would not have been impossible for the throne to pass to Cecilia’s son Cesare—who, like his father, would then have become a “White Ermine.”

Cecilia wears a necklace of black pearls around her neck. Pearls form when something foreign enters a shell, is held there, and becomes coated with layers of mother-of-pearl. Once the pearl has grown, the shell opens and reveals its beauty. In Greek mythology, pearls were dedicated to the goddess Aphrodite (Roman: Venus)—the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility—for like the goddess herself, pearls were born from the foam of the sea. In Christianity, white pearls symbolized the virtue and purity of the Virgin Mary. Black pearls, however, are found only in the Pacific region. They reached Europe in very small quantities through international trade via India and Arabia. The precious necklace of black pearls therefore emphasizes Cecilia’s exceptional status.

Cecilia stands in a dark room illuminated from the right. She and the ermine both look toward the light. It almost seems as though they are watching someone enter. The question of what they are seeing is a major part of the painting’s fascination. Leonardo answers it through miniature painting within Cecilia’s eyes.

Cecilia’s pupils reflect what she sees: they mirror the circular light that shines on her from the upper right. At the lower edge of this circle of light, the silhouette of a head can be discerned—apparently a person descending a staircase and approaching Cecilia. The figure wears a hat typical of the Renaissance, a beret. Within the context of the painting, this person can only be her lover, Ludovico.

It thus becomes clear that Cecilia is situated in a lower room, likely a vaulted cellar. The space appears dark and confining, perhaps even ominous—a metaphor for uncertainty, anticipation, and desire. Leonardo captures her at the moment when, in the darkness, a door opens and Ludovico appears in the light, like a liberator.

In contrast to Cecilia’s pupils, the eyes of the ermine show, surprisingly, no reflections. The white spots on the right edge are, upon closer inspection, merely short white strokes on the cornea—indefinite light reflections that Leonardo added to enhance the impression of vitality.

What stands out is that the pupils are of different sizes. Pupils change size according to light intensity: in bright light they contract, in darkness they dilate. In this way, the eye regulates the amount of incoming light, allowing for optimal vision. Since the light in the painting comes from the right, the ermine’s left eye, which is more strongly illuminated, should actually have the smaller pupil, and the right eye, lying in shadow, the larger one. In fact, it is the other way around. Given Leonardo’s exceptional understanding of anatomy and optics, a mere mistake can be ruled out.

In addition to external lighting conditions, pupils also respond to inner emotions—such as fear, surprise, or sexual arousal. The fact that the ermine looks upward toward Cecilia’s face suggests, in this context, a moment of intense emotion experienced by the animal.

Leonardo studied the proportions of the human body in great detail, most notably in his famous drawing of the Vitruvian Man. According to this, the length of a hand corresponds to the height of the face—from chin to hairline—and equals one-tenth of the total body height. Although the Vitruvian Man represents only an ideal, Cecilia’s right hand is noticeably longer than the height of her face. Her markedly lighter right hand dominates the overall impression, while the left lies in shadow. Both are modeled with such strength that they appear almost masculine—especially the left hand, which looks rough and bulky.

Around 1800, the right side of the painting was significantly darkened. Before that, the edge showed a bluish-black tone. In this context, it is noteworthy that Ludovico Sforza was referred to by his contemporaries as “il Moro.” The exact meaning of the epithet is debated, but it certainly means “the Dark One.” While it was fashionable at the time to depict portraits against dark backgrounds to highlight the sitter, Leonardo’s use of unusually large, masculine hands suggests yet another wordplay.

Thus, “il Moro,” who descends the stairs toward Cecilia, appears as darkness itself. Cecilia’s arms no longer seem part of her own body but rather those of Ludovico, who embraces her from behind and draws her close—most clearly in the lower, darker hand. This gives the painting a subtle yet unmistakable erotic dimension.

The erotic character of the scene is intensified by the head of the ermine, whose tones blend softly with the skin tones of Cecilia’s décolleté. In contrast to the interpretation related to the Hercules legend, Cecilia’s exposed-looking breast here appears far more erotic. It is no longer turned to the side, as if nursing Hercules, but rather Ludovico, standing behind her, has gently slipped down Cecilia’s corset with his lighter right hand, thus exposing her left breast. The ermine’s right eye sets a strikingly dark accent in an otherwise largely monochromatic area. In this context, its position seems to suggest the tip of Cecilia’s breast A. A few years later, Raphael adopted precisely this motif in several of his portraits (see below).

The erotic context is not unusual. The painting was created for the Duke, who was meant to look at it and recall Cecilia’s youthful beauty—and, with it, her physical allure. Naturally, Leonardo could not depict the Duke’s mistress nude. Yet through the subtle interplay of hands, gentle color transitions, and the lighting around the décolleté, he succeeds in evoking in the Duke’s eye the memory of their shared, erotically charged moments.

The smooth belly of the ermine is a striking focal point in the lower part of the painting. In combination with the two paws—one muscular and the other with hair falling forward—Leonardo ultimately emphasizes the painting’s sexual dimension.

Leonardo arranged the eyes and ears of the ermine so that they can be connected by an isosceles triangle I. Furthermore, this area reveals additional geometric characteristics:

• the golden ratio of the painting’s height passes through the ermine’s right eye (orange horizontal)
• the golden ratio of the painting’s width runs along the left edge of Cecilia’s left eye and through the ermine’s left eye (orange vertical)
• the vertical midline of the painting passes along the left edge of Cecilia’s right eye and the right edge of the ermine’s right ear (red vertical)
• the ermine’s right eye lies exactly midway between the vertical midline (red) and the golden ratio of the width (orange vertical)
• the ermine’s right ear and eyes form an isosceles triangle (green lines) with interior angles of 120° and twice 30°

With this understanding, the right ear and eyes of the ermine transform into a second face—a small, smiling ermine looking directly at the viewer (I + mouseover). Here we see Leonardo’s characteristic wit and intellect at play in his paintings. The smiling ermine relates to Cecilia’s pregnancy and alludes to a joyful birth.

II The gaze of Cecilia

Geometric structures can also be identified in Cecilia’s face II.

• bounded by the golden ratio of the painting’s height (orange horizontal) and the vertical midline (red vertical), a square can be drawn toward the right edge of the painting, with its upper side passing through both of Cecilia’s eyes (red horizontal). This line lies exactly at three-quarters of the painting’s height.
• from Cecilia’s center part, a 45° angle meets the midpoint between her two eyes (white lines)
• from the square just drawn, a rectangle can be extended upward to her black headband. This rectangle has proportions of 3:4
• from the height of her black headband, a line can be drawn downward to the ermine’s right paw. This line (yellow) is itself divided by the horizontal golden ratio—again according to the golden ratio
• the ermine’s right paw rests on a 45° angle (green triangle), bounded on the left by the midline and on the right by the golden ratio of the painting’s width. It is the same triangle formed by Cecilia’s eyes and the center parting of her hair (green shaded triangles)

The geometric emphasis on the eyes and the muscular right foreleg of the ermine alludes to the strength of the House of Sforza—a quality that must have been deeply attractive to Cecilia Gallerani.

III The “House of St. Nicholas”

Known today mainly as a children’s drawing game, the “House of St. Nicholas” serves as one of the simplest examples of efficiently connecting points with lines—here five points. The problem becomes rapidly more complex as the number and position of points increase. To this day, such problems belong to the field of graph theory, a branch of discrete mathematics and theoretical computer science. When, for example, Google Maps calculates the shortest route from point A to point B, it relies partly on principles derived from graph theory.

The famous mathematician Leonhard Euler first studied such a problem in detail in the 18th century (the “Königsberg Bridge Problem”). About 200 years earlier, Leonardo da Vinci must have been exploring similar ideas—something that can be seen in the composition of the Lady with an Ermine III.

• Cecilia’s right eye lies to the right of the vertical midline (red vertical). From there, a 22.5° angle leads to the point where the vertical golden ratio meets the golden headband (green lines). The 22.5° angle is the central angle of a regular 16-sided polygon.
• Cecilia’s left eye lies to the right of the golden ratio of the composition’s center (orange vertical). From there, a 22.5° angle leads to the intersection of the golden headband and the vertical midline (red vertical).
• From the intersection of these two lines, a 72° angle can be drawn to the already known point of the center parting—this being the central angle of a regular pentagon (dark blue line).
• The two intersection points of the golden headband with the vertical midline and the golden ratio of the width, together with the center parting, form a triangle with symbolic angles of 45°, 75°, and 60° (upper green area). This is the same triangle Leonardo prominently featured in the Virgin of the Rocks and later referenced again in the Belle Ferronière.

• If all the points created in this way are connected, the pattern known today as the “House of St. Nicholas” emerges (green lines in the forehead area).
• Through geometric translation, the upper triangle on the forehead (upper green area) can be moved straight downward so that it fits precisely onto the existing isosceles triangle on the ermine’s head (lower green-filled triangle). The shifted triangle is exactly the same size as the one on Cecilia’s forehead. The upper tip of the lower triangle coincides precisely with the tip of the ermine’s left ear. Thus, both ears and both eyes of the ermine are in a geometric relationship.

It has become evident that prominent points, lines, and shapes in Leonardo’s works are always based on geometric structures. They form patterns and are interconnected (Latin “vincire,” meaning “to bind”). These relationships, though not immediately visible, create a harmony that can be felt. Leonardo masterfully gives these geometric relationships an individual character – in this case, a humorous one (the smiling ermine within the isosceles triangle) – thereby creating a kind of personal signature.

Compared to the more complex geometry of Leonardo’s other paintings, the *Lady with an Ermine* appears relatively simple in construction. Remarkably, the composition is concentrated within a narrow, tower-like zone between the central vertical axis and the vertical golden section (III, red and orange verticals). The entire structure takes place within this confined space. Through the vertical arrangement and the tripartite division of the triangular forms into upper, middle, and lower sections, the painting gives the impression of a geometric projection: a triangle is first shifted – from the lady’s forehead to the ermine’s forehead at the center of the composition – then slightly rotated to the left so that its tip lies midway between the central axis and the golden section (yellow line, triangle formed by the ermine’s eyes and right ear), and finally shifted downward again while being tilted (triangle at the lower edge of the painting).

Leonardo regarded geometry not merely as a theoretical discipline but as an expression of his pursuit to create particularly virtuous works. He used it to compose a narrative of proportion and harmony, the exploration of which reveals hidden aspects of his art – and, at the same time, makes his intention perceptible. In this sense, the smiling ermine becomes a tangible embodiment of this idea.

The painting remained in the possession of Cecilia Gallerani until her death in 1536. Its whereabouts over the following decades are uncertain. It likely stayed within the family or circulated in the Milan area. It was not mentioned again until the 18th century, when Carlo Amoretti, librarian of the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan, listed it as part of the collection of the Marquis of Bonasana. Today, the Biblioteca Ambrosiana houses the most extensive surviving collection of Leonardo’s notebooks, the *Codex Atlanticus*.

In the possession of the Polish princely Czartoryski family

Prince Adam Jerzy Czartoryski (1770–1861), a member of a Polish princely family, acquired the painting around 1798 during a journey through Italy. The previous owners are undocumented. In 1800, Czartoryski brought the work to Poland and presented it to his mother, Princess Izabela Czartoryska, who was assembling a significant art collection in the town of Puławy.

Among the papers her son brought back from Italy was a note that mistakenly led Izabela Czartoryska to believe that *Lady with an Ermine* was a portrait of the legendary “Belle Ferronière.” Consequently, she had an inscription added to the upper left corner of the painting:

LA BELE FERONIERE
LEONARD DAWINCI

“Leonard Dawinci” reflects a contemporary Polish spelling of Leonardo da Vinci’s name. “La Belle Ferronière” originally referred to a supposedly historical figure — a rumored mistress of the French king Francis I (1494–1547), Leonardo’s final patron. Today, *La Belle Ferronière* designates a different portrait by Leonardo, housed in the Louvre. In Princess Izabela’s time, it was regarded as the artist’s most famous work. Ironically, that painting’s title also stems from a mix-up and originally referred to another piece in the same collection.

In addition to the inscription, the princess likely commissioned further alterations: the necklace, headband, and dress decorations were repainted in stronger colors, as were the contours of the nose, hair strands, and pupils. Cecilia’s cheeks were given a touch of rouge. The original softly bluish background gradient was replaced with a uniform black.

Unlike Leonardo’s other paintings, this portrait has had a particularly eventful history since coming into the possession of the Polish princely family — a story that, in many ways, mirrors the fate of Poland itself.

The painting was originally kept in the “Gothic House” of the Czartoryski residence in Puławy, eastern Poland, where it was publicly exhibited from 1809 onward. During the Russo-Polish War of 1831, the princely family fled to Paris. The painting was officially considered lost but was in fact kept at the Hôtel Lambert in Paris, where the family took residence. Around 1871, the Czartoryski family returned from their Parisian exile to Kraków — bringing Lady with an Ermine with them. In 1876, the painting was once again publicly displayed at the Czartoryski Museum in Kraków. At the beginning of World War I, it was moved to the Dresden Picture Gallery for safekeeping. After the war, it returned to the Czartoryski Museum in 1920.

Looted art during World War II

At the outbreak of World War II, the valuable painting and other artworks from the Czartoryski collection were hidden in late August 1939 in the rural Sieniawa Castle in eastern Poland, walled up in a cellar. After Poland’s defeat, locals betrayed the hiding place to German soldiers, who looted it. The valuable paintings — apparently out of ignorance — were left behind. According to eyewitnesses (Zofia Szmit and Stanisława Małkowska), Lady with an Ermine lay on the floor, still bearing the imprint of a soldier’s boot. Prince Augustyn Czartoryski had the remains of the collection walled up again and soon moved them westward to Pełkinie to protect them from the advancing Red Army. However, the artworks were soon discovered and confiscated by the German occupiers.

The Lady with an Ermine was taken to Berlin’s Kaiser-Friedrich-Museum (now the Bode Museum) and exhibited there for several weeks. It was intended for Hitler’s planned “Führermuseum” in Linz. In 1940, Hans Frank, Governor-General of occupied Poland, ordered the painting’s return to Kraków. He took it into his personal possession and displayed it in his office at Wawel Castle, his official residence in central Kraków.

In 1941, the painting was removed from Frank’s office — officially for security reasons — and stored in Wrocław (according to other sources, Berlin). In 1943, Frank regained possession of the painting for a private exhibition of looted artworks from the General Government of Poland, held at Wawel Castle.

The Lady with an Ermine remained in his personal possession until late 1944. As the Soviet army advanced, Frank began transferring the art treasures first to his nearby private residence, Krzeszowice Castle west of Kraków, and later to Germany.

Rediscovery and return to Poland

When Frank fled in early 1945 to his country house in Neuhaus am Schliersee (Bavaria), he took the painting with him. There, it was discovered and seized later that year by the “Monuments Men” — a U.S. Army unit dedicated to recovering stolen artworks. After an initial examination at the Central Collecting Point in Munich, the painting was handed over in April 1946 to a Polish delegation, which returned it to its rightful prewar owners, the Czartoryski family. However, the family was soon expropriated by Poland’s new communist government and went into exile once more.

In 1946, the Lady with an Ermine returned to the Czartoryski Museum in Kraków. Over the following decades, the painting was exhibited both there and internationally as part of cultural exchange programs (including in Warsaw, Moscow, Washington, Malmö, Rome, Milan, and Florence) — more often than any other of Leonardo’s paintings.

Return to the Czartoryski family

After the collapse of communist rule in Eastern Europe, the entire Czartoryski art collection was restituted in 1991 — that is, returned to its rightful owners and placed under the newly established Czartoryski Foundation, which included the Lady with an Ermine. However, the painting remained housed in the Czartoryski Museum in Kraków.

During the museum’s extensive restoration (2010–2012), the painting was exhibited internationally (Madrid, Berlin, London) and subsequently displayed at Wawel Castle (2012–2017) and the National Museum in Kraków (2017–2019), of which the smaller Czartoryski Museum is a branch.

In the possession of the Polish state

At the end of 2016, the Polish government purchased the entire collection of the foundation — including Leonardo’s Lady with an Ermine — for around 100 million euros from Prince Adam Karol Czartoryski, heir to the family. The price was remarkably low, as the collection was valued at around two billion euros. However, the prince regarded the sale as a patriotic gift to Poland.

Since the completion of the Czartoryski Museum’s restoration in 2019, the Lady with an Ermine has once again been part of the museum’s permanent exhibition in Kraków. For conservation reasons, the Polish state has decided that the Lady with an Ermine will not be loaned internationally for the time being.

At the time when the Lady with an Ermine was created, portraits usually appeared stiff and motionless – they followed a long tradition of static representation. Leonardo was the first to create, with the Lady with an Ermine, a female portrait in which the sitter appears in a lifelike turning motion. This rotation involves the entire upper body: hips, shoulders, head, and eyes each face in different directions. Leonardo’s other female portraits – La Belle Ferronière and the Mona Lisa – also display this characteristic body rotation. As a result, the figures appear more alive – and at the same time more realistic.

The Lady with an Ermine is not the first painting to depict a human and an animal together – but it is the first to portray a tender relationship between them. It almost seems as if Cecilia were holding the animal in her arms like a mother holds her child.

With the Lady with an Ermine (Cecilia Gallerani) and La Belle Ferronière (Lucrezia Crivelli), Leonardo portrayed two of Ludovico Sforza’s mistresses, both of whom bore him a son. The duke had no third mistress. He was driven out by the French and died in captivity.

• A horizontal line passes through the pupils of both women at an angle of 3.5°.
• Leonardo’s final painting depicts John the Baptist, the patron saint of his hometown Florence. In his left arm, John holds a staff with a cross (the Baptist’s cross). With exactly two fingers of his left hand, he points to himself. The cross is tilted vertically by precisely 3.5° above the hand and by about half that amount below it, approximately 1.7°.

Whether Leonardo used this angle consciously as a symbol remains uncertain. At least two interpretations are conceivable:

• Signature hypothesis: Painters of this period did not yet sign their works. It is possible that Leonardo hinted at his authorship in other ways. His initials L D V correspond to the Roman numerals DLV, or 555 – three fives in a decimal system.
  One might speculate whether Leonardo deliberately incorporated these three fives into his works through the 3.5° angle. The fact that this angle emphasizes the eyes in one case and a cross in another could fit the Renaissance era, as it unites ratio – reason, symbolized by the eyes – and emotio, that is, emotion, symbolized by the cross.
• Theological interpretation: Since the 3.5° angle appears twice in the female portraits and once in the portrait of John, a religious symbolism may also be assumed. In the Revelation of John (not identical with the Baptist), the final book of the New Testament, the symbolic time span of 42 months – that is, 3.5 years – is mentioned several times. Theologically, this period is considered half of seven, with seven in the Bible representing perfection (the creation in seven days). Thus, two female portraits, each with a horizontal 3.5° angle, are set against a single male, spiritual portrait that shows only a vertical 3.5° angle.

This is just one example among many of the hidden geometric mysticism that connects Leonardo’s paintings. Attempting to give a definitive answer regarding his intention would be daring, given the complexity of his thinking. What remains certain, however, is that Leonardo deliberately linked his paintings through consciously placed geometric analogies.

In his portraits, Leonardo consistently used the Golden Ratio to emphasize the eyes. He regarded them as the “windows of the soul” and as instruments of knowledge – for him, seeing was the highest form of understanding. What is remarkable is a specific way in which Leonardo applied the Golden Ratio to the composition of his portraits. It gives the impression that he built his portraits upon one another and structured them hierarchically through the Golden Ratio. This hierarchy also corresponds to the chronological sequence of the works.

In the geometric relationships, a clear system can be recognized: from one work to the next, the eyes, the center of the painting, and the Golden Ratio move closer together. In the Lady with an Ermine, the Golden Ratio touches only the animal’s eyes; in La Belle Ferronière, it emphasizes the jewelry, while the centerline already intersects her left eye; and in the Mona Lisa, who no longer wears jewelry and represents Leonardo’s final portrait, the centerline and the Golden Ratio finally coincide in the sitter’s left eye. In the Lady with an Ermine, the Golden Ratio still emphasized both eyes separately, vertically and horizontally, whereas in the Mona Lisa, it aligns with the horizon and passes through both eyes. A development that began with the Lady with an Ermine.