Madonna of the Pseuds

Leonardo’s ‘Madonna of the Yarnwinder’, stolen the other day from the Duke of Buccleuch, is the painting that changed my view of civilisation. I know it quite well, because one of my sisters-in-law used to live just up the road from Drumlanrig Castle in Dumfriesshire, where it hung until it was pinched. Whenever I stayed with her and wanted to escape from the children, I would slope off to the castle to take the guided tour. There was no danger that my sons or nephews would want to come with me, because at that age they would almost rather have had an extra maths lesson than traipse around a stately home, looking at pictures.

My life-changing moment came on about my third visit to the castle, when I was standing in a little group of tourists in the Staircase Hall. We had reached the Leonardo and the guide was saying, for what must have been the 50th time that week, ‘His Grace has given instructions that, in the event of a fire, the Madonna should be rescued first, and he himself should be left to burn.’