Part 5

The drawing of the altarpiece was nearing completion. The monks were fascinated by the spectacle of the Adoration appearing before their eyes. The soft, umber outlines deepened with gray, the ochre highlighting the central figures charmed them and they sent another gift to Leonardo’s house—a cask of Tuscan red wine.

As it turned out, Leonardo never finished this altarpiece. It is not known why. But the drawing for it can be seen today in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence just as Leonardo left it.

It is certain, however, that Leonardo was far from idle during this time. He drew the design for eliminating the friction of a turning axle by mounting the axle in roller-bearings. He experimented with, and solved the problem of, transmitting motion to revolving machine parts by friction—the possible forerunner of our modern friction clutch. Another device, found in modern automobiles—the differential—was also drawn by Leonardo. This idea provided for the difference in speed between the two drive wheels when rounding a curve.

Leonardo also drew the first known plans for a self-propelled vehicle—an “automobile.” It was designed to operate by a system of elastic springs wound by hand by the person on the vehicle; the “car” was then supposed to run the short distance allowed it by the unwinding of the springs.

In addition, Leonardo continued designing machines for both offensive and defensive military action. One of these was a breech-loading cannon, together with the first known projectiles that took into consideration better penetration through the air and greater stability in their trajectory. Indeed, these very much resembled present-day aerial bombs, with pointed noses and stabilizing fins.

As the months passed, however, Leonardo began to feel that his time and talents were being wasted in Florence. Although the monks and friends of the monastery were pleased with the work he was doing, other artists were being called to greater tasks in Rome. For example, Domenico di Tommaso del Ghirlandaio, Sandro Botticelli, and even Leonardo’s fellow student, Pietro Perugino, had left Florence to work in the chapel of Pope Sixtus IV in Rome—known to us as the Sistine Chapel. Now, too, it was becoming clear that Lorenzo and his court had no time for this solitary genius whose ideas stretched beyond his age.

So Leonardo looked about him. He was thirty years old and the walls of Florence seemed to bind his spirit. To what city could he go where his talents would be put to fruitful use? Rome seemed to hold out no hope, for no one had offered him a position there.

But Leonardo remembered that there had been a visitor to the Medicis from another city in recent months. This man was Ludovico Sforza, the ruling prince of Milan, the great city-state of the north. Ludovico, who was also called “Il Moro” (the Moor) because of his dark complexion, was seeking the friendship and alliance of the Medicis. He was fascinated with the art and culture of Florence and sought to gather to his own court of Milan as many artists, scientists, philosophers, and musicians as he could.

Perhaps, thought Leonardo, his future lay in Milan. So he began collecting his countless drawings, diagrams of machines and instruments of war, his notes, his plans for canals and irrigation—even a drawing for a monument that he knew Ludovico wanted to erect to his father—and made a package of it to send to Ludovico. Then he sat down to write a letter to that nobleman. In it he set forth in ten numbered paragraphs his qualifications as military and naval engineer, architect, and hydraulics expert. Almost as an afterthought to the tenth item, he wrote: “I can carry out sculpture in marble, bronze, or clay, and also I can do in painting whatever may be done, as well as any other, be he who he may.”

When he had finished the letter, Leonardo took out a strange instrument. It was a lyre of silver in the shape of a horse’s head. He had designed it himself, and now with an air of peace, he commenced to play. Its rich tone was sweet to hear and the music was his own composition.

Leonardo had also designed other instruments—lyres, lutes, viols, and a kind of zither. He had perfected the single-stringed monochord of Pythagoras, replacing the tablet of wood with thin strips of drum that gave the instrument a low or high note according to the tightness of the string. In addition, he introduced stops or small pistons in the holes of wooden reed instruments; and, he had even invented a set of mechanical chords by using a wheel of reeds which plucked a set of strings as it was turned. His skill as a musician, composer, and singer was well known among his friends and his bass voice had retained the pureness of his boyhood.

As it happened, news of Leonardo’s silver lyre had reached Lorenzo de’ Medici. All Leonardo’s paintings, all his designs for cannons and fortifications, all his inventions for commercial machinery had failed to interest Lorenzo—yet this single musical oddity excited the ruler’s curiosity. Leonardo was summoned to the Medici palace.

Lorenzo was enchanted both by the instrument and Leonardo’s musical talent. When Leonardo had finished playing, Lorenzo, surrounded by members of his court, applauded and said,

“It would please us if Master Leonardo da Vinci would present us with this beautiful instrument so that we, in turn, could make a gift of it to His Highness, Ludovico Sforza, of Milan.”

Leonardo bowed and replied,

“Your Grace’s request is my pleasure. Moreover, Sire, it would further that pleasure to bear the gift myself to His Excellency in Milan.”

The idea delighted Lorenzo. He immediately directed that Leonardo be given a letter to Ludovico and that every protection be given Leonardo for his journey.

Leonardo, with the silver lyre and the letter of recommendation, hurried home to make his final preparations. He called on a friend and pupil, young Atalante Migliorotti, to accompany him.

Toward the end of 1482 or the beginning of 1483, with the letter to Ludovico folded in a leather pouch, Leonardo and Atalante mounted their horses and left Florence for the long journey to Milan.

5 Milan

Milan at this time was one of the greatest and wealthiest city-states in all Europe. Its battlements and the spires of its mighty cathedral rose impressively from the lush plain of Lombardy. Towering over the city in the distance were the snow-capped peaks of the Alps. Groves of mulberry trees for the production of its famous silk industry and vast stretches of rice paddies extended far into the surrounding countryside.

Leonardo and Atalante rode along the embankment of one of the many canals. The sight of the city hastened their pace although the journey had been a long one. Frequently on the trip Leonardo had stopped to make notes. Riding over the mountains and ravines surrounding Florence he had drawn some of the rushing streams and the stratifications of exposed cliffs. And when they had descended to the plains he observed the irrigation ditches and made notes on ways of improving the crude systems of dams and waterwheels.

Leonardo was excited by this new city and by his prospects at the court of Ludovico. On the way to his lodgings, he also noticed that Milan was a great center of arms manufacture. Shop after shop displayed its wares of swords, spears, shields, armor for man and horse, and signs advertising foundries for the making of cannon. Perhaps here he might find an outlet for his military inventions.

In the inn where he and Atalante stayed, Leonardo overheard the current political rumors. All around him was talk of the war. Girolamo Riario was again in the field, and Ludovico’s ally, Alfonso of Calabria, had just been defeated by the Venetians in a bloody battle at Campo Morto.

Leonardo reread the letter he had written setting forth his own accomplishments and decided that now was the time to present himself as a military engineer. He would minimize the bronze monument, his music, and his painting, and instead, he would stress his skills in the inventions of war.

When Leonardo appeared before Ludovico, he was a handsome young man of thirty-one. Tall and strong, he was dressed not according to fashion, but simply—almost severely. His hair hung in curls on his shoulders and his auburn mustache and neatly trimmed beard accented his ruddy complexion and deep-set blue eyes. Indeed, he presented a striking contrast to the nobleman seated before him. Il Moro, with his dark skin and straight black hair, his richly embroidered doublet with its broad sleeves and the heavy gold chains across his thick chest, was the exact opposite of Leonardo.

Ludovico set aside Leonardo’s letter, rose from his chair, and walked to the heavy table on which Leonardo had spread out his drawings.

Plans for all manner of war machines were there—those that Leonardo had designed for Lorenzo de’ Medici without success, together with many new additions. For example, there were plans for a self-propelled bomb with flames to be shot out in all directions—a bomb that was later to be called a “rotatory rocket” when it was actually invented in 1846. Leonardo also explained to Ludovico his idea for “poison gas” bombs containing sulfur: the fumes of these bombs would “produce stupor,” and they could be used both on land and sea, together with masks to protect those who were using them. Shrapnel shells, hand grenades, and javelins that burst into flame when they struck their objectives—these and many more were among his ideas.