V
After the opening salutations the duke and the artist fell to discussing the new canal which was to connect the Sesia and the Ticino, and by a branching network of trenches was to irrigate the meadows and pastures of the Lomellina. Leonardo was superintendent of the excavations for the canal, though he had not the title of Ducal Architect; neither was he called the Court Painter, but only the Sonatore di lire, a title which gave him precedence of the court poets like Bellincioni, and had been accorded to him because on arrival in Milan he had presented Sforza with a silver lyre, made by his own hand in the shape of a horse's head.
Having explained his design for the canal, Leonardo requested of the duke that he might be put in possession of the further moneys necessary for the prosecution of the work.
'Five hundred and six ducats for every league: in all, fifteen thousand one hundred and eighty-seven.'
Ludovico frowned, remembering the fifty thousand he had just devoted to the corruption of French nobles.
'Too much, too much, Messer Leonardo. You would ruin me. It is impossible, unexampled. Why these boundless designs? I might consult Bramante, you know, who is also an expert in construction. He works more cheaply.'
Leonardo shrugged his shoulders.
'As you please, my lord. Entrust it to Bramante.'
'Nay, be not offended. I have no thought of slighting you.' And they fell to bargaining.
'Va bene, va bene!' said the duke at last, deferring the conclusion of the agreement; and he took up Leonardo's sketch-book and turned over the unfinished drawings, chiefly architectural and mechanical: the artist, somewhat impatient, had to furnish explanations and commentaries.
On one sheet there was a huge mausoleum, an artificial mountain crowned with a colonnaded temple, its dome pierced like that of the Pantheon; on the next, the exact calculations and the ground-plan for the edifice, with details for the disposition of stairs, cells, corridors; the whole being destined for the reception of five hundred sepulchral urns.
'What is this?' asked the duke; 'when and for whom have you designed it?'
'For no one. 'Tis a fantasy.'
'Strange fantasy!' commented Ludovico shaking his head; ''tis a cemetery for the gods or the Titans, like a building in a city of dreams.'
The next sketch showed the plan for a town with the streets in tiers, one above the other, the upper for the rich, the lower for the poor, for animals, and for refuse; a town to be built in conformity with natural laws; for men without a conscience to be offended by glaring inequality.
'Not so bad!' observed the duke. 'You think it would be practicable?'
'Certainly,' said Leonardo brightening, 'I have long wished your Excellency could be induced to try it, say in one of the suburbs. Five thousand houses would suffice for thirty thousand people; they would be decently divided, whereas now they herd together in dirt and distemper, disseminating the seeds of disease. My plan, Signore, if literally carried out, would provide the finest city in the world.'
The duke's laughter checked the enthusiast.
'You are finely crazed, Messer Leonardo. If I gave you the reins you would turn the State topsy-turvy. You do not see that the most submissive of slaves would resent your two-storeyed streets, would spit upon your boasted cleanliness—your pipes and conduits—your finest city in the world, perdio; and would flee back to their lousy old towns again, where, as you say, they have a good modicum of filth and distemper, but no insults to their self-respect. Well, and this?' he added, pointing to another drawing.
This proved to be a design for a 'house of accommodation,' with secret rooms, doors, and passages, so disposed that the visitors should not meet each other.
'Ah! this is admirable!' cried the duke. 'I am weary of the robbings and the murderings in these places. Here there would be order and security. I will build at once on your plan.' He smiled and added, 'Bravo! Bravo! I see nothing is beneath your ingenuity. A proposito! I remember once reading of the "Ear of Dionysius," a construction at Syracuse, which permitted the tyrant in his palace to hear the speech of his prisoners in the quarry. Think you it were possible to construct an Ear in my palace?'
As he spoke the duke had stammered and blushed a little, but he recovered himself immediately: before such a man as this artist no shame was required. And Leonardo, without trenching on morals, eagerly discussed the acoustics of the notion.
Then Bellincioni reappeared, announcing that his sonnet was ready and passing beautiful; at which Leonardo took flight, having accepted the duke's invitation to supper.
Ludovico requested the poet to read his work. The salamander, so the sonnet ran, lives in the fire, but a lady, of virgin ice, has her dwelling in the lover's fiery heart. The concluding quatrain seemed to the duke surprisingly tender:—
'I sing, poor swan, of my consumèd years,
But singing brings my torture no relief;
Love with his laughter blows the flame of grief,
And mocking cries, "Extinguish it with tears."'