Leonardo da Vinci, Pathfinder of Science

by Henry S. Gillette

Leonardo felt his fifty-four years that spring day in 1506. The bitterness of his failures and the frustration of his dreams added considerably to the weight of his years. All morning he had wasted in argument with Soderini and the Signoria. If it had not been for the letter from Charles d’Amboise, Viceroy of the King of France for Milan, he would have felt like a beggar. Charles d’Amboise had been appointed military governor of Milan by Louis XII ever since the French had conquered that city and captured Duke Ludovico Sforza. But the authority of the letter had finally won a grudging consent from Soderini. Leonardo looked about him to see if he had forgotten anything and slowly climbed onto his horse. He nodded to Salai, his apprentice, looked back to see if his servant had the pack-horses ready, and started down the street leading the small procession. He was going back to Milan.

Leonardo took out the letter and reread it. The words were respectful and admiring—and in French. They requested the presence of “Maître Leonard de Vinci” at the court of Charles d’Amboise, for purposes of painting and other “diverse projects” for the King of France. The letter restored a measure of confidence to Leonardo’s self-respect. Before Leonardo left, Soderini had made him sign a letter in which Leonardo promised to return to Florence within three months and to leave a deposit of one hundred and fifty florins which would be held against his return. It was signed, notarized and dated May 30, 1506. Nevertheless, Leonardo had decided to accept the French envoy’s offer; moreover, he looked forward to the prospect of returning to his vineyard at Porta Vercellina and the understanding of a sympathetic patron.

Indeed, Charles d’Amboise turned out to be more than sympathetic. He recognized Leonardo as a great artist; but even more, he was one of the few patrons who could appreciate the magnitude of Leonardo’s scientific and mechanical genius. In the court of Charles, Leonardo once more enjoyed a time of peace and an assured income. The French Vice-Chancellor of Milan, Geffroy Carles, who was second in command, was also a distinguished scholar and a patron of the arts and natural sciences. With the admiration and support of these two men and especially with the distant backing of King Louis XII of France, Leonardo’s dismal memories of Florence began to fade.

Leonardo’s three months’ allotted absence from Florence, however, were soon past and a letter arrived from Soderini demanding either Leonardo’s return or a forfeiture of the one hundred and fifty florins deposit. Now a tug-of-war developed between the Viceroy of Milan and the governor of Florence over Leonardo. The Signoria reminded Charles that Leonardo had his work to complete, while Charles d’Amboise and Geffroy Carles demanded an extension of time. One month more was granted. More letters were exchanged until the affair became so heated that the King of France himself intervened. In January of 1507 the French King informed Soderini and the Signoria that Leonardo was “not to move from Milan until our arrival.” Since Florence at this time was under the protection of the French, such final authority silenced the Signoria. Shortly afterwards Leonardo discharged his obligation to the Signoria by relinquishing the one hundred and fifty florins, and he at last became free from the demands of his native city.

On May 24, 1507 King Louis XII re-entered Milan with all the splendor and color that France and the Dukedom of Milan could confer upon their ruler. Knights in armor and the ladies of the courts followed the king who rode in flowing white and gold under a canopy of blue decorated with the lilies of France.

With such pomp and display in Milan, Leonardo was soon back at his old occupation of designing pageants and tournaments. While some of the people from the days of the Sforzas returned, not many remembered Duke Ludovico, who was slowly dying in a French dungeon. Among the people that Leonardo now met, there appeared Francesco de’ Melzi, a noble from an old Milanese family, who entered Leonardo’s life at this time as a pupil. Soon the young man became like a son to Leonardo. Of handsome appearance, he had the sensitivity to appreciate the essential loneliness of Leonardo and so, almost without realizing it, he filled a gap in Leonardo’s life that was to last until the end of his days.

Yet, as Franceso de’ Melzi opened one door of Leonardo’s life another door closed. He received word that his beloved uncle Francesco had died at Vinci and that he had become the heir to his uncle’s property. No sooner had this news been delivered when Leonardo was notified that Giuliano, a son of Piero, and now a lawyer in his own right, was contesting the will. All the frustrations of his life in Florence now rose to an angry pitch and he set out once again for Florence to fight for his own rights.

Wisely, Leonardo had armed himself with letters from his new, influential patrons and even one from King Louis himself recommending, “... we request that you will cause this dispute to be settled in the best and briefest delivery of justice....” In August of that same year—1507—Charles d’Amboise added his personal letter suggesting that the king could not spare Leonardo too long from the court at Milan.

It was with the title of Painter and Engineer to the King of France that Leonardo rode back to Florence to await the outcome of the judges in his case. He went to stay with a sculptor friend, Giovanni Rustici, a man of thirty-five and also an ex-student of Verrochio. They lived in a house lent to Rustici by a wealthy scholar and patron named Piero Martelli.