Voices from the Past Part 93

April 6, 1519

"Remember this-I was forced to work for Cesare Borgia.

Remember, Vitelli and I tried to refuse him. Refusal was impossible. We were like hostages in Borgia's camps. Of course we wanted to escape...planned...we were afraid.

Pay was high. So...we continued ours jobs as cartographers. Close friends, fellow artists, we looked to each other for support.

"As I sketched Borgia I realized his animosity. Vitelli and I were aware that his soldiers disliked us. They made it pretty obvious most of the time. I talked to Niccol Machiavelli about this antagonism. He scoffed. Laughed at me.

"Yet Borgia, always demanding, arrogant, worried us. He went out of his way to annoy Vitelli. I tried to play down his swaggering. I tried to play down our apprehensions. Then...then, he had Vitelli strangled.

Strangled in Borgia's tent. Enraged, afraid, I left that night. Niccol provided my horse. He rode with me. We escaped through the rain. Our horses fast. Solitary roads...hoof beats... I remember. Vitelli murdered. In the tent.

"We said little as we rode.

"At an inn we dismounted, drank, warmed ourselves.

Niccol could not justify his Prince.

"Ai, that murderous rain! His name, his face, that Borgia face, a.s.sa.s.sination rain!"

It is late as I finish writing down his words. He is in pain. Last night he slept very little.

April 7, 1519

"No, not purgatory and not h.e.l.l...

"I esteem the horse and the dog because they are free of perversions...no misa, no confessional...

"Animals exact little...make no covenants.

"I can't forget the Papal wars, the crusades, the Savonarola fanaticisms.

"When did robe and aspergillum exorcise evil?

"I'm still searching...but, in this world of ambiguity, I think there is no answer."

Today...only these words, as I sat by his bed. Visitors annoyed him. Several times he asked for his mother.

Cloux

April 9, 1519

It is afternoon. The sun is low. Da Vinci speaks:

"When the old French King saw my Last Supper he was determined to remove the entire wall of the refectory, and have it transported to Paris. He discussed it with engineers and architects who said it was impossible.

"What a study...the King is scarlet, pompous, in a very bad humor, his syphilitic face grey. Flailing his arms, as he stood before my mural, he roared at the men around him, kicked a dog that had wandered in.

" 'Your fresco can't remain in this wretched refectory!' Everyone was amused.

"Later, when I painted his portrait, he was affable. I painted him in profile, a good study, in good light. He insisted on having a book on his lap. Ovid. I remember he said:

" 'In Amboise, I have a collection of fine books...Ovids.'

"He was willing to pay any price for my Madonna of the Yarn Winder. So, he paid...and carried it off to Paris."

Stroking his beard, da Vinci watched rain streak his windows. Lifting one arm, he said: "No more today, Francesco, no more talk."

Cloux

April 10, 1519

"Come, let's get on with it...I have something to say:

"My deluge drawings express weight, gravity, power, fury, terror. The overturned, whirling chunks of masonry, the enormous waves, defy. This is the end of man. I believe such a cataclysm is going to overcome the earth.

"The drawings were inspired by my visits to the sea, by my trips to the mountains where I saw avalanches.

Sound...the crash of falling boulders, the crash of a raging ocean...they warn. Finality-in one form or another-surrounds. We can't escape.

"Rage, rage...much of life is rage...desperate rage.

"Here, far inland, I can hear the tumultuous sea!"

Sometimes I can barely make out his words. I served his supper. He ate very little. He remarked about the pigeons cooing on the roof.

Cloux

April 12, 1519

Royalty have visited us. Alone with me, da Vinci said: