The Life and Travels of da Vinci Trilogy: The Life and Travels of da Vinci

Leonardo the Florentine

Chapter One

Leonardo swept the floor quickly, trying not to think too hard about the activity going on around him . It just wasn’t fair. Everyone else was doing something useful, something productive, something fun. Why did his father have to punish him this way?  He had been just fine at home with his uncle. His uncle had time for his questions – time to point out the variety of plants and animals to him. And there he could go outside and draw them any time he wanted. No one bossed him around and told him what to do!  In fact, he was in the midst of sketching the pond behind his grandfather’s house when his father had made the shocking announcement that he was to move to Florence to be apprenticed to the great master Verrocchio.

And so, here he was. An apprentice. A slave, really. What was he going to learn in this noisy, smelly place?  He would never be a great master. In fact, he was never going to amount to anything. That’s what he had been told his entire life, and it was time he faced that fact.

No, he thought angrily, gripping the broom. He did not accept that fact. He was going to succeed. He was going to prove them all wrong. He was going to accomplish great things one day. He gave the broom a hard push, almost knocking over the young man next to him who was delivering panels to the master. Oh great, this is not going to be a good day.

It’s not like it had started well, so why should it end well?  Leonardo thought back to that morning when he had first arrived at Verrocchio’s bottega. As he had walked through the busy streets of Florence once more, he had been curious and almost excited about this new adventure that awaited him. When they had turned the corner of the busy street and he had first seen the artist’s workshop, his curiosity had quickly turned to fear, and then back to the anger he had originally felt when his father told him of this decision.

He searched his memories for what his father had ever said to him about art, about his art. Even as a young child, he had always been sketching, scribbling drawings of what he was seeing all around him. His hands could never stay still. When his left hand got tired, he would even use his right hand for a little while. Either one was fine with him. He just wanted to get the pictures in his mind on the paper quickly enough. Had his father ever commented on his drawings?  He struggled to remember. Yes, a couple of times he had seen them and smiled. But mainly it seemed he had ignored his drawing – ignored him for that matter. Even though Leonardo had moved into his father’s house when he was five, it had always appeared to him that his father was too busy to pay him much attention.

Leonardo wanted to be excited. He really did. His father had talked of the greatness of this man, and the wonderful opportunity it was to apprentice with him. However, Leonardo was still not convinced. He felt so unsure of himself, unlearned in many ways. He had had very little schooling in the first fifteen years of his life. The village priest had come by their home now and again, and made sure he could read some, and write some, and even work a few numbers. And his uncle had taught him the ways of farming, the uses of herbs, and how to swim. That was all the schooling he had ever had. Leonardo had also taught himself many additional things along the way; however, it just didn’t seem the same.

And he was going to be different than these other boys in another important way, too. He was old compared to the other new apprentices. Most apprentices came to the master at age twelve. Here Leonardo was showing up at fifteen. He already felt very uncomfortable here.

Leonardo put the broom aside. He had done all the sweeping he could do for the moment. He made his way across the workshop. The walls were covered with an amazing array of tools, tools he assumed they used for the various projects here – the mallets, chisels, and, of course, brushes. A kiln belched out black smoke from one corner of the large room. Chickens were even running around the studio, since the artists always needed eggs to make the tempera paints. It was truly a busy, noisy place.

Leonardo worked his way over to the master and the sculpture that he had almost completed. It had come so far, just in the few hours that Leonardo had been in the workshop. What had once been only a block of marble now actually looked like a real person. Leonardo smiled for the first time that day. He wondered to himself if he could ever learn to sculpt like the master.

As he edged closer, the master looked up from his work and smiled at him. Ah, Leonardo, is the sweeping finished?  Franco could probably use some help finishing the new batch of brushes he’s putting together. With the new oil paints we’ve been experimenting with, we’ve had to change the style of brushes we use, and I think he’s still struggling to assemble the new ones.

Leonardo nodded at the master and went in search of Franco. He found a cheerful lad of twelve or thirteen years, struggling to win the battle of the brushes. Here, Leonardo directed, Let me help you with those. Maybe another set of hands will make the task easier.  Franco willingly handed him several of the brushes that looked more like a tangled mess than something the master would want to use to apply oil paints.

Over the next hour or so, the two boys worked cheerfully on the job. Leonardo’s mood was definitely improving. Maybe this won’t be such a bad place to work, he thought to himself. The master certainly looked like a reasonable-enough person, and if Leonardo could learn some of his skills it would all be worth it.

Before he knew it, the day’s tasks had been completed. The master drew all the apprentices in front of him before he released them for their evening break. Tomorrow we will all begin work on some assignments for the Medici family. They are having a big celebration in September, most likely to show off the young Lorenzo. Of course, we will focus on their commissions above all others. You are all free for the evening. Just remember to be back in before curfew. The street patrols have been getting pretty ugly with violators lately.

Leonardo had heard of the Medici family some during his first months in Florence. He didn’t really understand why, but they appeared to be very important to this city. And apparently, to the master as well. That was an issue for another day. Leonardo was happy to have finished his first day as an apprentice, and he ran off with the other boys to explore the city.

Antonio was the accepted leader of the group. He was actually close to Leonardo in age, having worked for the master for several years already. He shouted excitedly to Leonardo, Come on, we only have a few hours until curfew. We want to show you the Pitti Palace. 

Leonardo had seen the palace from a distance and wondered what the big deal was. Today he didn’t give it that much thought since he was just happy to join the group in their adventure.

The small group of boys traipsed through the city streets, winding among the thinning crowds and around the occasional donkey carts. Many of the shops had already closed for the evening, and several were serving their last customers. Even after many months in this city with his father, Leonardo couldn’t get over the massive waves of people who flowed down the city streets, men and women of every shape and size and color. There appeared to be people here in Florence from every part of the world, speaking languages he had never heard before. Even though Leonardo desired to stop and listen to the interesting words, he didn’t want to get left behind by the boys, and he hurried on.

They crossed the Arno River and moved nearer to the Pitti Palace. Leonardo had never viewed it up close. He was amazed as they approached it. The palace was so large and imposing, towering over the city from the small hilltop that it perched upon. It reminded him of something. He searched his memory for what this grandiose structure could possibly seem similar to. It was certainly nothing like the willowy gothic churches and palaces that dotted the city streets down below. In fact, it gave the appearance of being much older than the other buildings in Florence, even though Leonardo had heard it was newly constructed. Then he remembered. In the bookseller’s shop he had seen sketches of the Roman coliseum and aqueducts from over one thousand years ago. That’s what this place reminded him of.

Leonardo was confused now – confused on two accounts. Why had this palace been built in such an antiquated style?  And why were the boys interested in showing it to him? Roberto had stopped to catch his breath as the boys made their way up the hill towards the palace, and Leonardo rushed to catch up with him. Why are we here? he asked the panting boy. And what will the owner think of us climbing up his hillside?

Roberto turned sideways to look at Leonardo. You have to see this building. It’s like a maze of stones inside. And no, Mr. Pitti will never know we’re here. He never finished the palace and he lives in a small section of the house far away from the parts we will explore. His health is not good, and we see more of his big place than he ever does.  Roberto turned and started back up the hill, expecting Leonardo to follow.

Leonardo paused, shrugged, and continued climbing. As long as the owner wasn’t going to be mad, he wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He caught up with the others as they approached the northern corner of the building. He caught his breath again. The walls towered over him. And they had such a heavy feel to them, not the lightweight look of the buildings below.

This is amazing! Leonardo exclaimed to the others. They all laughed and led the way through an opening into an inner court. It appeared that enough rocks to build an entire city had been brought up to the hilltop to make this immense structure. And the others were right: it was like a maze inside the building. The boys chased each other through the walls and unfinished rooms for over an hour. Leonardo was glad he had joined them. No one was treating him like the new kid; he was just another member of the group.

When they had all had their fill of running around, they stopped at the edge of an apple orchard just outside the palace and each grabbed a couple of apples from the branches. They were not quite ripe, but they tasted good anyway, especially to the hot and thirsty boys.

As they each filled their stomachs and their pockets with the delicious fruit, Leonardo inquired again about this unusual palace. So, who built this beautiful building, and why did he stop? Leonardo asked between bites.

Ser Pitti started it a few years back with Medici money to compete with the Medici.

Leonardo was very confused now, and Antonio continued, You’ve heard of Master Lorenzo Medici and his brother Giuliano, correct?

When Leonardo nodded, wondering who could live in Florence and not know of Lorenzo or Giuliano Medici, Antonio went on. Their grandfather Cosimo, was the ruler here in Florence not too long ago. Rumor has it that as he got older, Pitti, the head magistrate of Florence, became his confident and his assistant of sorts. As time went on Master Pitti had more and more access to the Medici money and the Medici power through Grandpa Medici.

Leonardo pondered this news. It certainly explained where the money had come from to build this palace. Then why did Pitti stop building? Leonardo asked.

At this point, Roberto interrupted to continue the story. Master Pitti built the palace to compete with the grandiose one in the city that the Medici had built. That’s why the building itself is so large – and why the windows are as large as doors!  Needless to say, the Medici weren’t happy. When Grandpa died and Lorenzo’s father Piero took over, he cut Master Pitti off from the money supply quickly. 

As they made their way back towards the city gates, Leonardo couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had started this project, and why he had never completed it. Curfew time was fast approaching and the boys scurried back through the city streets towards the workshop and the little home above it where they all stayed. As Leonardo fell asleep after his first day as an apprentice, he smiled again, and decided that this might not be such a bad place to be after all.

Chapter  Two

The rest of the summer passed in a flurry of activity at the workshop. It didn’t seem to Leonardo that he could ever learn how to do everything that was done in this place. As a young apprentice he was already polishing statues and grinding pigments. He had learned how to make the various colors they would use for their paintings, first in the tempera paints that had been used for centuries, and then in the oil paints that were slowly becoming more popular, especially among the up and coming artists. As he mixed the various color pigments in different bowls, he was careful not to waste any, since he knew they were expensive.

Leonardo also learned to prepare the wooden panels before the master could paint on them. While boiling each panel had been a hot job, coating them with clear glue and then with the gesso had been the most time consuming parts. Verrocchio preferred to paint on wood panels cut from oak, poplar, and silver fir. Oftentimes he would begin a painting and then have the more experienced apprentices help finish different portions. Leonardo looked forward to reaching that level of experience, and as he prepared the panels, his mind drifted to the types of paintings he might someday make.

Even more exciting for the young inquisitive Leonardo was the realization that their work went far beyond painting. He had never dreamt of the variety of projects an artisan could be involved in: the workers here in Verrocchio’s shop made church bells and cannons from copper, and tombstones out of marble. They were often asked to add thin layers of gold leaf to projects they were working on for the very rich. Verrocchio’s earlier training as a goldsmith showed up in his work on the jewelry assignments. And they even made inlaid furniture with some of the smaller pieces of wood that wouldn’t work for the painting panels.

Just as Verrocchio had predicted, most of their energies that summer were spent on assignments for the Medici family. Something was happening in every corner of the workshop, and usually for that family. They wanted fancy new clothes, and the boys made many of the accessories for them. They were to have the finest fur collars and silk gowns that their money could buy. Pearls, sapphires, and rubies would be used to excess. They also wanted banners painted and even special blankets designed for the horses that would parade through the town. Each morning the master would give the boys a variety of assignments, and then he would turn his attention to some of the more critical details of the day. Sometimes he would send the different boys on errands as well, oftentimes to the market to pick up supplies of one type or another. Sometimes they were sent to another goldsmith for a small trinket that they had made for him, and occasionally to the Medici Palace itself.

One day in late August, Leonardo was the one chosen to run the errand to the palace. The master was about to finish the armor for young Lorenzo, and he wanted to be sure the fitted portions were done properly. Off Leonardo went. He was a little nervous to actually be going to the palace. He had never met any of the Medici family, but he had certainly heard the stories of their money, and their power over this city. Being on the same side as them in anything appeared to be extremely important to one’s success, and possibly one’s life.

When Leonardo approached the palace he began to feel very nervous again. He had heard that there were more than thirty different palaces in Florence, and it felt like he had walked by almost every one of those. None of the others were as grand as this one!  Even the windows here, with their small pieces of glass connected by lead, had a fancier look to them than the other palace windows. Leonardo wondered who had planned this place down to such painstaking details.

And coming here made him feel worse than the first meeting with Verrocchio earlier that summer. The sweat pooled on his palms, and he moved the heavy piece of armor from one side to another, trying to keep the sweat from dripping on it.

He was accosted by a servant before he could even approach the palace gates. What is your business here, young man? 

Leonardo tried to get the words out in the right order. I’ve come to see Master Lorenzo, he stammered.

Master Lorenzo?  No one sees him without an appointment.

I have an appointment, Leonardo tried again. I’m from Verrocchio’s workshop. I have part of the armor for him to try on. He should be expecting me.  As Leonardo shifted the heavy piece of armor he was carrying, he wondered how all of this could not be obvious to the servant.

Verrocchio has an appointment. You do not have an appointment. The servant grumbled to himself, To send a mere apprentice to see Master Lorenzo – outrageous! Master Lorenzo will not be pleased. 

The servant pointed to the side of the gate, and harshly addressed Leonardo again. Wait there. I will see if Master Lorenzo has time for you. 

Leonardo shifted his position slightly, wondering what had been wrong with where he had been standing. As he waited, the armor he was clutching seemed to grow heavier by the moment. He wondered if this one errand was going to be his only accomplishment for the day. As he began to think the servant had just intended to leave him there, the door to the palace opened. Across the garden from Leonardo stood a dark-haired, lanky young man, staring down at him. Lorenzo was only a couple of years older than Leonardo, but he was considerably taller.

Lorenzo growled at Leonardo, Well?  What do you want?

Leonardo held in the anger that was building inside, remembering the position of the young man in front of him, and reiterated why he was there.

Lorenzo was not happy with his response, and repeated what the servant had said earlier: Verrocchio has an appointment. You do not have an appointment.

Leonardo tried to explain that the master was busy working on other details for the upcoming pageant, but Lorenzo would hear nothing of it. He should have made the time to come himself, but since you are here, come in and let’s get this over with. I’m a busy man. 

Leonardo chuckled to himself, thinking that Lorenzo was hardly a man, and probably not so very busy either. He wisely said nothing, and followed Lorenzo into the entrance of the palace. Once inside, he had to keep himself from gasping. If he thought the churches he had attended in Florence were amazing in their decorations, he had seen nothing yet. Everywhere he turned there were rich tapestries, fine paintings, and a variety of sculptures. He recognized many of them as the work of his master.

Lorenzo put his hand out for the armor, and motioned to a couple of servants who were standing quietly to one side. He waved Leonardo toward a room across the hall and said, You, go over there and wait while I try this on.

Lorenzo and the servants disappeared into a room on the left as Leonardo stepped into a richly decorated room on the right side of the hall. This room contained no tapestries – there was no room for tapestries; instead the walls were covered with bookcases. Bookcases that were themselves works of art, some with fancy inlaid wood designs from top to bottom. And on the shelves were more books than Leonardo had seen in his entire life. Some of these books were just as beautifully bound as their surroundings. As Leonardo wondered if anyone ever read any of them, he saw one open on a small table towards a corner of the room. He cautiously moved towards the table, wondering when Lorenzo would reappear. The book was written in Latin, a language Leonardo hadn’t mastered yet, but one that intrigued him greatly. The two open pages were covered with sketches, and somehow reminded him of the math he had done with the village priest many years ago.

Just as he had taken in all that was on the two pages in front of him, Lorenzo marched in, wearing the body armor that Leonardo had so carefully brought to the palace.

Yes, grumbled Lorenzo, this time it fits. Tell your master he got it right, finally.  At that moment he noticed Leonardo standing by the book on the table. His mood changed slightly as he saw Leonardo’s interest in it. Are you familiar with Euclid and his elements?  His treatise was translated into Latin from Greek, and my family has possessed one of the original Latin translations for several generations now. I believe it was copied by a Franciscan monk over a century ago. I don’t think anyone in the family besides me has actually tried reading it before.

Leonardo looked up from the book. He stumbled over his words again, wondering why it was so difficult to speak to this person. No, I am not acquainted with Euclid’s work, though from what I see on these pages, I would like to be. I don’t really know enough Latin at this point to read this, though. Trying to get the attention back to the purpose of his visit, he commented on the body armor: I’m glad the armor fits well. My master will be pleased. 

Lorenzo was already distracted by the conversation about the book and would not be turned back so easily. "Well, you need to learn Latin.