Voices from the Past

l

ary 1

nowing

e from Milan, we stayed at the Pericord Monastery; snow was falling. Outsi

them were dirty and resentful. This her-mitage wanted no outsiders. Although we paid, we were gross intruders. Thi

s, eggs, wine, herbal tea-they of-fered us

HS...smoke from cheap table candles mixed with kitchen smo

oden cross leaned against

y hamlet-what is t

n my Last Supper: I understand more about human nature now than I did twenty years ago. So did the artis

ges and some of that ice traps leaves and twigs and resembles tor-tured stained glass. I

and, on my glove, I a

birds, people, machines. Years ago I lost an important sketchbook and was able to

s, I shall go on tonight

to be a hars

atened. While others hunted rabbits in the Coliseum, I sought libraries and worked in my own laboratory. But work was difficult be-cause my old kidney complaint afflict

ts somber tufa buildings. Cities, like mistresses, betray. Fleeing Rome, I visited my

ment in my laboratory. As soon as possible, half-recovered, I joined Salai and Francesco in Milan. They had located an apartment for me, Salai lauding its grand style, its perfect studio. But th

all of my friends thought in terms of a single field of endeavor. Ambrogio cared nothing for geol-ogy. De Predis shunned mathematics. Bol

int portraits all his life. Andrea was one of those rarities (an inspira-tion!): his world

l

h 12

legs: insomnia exhausts me: I think of stairways, dikes,

lying in his ghetto... I remember him so ill he could scarcely walk... I remember

dead for years. Friends, neighbors, filthy seamen on the co

whose profile is perfect: I have a

rfected his pronunciation, his pauses. He says he learned from a boyhood tutor. I ask him to correct me but he never does. Most of our chateau friends speak several languages.

h 18

al is in

s leav

ithout addin

ows, a mural that is scaling off-

where I sketched the little ships in the harbor, ships and pounding waves. Let's walk in the castle garden, among the se

he loveliness of that meeting, those unexpected caresses, that girl... O, sleeper, what is sleep? Sleep resembles death. Yet, there are happy dreams. And actual d

wing...there was that brief moment of flight...my wing...being aloft...

d around; I realized that the fresco was finished. I felt tears of joy, tears that never fell, yet existed. I felt another ov

ry door and shook my hand. When I write t

of sex, most often a mystery. I saw copulation enjoyed before I enjoyed it with a girl. It seemed to me that it wasn't much fun. I had to mature. It seems to me that the penis often has a life of

ant to show their masculinity. There is something quite amusing about these sex thoughts. Juvenile! Life has so many serious problems: hunger, plague, crime. The ecclesiastics laud the cross and crucifixion; I suspect that some

ve realized this for years. Can it be that this realization urged me to fly,

s of my youth were so noisy. On crowded streets. Near alleys. Vendors howling their wares. Mule

ers. Here I have so many of my favorites: nasturtium

owers in my studi

long the Loire, reme

e wings, then the tail, the balancing properties of the entire bird. Using those dimensions I calculated wing

d it at Mount Ceceri. Ceceri seemed the likeliest hill since wind

...n

I hov-ered for a while above a big willow. Rooftops. Then, in spite of

easured 15'

filthy streets. Though not as old as Rome, I often felt Milan's shabby antiquity. It was a lesson in futility. So many sieges: 14

ove me out of the city. In my absence my apartmen

ale. Near the Orientale I found a bronze figurine, on one of my walks. Its sm

vival jobs. "This door needs immediate repair...place that medallion lower...no red marble

only place to avoid the stench of sewage. I urged the Duke to plan a city with upper and lower thoro

s...d

ectory...that was my world...those faces, those outspread hands, that

l

s, after I have had supper, I begin-if there are no royal interruptio

ngelo and I can

and snap them across the floor. H

to a segment subtended by a side of a hexagon inscribed in the circle. I can make any number of curvilateral stars of which

o working on the plans for

r, where there is no m

l

il

a brief lette

leaf, a metallic sunset overlaid with misty hues, the bridges silhouetted, the darkest spans cut out of charred st

here, to thin

stiest fish came from the Arno. He was a good fisherman and should have known. Ma

ashing in the river-that

il

CAV

f horse: 185,000 pounds. Horse to measure 23 feet from hoof to mane. Total height: 3

Ho

caldrons blazed as the metals combined. We had our supply of wood stacked under a thatch, a

mandante of the city fortresses-on the Duke's orders-requisitioned all b

his city, and hi

l

il

ic one, an ideal woman. She was delicate. Always. Busy with her large family, her housework, yet stealing time for her lute. There in her garden, among her irises. There in he

nd bring or arrange flowers. Her little br

ear Florentine

eau garden-a bird sings and s

l

l 14

Milan, when friend Atalante and I played and sang. Papini is Court maestro and master of

cripts for rebuses and nota-tions, and he an

a remirare, la so

is my b

cloak. Three dwarfs will appear as miniature elephants. I will wear a replica of a camel's head. Francesco is to impersonate

ll be

l

f the King's pages brought me a rain-spat

sked, standing by me prot

his face. Probably he was perplexed

ng the note. "He wants me to come

s awful

uicing off t

ld rain," protested Maturina. "You h

tugged m

gh the tunnel, to the chateau. It's been

ches were wet. Somebody went back to the manor house for candles. The passage was difficult for a tall man. I had forgotten there were several curves. Bats anno

I? I thought I saw 1502 on the wall. Latin names. Gascon. 1601. 1502 again. Cesare Borgia, that Papal basta

d was ev

ded several flights of stairs, walked along ha

s asleep now,"

returned to the manor, preferring the

's camp...like Alexander the Great I slept

us-made our escape possi-ble...horses...rain..

book. No matter... I have tried his famous rabbit problem once more and then once more. I see that each number is the sum of the two preceding num-bers, continui

n sunflower seeds, shell spirals, spider webs, ferns, the p

es, a night for murder.

ell

young man's death. There was

the officials!: They had him hung, dra

A

, as if I could

f life is

s trying

in

4 years old...Ferrara, 33 years o

these things together and say something; when I am alone here, or alone with Francesco and Maturina, when I sit in my studio or in the library or walk in th

t 15,

summer a

itten my journ

or miles. Old trees, some of them half-drowned by a heavy rain, seem deter

f a morning searching for a species of frog that interest

century bridge, I waded over slip

here...the pai

tchbook is ruined.

ss, by the ugliness of my bony

st 2

, a row of pencil-pointed cypress, a field of yellow rye, a woodland village, a pagan altar, a tired bri

are also there, an

hes the garden and the garden leads to the woodland

ater of the Loire flowing by; the b

telescope focuses on wayfar-ers: I see them in mi

Smiling, smelling of grease and herbs, she offers me her fa

. The Midian is talking about Brussels sprouts, how her mother used to prepare them. When she takes Ma

l

embe

ncis appeared

pin stripes of diamonds and pearls. We embraced war

, for his hair had been scorched and trimmed; his forehead was

said, laughing loudly at me. "Di

t know it was serious. I've been in Paris, with

l dis-appear. My hair will grow back. I came to talk with you, to get awa

pened to you

er basket over my head and one of my cronies set fire to it with his torch... I couldn't yank o

ant you to explain again how you have estimated the age of the earth from your s

il imbedded in it. Where did you find it?

tes on the quality of light among the glaciers and snowfields.

arber trimmed m

, about forty; he seems in the prime of life. As he trimmed my

must stop fighting." All very private, in his red-carpeted shop, mirro

out to leav

know... I sing for you... I

red out song after song, as others gathe

ll extract a mol

lass and sputters on my autumn fire. I dictate. France

ould be depicted as covered with

hown as twins, back to back,

ts. "I think we should wr

ag

bout heat...fire...vapors...

over a hundred treatises to work

es, fifteen nudes, in sequence. On the basis of those drawings I will make var

l

er 6,

hestnut, pine...lightning-scarred oak, crippled pine, friends... I walk alone or with France

o fire, talking with Francesco,

-like you. An-drea was thirty-five then, maybe thirty-six..

opal in a gold brooch... I'd been his apprentice for several months, maybe a y

ire was at its base-resembling a setting s

proud he was, how proud all of us artists were! We crowded around; we left the workshop to s

ndrea Verrochi

ill there, above the red ti

arble walls of the Medici sarcophagus. And his beau

is silverpoint study of Andrea's grea

place of magic...subtl

an girls. The cat has disappeared. Lamps need fixing on my table.

i fu fatta

ad at fif

d among my mathematical papers, amon

.he was thirty

s? Writings? They respect the bronze horse, the jeweled necklace...the

w, but new then

d grape, his sister, Margharita, looking after us. He had a scar across his right cheek, a special smile becau

something A

a child, I knew an a

l

or

Francesco and I worked at o

nch,

French well enough to win. It's lucky for me that e

und...the caves...with shells on the floor... I showed F my memory-sketch of huge male bison painted on the granite walls of a cave, painted there before any F

urn to his beautiful Vaprio. I certainly understand. Last month the Melzis renewed their in-vitation but I lack the strength to make another move; perhaps,

the bois...a fox plumed his tail in front of us... I tried to sketch on horseback but my sorrel w

onfuse

; I seem to be in an unknown country, not France, not Switzerland. This place is not my

John...the painting assures me. Ah, the King has

find someone who cares to do quality work); having discovered that my scale is inaccurate I am checkin

ng in John's face: underne

," I say

tion through the years,

in painting i

heard

rfection are il

s the frames and people gape at the ill

ked to sit in front of the marb

ime it could b

nse bronze turtles, four turtles for each obelisk. (What mad sculptor designed turtles to hold up obe-lisks!) Ai, the marble columns tot

sed problems; there were always problems...on Sunday no hawkers were

air-case at Chambord...this is Count de Senlis, a connoisseur of art." The Count, an old man, is one of Francis' "oldest friends." Monsignor Marais admires my paintings. Lingers. Cardinal Chambiges compliments my work with since

x is everyt

rees, beds of flowers, autumn leaves, moo

l

ud

lamps lit, I sometimes read aloud two or three of my fables. Guests applaud. We en

erfumes! He is a hunchback, with a sharp tongue and tragic grey eyes in his young blond

studio. He was quite docile for a while and then became too frisky, and had

mine in an old notebook, one o

d flowers of many colors grew around. As the stone looked about, at the

g here, among these plants all day long? I want to

t of the cart wheels, the crack of horse and mule hooves, the tramp of cattle, the kick of travelers' shoes. A man knocked the sto

t the place it had lef

hose who think they can l

est fable, although he does

estro, you ar

help it survive since it had fallen into a chink without any soil. The wall was sympathetic and was glad to help the nut roll into a place where there was soil. After

ed its destruction,

desk with two water-lamps close to his bearded face, his silhouette on

He endures this exile out of respect for me: for him I am both maestro and father (in his own father's eyes the world of art is unimportant). In hi

ity in the conc

in the curves of

as to the best posi

ions of water coming fr

hoals formed und

of the shores of river

hould be of val

ch of the information I

will begin

er 28

ish a

-some riderless horse crosses, shakes his mane vigorously, plunges wherever

we are obliterated almost nightly: a visitor would have a hard time locating the cha

nder: in his salons, his superb col-lection

times Francesco makes the gallery a gallery for two. With autumn rain or wind. He sketches a Mazzon

eads into the forest. Bobbing his head as if in recognition, he walked toward the manor house

e three, or was

e totters agains

w thi

rges me to

Let me fix you a strong beef so

er fro

s brief-painfully brief. Where is the love we once shared? I know that frie

more wisely: I write this, wondering about myself: is this something, this saying, that applies to someone el

mber

yellow hair in a spiral. Her face was the face of a madonna, and the way she looked at me lit up my face; so, we walked, hand in hand, or with her hand on my shoulde

roved of t

can teach you.

ist

ss. The other: honesty. The third: beauty. Look...look at th

ook

mber

e, in the early morning, I saw him. Magn

beside him, His hand buried in Magnifico's thick mane. Christ was saying som

nding at the foot of my bed: he complained about the cold, the falli

ere is something sacred a

Saturday

hiavelli-inv

ng armature

f specimens

stairway a

sketches for him-show

Sal

l

a. What a genial man, a student of the masters, devoted to all of the arts, dapper, young, fluent

was especially interested in my spiral staircase. He, too, is a vegetarian. We had lunch together an

as enthusiastic about living in the country...when the g

hope Amboise is right for you,"

ngs and sketches at Clou

of a re

church, wi

on a

ng weight and rat

s of man (

hlehem plan

rinding teles

prese

lic co

orse (Ce

int drawing

ilboat. Weav

hoisting h

of wi

tary

ach

in fli

in f

id

ico

se

of Ginev

Cecilia

ffio, Salai, Marco d'O

of Ch

cip

Last Suppe

istance of s

: 60 dr

of upp

es of

es of

struc

in

keleton, s

ses for Adorat

naries

es fo

nt

gic s

e dra

ux dra

Years

s of

0 Ske

,0

jor Dr

,0

el Pai

,0

ses (still

,0

nd their

,0

on

,0

s and Anat

,0

ojects (canals

,0

ure, Musi

,0

, Ge

,

ry, Hy

,

6,

le here at Amboise. Francesco is to destroy most of the military sketches and drawings because many are lif