be put aside unconditionally.

But the brilliant Italian connoisseur

Morelli, whose paradoxes made such a sensation in Germany some years ago, relies on the testimony of this same Vasari to show that Leonardo was still at Florence in 1484.

After the departure of Verrocchio for Venice, that is to say in 1484," says the biographer, "Giovanni Francesco Rustici, who had known Leonardo in Verrocchio's studio, took up his abode with the young master, who had a great affection for him." But Rustici, who was born in 1474, was only ten years old at the date of Verrocchio's departure, and can hardly have studied under this master or under Leonardo. It was more probably after his return to his native city in 1504 that Leonardo gave advice and lessons to his young friend. It was then that he helped Rustici in the operation of casting his three statues for the Baptistery. This view of the matter is confirmed by Vasari's statement, that Rustici learnt more especially to model horses in relief and in camaieu from Leonardo. Now, Leonardo was much more occupied with studies of this kind in 1504, after his long labours on the statue of Sforza, and when he was working at the Battle of Anghiari, than in 1484. (It is interesting to note that in his memorial to Lodovico il Moro, Leonardo already proclaims himself capable of executing the equestrian statue of Francesco.) For these various reasons we must accept 1483 as the date of Leonardo's journey to Milan, until proof to the contrary is brought forward. This date agrees with the statement of the anonymous writer according to whom Leonardo (born in 1452) was thirty years old when he settled in Milan.

In spite of the mystery that rests on the first period of Leonardo's life, we are justified in saying that at an age when other artists are still in search of their true vocation, he had already grappled with the most diverse branches of human learning, and that in painting, he had developed a style so individual that posterity has agreed to call it by the name of its inventor. Instruction has but slight influence on natures so profoundly original as his ; and on the whole Leonardo, like Michelangelo, can have received little from his master beyond some general indications, and the revelation of certain technical processes. If his early career nevertheless lacked the éclat that marked Michelangelo's

beginnings, it was the result of the fundamental difference of their genius. Leonardo, the dreamer, the enquirer, the experimentalist, pursued an infinity of problems, and was as deeply interested in processes as in results. Michelangelo, on the other hand, struck but a single blow at a time, but it was decisive; his thought was so clearly defined in his own brain from the first, that it was readily communicated to others. Violent and concrete works such as his make the deepest impression on the mass of mankind. Buonarroti had all Florence for his worshippers from the first; whereas Leonardo, appreciated only by a few of the subtler spirits, had to seek his fortune elsewhere. It is not a matter for regret, as far as his own fame is concerned; but it has robbed Florence of one of her titles to glory.

Thus

Braun, Clément & Co.

(Windsor Library.)

Qui, come l'ape al mel, vienne ogni dotto,

Di virtuosi ha la sua corta piena;

Da Fiorenza un' Appelle ha qui condotto.
-BELLINCIONI, Visione.

L

EONARDO'S sojourn in Milan coincides with Italy's last days

of brightness, and with the dawn of a martyrdom which was to last three centuries and a half. The year 1490 is the fateful date which marks both the culminating points of a long series of successes, and what we should now call the beginning of the end. One alarming symptom, and one often observed at the outset of certain grave maladies, was the sense of security, of well-being, of almost sensuous pleasure, "The year

experienced by Italy at this psychological moment. 1490, wherein our fair city (Florence), glorious in her riches, her

N

victories, her arts, and her monuments, enjoyed prosperity, health, and peace. So runs the inscription on Domenico Ghirlandajo's frescoes in Santa Maria Novella. Guicciardini, too, at the beginning of his Istoria d'Italia, fixes the apogee of his country's prosperity in the year 1490: "A sovereign peace and tranquillity reigned on every side," he says. "Cultivated in the most mountainous and sterile districts as well as in the fertile regions and the plains, Italy acknowledged no power but her own, and rich, not only in her population, her merchandise, and her treasure, but illustrious in the highest degree through the magnificence of many of her princes, the splendour of many famous cities, the majesty of the seat of religion, could point with pride to a host of men eminent in every science. at the head of public adminstration, and to the noblest talents in every branch of art or industry; with all this she cherished her military glory, according to the custom of the times; and, endowed with so many qualities and so many gifts, she enjoyed the highest repute and renown among all other nations."

The Milanese chronicler, Corio, celebrates the blessings of peace in almost identical terms, and enumerates the titles of his masters, the Sforzi, to glory :

"The war between the Duke and the Venetians being at an end, it appeared to every one that peace was finally assured, and no one had a thought but for the accumulation of riches, an end which was held to justify every means. Free play was given to pomps and pleasures, and with the peace, Jupiter triumphed in such sort that all things appeared as stable and as solid as at the most favoured time in the past. The court of our princes was dazzling, splendid with new fashions, new costumes, and all delights. Nevertheless, at this period talent (the Italian author uses the untranslatable word "virtù,") shone with such brilliance, and so keen an emulation had arisen between Minerva and Venus, that each sought how best to ornament her school. That of Cupid was recruited from among our fairest youths; thither fathers sent their daughters, husbands their wives, brothers their sisters, and that without any scruple, so that many took part in the amorous dance, which passed for something truly marvellous. Minerva, on her side, did all in her power to grace her elegant academy. Indeed, Lodovico Sforza,

a glorious and illustrious prince, had taken into his service men of the highest eminence, summoning them from the remotest parts of Europe. Greek was known thoroughly at his court, verse and prose were equally brilliant, the Muses excelled in rhyme; there were to be found the masters of sculpture; thither came the finest painters from the most distant regions; songs and music of all sorts were so full of suavity and sweet accord, that it seemed as though they must have come down from heaven to this famous court. . . .

But a nation cannot thus define and analyse its own greatness with impunity; from the day when, ceasing to question its own strength, it believes blindly in its star, it is bound to decline. Hapless Italy, and with her, Lodovico il Moro, Leonardo da Vinci, and even the worthy chronicler, Corio himself, were soon to learn this by sad experience.

Before studying the masterpieces created by Leonardo's genius in Milan, and his influence on the Milanese School, to which he gave a new inspiration and direction, just as Raphael did to the Roman School, we must glance at the Court of the Sforzi, his new patrons, and inquire what elements this milieu, at once youthful and suggestive, could add to the rich and varied treasure the new-comer brought with him from Florence.1

The duchy of Milan then, as now, the wealthiest of the provinces of Italy, was ruled by a dynasty of parvenus; mercenaries, condottieri, in the full force of the term. The founder of his house's fortune, Francesco Sforza, the son of a peasant turned general, had married the natural daughter of the last Visconti, and established his dominion over the whole of Milan, partly by force of arms, partly by diplomacy. Francesco was succeeded by his son, Galeazzo Maria, a monster of debauchery and cruelty, after whose assassination the ducal coronet fell to his infant son, the feeble and anæmic Gian Galeazzo. Profiting by the weakness of his nephew, Lodovico il Moro, Galeazzo Maria's brother, seized the reins of government, rather by subtlety than strength, and reigned in his nephew's name, till he finally rid himself of Gian Galeazzo by poison.

1 The details I give here may be completed by those in my Renaissance en Italie et en France au temps de Charles VIII. (Paris, 1885, p. 209-273.)