I, Francesco Melzi, write:

Maestro Leonardo da Vinci is dead.

He died at Cloux, in the manor house,

on May 2, 1619.

He was sixty-seven years old.

Cloux

April 4, 1519

DURING THE LAST WEEKS OF

LEONARDO DA VINCI'S LIFE,

I, FRANCESCO MELZI,

RECORDED THE MAESTRO'S THOUGHTS,

AS HE DICTATED THEM:

"Y

ou ask me what my apartment was like in Milan? It was an apartment of tapestries and antique furniture, paintings, mine and others. Sculptured pieces. I bought many things at the Thieves' Market. My Camjac tapestries covered three walls. Made the room warmer. My paintings covered the fourth. This was my sala. A large stained gla.s.s window faced the street. You remember that street, of course. Lodi Street. Western exposure. Hot in summer.

Dusty. But my apartment was on the fourth floor, had a wide, shaded balcony. There was a small courtyard of plants and a pair of little tiled fountains with squirting fish. Sometimes the courtyard was a refuge.

Cypress. Old ones.

"With my big iron key, I stepped into my rooms. Five.

My studio had good light. Of course I painted the walls black. You would have admired my Roman pieces, heads, busts. You, my friend, were living in Vaprio then."

We moved his bed into the sun, and pulled open the drapes. He enjoyed lying there. "Spring is beautiful," he said.

Cloux

April 5, 1519

Da Vinci talks to me with difficulty. However, I go on:

"Perhaps those years in Milan were the busiest years of my life. Irrigation projects, The Last Supper mural, easel paintings, the horse...yes, the horse... cartoons.

I tried to interest the authorities in an ideal city. I made models for them. Planned double-decked streets.

Vehicles would use the lower level, pedestrians the upper. There would be proper sewage. I wanted to show men that the plague might be avoided through sanitation."

He has eaten a little fruit, and sipped some wine.

"In Milan, I went on with my anatomical studies, this time working in a clean hospital, with proper light. I had adequate leisure. I dissected male and female ...eight or ten cadavers...over the years. Made my drawings in various media.

"Illness laid me low...

"I never trusted physicians. They know nothing of anatomy and less about illnesses. I suffered alone-with my servants. They fed me, administered my concoctions...my kidneys. Nature cured me. After about six or seven months I was able to get about, to walk, stride along. There was kindness then...but kindness is your specialty...your kindness has never failed me."

Cloux