The da Vinci Legacy. Jean-Pierre Isbouts

character.

      These modifications liberate the scene from the fussy detail of its surroundings, and serve to enhance its monumental presence. It is as if these three figures are suspended on the boundary between earth and heaven—an idea reinforced by the contrast between the earth tones of the foreground, and the ephemeral, shimmering treatment of the background.

      This did not prevent Leonardo’s “intermediate” version, painted by Melzi, from spawning several other copies by Leonardeschi. One version, now in a private collection in Paris, hews very closely to the Hammer painting. Another copy is believed to have belonged to the Marquis Giovan Francesco Serra, duke of Milan in the mid-17th century, before it was purchased by King Philip IV of Spain. Today, it forms part of the collection of the Prado in Madrid.

      Indeed, the source for most copies of the Saint Anne that we have today is not Leonardo’s Louvre original, but Melzi’s Hammer copy! A 2012 exhibit at the Louvre identified no fewer than thirteen derivative versions of this painting.31 One reason, perhaps, is that after Leonardo took the original Saint Anne with him to France, the Hammer copy was the closest thing to Leonardo’s vision that Italy possessed. The work was exhibited in the Church of Santa Maria presso San Celso in Milan, and soon gained a reputation as an autograph work by the hand of Leonardo himself, rather than a copy. This explains why it served as the model for so many copies, painted by Leonardeschi as well as other artists throughout the 16th and 17th centuries.

      One key example is the fine painting now in the Uffizi in Florence, dated around 1510–1525, and most often attributed to Salaì. Though largely faithful to the Hammer copy, it shows Mary and Anne barefoot, as in the Louvre version, which may suggest that Salaì updated the motif after Leonardo finished his final version.

      The Saint Anne was perhaps the last major work that Leonardo developed while he was still operating a flourishing studio. After his departure to Rome in 1513, and subsequently to France in 1516, his followers went their separate ways, many settling in towns throughout Lombardy. In doing so, would they remain faithful to Leonardo’s style? Would they continue to be Leonardeschi?

      8 Giorgio Vasari, “Lionardo da Vinci,” in Le Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architetti; 1568 Edition.

      2. The Legacy of Leonardo’s Studio

      9 Serge Bramly, Leonardo: The Artist and the Man, p. 106. Leonardo later described this technique in his Treatise on Painting.

      10 Peter Burke, The Italian Reanaissance: Culture and Society in Italy, p. 69.

      11 Manuscript MS C, fol.15 r., Institut de France.

      12 Jean Paul Richter, The Literary Works of Leonardo da Vinci, 1883, p. 439.

      13 Paolo Giovio, “The Life of Leonardo,” in P. Barocchi (Ed.), Scritti d’arte del Cinquecento. Milan and Naples: 1961, pp. 20–21.

      14 Libro di Pittura, in manuscript A, folio 113, Institut de France.

      15 Frank Zöllner, “Leonardo’s Portrait of Mona Lisa del Giocondo,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 121 (1993), pp. 115–138.

      16 Stanley Feldman, Mona Lisa: Leonardo’s Earlier Version, p. 66.

      17 For more information about the Battle of Anghiari project, see the new study by Margherita Melani, The Fascination of the Unfinished Work: The Battle of Anghiari. CB Edizioni, 2012.

      18 Adding further to the mystery surrounding the Anghiari project, the Tavola Doria copy was stolen in 1940 and only recently emerged in a Japanese collection; as announced on December 3, 2012, the painting will now be exhibited in Japan and Italy on a rotating basis.

      19 The king, says Vasari, “tried by any possible means to discover whether there were architects who, with cross-stays of wood and iron, might have been able to make it so secure that it might be transported safely; but the fact that it was painted on a wall robbed his Majesty of his desire, and so the picture remained with the Milanese.”

      20 It took some doing, however, to release Leonardo from his obligation to complete the Battle of Anghiari for the Signoria in Florence. There now followed an increasingly acrimonious exchange of letters between Soderini, the Florentine gonfaloniere, and the new governor of Milan, Charles d’Amboise, acting on instructions of the French king, to release Leonardo from his obligations in Florence. Soderini fired off a letter on October 9, all but accusing Leonardo of bad faith. “He received a large sum of money and has only made a small beginning on the great work he was commissioned to carry out,” the gonfaloniere charged, adding that “we do not wish further delays to be asked for on his behalf, for his work is supposed to satisfy the citizens of this city.” Any more delay, he charged, would “expose ourselves to serious damage.” Louis XII then took the extraordinary step to write a letter to the gonfaloniere, personally. “Very dear and close friends,” the king began, “As we have need of Master Leonardo da Vinci, painter to your city of Florence, and intend to make him do something for us with his own hand, and as we shall soon, God helping us, to be in Milan, we beg you, as affectionately as we can, to be good enough to allow the said Leonardo to work for us such a time as may enable him to carry out the work we intend him to do.” This may be the first time in history that a demand for a painter prompted what amounted to a political crisis between two heads of state. Of course, when confronted with the might of France, Florence had no choice but to accede to the king’s wish.