During this time, Leonardo had been struggling with the design for the bronze equestrian statue. Drawing after drawing lay scattered on his studio floor. Lately, however, a daring plan for this statue had come to him. It was to be a huge bronze warrior, Francesco Sforza, mounted on a rearing horse. Weighing perhaps a hundred thousand pounds, it was to be cast in sections in five furnaces—a fitting monument to the power of the Sforza family. But there still remained a big problem to be solved: how could he balance the plunging horse and man on just the two rear legs of the horse?

Meanwhile, Leonardo had another problem to work on—a wooden model of the Milan cathedral. He had entered his name with the cathedral authorities as a competitor in the design and construction of the cathedral’s dome. Many architects had been brought in and had failed, partly because of the antagonism of the Milanese workmen to foreign craftsmen, and partly because the committee found it difficult to decide what designs it liked. Leonardo had sent them a letter outlining his own recommendations and had drawn many pages of possible plans. He put forward his knowledge of various building materials, his understanding of classical architecture, and his wish to keep his own ideas in harmony with the Gothic tradition of the cathedral itself. Often he would make a point of walking about the city, observing the different constructions under way and drawing up plans to shorten the labor by mechanical means.

In July of 1487 Leonardo received a payment from the cathedral authorities for the wooden model he had submitted. Still, however, no final decision had been reached. Now, as Leonardo looked at the model in his studio, he felt the urge to improve it further—to make it more perfect. Yet he held his impatience in check and decided he would wait a little longer. Instead, he decided to work on some of his ideas for construction devices. He had already made many drawings, but they could be improved, he thought, and he began to make calculations.

Among these notes and drawings was an improvement on a device for the raising of columns. It was a mobile windlass with a transmission gear for transporting and erecting columns and obelisks. Another device was an earth drill resembling a modern corkscrew with double handle bars. The upper bar, when turned, drilled the screw into the earth while the lower bar—when turned the opposite way—carried the dirt up and out. Also there was a double crane mounted on a circular trolley which carried the dirt of excavation up and then the crane was moved around on its trolley so the dirt could be unloaded in different directions.

Other labor-saving devices that Leonardo designed were an automatic pile driver, the weight of which was raised by a winch and tripped automatically at its height to fall on the piling; a lift for raising iron bells to bell towers; and a machine for boring tree trunks to make pipes for carrying water.

In the fall of 1488, Leonardo was interrupted by a summons from Ludovico, who wanted him to design and build the decorations for the forthcoming marriage of his nephew, young Duke Gian Galeazzo Sforza, to Isabella of Aragon, granddaughter of the King of Naples. He worked on this steadily until the wedding ceremony in February of the following year. When the day arrived, the street from the cathedral to the grim castle was trimmed with flags and banners of the two royal houses. The inner courtyards of the castle were transformed into delicate arbors of laurel boughs. Yet it was the evening’s reception and entertainment which were to be the climax and to them Leonardo had brought all his mechanical skill. However, the announcement of the death of the bride’s mother cut short the celebration and, after the bride and groom had left for Pavia, the wedding party soon dispersed. Disappointed that his decorations had not been fully appreciated, Leonardo returned to his studio and the problem of the monument.

He was still struggling with the problem of balancing the rearing horse. And, indeed, a solution was soon found. By placing a fallen soldier with his arm upraised in protection under the forefeet of the horse, Leonardo could balance the enormous weight and provide for the proper casting of the molten bronze.

Finally, Leonardo made a small wax model of the proposed statue and showed it to Ludovico. The nobleman was impressed by its originality. Most of the ideas contributed by other sculptors were mere variations of what had already been done many times. Also, the other plans called for bronze of not more than two thousand pounds, while Leonardo envisioned a statue fifty times that size! Ludovico awarded the commission to Leonardo.

Leonardo was to work on this commission for ten years and it was destined never to be immortalized in bronze, for reasons that will be explained later. His energies, as usual, were poured into many schemes. Growing out of his work on the monument he planned one book on the subject of casting in bronze and another on the anatomy of the horse. But the one subject, which he began to study in this period and which would occupy the remainder of his life, was the study of human anatomy. So Leonardo, in the midst of all his other activities, wrote in his notes, “On the second day of April 1489 the book entitled Of the Human Figure.”

The sources of anatomical study up to Leonardo’s day had been the Greeks—Hippocrates and Galen—and the Arab—Avicenna. Books on this subject were few, and the anatomical diagrams were crude and inaccurate. Galen, for example, had based his studies on the dissection of monkeys. Renaissance anatomists had explained his errors by pointing out that man had probably changed since Galen’s time. The Church had stepped in during the fourteenth century with an edict that was interpreted as a prohibition against dissection of the human body. In Italy, however, there were some dissections. They could only use, for this purpose, the bodies of criminals, slaves, and people of foreign birth. In Florence, anatomy was studied by the artists, and Leonardo had undoubtedly watched Pollaiuolo at work on a corpse that that artist had dissected.

In 1489 Leonardo, from the results of his own investigation, produced drawings of the skull and backbone whose careful attention to detail are—even today—classics in art and anatomy. With infinite patience and with a saw of his own invention he had halved a skull and drew for the first time with accuracy the curves of the frontal and sphenoid bones. He drew the lachrymal (tear) canal, and he was the first to show the cavity in the superior maxillary bone—not discovered again until 1651, by Highmore—now named “the antrum of Highmore.” He was the first to demonstrate the double curvature of the spine and its accompanying vertebrae, the inclination of the sacrum, the shape of the rib cage, and the true position of the pelvis. He planned a whole series of books that would include from head to foot and from inside to outside every section of the human apparatus.

Meanwhile he had been working on the monument, redesigning it to conform to the practical needs of casting. Now it had reached an even grander scale—a colossus that would require two hundred thousand pounds of bronze! He recorded in his notes the very day that this work was started, “On the twenty-third day of April 1490 I commenced this book and recommenced the horse.” The “horse,” of course, was the monument and “this book” referred to still another subject which had grown out of his studies of anatomy and perspective.

The title of the proposed book was to be Light and Shade. It would include the subject of optics or the mechanism of the eye, the problems of reflection and refraction and it would lead him eventually to a re-examination of his studies of the sun and moon.

In Leonardo’s day, and even for a long while afterwards, the popular belief of vision was one that had originally been put forth by the Platonic school and expanded by Euclid and Ptolemy. This belief was that the eye sent forth rays that brought back the image to the soul. Leonardo, in his younger days, had believed in the same theory. Not content with what had been written on the subject, however, he began to experiment for himself.

These experiments led him to an examination of the eye itself. He noted the various parts of the eye—the optic foramen or opening, the pigment layer, and the iris. These were already known by the Arabs. Leonardo discovered, however, the crystalline area of the eye. He explained binocular vision, or three-dimensional images, by correctly noting the positions of the two eyes in the head. He described the variations in the diameter of the pupil according to the surrounding light. Further experiments with light brought him to the conclusion that light and images are received by the eye. He took a piece of paper, for example, and pierced it with a small hole. With this he looked at the source of light. He noted the cone shape of the rays funneling into the tiny hole and then when the paper was held next to a white wall he noted that the rays spread out again. He established that light travels in straight lines. He constructed the first “camera obscura”—a box with a small hole in it. Inside the box an object was placed near the hole and behind that a lighted candle. When the box was closed the image of the object was cast on the wall. Leonardo was already acquainted with lenses, and he placed a magnifying lens over the hole to create an enlarged image.

He also demonstrated various laws relative to optical illusion, such as irradiation—when a metal rod is made red-hot at one end, that end seems thicker than the other. A brightly lit object seems larger than one exactly like it that is dimly lit; a dark object placed against a light background seems smaller than it is; a light object seems larger than its real size when placed against a dark background; and the illusion of a light swung in a circle appears as a complete circle of light.

Many years before Newton, Leonardo described the experiment of breaking up a ray of white light into the solar spectrum. Also he compared two sources of light and measured their intensity by the depth of their shadows accompanied by a drawing that was the forerunner of Rumford’s photometer three centuries later! He stated the law of reflection—that is, that the angle of reflection is always equal to the angle of incidence.

About this time Leonardo left the studio of Ambrogio de Predis and moved into the Sforza Castle. Ludovico had put at his disposal a studio in the Corte Vecchia and the use of a room in one of the towers—which Leonardo always kept locked. To his growing list of work, Leonardo now had to add the preparations for the delayed wedding reception of Ludovico’s nephew, Gian Galeazzo Sforza.

On a cold winter evening of January 1490 the guests assembled again. Silks, satins and gold brocade, diamonds, rubies and pearls glittered in the brilliant lights. Princes of the Church mingled with ambassadors of foreign lands. Music and perfume filled the air and as the party quieted down the entertainment began. There were dances in gay costumes. Poetry was recited that flattered the bride and groom. There were allegorical processions. The jokes and antics of the court jester made the audience laugh.

Then, at midnight, the curtain that hung from wall to wall at the end of the ballroom was raised. Applause and cries of delight greeted the spectacle. The rising curtain revealed a room in which there was a hemisphere surrounded by the signs of the zodiac and the planets. While the planets in their niches flickered with concealed lights and the signs of the zodiac glowed, lines were spoken in honor of the house of Sforza to the accompaniment of a choir. The ancient gods swept down from the heavens, and the Virtues and Graces moved across the scene with nymphs waving lanterns. The music drowned out the sound of the mechanism. This was the kind of mechanics that Ludovico could understand and appreciate.

The success of this entertainment so pleased Ludovico that Leonardo was encouraged to present another amusing idea. This one was an “alarm clock” and it utilized what we call today the mechanical relay principle. When a small power is suddenly switched over, the power is reinforced. The “alarm” clock worked by placing a shallow basin of water at one end of a tubed lever. At the other end was another empty basin. Water was led drop by drop into the second basin and as this slowly filled the increasing weight lowered the lever. The shallow basin of water at the first end was suddenly emptied and the immediate switch in weight flipped the lever up and this in turn pushed up the sleeper’s feet.