Geniuses Are People Too

By Valerian Markarov

There had once lived a very unique man, whose name, Leonardo da Vinci is known to all. His life had been full of victories and defeats, tragedies, and love. The following engrossing novel carries us over to Renaissance epoch Italy at the end of the 15th and the start of the 16th century and its characters, Roman popes and cardinals, kings and commanders, politicians and artists appear before us as living people. This book touches upon topics that may hurt the feelings of a certain number of people. Read this amazing story about the life of a wonderful individual, a life that had become a legend…

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Apr 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781071596951

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

On a clear, sunny morning on March 3rd, 2019, stepping over the threshold of his privately-owned home in the center of Florence, a young professor of the University of Florence named Marco Toscano came face to face with the neighborhood postman, who brought him fresh press and correspondence every day at noon.

«Good morning, Signor Toscano. How’re you doing?» asked the postman, bending his head slightly to the right and baring his frontal, cavity-yellowed teeth in a simple smile.

«Good morning to you, Signor Gerponimo! Thank you! You’re looking quite excellent today!» replied Marco politely to the greeting.

«With God’s prayers, I will make it to my uncle’s age, Signor Toscano! He lived to a hundred, and, you know, it was all in the mushrooms...»

«Mushrooms prolong life?» Marco raised his eyebrows, sincerely surprised.

«Oh, no! He just never ate any!» the postman bared his teeth again in a crooked but somewhat naïve smile.

«You’re quite the joker, Signor!» Marco squinted, looking into Gerponimo’s eyes. «You have fresh news with you, as usual!»

And he received a heavy heap of newspapers along with a couple of letters in exchange, wishing the postman a good day,

«A presto! See you soon!»

Leaving the press by the entrance to his house, he carefully placed the letters into his leather briefcase, looked mechanically up at the sky, then went back into the house for his umbrella and sunglasses, and then walked to work at a measured pace. About forty minutes remained until the start of the first lecture, and that was more than enough to make it there on time.

It should be said that Marco was unlike true Italians, who believed punctuality to be a thief of time, and see no great sin in being late. He, on the other hand, was precise and careful regarding everything that surrounded him. This was expressed by his love for cleanliness and order, thoroughness and precision in his deeds, his outer neatness and impeccability, his diligence, and exceptional organizations. In a way, he could be called pedantic, but his mild pedantry had nothing in common with pathology. It is known, after all, that pedants are not simply boring but unbearable in their flaws. Despite this, he did, in fact, possess an Italian character, lively, always ready for a good joke and a wide smile, unwittingly demonstrating straight rows of beautiful white teeth, spreading a positive mood and a warm aura around himself as he did this.

Here in Italy, it is said that «March rains bring May flowers,» and this is true for a humid Mediterranean and subtropical climate. The days are warm in Florence this time of year. Marco enjoyed devoting the free portion of his time to strolling around Florence. Despite the fact that he was born in this extraordinary city and knew every one of its little streets, he could still stroll around this abode of eternity endlessly, discovering it anew for himself each time.

While still in high school, he began a part-time job as a guide and soon became a member of the Florence Guides’ Association, slowly learning to carry his listeners over to a different epoch with his eloquence. In the faraway time of his youth, he already realized that a guide’s profession presents very high demands to one’s qualities as a person. He realized, that it required a high level of general ability, intellect and subject knowledge, a large memory capacity, good attention, concentration, endurance, work efficiency, equilibrium, and of course, developed communicative skills.

At first, not everything was working out. But soon, on the advice of his older colleague Alessandro, Marco began working on his diction and articulation, as well as his speech, increasing his knowledge in the subject matter of the tour. Already then, he had begun developing his analytical skills, started digging around in archive materials, and broadening his mind by using various sources of information. His practice taught him to read people and convinced him that tourists are not very interested in the specific dates of certain events but are awakened by a lively, artistic tale, especially if it is followed by naughty details from the lives of famous people. Marco called these «fried facts.» Alessandro, being much more experienced in the business and, as a result, being able to make a name for himself in the tourism industry, once told him,

«Marco, in addition to Italian, your mother tongue, you also speak excellent English, which is important in our line of work. I see an interest in this job in you, as well as great potential for development. To put it simply, something good will come of you. Just remember that our profession relates to the creative kind of labor. We are artists, and performers, and jesters, poets, pedagogues, and psychologists, but not artisans, no! If your audience demands dinner and a show, let them get them in full, do not limit yourself in demonstrating our true Italian emotionality. Wake them up and lead them away from the hustle and bustle of daily life, force them to renounce worldly cares and troubles. And if you need to, give them a beautiful legend, masterfully wrapped in the shell of truth, and let it sweeten their souls. Ignite the fire in their eyes! Then, you will be in demand as a specialist, and your pocket will never run out of money. Most importantly, love your job, and never stop improving!»

Marco remembered Alessandro’s words forever and lived by them. When giving tours, he would say that Florence was a place where one could touch eternal beauty. Truly, it was in excess here! For this is, perhaps, one of the most remarkable cities in the world. In translation, Florence means «blooming,» and this name could not do a better job of transmitting its character because all of the color of Western culture and art is gathered in this city. A gigantic open-air museum, where streets, castles, museums, and squares are decorated with the creations of great masters. Perfectly preserved architectural monuments, each of which has carefully watched over history through the centuries, palaces of the Medici dynasty, the Boboli Gardens, the grand Piazza della Signoria, the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral, the Baptistery with its golden doors, the exquisite façade of the Santa Maria Novella and the Santa Croce, where outstanding people, such as Michelangelo Buonarotti, Galileo Galilei, the poet Dante Alighieri, the thinker Niccolo Machiavelli, the composers Gioachino Rossini and Michal Oginski, and about three hundred more famous Florentines, cultural and science activists, and politicians had found eternal rest. And here is the Basilica di San Lorenzo, and the Medici tomb, the cold and impregnable Bargello, previously a prison, now a museum of sculpture and applied art, the Academy, Michelangelo’s «David,» the Palatine Gallery and the Uffizi, which is considered to be one of the older museums in Europe.

The Uffizi appeared during one of the most meaningful periods in history, in the epoch of the highest dawn of the Florentine Renaissance, by the will of Archduke Cosimo I di Medici. And it was created, as Marco pointed out in his lectures, in a city where the term «museum» was introduced, being controversial at the time and unused for centuries, due to the fact that the Ancient Greeks used this word to refer to a place dedicated to the Muses. And today, the Uffizi gallery contained an artistic heritage comparable to none else: Thousands of painting canvases, from Medieval to Modern times, antique sculptures, miniatures, tapestries. And its unique collection of self-portraits, the only one of its kind in the world, is constantly being added to through purchases and gifts from modern artists. Here, eternal music was born, divine verse and poetry were written, and painting masterpieces were created. Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Boccaccio, Petrarch, Filippo Brunelleschi. These and many other names are inextricably connected with Florence, as they bestowed upon it grace, harmony, and eternal blooming.

And now, more than twenty years since the time when Marco had only just begun giving tours, he once again gladly organized «historical strolls,» but now for his students, not for tour groups. «Without the past, there is no future,» he would say, helping future art critics become submerged in the unique atmosphere of this cradle of the Renaissance epoch, carrying them, by means of his engrossing stories, over to the faraway time when Michelangelo walked the streets of Florence, and when, on the same streets the frantic Dominican monk, Savonarola preached to the crowd, and internecine clashes of ruling clans took place, at a time when Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart performed his concerts with great success.

Marco could have strolled around the city for hours, had an unexpected thunderstorm not forced him to seek shelter in one of the little local cafés, where tourist crowds would enjoy various kinds of salami, pecorino, and very thinly sliced prosciutto ham, abundantly seasoned with sea salt. The meal would usually end with the most tender mascarpone and an espresso, to which Limoncello liqueur was often added.

Coffee is almost like a religion in Italy. Whenever entering a café, Marco usually ordered two espressos, one for himself, and another, a caffee sospreso, the so-called «suspended coffee,» meant for a customer that could not afford to buy themselves a coffee. Marco knew that sometimes there would be a homeless person coming to the café, asking whether there was a «suspended" coffee. Marco considered this kind tradition to be «a gift of coffee to the world,» and for him, truly, to give a coffee to someone underprivileged was not only a helping gesture but a way of life.

Tourists harbor a particular weakness for Tuscan cuisine; it, and it alone, had laid the foundation for Italian gastronomy. Actually, pizza and pasta, the most famous dishes of Italian cuisine, were not invented in Tuscany, but the idea itself of Italian gastronomy, centered on local produce and seasonality, had appeared right here in Florence.

Walking past the local La Spada restaurant, much beloved by tourists and Florentines alike, Marco felt the desire to eat. In the morning, while still at home, he completed his mandatory ritual, drinking a small cup of cappuccino and not eating a morsel more. He sometimes visited this restaurant, ordering taglierini with salmon, cappelletti in broth, or their specialty, bistecca alla florentina.

He knew full well that the local culinary specialists of this restaurant grilled a fat piece of delicacy beef with a bone in the middle on hot coals so that it had a crunchy toasted crust on the outside but was definitely juicy and with blood on the inside. The meat should only be salted, peppered, and covered in olive oil after it is equally grilled on all sides. Marco loved savoring this incredibly delicious steak, not sullying it by adding garnish, and would slowly wash it down with small sips of Tuscan Chianti that came from a province of the same name, which is rightfully considered to be the best wine-producing region in all of Italy.

Chianti wines enjoy world fame, and practically all famous people and great performers of the past have in some way or other praised the virtues of local wines, especially their dry red Sangiovese wine. In this way, the Chianti province was a heaven for gourmets, who enjoyed the taste of true Tuscan wine and traditional Tuscan dishes here. At first sight, it may seem primitive, but that is where its secret lies, that Tuscan cuisine is simple... to the point of refinement, and it is cunning with its tastes, with the agility of an old Tuscan. A thousand shades of taste can be found in what seems to be a simple dish, and the web of aromas will drive insane more than one connoisseur of subtle, exquisite dishes. But this is not the only thing Chianti is famous for. Who but Marco would know that its tender landscapes have inspired poets and artists throughout various centuries. After all, the famous landscape behind the mysteriously smiling Mona Lisa was painted from memory by the great Leonardo da Vinci from these very hills in Chianti...

Becoming tipsy, either from the sudden surge of hunger or from the fresh midday air, in which still cold drops from the river Arno, that carried its completely unpredictable waters from the very Apennines, Marco felt a very strong pull towards a table! He was just passing by the Church of Santa Margherita di’ Cerchi, the one that is also called Dante Alighieri’s church, due to the fact that it was right here that the poet met his muse Beatrice, whose remains, in the end, found eternal peace in this church. Marco’s attempts to take control of his hunger yielded no results, and his feet were already carrying him to the refreshment stall nearby. Yes, he would not forego even a lampredotto, despite the fact that this simple sandwich-bun for commoners, stuffed with boiled cow stomach has been eaten in Florence since the 15th century!

Greedily biting off a piece of the hot bun and hurriedly chewing the slightly stubborn, trailing meat, he could not help but notice that the line of those wishing to try this Florentine fast-food was not at all shorter than the line of those who wished to take a look inside Dante’s church. «So what is prime» Marco grinned under his nose, «mind, or matter? An eternal argument!»

At that specific moment, devouring the lampredotto, this dilemma was being decidedly resolved for Marco in favor of the materialists. The head refused to think, and the soul refused to labor, whilst there was a brass band playing in one’s stomach, conducted by a hungry draft.

Marco quickened his pace. He was rushing to a planned lecture at the University of Florence, where he had been teaching as a professor of the Fine Arts faculty for his eighth straight year, having received a doctorate in Art History at Oxford, after a brilliant defense of his thesis, directly related to Leonardo da Vinci’s work and the Renaissance epoch.

The university where Marco taught had the reputation of one of the largest and oldest universities in Italy, having been founded at the dawn of the 15th century, where 60 thousand students studied today. Professor Toscano gladly gave himself over to his work, seeing thirst for new knowledge in the eyes of students, who attended his lectures with great interest. According to the university’s curriculum, the Faculty of Fine Arts prepared bachelors and masters in the style of classic university education in the fields of art history and theory. Students took courses that allowed them to not only comprehend the creative process as part of the common history of culture and art but to also grasp the features of each kind of art. The program also included courses on the history of Italian and foreign fine arts, general theory and philosophy of art, and the histories of Italian museums and the largest museums of the world. Later, a course was introduced to develop the skills needed to assess works of art, and prepare students for expert advisory roles. The educational program also provided for the organization of creative art workshops, and special master-classes, in order to fully familiarize students with the best achievements of Italian and foreign art.

Having discovered all of the magnificence of Florence’s legacy, the students studying here, locals and foreigners alike, tried their hands at creating frescos and sculptures. They enjoyed visiting the craftsmen’s district on the south shore of the Arno river, watching the famous Florentine mosaic being made, then they were taken to Brancacci Chapel, where one could see the first examples of Renaissance paintings, with frescos of Masaccio’s, Masolino’s and Filippino Lippi’s work.

Marco could see that such a lively structure of the educational process allowed for the dry reading of lectures to be transformed into creative communication between students and various artists, sculptors, and other art workers, so as not to become locked in on the creative system, tastes and personal desires of a particular course or workshop leader.

In about a month and a half, on April 15th, Professor Marco Toscano would be turning forty, but despite being relatively young for a professor, he was rightfully considered to be one of the leading representatives of the university’s academic personnel. Being a permanent member of the Admission Board, he conducted interviews with those wishing to enroll in the faculty of Fine Arts, making an accent on the fact, that besides motivation and a genuine interest in art, the applicant must also possess a holistic view of the world and understand its consistent patterns and the forms of its reflection in art.

He was an ardent believer in the idea that motivation was the main driving force behind the behavior and actions of a person, including the developmental process of a future specialist. Like every instructor, he sometimes asked himself, «Why do some students not study and not want to study?», understanding that there may be a number of reasons: students may not always feel psychologically comfortable in a group setting, they may be disappointed in their chosen profession, or they may just be uninterested. A well-known piece of wisdom states, «You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t force it to drink.» A university student is no longer a school student, to whom you can say «you have to,» with which he will agree. Therefore, an instructor must have the ability to prove to the students that they need knowledge not for the sake of knowledge but for the sake of becoming a good specialist.

Being an experienced educator, whose mad enthusiasm never flickered in his soul, Marco understood that he needed to help each individual student to believe in their abilities. Co-operation, trust, mentorship, these are the keywords for developing such a relationship! And seeing individuality, uniqueness, and a distinctive identity in every student is the key to an educator’s success. A student needs to be opened up to the practical application of knowledge. And Marco’s stories of his personal experiences often captivated students more than movie plots. In his lectures, providing one’s opinion and participating in arguments was encouraged. He granted his students maximum freedom of choice, focusing on a student’s personality, and offered various individualized tasks, presentations and essay topics, and types of creative assignments giving students the ability to work out tasks of various difficulty levels for each other on their own.

His philosophical statements, which he tended to use quite often in his lectures, served as powerful motivators for students and awakened an interest in their chosen careers in those aiming for success in life, and of those, to Marco’s immense satisfaction, there was a vast majority. For example, he would tell his students that if they were to fall asleep now, they would, of course, have a dream about their desire. If, however, they were to chose learning over sleep, they would bring their desire to life. And he would continue by saying that when they think that it is too late to start something, it is actually still early. And that life is not just about learning, and if they can’t even make it through this comparatively short part of it, what are they capable of at all? And by talking about the contracts he had signed in order to lecture in various universities of various countries, often on more than generous terms, he was already showing through his own example that their future salary would be directly proportional to their educational level. This was perhaps the most effective persuasion for young minds!

«So,» he joked, «remember, that even now your foes and adversaries are greedily flipping through their books. And never say that you haven’t got time. You have got as much time as Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Thomas Jefferson, Pasteur, and Albert Einstein did.»

Today’s lecture was dedicated to the period in human history, which was later referred to as the Renaissance, and to the genius of that epoch, Leonardo da Vinci.

«In «Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects,» Giorgio Vasari spoke about a hundred and fifty artists. An unprecedented blossoming of talents and geniuses, much like the one that occurred in Ancient Greece. There is not a single one of them that did not have his own individuality and beauty. One could easily find around twenty schools, and about a dozen of the greatest masters, such as Giotto, Brunelleschi, Donatello, Angelico, Mantegna, Veronese, Titian, and Tintoretto. But above this colorful crowd and shining luminaries, three superhuman geniuses rise like demigods that emit supernatural light. For if others borrow their fire from their epoch, these receive theirs from unfathomable spheres and illuminate the farthest future with its rays. Their names: Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael.

They are not like each other, they are not continuations of each other, and they draw from different sources. They were rivals, and occasionally, enemies. And still, these refined loners, that gaze at each other and evaluate each other from afar, form a single and harmonious whole. For the sensible soul of the Renaissance is embodied within them. Its deepest aspirations and most secret of designs are expressed in them. All three wished for a mix of Hellenic and Christian ideals; this was their burning and daring dream. But they attempted to achieve it by different means.

If art in its supreme power becomes an esthetic and spiritual consecration, Leonardo would then be a wise man who leads us, together with two archangels of the Renaissance, who bear the awakened Beauty, Strength, and Love to the people. With each of these three guides, Hell, Heaven, and Earth change their appearance, and yet it would still be the same universe. For it is inherent for great geniuses to contemplate gods whom the crowd does not see, and show us the metamorphosis of Nature and Man under their influence.»

«No matter how many hundreds of years separate us from the lives and actions of geniuses,» Marco was saying, «our interest in their persons and creations remains unchanged. It is dictated by the desire to learn as much as possible about how their great gifts manifested themselves, what character traits contributed to the achievement of such success in science, technology, social thought, and other areas of human activity.

Being familiar with the lives and acts of geniuses once again demonstrates, there is not one single recipe for genius. Most great people attributed their discoveries and achievements to hard work and diligence. Thomas Edison, one of the more fruitful inventors of the 20th century, who has made more than a thousand discoveries, claimed that ’genius is hard work, stick-to-it, and common sense,» and that ’success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration’.»

«Is it true, that Edison didn’t attend school?» one of the more carefully-listening students interrupted.

«Okay,» Marco smiled, «since you’ve asked such a question, let us take a quick look at his biography. Especially since it, in a way, relates to the topic of today’s lecture. It is said that one day young Thomas came home from school and handed his mother a sealed envelope with a letter from his teacher. After a small pause, his mother read the letter aloud to him with tears in her eyes, «Your son is a genius. Our school is too small and does not have good enough teachers to train him. Please teach him yourself.» Many years after his mother’s death, and at this point, Edison was one of the greatest inventors of the century; he was going through old family archives and came across the letter from his teacher. He opened it up and read, «We regret to inform you that your son is mentally deficient. We cannot teach him at our school anymore, so we suggest that you teach him at home by yourself.» Edison wept for a few hours. Then he wrote in his journal, «Thomas Alva Edison was a mentally deficient child. Thanks to his heroic Mother, he became one of the greatest geniuses of the century’.»

Silence hung over the auditorium, and one could hear the clock ticking on the wall behind the professor. Marco paused and continued half a minute later,

«There was an eminent Russian physiologist named Pavlov, who claimed that «There is nothing in me of the genius that is attributed to me. Genius is the highest ability to concentrate tour attention... to constantly think of your subject, to be able to go to sleep with it, and awaken with it! Just think, think all the time, and the difficult will become simple. Anyone doing the same in my position would become a genius.» But if it were that simple, the world would be made up completely of geniuses. And there are still only a few of them born per century.

German philosopher Emmanuel Kant’s point of view was completely different. He believed that genius was a gift that could not be acquired and thus had nothing to do with one’s education, upbringing, or diligence. And truly, one can say with certainty of Archimedes and Newton, Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, Bach and Mozart, that they were born geniuses. We must understand that one distinctive feature of a genius personality at all times is the ability to see deeper and further than others, picking out the most important tidbits from a large number of facts and phenomena, thus creating a harmonious system of creation. It is not without reason that when one of Confucius’ students called him a learned man, the philosopher disagreed, «No, I simply link everything together, nothing more.» Thus, with a genius’s creative reimagining of the world’s existence, something new and unprecedented is born. Speaking of this gigantic labor, the Italian thinker Niccolo Machiavelli underlined the fact that ’there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things!»

Focused on global issues and engrossed in creativity, geniuses often live in their own special world, far from everyone else. That is why their biographies are often filled with facts, pointing to the impracticality, absentmindedness, exceptional sensitivity, and non-perception of the simplest things, inherent to them in everyday life. That is why there are so many legends surrounding every genius individual, and, starting from the 17th century, so many attempts by psychologists to draw a parallel between genius and insanity. By the way, one of the arguments most often used by them comes from a statement... of the geniuses themselves, particularly Aristotle, about the fact that ’no great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.» Modern psychology has convincingly debunked such theories. But whatever the result of the influence of geniuses, all of them have changed the world we live in one way or another.

Leonardo da Vinci was among those giants, geniuses that pave the way to the future for all of humanity. He lived during a time,» Marco continued, «when humanity knew painfully little about the world surrounding it. A few centuries separated that time period from the development of the tourist industry, and back then few could get the idea to travel out of a simple sense of curiosity. Travel was a risky business after all, and often deadly, due to lack of suitable means of transportation, and also due to the fact that it is best to dispatch a foreigner out of a sense of personal safety, and only then to try to find out who they were and what they were doing in a foreign land. Only merchants, being courageous, and businessmen by nature, braved long journeys on the hunt for the ever-looming good profit. Even on serious geographical maps of that time, one could see inscriptions, such as «Long-Eared People Live Here’ or «Monkey Land.» Some of the places on the map were completely empty up until the 19th century! America had just been discovered, but it was not at all easier to get there back then than it would be to fly to the moon in our day. But, despite all of the apparent darkness, in the middle of Europe’s dirt-filled squares and above the twisted, narrow streets, where rubbish would be dumped from the windows of houses, majestic cathedrals were already shooting up. Regarding the sciences, they were only just coming into being, and scientists were stared at like exotic marvels. Any educated person striving for knowledge did everything at once, from mathematics to alchemy, from astrology to being a specialist in crystal ball fortune-telling.

But it wasn’t the rubbish-filled streets and obscurantism of that time that remained in human memory, but the achievements: the mosaics and magnificent statues, the pictures, books, marvelous mechanisms, and mind-blowing scientific discoveries. Leonardo da Vinci was a universal man who could take on multiple tasks and excel at them so much that it astonished the minds of his contemporaries. He created the mysterious Giaconda and other paintings, no lessastounding. As an engineer, he created war machines, worked on hydraulic engineering, developed flying apparatuses, and was the first in the world to develop the ideas of the parachute and the helicopter.»

«Perhaps he was an alien from another world?» A student from one of the desks in the back interrupted.

«Most probably, Leonardo da Vinci became stuck between centuries due to a malfunctioning time machine.» A nice-looking female student on Marco’s left said quite seriously.

«No,» Marco shook his head, «all of these multiple versions were created by those incapable of comprehending, what the human mind is capable of, when it belongs to a great man possessed by creativity and an idea, and what an insane work ethic and energy such people can become aflame with, to achieve their seemingly unachievable goal!» Marco’s eyes were brimming with fire «half-a-century ago, people at least partially comparable to Leonardo’s level, had the boldness to earnestly learn the secrets of our immense world! They felt a strength within themselves, and this gave them the courage to resolutely take up any task, from the construction of cathedrals to the painting of grand paintings to the creation of the catapult, the tank, and diving suits. We must bow our heads before their discoveries and successes.» Marco finished his lecture, reinforcing his conviction with Ciceronian eloquence.

Closer to the evening, having come home and placed a freshly-bought pizza into his microwave oven to be heated, Marco changed out of his university suit into a sweater and jeans, carefully placing his suit into the built-in closet. Thoroughly washing and drying his hands, he walked to the kitchen. The microwave oven had beeped two minutes prior, announcing his dinner’s preparedness, and Marco poured himself a glass of dry red Chianti wine, making a small sip.

«Ah, the divine Chianti!» Marco relished alone, «After all, some time ago it was a simple, cheap wine in a straw basket, and now it has become a drink simply phenomenal in its popularity, having created a revolution in wine production in all of Italy. It is specifically thanks to this Sangiovese grape wine, the Tuscan religion, and pride, that interest appeared around the world in other Italian wines.»

«Let it be known to all that Tuscany produces the highest quality wines!» He said this with the pathos of a true patriot and, as it seemed to him, aloud.

As usual, in the evening, he turned on the TV that could seemingly only show the round-the-clock news channel of the Italian national broadcasting corporation, Rai News 24. Every thirty minutes, an overview of the latest news would take place on the channel, followed by hodgepodge that was far from always needed and not helpful to many, like an overview of traffic, weather, analytics, special coverage, and thematic sections.

Right now, for example, it was being reported that Florence had amassed many internal issues, and a number of them, particularly the streams of migrants surging into Europe in search of dolce vita, were creating a headache for the government, being difficult to deal with. It was said in the report that today, a number of clashes occurred between a group of Somali refugees and police forces near the prefecture building. About fifty migrants were demanding that local authorities resolve their housing issue after a former factory building in which they settled burned down last Thursday, resulting in one person’s death. A few protestors attempted to enter the prefecture building, but their way was blocked by the police.

The second half of the same report spoke about the fact that another, more entrepreneurial group of migrants from the same surging wave of refugees in the region began creating their own small businesses, trying to somehow improve their lives in a foreign country. These were mostly shwarma and kebab spots. Unfortunately, the food that they produced was far from hygienic norms, which led to repeated cases of food poisoning among locals, as a rule, young people and students, as well as gaping tourists. The government’s reaction was not long in coming: the city enforced strict sanitary control measures, shutting down one outlet after another. The authorities also forbade the owners of cafes and restaurants in downtown Florence and in historical districts from having less than 70% of local dishes on their menus. Local authorities reasonably believe that such actions are inexcusable in a city that is a World Heritage Site. In their opinion, Florence must maintain its traditions and its cuisine.

The TV worked on, continuing its zombifying activity, but for Marco, it worked mostly to create background noise for other activities. He had learned long ago to grasp only the information he needed, not letting anything extra, that clogged the brain and took up valuable time, anywhere near his sensory organs.

The pizza he was about to have for supper was called either «Four Cheeses» or «Four Seasons.» Marco hadn’t learned to figure out the multiple pizza varieties. Although did it matter when it looked so appetizing? Its filling successfully combined four cheeses: Ricotta, Mozzarella, Gorgonzola, and Parmesan, and it was divided into four sections, each representing a time of year. Spring: artichokes and olives. Summer: colored peppers. Autumn: Mozzarella cheese and ripe tomatoes. And Winter: boiled eggs and mushrooms.

The pizza was fresh and juicy and melted in his mouth unnoticeably. Surprised at how quickly he got done with it, Marco, as usual, began working on abstracts for tomorrow’s lectures, of which he had a few scheduled.

«I’d better go to sleep earlier today,» he told himself.

Finishing up with the paperwork, he ran his eyes through the morning press and finally recalled the letters that the postman handed him today. The first one was from David, an old friend and classmate, who was inviting him to his wedding in Rome. «Et tu, Brutus,» Marco chuckled, knowing that Dave would have called him «the last of the Mohicans» since, as far as Marco knew, he was the only one of their entire class who still had not created a family.

He carefully placed the letter back into the envelope and picked up the second one. This one caused a genuine interest in him. An invitation to a conference in London! And on a topic that took up not just a solid part, but the chief part of his scientific activity and awakened within him an insatiable personal interest in inarguably one of the most mysterious individuals in humanity’s history!

So, what are they writing? Marco quickly ran his eyes top-down over the piece of paper. After he was done, he began re-reading it straight away, as though studying for a test.

To: Dr. Marco Toscano,

Professor of Fine Arts at the University of Florence

Dear Mr. Toscano.

The International Fund for Historical Research cordially invites you to take part in an International Scientific Conference on the topic of

«Leonardo da Vinci and His Legacy»

The Fund’s management would be extremely grateful if you were to make a presentation in accordance with the topic of the Conference.

The conference is being held at Victoria and Albert Museum, Cromwell Rd, Knightsbridge, London, SW7 2RL, United Kingdom.

Conference Date: May 2nd, 2019.

Start: 10 a.m.

Official Language: English

Materials are being accepted up to and no later than April 15th, 2019.

Print compilations sent to authors before April 28th, 2019

All of the conference’s materials are placed in electronic form on the fund’s website.

The compilation’s electronic version to be put up by April 22nd, 2019.

Conference Materials will be sent out to:

*The British Library

*Cambridge University Library

*Bodleian Library, Oxford

*The National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh

*The National Library of Wales

* Trinity College Library, Dublin

Conference participants are provided three free meals per day. Coffee, tea, and cold drinks are offered during breaks.

Nonresident participants will be provided free accommodation at the Hilton London Metropole Hotel and a transfer from the hotel to the Conference’s location and back.

We ask that you confirm your participation in the Conference.

With Respect,

Dr. Patrick Horn, Director

The International Fund for Historical Research

Having read the letter, Marco felt great excitement. Such a feeling grasped him every time he heard the Great Master’s name. But this time, it was somehow especially strong. He heard his own heart pounding, felt blood rush to his face, and dryness in his mouth.

«I need to calm down and go to sleep as soon as possible.» Marco rushed himself, seeking salvation from the bothersome discomfort. Making it to the bed, he lay down, covering himself with a light blanket. But his mind was overstimulated, and instead of a restful sleep, he received not only a bothersome continuation but a rapid development of yesterday’s worries. He dreamt about... death. Leonardo da Vinci’s death.

CHAPTER 2

In the early morning of May 2nd, 1519, in Cloux Castle on the Loire, about a half-hour walk from the city of Amboise in France, so far from his homeland of Italy, surrounded by his masterpieces, the king’s painter, the Florentine, Leonardo da Vinci was living out his final hours. For four years, the Great Master had been living under the patronage of French monarch Francis I, having had time to finish working on a number of his old inventions and develop new ones, including the project for an ideal palace, in an ideal two-level city called Little Rome.

The royal court granted the greatest attention to the great Italian. The King of France appreciated Leonardo’s multifaceted nature and asked the artist only for the mere opportunity to speak with him and enjoy his company. The king and his entire court imitated him in all things and even began using Italian words and expressions in their conversations in order to be liked by the Great Master. It was in France that the Master forgot what need was, receiving the status of the king’s first artist, architect, and engineer. Francis I paid him an annual salary of 700 ecu, maintained his staff, paid for his living expenses, and purchased the artist’s work.

But in his third year of his life in France, sixty-seven-year-old Leonardo fell ill. Now he could barely move without someone’s help. On April 23rd, 1519, a Saturday, when the Maestro could hardly rise from his bed, a notary was invited. The Master announced his last will to him, in which he wrote,

«In gratitude for his service and disposition, the testator bestows upon Francesco Melzi all of the books in the testator’s possession and other materials, and paintings, relating to his art and activities as an artist, as well as his scientific instruments, machines, manuscripts and the remains of his salary that he was due to receive from the royal treasury. Upon his servant, Battista de Vilanis, all domestic items in Cloux Castle, and upon Salai, the testator’s former apprentice, a vineyard outside the walls of Milan.»

In his will, he also did not deprive his brothers on his father’s side, who had caused him many worries due to the long litigation over their father Piero da Vinci’s will,

«As a token of complete reconciliation, the testator commands and wants for the sum of 400 florins to be given to his blood brothers, along with any profit and income that may have been added to the aforementioned 400 florins during the period of storage.» To his old servant, Maturina, the cook, he left «a dress of fine black cloth, a fur-lined headdress, also made of cloth, and two ducats of money, for many years of loyal service.» Regarding his funeral rites, Leonardo asked his notary to bury him in the clock tower of the church in Amboise, having appointed Francesco Melzi as the executor of his will.

Death had been an unseen guest in the room for a long time, thirsting for the inevitable outcome, not taking her intent gaze off the dying man that now lies defenseless before the face of eternity, and whose left hand holds up his head, covered with long gray locks, beautifully encasing his noble face. In the morning, when the gloomy sun rose and the horizon lit up with a blood-red glow, the agony began. There was a dead silence, save for the sad chirping of birds outside the window. It seemed nature itself was mourning the genius’ passing. Francesco Melzi, Leonardo’s most loyal student, sat by his bed, holding the Great Master’s paralyzed right hand in his hands. His eyes were filled with tears, but the feeling of the acceptance of hopelessness sobered him and gave him the strength to accept the Genius’s Death in all its sorrowful majesty.

Not far off, two monks were sitting, a Franciscan and a Dominican. They were invited to perform their traditional duties, which consisted of inextricably standing by the dying man’s bed, with the purpose of easing his soul’s journey from this world onto the next. Tiring of idleness and yawning, they started up their eternal argument,

«My brother, do you not find an analogy here with the death of our Order’s founder, Francis of Assisi?» the Franciscan asked, bending down to the Dominican’s greasy ear, «I recall from Scripture that the Reverend had been inveterate by song larks long before his church funeral. And here now, the birds are singing, anticipating the master’s soon-to-come demise.»

«My brother,» the Dominican hissed, furrowing his eyebrows and bending down to his companion, «I wish to remind you that Leonardo’s strange behavior and liberal views come into conflict with the Revelation and the explanations of the church fathers. He writes with his left hand, turning letters upside-down and right-to-left, like the Jews, which hides his heresy in the best way. Besides, his exorbitant pride leads his wavering soul down roundabout paths, where it stumbles and wanders strangely, while the path is clearly shown.»

«Well, brother,» the Franciscan responded, «you are right as always. It is not without reason that your monks call themselves the Hounds of God and have as their emblem a running hound with a torch in its teeth to aid it in recognizing deviation from the true faith, even in the dark. But I would remind you that the one dying today is not a simple man, but a Genius, recognized by all!»

«We are all equal before the Lord. But I wish to note one thing: to be born a genius is simple. To die a genius is much more difficult.»

Thus, they continued their endless debate. One was more favorable of the dying man, and the other zealously called for apostasy to be judged and condemned. At this time, the spastic agony ceased for a moment. Leonardo took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He rose and tried to sit on the bed, overcoming his helplessness with difficulty.

«Francesco, my friend,» he uttered, «I want you to know that I feel calm with you! Everything comes to an end, and the time is not long until my soul shall leave my body and, remaining on earth, invisible to others, begin visiting the places where my earthly life had passed. I recognize that I will lose my body, and it will exist no more. My soul will begin its ordeals and wanderings. I must provide myself, first of all, myself, with an account of all that has occurred in my life, even of those things that I did not consider important or took no notice of. The life I have lived is appearing before me, and the smallest of its details are magnified: unfulfilled obligations, grudges, unfinished business. There is a lot that I had not had the time to do. All of the things I have done and forgotten or have tried to forget, all of the things I could have done but had not, all of these are right before my eyes in their ugliest details. There is no more voice, no more tears, no more hands to cover my face with, no more legs to fall onto my knees. All that is left of me is a ball of pain and shame. And this condition will last forever, for the concept of time no longer exists for me. We are responsible for all of the actions in our lives! You will go on alone, Francesco. And I will remain and await you. Remember that the fates of rivers and people are decided only at their sources. And now, standing at the edge of an abyss, I am ready to take the next step. I am looking forward to my upcoming journey. A mysterious and previously undiscovered world awaits me. I was but a guest in this one, and I take as a gift that which is revealed to my eyes. Life is a mystery. Death is a mystery. Beauty is a mystery. And Love is a mystery. I was a part of this world through mystery, and I now leave it easily, with no fear because I was loved. And I had loved. Value every moment of your life, Francesco, and believe in that, which makes us immortal. That is love that drives us and determines our fate. I lived for love, sung, wrote music and texts for love, and now I die for love.»

Feeling Death’s approach, he asked Francesco Melzi to call a priest. Everyone left when the clergyman entered the room with the Blessed Sacraments. Soon, having exited the dying man’s room, he announced to all those present that Leonardo had performed the rites of the church with humility and devotion to God’s will, having confessed and sincerely asked for the forgiveness of God and Man, for «not doing all that he could and should have done for art.»

Upon hearing the last phrase, the Dominican nodded his head with a satisfied smile on his glossy face. It was secret to none that during his life, Leonardo was not distinguished by his piety and adhered to a lifestyle that was far from monastic. However, he, this strict warden of church canons, paid special attention to the fact that in his confession, Leonardo did not repent his sins, but again, as always, spoke only of art.

«Whatever the people say of him, my son,» the priest proclaimed, as though addressing Francesco, but looking at the Dominican monk, «he will be justified by the Word of God, «Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God’.»

Having taken the sacrament and taking his friend Francesco’s hand, Leonardo whispered his last words with difficulty, «As a well-spent day leads to a good sleep, so too does a fruitfully-lived life lead to satisfaction. I feel like water in a river. The stream

Reviews for Geniuses Are People Too

[Aelita Khotivari · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Awesome! A wonderful book about a great artist. I am delighted! Thanks to the author!