Prefaces on experience, the muscles, and the eye
Draft proemi: experience as true mistress, a defense of the 'unlettered man,' and the office of the eye
A celebrated text page of drafts for the prefaces (proemi) to Leonardo's projected treatise, written in two columns without diagrams. He defends himself as a self-taught 'man without letters' whose knowledge springs from experience, 'the true mistress,' and likens himself to a poor man gleaning what others discarded at the fair. Interleaved scientific sections treat the muscles as officials that pull the nerves, the growth and proportions of the human body, the variety of faces, and the eye as the fearfully guarded 'window of the soul,' opening into a preface on the office of the eye. The whole is written in dense mirror script.
On this page
The muscles as officials that pull the nerves
Leonardo likens the muscles to officials appointed by a lord: they pull the nerves and move the limbs at the command of the 'common sense,' as officials in distant provinces obey their lord's will. Once an official — or a finger on an instrument — has learned a command, it repeats it of itself; so too the muscles that move the legs act without the man attending to them.
The eye guarded above all the senses
Because the eye is the 'window of the soul,' the soul fears above all to lose it: when something suddenly threatens, the hands rush not to the heart or head but to shield the eye, the lids clenching and the face turning away, one hand thrown up as a vanguard. Nature also has the sleeping eye close of itself so it takes no harm unwatched.
Preface on perspective — the office of the eye
A 'preface on perspective, that is on the office of the eye' rebukes the ancients for defining soul and life — unprovable things — while the eye, which plainly demonstrates its own office, was for centuries misdescribed. Leonardo says countless authors defined the eye one way, but he finds by experience it works another.
A defense of the 'man without letters'
Answering those who would blame him as a 'man without letters,' Leonardo calls them foolish and, echoing Marius against the Roman patricians, retorts that those who deck themselves in others' labors deny him his own. His matters, he insists, are drawn from experience — the mistress of all who wrote well — which he takes as his own mistress and will cite in every case.
The poor man arriving last at the fair
Unable to claim a subject of great utility, since earlier men took all the useful themes, Leonardo compares himself to a poor man who reaches the fair last and can only gather what others have seen and rejected as worthless. This despised merchandise he loads on his weak burden and carries not to the great cities but to poor villages.
Experience the true mistress
Leonardo anticipates that men of reverenced authority will reproach his proofs, but answers that his findings are born 'under simple and pure experience, which is the true mistress.' His rules, he says, teach the reader to tell the true from the false and to promise himself only what is possible.
