Sublime

Leonardo was a genius, one of the few people in history who indisputably deserved—or, to be more precise, earned—that appellation. Yet it is also true that he was a mere mortal.

In order to make money, Leonardo at times helped his apprentices produce pieces as if on an assembly line, as had been the practice in Verrocchio’s studio.

Borgia’s passport described Leonardo as he had fancied himself ever since his letter to the Duke of Milan twenty years earlier: as a military engineer and innovator rather than a painter. He had been warmly embraced, in fulsome and familial terms, by the most vibrant warrior of the age. For the moment, the man who had been described as no longer ab

As the offspring of a long line of notaries, Leonardo da Vinci had an instinct for keeping records. Jotting down observations, lists, ideas, and sketches came naturally.

Leonardo became known in Milan not only for his talents but also for his good looks, muscular build, and gentle personal style. “He was a man of outstanding beauty and infinite grace,” Vasari said of him. “He was striking and handsome, and his great presence brought comfort to the most troubled soul.”

“Save me from strife and battle, a most beastly madness,” Leonardo once wrote. Yet for eight months he had put himself at Borgia’s service and traveled with his armies. Why would a person whose notebook aphorisms decry killing and whose personal morality led him to be a vegetarian go to work for the most brutal murderer of the era? Partly this choi

Ludovico Sforza, Leonardo’s patron in Milan, had a reputation for ruthlessness that included, among other alleged acts, poisoning his nephew in order to seize the ducal crown. But Ludovico was a choir boy compared to Leonardo’s next patron, Cesare Borgia. Name any odious activity and Borgia was the master of it: murder, treachery, incest, debaucher