"Little Devil" and "Master Francesco": Leonardo da Vinci Reveals the Private

If you still think of Leonardo da Vinci solely as a botanist, engineer, and master of half-finished works, we regret to disappoint you: Leonardo had far spicier interests. The new opera project by composer Alex Mills and librettist Brian Mullin promises not just to raise its voice against the backdrop of the Mona Lisa, but finally to put the spotlight on the personal life of the Renaissance genius.

The opera, succinctly titled "Leonardo," won’t be about how to build a flying bicycle, but about the maestro’s enigmatic relationships with two young assistants: the rascal Gian Giacomo Caprotti, nicknamed Salaì (or, as we might say, "Little Devil"), and the noble Francesco Melzi, whom Leonardo, unlike the first, never called a "devil"—nor scolded for an empty refrigerator.

Salaì was Leonardo’s favorite, even though he regularly pilfered all sorts of things (from candies to masterpieces). Melzi, on the other hand, was the epitome of aristocratic composure and the pride of his parents. One was a joker and a trickster, the other a respectable young man to whom Leonardo bequeathed his notes, not just half a vineyard. Salaì, by the way, left the scene with a far more dubious collection of paintings and an epic finale—death in a crossbow duel. Apparently, crossbow battles were all the rage back then.

The opera is based on historical sources, and the libretto is generously seasoned with quotes from Leonardo’s mirror-written notes. The creators didn’t shy away from centuries-old speculations about the artist’s private life: from Florentine "games for the chosen" to Freudian conjectures. Even the German saying "Florentzer" once meant much more than just a resident of the city on the Arno.

Why all this? To show Leonardo not as a walking encyclopedia, but as a person who loves, makes mistakes, falls in love with art and... sometimes with his own assistants. As one expert aptly notes, only opera can say what an exhibition cannot paint.

So if you’re tired of paintings and diagrams, welcome to the opera, where Leonardo finally sings not only about flying machines, but about love—even if in a minor key.