If not for Count Federico da Montefeltro — the powerful and learned Duke of Urbino and the model Renaissance humanist — the Italian Renaissance would have been shaped very differently. Montefeltro (1422–1482), later dubbed “the light of Italy,” was a soldier of fortune whose military might and expertise were available to the highest bidder. And his clients reflected his value: The popes made him captain general of the church.

Yet, Montefeltro spent his money wisely: He respected the power of scholarship and the arts as much as he did that of the sword; and his martial brilliance was exceeded by that of his cultural pursuits. He commissioned Piero Della Francesca to paint his bust-length portrait. The painting is unforgettable for the subject’s hooked-nose face in absolute profile. (Montefeltro lost his right eye and the bridge of his nose in a mock joust.) It is not only a 15th-century masterpiece depicting the noble soldier prince at ease with, and ruling over, the landscape. It is an icon that has come to stand for the ideal patron, as well as for Renaissance man’s acknowledgement of his newfound place at the center of the world.

Extremely well educated and well read, Montefeltro amassed one of the greatest private libraries in Europe during the Renaissance. Containing almost 1,000 manuscripts, it rivaled those of universities, and it is one of only two complete libraries from the 15th century to survive. Montefeltro’s library and private study (or studiolo) is the subject of an intriguing and scholarly exhibit at the Morgan Library & Museum. The show, guest-curated by Marcello Simonetta in collaboration with William Voelkle, is as illuminating about its beautiful objects as it is about the man behind them.

Montefeltro befriended popes, artists, kings, philosophers, and scholars, including Giovanni Santi (Raphael’s father), Leon Battista Alberti, Piero, and the Laurana brothers. He almost single handedly transformed Urbino from a small village to the position — shared with Rome — of cultural capital of Central Italy. Men came from all over Europe to Montefeltro’s palace to study culture, as well as the art of war and the rules of etiquette. We owe to his visionary taste and patronage some of the Renaissance’s crowning achievements, including the Ducal Palace in Urbino. That building housed the library and studiolo, where Piero’s portraits of Montefeltro and of his wife, Battista Sforza hung.

The show (which does not include any of Piero’s portraits) is made up of an imposing brass lectern with a large eagle perched at its top, a letter, a portrait painting, and a dozen manuscripts. Some of the manuscripts — such as Poggio Bracciolini’s “Historia Florentina” (c. 1472), which the curators opened to a dazzling portrait of Montefeltro on horseback — are masterpieces. The show is installed in Renzo Piano’s 20-foot square “cube,” a design that, fittingly, was inspired by Renaissance chambers. The cube usually contains the Morgan’s medieval treasury, which has been temporarily dispersed throughout the museum; and the gallery has been totally transformed by the show. Covering much of the walls are digital, scale reproductions of the studiolo’s 28 portrait paintings, as well as its intricately inlaid, illusionistic trompe-l’oeil wood paneling. The reproductions of the portrait paintings — including images of Dante and Homer, Solomon and Moses, Plato and Aristotle — are presented together with Florentine paneling, which depicts crowded bookshelves with open doors. The scene reconstructs the original studiolo, where Montefeltro did his reading. However, the digital reproductions tend to compete with the art and give the gallery a bit of a trade show atmosphere (nothing can replace original artworks), but they also convey a surprising sense of the whole. Still, it is a bit of a devil’s bargain.

The exhibit, though small, is well chosen and dense. Filled with symbols and clues, it is a little bit like unraveling a mystery. But the combined meanings behind the objects, some of which are more visually rewarding than others, are worth the work. To get the full significance of the installation, and of the program of the studiolo, which is a shrine to culture, divinity, and knowledge, it helps to spend some time digesting the placement and importance of, as well as the relationship between, the images and objects.

The show offers the public a look at the curator’s original scholarship. Mr. Simonetta recently discovered — through the decoding of a letter in the exhibit — that Montefeltro was involved, along with Pope Sixtus IV, in the plot to assassinate the Medici brothers, commonly known as the Pazzi Conspiracy. Mr. Simonetta has also uncovered, despite the prevailing mythology suggesting otherwise, that Montefeltro was not against collecting the printed books of the Incunabula. And he has unlocked the probable identity of a book depicted in a double portrait of Montefeltro and his son Guidobaldo. The portrait, attributed to Justus of Ghent or Pedro Berruguete, anchors the exhibit. The book, “Saint Gregory the Great, Commentary on the Book of Job” (c. 1474–5), has been included in the show. It is a key to unlocking the iconography and metaphors of the painting. It also gives us clues as to how Montefeltro thought of himself. Or at least to how the artist thought of him.

In the painting, Montefeltro is seated, reading the book. His shining armor helmet, sitting on the floor, is the bridge between the worlds outside and inside the picture. Reflected on its steel neck are the columns of the Ducal Palazzo. Montefeltro’s son stands next to him, and the father’s armor-covered foot becomes interchangeable with the foot of his son. High above Guidobaldo sits the pontiff’s hat, which bridges the world above the picture to that inside of it. It implies that the boy will grow into his father’s many-sided suits. It is also constructed to imply that Montefeltro — warrior and scholar, leader among men and connected to the divine — is a god among mortals. I am inclined to think maybe he was.

Until September 30 (225 Madison Ave., between 36th and 37th streets, 212-685-0008).