Among the thousands of people who watched Cesare's entry into Pesaro the afternoon of October 27 was Pandolfo Collenuccio, scholar, poet and diplomat of considerable experience. He had once been a counselor of Giovanni Sforza, who, indeed, had owed much of his success to Collenuccio's skill. But with the usual caprice of the petty tyrant, Sforza had first estranged his counselor, then imprisoned him, and finally Collenuccio had abandoned him and escaped to refuge in Ferrara. He was present now in Pesaro at the urgent request of his new master, the duke of Ferrara, who was anxious to know the qualities and motives of the new lord of Pesaro. A long-standing friendship existed between the house of Este and the Borgia, but that did not reduce the duke's anxiety at having Cesare Borgia as a close neighbor.
Two days after Cesare's entry, Collenuccio wrote to Ferrara a long report which, on the whole, bore encouraging news—but the report did more than convey political information. By now Cesare's legend was achieving its epic proportions, each victim in the trail of broken enemies in his wake contributing to the legend as apologia and revenge. Collenuccio, aware that false information was more dangerous than none, was concerned to correct the legend of the invincible monster and, as a competent diplomat, give his master as accurate an assessment as possible upon which rational policy could be built. His portrait of Cesare therefore became a piece of documentary evidence of considerable value.
Collenuccio began by confirming that the citizens of Pesaro had, indeed, freely conferred their city upon Cesare. Not only that, but the small city of Fano had also expressed its desire to be included in the growing state. Astonishingly, "he refused, but the citizens insisted and the place [Fano] is his when he wants it." Collenuccio had had bitter experience of the terror and destruction caused even by Italian soldiers in a defeated city, and there had also been disturbing reports of the wanton destruction created by Cesare's Spanish contingent during their march north. In Pesaro, however, the mixed national troops under Cesare's command were behaving in an exemplary manner. More than two thousand men were quartered in Pesaro, Collenuccio informed his master, "but had done no appreciable damage."
Immediately on Cesare's arrival Collenuccio requested an audience. At 8:oo P.M. Ramiro de Lorqua, Cesare's chief of staff, called on him. De Lorqua had a singularly evil reputation but on this evening he bore himself with the politeness of a courtier, asking if Collenuccio was comfortable, saying that he had only to ask for his desires to be granted.
The following morning a courier arrived bearing gifts and an apology. The gifts were lavish, reflecting that carefully planned generosity which was swelling Cesare's expenses to eighteen hundred ducats daily. There was a sack of barley, a cask of wine, a sheep, sixteen capons and hens, two large torches, two bundles of wax candles and two boxes of sweetmeats—enough for Collenuccio to stage his own banquet if he wished. The courier apologized on behalf of his master because the hour of the audience had not yet been fixed. The duke was in one of his periods of retirement, caused by the ravages of the "French disease."
Cesare had installed himself in the same palace where Lucrezia had been brought as a bride nearly six years before, and there Collenuccio was finally summoned. Immediately after the interview he wrote his report, giving an almost word-by-word account while it was still fresh in his mind. The veteran diplomat was deeply impressed by the young man's skill in verbal fencing. Nevertheless, he was convinced that Cesare's protestations of friendship for Fer- rara were totally sincere. He saw nothing of the blood- maddened demon of popular mythology; instead, the picture Collenuccio presented his master showed a cool-headed politician, no more anxious to begin an unnecessary war than any other sensible general in a newly established base.
By the end of October, less than four weeks after Cesare had marched out of Rome, the entire coastal stretch of the Romagna was in his hands. The beautiful little city of Cesena had made overtures to him even before his campaign had begun and now welcomed him. Its central position in the province, its castle set high on a craggy spur of the Apennines made it an ideal acquisition for Cesare, and thereafter he used it as his base of operations and planned eventually to make it capital of the province. In Rimini the degenerate descendant of the great Malatesta thought it prudent to sell out rather than test the loyalty of his subjects, and a Borgia garrison marched in to take over. Cesare then turned to the city of Faenza.
During his conversation with Collenuccio he had suddenly remarked, "I don't know what Faenza wants to do. She can give us no more trouble than did the others. Still, she may delay matters." Collenuccio had discreetly replied that greater resistance conferred greater honor on the victor—for he knew, as well as Cesare, that the capture of Faenza would entail rather more than a brave show of arms. The city was virtually a republic. True, there was a lord, young Astorre Manfredi, who was genuinely popular with his subjects. But he was only sixteen and, with common sense unusual in a young despot, he allowed himself to be guided by the council that had run the city since his accession at the age of eleven. Faenza, though outwardly a despotism with the advantages arising fronra despot's dynastic connections, also enjoyed a considerable range of self-government which its citizens would be most reluctant to lose.
Cesare's army arrived at the walls of Faenza on November 10. It speaks much for Cesare's confidence in his military ability that twice he started a major campaign at the beginning of winter. But this second time he was less fortunate. The winter of 1500 was far worse even than that of 1499, when his army had had the protection of the city of Forli while it besieged Caterina's castle. Torrential rain succeeded gales; snow came early and by December the land was in the grip of hard frost. And stubbornly Faenza continued to resist. A well-supplied, well-built walled city with a garrison in good spirits could still wear down even a besieging force supplied with artillery.
Cesare was forced to strike camp before the end of
November. With supplies dwindling and his troops exposed to the savage weather, there was little else he could do. He retired with most of his army down the road to Cesena, but his firm control over much of the Romagna enabled him to mount a rigorous blockade of Faenza. The roads leading to the city were policed, cutting off all supplies. Detachments of rested men took turns in maintaining pressure on the city itself, so that throughout the winter the Faenzans were under continual apprehension that a major attack was imminent.
In March the main body of the army again took up the actual siege. Faenza had now been cut off from the outside world for five months. Supplies were running low, the people were wearied and must have known that there could be only one outcome; but, incredibly, they rallied. The story of the city's last days became a minor epic, the details reiterated in wonderment by writers long accustomed to accepting civic treachery as the norm. Rich Faenzans supplied the poor from their own private stocks of food and lent money free of interest to Astorre to pay the troops. Priests consented to the despoiling of the altars, equably watching the sacred vessels being melted down to provide bullion for the financing of the war against the son of their spiritual overlord. The women themselves actively took part in the defense. Cesare was impressed, declaring that with such troops behind him he could conquer all Italy. He reinforced his admiration by hanging one Bernardo Grammante, a dyer of Faenza who escaped and sought to betray it by pointing out a weak section of the walls. Grammante was executed by Cesare for treachery—but the siege guns were immediately moved up to batter the spot indicated.
They made a breach at last and, after ferocious hand- to-hand fighting, the council informed their lord that further resistance was useless. Astorre agreed, envoys were sent to Cesare, and the fighting ceased. As was his habitual policy in the Romagna, Cesare gave Faenza good terms. "Indulgence for the small people, rigorous control of the great"—this principle was followed in Faenza as elsewhere.
Astorre Manfredi and his illegitimate brother were handed over to Cesare. They cherished, perhaps, optimistic views regarding their future. Cesare treated the Manfredis with
the respect due their rank, carried them around with him for a while and then sent them to Rome. They were placed in Castel Sam' Angelo at about the time Caterina Sforza was leaving it. The next that the world knew about the brothers is recorded in Burchard's diary: their bodies had been found floating in the Tiber. Thirty years later Guicciardini used the incident to contribute another odious detail to the Borgia legend. The boys were murdered, he said, "but only after they had sated the lust of a certain person'—the "certain person" presumably being the sexagenarian Alexander.
"In order to preserve a newly acquired state, particular attention should be given to two objectives. In the first place, care should be taken to extinguish the family of the ancient sovereigns; in the second, laws should not be changed nor taxes increased."56 In Machiavelli's opinion Cesare, in the person of the Prince, acted prudently in having the young Manfredi executed. Further on in that slight, enigmatic treatise, Machiavelli hammered the point home. Discussing whether fortresses are really of service to a prince, he used the case of Caterina Sforza to prove that they were of little value. Fortresses always fell if the attack was determined enough. "When she was attacked by
Cesare Borgia she must doubtless then—though perhaps too late—have become convinced that the best fortress for a prince is found in the people's affection."57 Caterina was ultimately freed on pressure from the French, because the Borgia had nothing more to fear from her. Caterina's craven sons had signed their inheritance away in exchange for gold or contemptuously bestowed ecclesiastical offices. The Forlivese had not the slightest intention of rebelling on behalf of their deposed mistress, and Caterina could therefore be allowed to end her days in a convent. Similarly, Cesare had nothing to fear from the majority of the dispossessed rulers, and they were allowed to live in exile with what loot they had managed to take with them. Astorre Manfredi, however, was genuinely loved by his people, and they undoubtedly would have risen had there been any hope of effecting his restoration. The better the prince, the more certain his execution if he fell into Borgia hands.
Cesare's moves after the fall of Faenza were swift and widespread. First he marched on Bologna but was forced to swing away due to an unequivocal warning that the city was under the protection of France. He deliberately turned south, almost provocatively entering the hitherto sacrosanct territory of Florence. The Florentine Signoria were faced with three choices: fight, appeal to Louis, or buy Cesare off. They appealed to Louis; meanwhile Cesare's army marched to within six miles of the walls of Florence. A hostile army so close had not been seen in Florence for over a generation, and the Florentines hastily compromised with Cesare. Officially, he was to enter their pay as a condottiere at a salary of thirty-six thousand ducats a year. Both sides knew it was only a paper transaction, that the arms of Cesare Borgia would be wielded only for Cesare Borgia; but only one side knew that no payment would, in fact, ever be made.
Cesare continued his march through Tuscany, crossing the peninsula at high speed, there to lay siege to the city of Piombino. This marked a dramatic change in his policy, which until now had been concentrated on the eastern coast. Piombino's capture would give him a base from which to launch an attack into the Florentine heartlands, so that eventually a ring could be drawn around the republic. So the Signoria observed with something near despair. But Cesare was still aware of the protecting power of France and moved cautiously. And while Piombino was holding out, Alexander recalled Cesare to Rome, for great events were on the move.
Throughout, King Louis of France had looked upon Naples as his ultimate goal. The capture of Milan, the unleashing of the Borgia—these were only means to that end. But now his courage failed. Over the past centuries army after army had been swallowed in the quicksands of Neapolitan politics, and those which survived fell victim to the treacherous diseases of the south. Louis, doubtful of his ability to succeed where so many others had failed, thought of a compromise: the sharing of both the rewards and the dangers with King Ferdinand of Spain. Louis's idea, in Machiavelli's expert opinion, was the biggest single mistake of his career, and one from which all the long misery of Italy flowed. "If the king of France was powerful enough to invade the Kingdom of Naples, he ought to have done it— but if he was not able he should not have divided the task."58
Louis quite lacked Machiavelli's perception. The Aragonese dynasty which ruled Naples was closely related to the royal house of Spain. Ferdinand of Spain, however, consented to betray his relative, Federigo of Naples; smoothly he agreed that the spoils were to. be equally divided between himself and Louis, with Pope Alexander allowed to pick up the scraps on behalf of Cesare. The last was because one formality was needed which only Alexander could sanction: a papal bull to dispossess the Christian king of Naples so that his territory could be divided between the Christian kings of France and Spain. Alexander agreed to provide the bull, but there was some difficulty in supplying a pretext for it. Federigo was a very good king, the best that Naples had had for a long and dismal period, and his personal morals were irreproachable. But he was foolish enough to be on good terms with the Turks —a reasonable policy, considering the trade needs of his kingdom and, too, that other Christian kings made such treaties as need required. But the policy proved fatal to Federigo now. Alexander declared him deposed, on grounds that he was a traitor to Christendom; explicitly blessed the coming rape of Naples as a Crusade; and prepared to place the crown of Naples on Louis's head when required.
In a little over six years' time, Alexander had reversed his policy to benefit his son. In 1494 he had stubbornly resisted French pressure to place that same crown on the head of Louis's predecessor, Charles VIII. No one knew what Alexander's private feelings and fears were at having been forced to this point of no return. Yet there were pickings to be had even in this situation. For Cesare's career it was vital that Louis be kept happy; but additionally, in the south of Italy were the rich holdings of the Colonna and Savelli families, lands which could be used to endow Lucrezia's illegitimate son and Alexander's own child by Giulia Farnese. As a bonus, unimportant but not less sweet, was the avenging of that three-year-old insult flung at the Borgia when Federigo's daughter, Carlotta, had contemptuously rejected Cesare.
Cesare arrived in Rome on June 13, 1501, having left a large detachment of his troops still besieging Piombino. The list of his titles was now impressive, for after the fall of Faenza, Alexander had granted him the style of duke of Romagna in reasonable anticipation of later conquests, and he could call himself "Cesare Borgia of France, Duke of Valentinois, Duke of Romagna, Captain General, Gonfalonier of the Roman Church"—supreme head of the armed Church, entitled to bear among his many banners the big white gonfalon with the golden keys. The French army arrived six days later and camped outside Rome. Burchard made his customary meticulous notes, recording without comment the fact that citizens who had already paid to avoid having soldiers billeted on them were nevertheless forced to take them. He also noted the provisions sent out to the officers of the holy army by the papal commissioners: "150 casks of wine, bread, meat, eggs, cheese, fruit and other necessities, including sixteen specially chosen prostitutes for those particular needs."
The actual Neapolitan campaign was an anticlimax. Treachery hastened the end of the ruling house of Naples, as it had marked the beginning. Federigo had placed two major fortresses into the hands of Their Catholic Majesties' general in Italy, Gonzalo de Cordoba, a man who had served Federigo's family well in the past. But Gonzalo's ultimate loyalty lay with Ferdinand and Isabella and he betrayed Federigo's trust, though regretting it. The speed of the collapse which followed did not, however, prevent that almost ritual blood-sacrifice of Italians which marked every foreign invasion. On this occasion the victim was the city of Capua, and the leaders of the sacrificers were themselves Italian.
The Fall of the House of Borgia Page 23