Federigo had retreated to the city and the people defended him loyally. Even after five days of continual bombardment the defense remained sturdy, but the inevitable traitor appeared and on July 25, Cesare's troops gained entry through a treacherously opened gate. Afterwards, no one could give any rational explanation for the carnage which followed. Centuries of warfare between roughly equal cities had taught the Italians that massacre of a defeated enemy was a double-edged weapon, certain to turn upon the temporary victors. For over a hundred years intercity wars had been fought by mercenaries, and the defeated paid in gold, not blood. The massacre at Capua was probably due in part to the fact that foreign troops again formed the bulk of Cesare's army, but the Italians joined in with equal ferocity. Women, as usual, suffered the most, with inevitable rape preceding ransom or murder. Thirty of the most beautiful were captured and sent to Rome, Christians sent to the seat of Christendom as though to the court of a pagan prince. A Frenchman, d'Auton, recorded this likely enough incident; it was, almost inevitably, the Italian Guicciardini who elaborated it into the Herculean myth wherein Cesare took the thirty women into his own private harem.
In Rome the success of the holy Crusade was credited almost entirely to Cesare. Burchard heard of the sack of Capua on the following day and that, too, found a place in his diary, written with the same passion he recorded details of etiquette and provisioning. "On the night of July 26 the pope heard of Don Cesare's capture of Capua ... a triumph which crowned the events of the past ten days. A citizen of Capua, a certain Fabrizio, admitted Don Cesare's soldiers by treachery. They killed him, however, and afterward they killed about three thousand ordinary soldiers and two hundred knights and many citizens and priests as well as monks and nuns in churches and convents. The women were treated most cruelly, and the girls were raped or seized as booty. It is said that about six thousand people were killed." 59
The Neapolitan campaign, however, was only a sideshow for Cesare. Wisely, he had forgotten the dreams he had once had of wearing that particular crown, for such an ambition would have made him an immediate rival of Louis of France, and even Cesare was aware of their disparate statures. He had placed Louis of France in his debt, more revenue was directed into Borgia coffers—but it was in central Italy that Cesare's interests lay. Northern and southern Italy were frontier states, their possession eternally disputed by giants. Only in the center was there relative freedom to pursue that goal now being slowly revealed: the acquisition of a base upon which Cesare could erect not merely a dukedom but a kingdom. Almost accidentally, and rather as a by-product of his own ravening ambition, Cesare had wandered onto that path which had attracted the noblest of Italians for centuries past and would attract more, hopelessly, for centuries to come: the creation of a united nation ruled by one strong man.
Geographically, the southern approach to his embryonic kingdom in the Romagna was now secure. The land- holdings of three great Roman families—Colonna, Savelli and Gaetani, all of whom had been allies of the Borgia— had threatened this approach, but after the destruction of their Neapolitan ally, Alexander was able to confiscate their territories wholesale and distribute them in his immediate family. But the northern approaches to the Romagna were still comparatively vulnerable; there was only the duchy of Ferrara between Cesare and French-held Milan on one side, and Venice on the other. Cesare might have been tempted to launch an attack on Ferrara, but the Este dynasty was far too strongly established there to be frightened away by a show of force; and such an attack would, in any case, have aroused the liveliest fears and resentment in both France and Venice, neither of whom would relish Cesare as an immediate neighbor. Less hazardous and far more profitable in the long run was the tying of Ferrara into the growing Borgia dynasty. And for such a purpose Lucrezia was the ideal link; Alfonso d'Este, the twenty-four- year old heir to the ducal throne, was a widower without children.
12 Lucrezia in Ferrara
Both Cesare and his father had thought many times of a matrimonial alliance between the houses of Borgia and Este. Even while Lucrezia's second husband was still living—the Alfonso di Aragona whom she loved so deeply—rumor sped around that such a marriage was contemplated for her. In November 1500 after his death, rumor became fact as, for the sixth time in Lucrezia's life, her father began the preliminary marriage negotiations for her. The negotiations immediately encountered the same kind of delays and obstructions which had so humiliated Cesare during his own matrimonial essays. King Louis of France wanted Alfonso d'Este for a French princess—but at the same time he desperately needed Borgia help in the Neapolitan Crusade, not so much for Cesare as because Cesare's father alone had the right of bestowing the Neapolitan crown. At length deciding in favor of that splendid crown, Louis withdrew his objections and now
actively urged Duke Ercole to accept the Borgia proposals for his son Alfonso.
Ercole disliked the whole matter and agreed to contemplate it only under pressure from France. He made that point in a glum letter which he wrote to his relative and neighbor, Gonzaga of Mantua, just before the nuptial contract was signed.
We have informed Your Majesty that we have recently decided, owing to practical considerations, to consent to an alliance between our house and that of His Holiness—in short to the marriage of our eldest son, Alfonso, and the illustrious Lady Lucrezia, sister of the illustrious Duke of Romagna and Valentinois, chiefly because we were urged to consent by His Most Christian Majesty, and on condition that His Holiness would agree to everything stipulated in the marriage contract. Subsequently His Holiness and ourselves came to an agreement, and the Most Christian King persistently urged us to execute the contract.60
The duke did not mention in the letter His Holiness's roundabout threat to depose him if he did not give way, but neither did he mention the exorbitant demands he had made in exchange for his consent: a dowry of two hundred thousand ducats, a heavy reduction in the feudal dues he paid to the Church as a papal vicar, and other concessions which, though lesser, strengthened his autonomy, alienated Church rights and property, and aroused the strongest possible objections in the College of Cardinals. There remained only the question of gaining the consent of his son Alfonso, the bridegroom-elect.
Alfonso objected strongly. He may or may not have had grounds to suspect that Lucrezia's moral character was sullied beyond redemption. The tales of incest and promiscuity were almost certainly the invention of enemies and were certainly irrelevant. Virtue was not the prime consideration in a dynastic bride. But he had excellent grounds to object on the score of personal well-being. Two Spanish noblemen who had believed themselves all but married to this particular bride had found themselves dismissed like stable boys. Her first husband had been divorced to the accompaniment of mocking laughter. Her second had been murdered, almost certainly on her brother's orders. Still, Alfonso's father was now as warmly in favor of the marriage —if there were no just impediments—as he had formerly been opposed to it; and he threatened, if necessary, to marry Lucrezia himself. Sullenly, Alfonso gave in and signed the nuptial contract.
But the contract was only the first stage in negotiations. On September 15, about two weeks after it had been triumphantly carried to Rome, two Ferrarese citizens arrived in its wake. They were Gerardo Saraceni and Ettore Bellingere, jurists and diplomats of experience, charged by Duke Ercole not only to see that all the provisions of the contract were fulfilled, but also to place the bride and her family under the most searching, if discreet, examination. They went about their task for nearly four months, keeping their master minutely informed of their activities, and at the end of it their opinion of the bride herself was a glowing testimony to her good sense and virtue. Not only were they enthusiastic about Lucrezia as the future duchess of Ferrara but they also reported that she was already "a good Ferrarese," doing all in her power to bring the negotiations to a successful conclusion. She regarded Rome as a prison, they reported, and looked on this marriage as a heaven-sent opportunity to lead her own life outside h
er father's and her brother's ambitions.
The ambassadors had need of Lucrezia's goodwill. Immediately after the contract had been signed, Alexander called a full consistory and there boasted of the signal honor being done the Roman papacy by this marriage between the houses of Borgia and Este. But afterward, among the endless legal and financial conferences, he grew exceedingly restless and short-tempered when he realized the full extent of Duke Ercole's demands. The noble duke of Ferrara was behaving like a merchant, Alexander stormed. He had already given way in the matter of feudal dues—and in the face of strong opposition from his own Curia. He had granted the high dignity of archpriest of St. Peter's to the bridgeroom's brother—and still Ercole was not satisfied. There was the squalid business about the dowry money. Ercole had no intention of accepting paper promises; he wanted the precious metal itself, all two hundred thousand ducats of it—and large ducats at that, not the "chamber" ducats which the papal Camera usually employed when paying out. The eagle-eyed Ferrarese treasurers who watched the counting had further cause for complaint regarding the excessive number of worn and even false coins that had somehow got into the enormous pile. They insisted that counting thereafter should occur only in daylight, and five consecutive days of counting passed before at last they accepted the amount as exact.
Meanwhile, there were other more delicate problems to be faced and solved. Living with Lucrezia in Rome was her much-loved son by her late husband, the little boy Rodrigo, not yet one year old. The resident Ferrarese ambassador called on her and raised the problem of the child's future. "As her son was present I asked her, in such a way that she could not mistake my meaning, what was to be done with him. She replied 'He will remain in Rome and will have an allowance of fifteen thousand ducats.' " The child would have been an embarrassment in Ferrara, and very possibly in some danger. In Rome he was treated as a member of the house of Borgia and of Aragon. With distress, but firmly and without having to be prompted by her future father-in-law, she had decided to be parted from the little boy for his own good.
More embarrassing than the child Rodrigo was the ex-husband Giovanni Sforza. He had been living in Ferrara ever since Cesare had chased him out of Pesaro. Alexander now forcefully made it plain to Gerardo that he did not want Lucrezia and her ex-husband to meet, and the ambassador dutifully informed his master of His Holiness's objections, toning down the bluntness.
As His Holiness desires to take all the proper precautions to prevent the occurrence of anything that might be unpleasant to Your Excellency, to Don Alfonso, and especially to the duchess and also to himself, he has asked us to write to Your Excellency and request that you see to it that the Lord Giovanni of Pesaro shall not be in Ferrara at the time of the marriage festivities. For although his divorce from the above-named illustrious lady was absolutely legal and according to prescribed form, as the records of the proceedings clearly show he himself fully consenting to it, he may nevertheless still harbor some resentment.62
Ercole might have reflected that Alexander seemed to be protesting just a little too much, but Ercole had no desire to be caught in the kind of scandal that Giovanni Sforza could precipitate, and the beleaguered ex-lord of Pesaro found one more asylum closed to him.
At last the tedious negotiations were completed, the money counted, delicate questions of etiquette settled and the escort chosen. The escort was military as well as ceremonial, for the bride was carrying, on her back as well as in her coffers, an incredible wealth of precious raiment and metals. Isabella d'Este, Alfonso's sister and also the mar- chesa of Mantua, was specifically interested in Lucrezia's trousseau for she looked upon the bride as a rival come to challenge her hitherto uncontested role as arbiter of feminine fashion in Lombardy. Isabella was so eaten up with curiosity and envy that she despatched a personal envoy down to Rome, charged with no other duty but to report on Lucrezia and her slowly amassed trousseau. "I will follow the most excellent lady Lucrezia as a shadow follows the body and where the eyes fail to reach I shall go with my nose," the envoy promised, and faithfully kept it. He, too, seems to have fallen for Lucrezia's charms and made no secret of the matter even though the marchesa was regarding the bride with a distinctly frosty eye. "She is a charming and a very graceful lady," he wrote.
She is seldom seen in public, being preoccupied in preparations for her departure. But on Sunday, the Feast of St. Stephen, I went to see her later in the evening and found her sitting near the bed with ten maids of honor and twenty other ladies wearing handkerchiefs on their heads after the Roman fashion. They soon began to dance and madonna danced very gracefully and well with Don Ferrante [Alfonso's brother]. She wore a camorra of black velvet trimmed with gold fringe, with narrow sleeves slashed to show her white linen chemise, a vest of black velvet richly embroidered in colors, a gold-striped veil and a green silk cap with a ruby clasp on her head. Her maids of honor have not yet got their wedding dresses. Our own ladies are quite their equal in looks and in everything else. But two or three of them are decidedly graceful—one from Valencia dances well; another called Angela is very charming.
Turning away from his fashion reporting, the enamored envoy gave the marchesa a summary of what Lucrezia was bringing Alfonso.
It is said that more gold has been prepared and sold in six months than has been used in the past two years. The number of horses and persons the pope will place at his daughter's disposal will amount to a thousand. There will be two hundred carriages—among them some of French make, if there is time—and with these will come the escort which will take her.63
On the evening of December 30, 1501, Lucrezia led a wedding procession, for the second time, down the corridors of the Vatican to a chamber where her father sat enthroned. On the first occasion she had been little more than a child, blindly obedient, now she was an experienced woman of twenty-one, able to handle with expert flair her stiff, sumptuous wedding dress. She wore a robe of gold brocade with sleeves so long they trailed upon the floor, and whose immense train of crimson velvet was carried by ten maids of honor. Her hair was caught up in a heavy gold net; pearls, rubies and emeralds flashed on her neck and bare shoulders. The bridegroom was not present, his place being taken by his brother Ferrante. But the bridegroom's family had sent Lucrezia even more jewels to compensate, perhaps, for his absence. After the rings had been exchanged, Ferrante presented a heavy casket of jewels to the bride. Alexander's face lit up with delight as the lid was opening, and the completion of the ceremony was delayed while he fingered the heavy rings and buckles and necklaces. Lovingly he drew through his plump fingers the immense pearl necklace which had belonged to the bridegroom's mother, and he remarked that young Ferrante's courteous manner had doubled the value of the gifts, affecting to ignore the clause in the contract which thriftily stipulated that the jewels were to be returned to the Este if the marriage should be dissolved.
Johannes Burchard had learned his lesson, and this time there were no ceremonial improprieties to mar the occasion. Afterward Cesare and Lucrezia danced "with a rare grace" for their father's entertainment, beginning the wedding festivities which again went on far into the night. Cesare played a leading role in the continuous carnival with which all Rome was regaled during the following week. New Year's Day was greeted with an allegorical procession which paid not very subtle tribute to him as a new Julius Caesar; he displayed his grace and skill as a horseman in an elaborately staged bullfight in front of St. Peter's; and he both organized and acted in a number of masques, magnificently staged in the Vatican, whose general theme was how fortunate the Este were to be united with the Borgia. Lucrezia watched them from her favorite and favored position, a cushion on the floor beside her father's throne, for during those last days of their life together Alexander was reluctant to let her go far from him.
On January 6, the day set for her departure, Lucrezia took her leave from her father in the room called Pappagallo. Cesare joined them after a few moments, warmly dressed, for he was accompanying his sister on the first part of the
journey. The courtiers drew aside, and the three Borgia conversed closely together in Spanish, that language which set them apart and made them a unit of their own. Then Alexander embraced his daughter and, as she drew away, called after her in Italian, and in a loud voice for all to hear, that she was to be of good cheer for he granted her, before she could ask, everything she could possibly want. He hastened to a window and looked down into the piazza where the bridal procession was gathering under a thin powdering of snow and remained there until the procession had wound its way out of sight, headed north toward Ferrara. He and Lucrezia never saw each other again.
Some three weeks later, while Lucrezia was approaching the end of her journey, the Este were gathering in Ferrara to greet, with very mixed feelings, the latest addition to the family.
Duke Ercole could, on the whole, congratulate himself for making the very best out of what could have been a most unpleasant situation. He had established, to his own satisfaction, that the gossip regarding Lucrezia's personal morals was just rumor. Less satisfactory had been his agents' inquiries into the Borgia ancestry. "We made a thorough investigation, but although we finally succeeded in ascertaining that the house is one of the oldest and noblest in Spain, we did not discover that its founders ever did anything very remarkable, perhaps because life in that country is quiet and uneventful. Whatever there is worthy of note dates from the time of Pope Calixtus."
It was not difficult to read between the lines of that report. It concerned the family of a girl who would one day be duchess of Ferrara, and the writers had no intention of finding themselves in a dungeon tomorrow because of an indiscreet letter today. But the agents had also been specifically ordered to report on the family for the present duke's guidance. The result was a courtier's admixture of flattery and tongue-in-cheek condescension, which could be read either way; but summed up in a phrase: the Borgia were parvenue as far as Italy was concerned. As for Spain, Ercole echoed his agents' condescension. They were both Italians and Italians habitually termed as "barbarian" all northerners, whether they came from beyond the Alps or behind the Pyrenees. The French might, on occasion, be regarded as a species of honorary Latin, but the information that Lu- crezia's family was "one of the oldest and noblest in Spain" left Ercole quite unmoved. As far as Italians were concerned, the average Spanish nobleman was merely a soldier —or bandit—turned farmer. And as for the phrase "from the time of Pope Calixtus"—the writers made it seem as though the old lawyer had been coeval with Charlemagne himself, instead of having flourished barely forty years earlier. The Este, by contrast, had been rooted in Ferrara for over three hundred years. Nevertheless, the Borgia had arrived and, like all parvenues, were willing to pay heavily for the privilege of uniting themselves with a family of ancient lineage. Thus Ercole comfortably reflected, basking in the praise of his subjects who hoped, with some reason, that they would benefit from the pope's overweening love for his daughter—if only through a reduction of taxes.
The Fall of the House of Borgia Page 24