Cesare came to Rome to confer with his father, almost certainly because of the growing disagreement between them. Alexander was alarmed at the sudden, tumultuous nature of Cesare's successes, and complained bitterly that he knew nothing of what his son was doing until it was done. That ignorance he was able to use as a political tool, in effect shrugging his shoulders when complaints were laid before him and continuing secretly to forward Cesare's projects—but with increasing unwillingness. He even confided to Giustinian, the new Venetian ambassador, that it was time that they began to think about poor Italy. His old desires for a Spanish alliance again came to the fore, now that the French were obviously making very heavy weather with their Neapolitan campaign. "If the French court can do nothing better than look on whilst its armies are scattered and captured—if, in a word, its policy is to get us to do its work for it, then we must consider where we stand. It is clearly the Divine will that Spain should emerge victorious. Who are we that we should try and withstand the decree of heaven?"74 But he had too long left matters in Cesare's hands, and Cesare still needed France; so the French alliance continued.
Cesare kept himself secluded that summer of 1503. "He is known to be in Rome but very few people see him," Giustinian reported. "The pope does not refer to him and so I shall pretend ignorance unless he mentions it. The duke's actions are incomprehensible to everyone." His actions would not, perhaps, have mystified his physician for that summer Cesare's syphilitic rashes were at their most disfiguring. He always affected an element of mystery but, at this period, he seemed almost pathologically reluctant to be seen either unmasked or in daylight. Rome again knew a reign of terror—not now of political assassinations but the fear of a macabre unknown. Rome had always been dangerous at night but now few ventured out after sunset, so terrible was the fear of encountering a gang of veteran killers led by a fantastical masked man who would murder and mutilate with total impunity.
But in that summer of 1503 Cesare was also at the zenith of his career. Louis of France had become a colleague, not a master. The French had been badly defeated in the Kingdom of Naples, and now Louis needed Cesare more than Cesare needed him. The Papal States were virtually Cesare's personal possession, and the other neighboring states were either allied with him or afraid, so that his influence was strong in central Italy. Alexander even considered ereciing a monarchy on the foundation of the Papal States so that his son could be styled king. That plan foundered on French opposition but there was another and, in the long run, an even better plan—the passing of the tiara to Cesare. Alexander made that suggestion explicit when wooing the Venetians. "After my death either he, or you, shall have the crown." All things seemed possible in that muggy, sultry summer. Alexander, though in his early seventies, still enjoyed remarkably good health and could reasonably look forward to living most of another decade— more than long enough to allow Cesare to exploit his position under the continuing power of the keys.
On the evening of August 11, 1503, the eleventh anniversary of Alexander's accession to the throne, Antonio Giustinian settled to his almost daily task of despatch writing. "Today was celebrated the occasion of his election— but His Holiness was not his usual jovial self when he left the chapel but seemed depressed in spirits and disturbed in mind.'"75 Giustinian laid Alexander's unusual low spirits to his preoccupation regarding the French; others, if they noticed at all, merely assumed that he was physically out of sorts. August was a terrible month to be in Rome, particularly this unusually hot one which had already produced a minor malaria epidemic. On August 1 Alexander's loyal cousin, Cardinal Juan Borgia, had died. "August is a bad month for stout people," Alexander had observed glumly as he watched the funeral cortege from the Vatican window, but he himself seemed unaffected by the weather.
On August 12 both Alexander and Cesare fell suddenly, dangerously sick. On August 18 Alexander was dead and Cesare was battling for his life.
The suddenness of the disease, its astonishing coincidence, and the fact that it struck father and son when Cesare was at the very peak of his career threw an almost superstitious fear into the observers. It seemed as though they had witnessed the direct intervention of Divine justice.
At the time no one suggested poison. The Ferrarese ambassador spoke the thoughts of most when he remarked that no one was surprised, for almost everyone in Rome was sick "because of the bad condition of the air." But the legend which grew around the Borgia and Alexander in particular could not be contented with such a commonplace explanation. It had so happened that on August 5, both Alexander and Cesare had dined with a certain Cardinal Adriano Corneto in his vineyard outside Rome. It was very probable that both Borgia contracted malaria then, for the banquet was al fresco and Corneto, too, fell ill. Nevertheless, legend seized upon the occasion and twisted it during the months that followed. Alexander and Cesare were supposed to have planned the death of Corneto by poison; the poisoned flagon was accidentally switched and father and son at last fell victim to their own crime. The fact that nearly two weeks passed between the alleged poisoning and the day when both Borgia became sick was conveniently ignored by those with a taste for melodrama and the contemplation of Divine retribution.
Alexander seems to have given himself up from the moment that malaria struck him, for though he lingered for six days, he was maintained in rigorous seclusion. Not once did he ask after Cesare; not once did he refer to Lucrezia, his most beloved child; not once did he refer to his possible successor or the state of affairs in the outside world. "The palace was in total confusion and each sought to save his own, and in great secrecy."75 Extreme Unction was administered at the hour of vespers on August 18, and Alexander died not long afterward in prayer and penitence, some said, though others claimed he called upon the devil. His body, rendered rapidly horrific by malaria and the climatic conditions, became the temporary property of the man who had so often tended it ceremonially. Johannes Burchard did what he could to give the corpse decent shelter in a palace that seemed to have gone mad with fear and hatred—at one period the body was left unattended for hours after the papal guards had attacked the priests surrounding it—and on August 19 what remained of Pope Alexander VI was buried.
Thirty years later Francesco Guicciardini pronounced his epitaph, savaging the memory of the man, enshrining as indestructible truth every vile story that political enmity had coined. Disarmingly, he admitted that Alexander "was a man of the utmost power and of great judgment and spirit, as his actions and behavior showed." But then, seeming to lose control of his pen, Guicciardini rushed on to create that portrait which was to pass as the final truth. "There were in him and in full measure, all vices both of flesh and spirit. He was most sensual toward both sexes, keeping public women and boys, but more especially women. And so far did he exceed all measures that public opinion judged that he knew Madonna Lucrezia, his own daughter. He was exceedingly avaricious ... he caused by poison the death of many cardinals and prelates, even among his intimates ... his cruelty was great. . . there was in him no religion nor keeping of his troth ... no care for justice. In one word, he was more evil and more lucky than ever for many ages peradventure had been any pope before."77
It was probably through the golden pen of Francesco Guicciardini, first of the great Italian historians, that the Borgia legend rooted itself. For that pen transmuted into permanency the scandals which, generated in the spontaneous hatred of battle or minted for the purposes of propaganda, would otherwise have proved evanescent, fading with the events that had provoked them. The clearest possible example of that process was the sequence whereby Cesare and his brother Juan were turned into rivals for their sister Lucrezia's sexual favors. Machiavelli, writing about a year after Juan's murder, recorded simply that it had taken place and wisely refrained from speculating as to motive. Some years later, however, when he was working his notes into a more permanent form, he altered his cautious statement and gave gossip the status of historical record. "At the time it was not known who did it but later it was sai
d that it was the cardinal of Valenza [Cesare] who was the author of this murder, either through envy—or on account of Madonna Lucrezia." Busy tongues had obviously turned the rivalry of Cesare and Juan for their sister- in-law Sancia into an incestuous rivalry for Lucrezia, and Machiavelli, without troubling to track down the source of his story, added it to the store of Borgia scandal—though with that saving phrase "it is said." Even now, the story would probably have been dismissed by posterity for Ma- chiavelli's works, despite their manifest genius, are as manifestly infused with polemics. But when Guicciardini took the tale over and enshrined it in his great history of Italy —that monumental work which sought to unify the fragmented story of the nation—salacious gossip became lapidary fact. Guicciardini's sober, lucid account in his sober lucid history bears no indication whatsoever of the tortuous evolution of the story; speculation finally disappears and it is presented as just one more example of Borgia depravity which scarcely needs even a passing comment. Accurately, Guicciardini summarizes Alexander's hopes and plans for Juan, and then goes on to describe how Cesare, filled with hatred and jealousy of his brother "and besides, at his having a greater share in the affection of Madonna Lucrezia, their common sister, incited by lust and ambitions—powerful incentives to the commission of any shocking piece of villainy" planned the murder of Juan.
Guicciardini and his friend and fellow-citizen Machiavelli between them fixed the Borgia permanently in the historic framework of their day. But while the disreputable, lecherous Niccolo Machiavelli concentrated on the political significance of the family, the elegant, successful, ice-cold Francesco Guicciardini seems fascinated to the point of obsession with the supposed sexual criminality of the family. It was he who recorded as fact the pure mythology of how Cesare took thirty women from Capua for his harem: it was he who recorded as fact the vicious, but transient Roman gossip of the supposed relationship between Alexander and his daughter. His pen faltered a little when it came to record the story of how Alexander, in his seventies, was supposed to have raped the Manfredi boys before having them executed: they were executed "after having satisfied the lust of someone" he recorded with unwonted delicacy. But nowhere else did he show such restraint toward the Borgia. Other men were to commit even more salacious gossip to paper, but these were far lesser writers. In his History Guicciardini had created a medium that would survive the centuries, and through it was transmitted the portrait of Alexander Borgia not simply as a sinful man, but as a monster breaking every canon of sane and civilized conduct. Long after Guicciardini's reasons for creating such a caricature were forgotten, the caricature itself remained, obscuring what might have been the true picture of the man.
14 The Fall of Cesare Borgia
Immediately on news of the death of Alexander, three columns of troops began converging on Rome. From the south came the Spaniards of Gonzalo de Cordoba, Their Catholic Majesties' general in Italy; from the north came the French of King Louis; and from the northeast marched a powerful contingent of Cesare's own troops, summoned to the city by his lieutenant, MLchelotto Corella. In addition to the usual anarchy following a pope's death, it seemed that Rome was to become the battleground between three armies, each intent upon securing their master's hold over the city so that a pope favorable to his interest would be elected.
Cesare himself was in a sickroom above the Borgia Apartments in the Vatican, his confident world suddenly in a shambles. "He told me himself that he had foreseen every obstacle that could arise on the death of his father and had prepared adequate remedies. But he could not foresee that, at the time of his father's death, his own life would be in such imminent hazard,"78 Machiavelli reported later. The effect of malaria, in conjunction with the syphilis that was probably approaching its tertiary stage, nearly killed Cesare outright. His physicians adopted an extreme remedy, plunging him up to the neck in a tub of ice-cold water. It might have temporarily reduced the fever, but it had an appalling effect on his body for the skin peeled off over large areas, so that it was torment for him to bear even the lightest touch of garments. Half delirious from pain and fever, so debilitated he had to be carried like a child, he was forced to rely utterly on the loyalty of his staff. They gave unstintingly; otherwise he would not have survived among his resurgent enemies. About an hour after Alexander had died in the room below, Corella demanded the keys of his private treasury and later that evening brought to Cesare one hundred thousand ducats in coin together with a large quantity of precious plate and gems. Now that the immediate link with the papal treasury had been cut, money was going to be in very short supply.
On the day of Alexander's funeral, a deputation from the College of Cardinals waited upon Antonio Giustinian, the Venetian ambassador. Tongue-in-cheek he noted how they flattered both him and his government grotesquely and then came to the object of their visit: would he go to Cesare and ask him to remove his troops so that a free conclave could be held? "It seemed to me that this was no office of mine, as I had no instructions. However, at their earnest persuasion and thinking it would redound to the credit of our government, I went." Outside Cesare's apartment he found "a crowd of his cardinals—whom he treats as chaplains—and with the sweetest words in the world they told me that they desired only that a good pope should be elected by the will of God, complaining how the College suspected both them and the duke." Returning hypocrisy with hypocrisy, Giustinian made his way through the group and entered the sickroom. Cesare had obviously made an attempt to look alert. "I found him in bed, somewhat pale but not all that bad as far as I could see." Giustinian passed on his government's formal condolences and then raised the question of the presence of Cesare's troops in the city. As he expected, Cesare gave him only "good words" and Giustinian was obliged to report to the college that he had been unable to accomplish anything.79 But it was obvious that to hold a conclave while Cesare himself was still in the city would be impossible; and after a week's hard bargaining he agreed to withdraw, on condition that he be recognized as captain-general of the Church—at least until the identity of the new pope was known—and that neither the Spanish nor the French troops, nor the troops of Orsini and Colonna be allowed in the city. On September 2 his artillery rumbled out of Rome and shortly afterward he followed it, borne on a litter, and took up his position in Nepi.
The conclave met on September 16. Giuliano della Rovere was there, confident of his chances now that his bitterest enemy was dead. Ambitious, too, was Ascanio Sforza, especially released from prison by Louis to cast his vote for the French faction, but intent now—and too late —on his own cause. Once again, the conclave came to a deadlock. The three opposing forces—Spanish, French and Italian—were almost equal and out of their deadlock arose the usual compromise, the election of an aging man. Francesco Piccolomini, nephew of the long-dead Pius II, emerged as pope and in memory of his uncle took the style of Pius III. Cesare was satisfied. He had, indeed, ordered his Spanish allies in the College to vote for Piccolomini on the theory that the next best thing to a Spanish pope was an aged and infirm man who would enter upon his pontificate under a sense of gratitude. Pius acknowledged the debt by confirming Cesare as captain-general, and on October 2 Cesare returned triumphantly to Rome, bringing with him his mother Vannozza and his brother Joffre. The Borgia luck seemed to be holding.
Pius III was a gentle, kind old man full of good intentions but sadly aware that his health and strength would hardly allow him to begin the massive task of reform after the Borgia rule. Giustinian visited him a few days after his election and found him in bed, his legs being bad. They talked about Cesare, and Pius told him how the palace had been stripped bare even of its furnishings. Furniture would have to be borrowed to make it habitable. "And he lamented that he had found the Apostolic Camera burdened with debt, without any credit whatever, and he added 'I don't wish the duke any harm, because it is the duty of the pope to have love for all. But he will come to a bad end by God's judgment, that I can see.' "80 Cesare certainly had nothing to fear from the old man, an
d if Pius had lived for even a few months there is little doubt but that Borgia rule would have been re-established in the Romagna. But fate, which had already dealt Cesare one melodramatic blow, now struck him again. The coronation ceremonies of October 8 undermined Pius's already feeble constitution; on the thirteenth he grew mortally ill and on the eighteenth he was dead. Cesare, who had returned to Rome, attempted to leave before it proved a trap, but outside the city a detachment of the Orsini fell upon him and forced him back into the city. Cesare took up his quarters in Sant' Angelo, taking with him Lucrezia's little son Rodrigo and the boy, Juan, who was publicly stated to be his own son, and there again awaited the turn of events. But matters now were far graver. The hereditary rivals, Colonna and Orsini, had actually made an alliance, so great was their hatred of their mutual enemy. The Romagna, which had been held together largely by the force of Cesare's own personality, began to disintegrate. Some of the cities remained loyal, but in Pesaro and Urbino, in Rimini and Faenza the lords returned. Worse still, Venetian troops began moving across the frontier. His own troops began to disperse. The hard core remained, as ever, loyal; but the nationalistic stresses at work in the mixed army under his command began to break it asunder in his absence, with the French and Spaniards drifting toward the main armies of their fellow nationals in Italy.
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