The Borgias

by Paul Strathern

  What Ercole I and his court genealogist made of this bogus claim is not recorded. On the other hand, the reports from the Ferrarese ambassador to Rome were scrutinized with great interest. Ercole I was determined that the behaviour of his son’s future wife should be seen to bear no relation to the notorious rumours circulating throughout Italy concerning both herself and her brother. An envoy despatched by Ercole I to Rome expressly for this purpose reported:

  I hope that Your Excellency will be well satisfied with the most Illustrious Madonna [Lucrezia], for she is endowed with so much graciousness and goodness that she continually thinks of nothing else, save how to serve you.

  By now, Ercole I had no less than four envoys reporting back to him from Rome. However, the despatches concerning Cesare’s behaviour were less reassuring. According to one, even the Pope himself

  lamented that [his son Cesare] turned night into day and day into night, comporting himself in such a manner that it left room for doubt that if his father died he would be able to keep what he had conquered. [The Pope] commended the Duchess Lucrezia as the opposite for her prudence and willingness to receive [people] benevolently, praising the way in which she had governed Spoleto, and the way in which she could capture the heart of the pontiff in every matter she dealt with him.

  From this despatch it can be seen that the Romagna was now regarded throughout Italy as Cesare Borgia’s personal fiefdom, even if it was felt that he would need to defend this claim after the death of his father.

  Inevitably, one of the Ferrarese envoys eventually managed to gain a more realistic idea of Lucrezia’s personal life: ‘Whenever she is at the Pope’s palace, the entire night, until two or three in the morning, is spent dancing and at play, which fatigues her greatly.’ All this is as nothing compared to one particularly outrageous party, news of which appears to have eluded all four Ferrarese envoys – though it was to be recorded in lurid detail by master-of-ceremonies Burchard:

  On Sunday evening, 31 October, Don Cesare Borgia gave a supper in his apartment in the apostolic palace, with fifty decent prostitutes or courtesans in attendance, who after the meal danced with the servants and others, fully dressed and then naked . . . chestnuts were strewn about, which the prostitutes, naked and on their hands and knees, had to pick up [with their vaginas] . . . The Pope, Don Cesare and Donna Lucrezia were all present to watch. Finally prizes were offered to those men who fucked these prostitutes the greatest number of times.

  The Perugian chronicler Francesco Matarazzo even went so far as to report that the Pope ‘had the lights put out, the men and women left their clothes and had diversion’. Despite the possibility of exaggeration in these reports, some of the details have a compelling particularity. If nothing else, the Borgias certainly seemed to be living up to their reputation.

  The question now inevitably arises as to the spiritual beliefs of these three central figures. With regard to Alexander VI, could his behaviour be reconciled with a belief in the divine? Did the Pope believe in God? During the thirty-six years prior to his papacy, when Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had been vice-chancellor to no less than five popes, this had involved him in regular attendance at daily services and a host of other religious observances. However, his licentious behaviour is certainly at variance with profound Christian belief – which involved an afterlife in Hell, Purgatory or Paradise. His character hardly encouraged hope of redemption. Even so, his deeply superstitious nature would seem to indicate a more than perfunctory belief in supernatural forces and a metaphysical world. And as more than one commentator indicates, after he became Alexander VI, ‘the Pope was scrupulous in the outward observances of his religious duties and had an apparently sincere devotion to the cult of the Virgin Mary’. Such contradictions make it difficult to discern the precise nature of Alexander VI’s belief, if indeed it existed.

  As for his daughter Lucrezia: despite her behaviour up to this stage in her life, it would seem that her closeness to her father inspired an unostentatious but deeply held belief in God. Any psychological damage she might have incurred – during her father’s erratic use of her as a political pawn, and her brother’s murderous intentions towards her partners – does not appear to have dented her faith. So far, religion may have played little demonstrative role in her life; yet as we shall see, an element of steadfast faith would emerge more clearly in her later years.

  With Cesare Borgia we come to a different spiritual status altogether. From his student years Cesare had made plain his lack of belief in any form of conventional deity. Indeed, his ‘arrogant atheism’ had been the cause of deep irritation, and often anger, in his father. (Ironically, this would seem to reinforce a spiritual aspect, not always evident, in Alexander VI.) Cesare Borgia’s behaviour had invariably echoed his lack of Christian belief. During his intellectually dazzling youth, when he had been ‘the handsomest man in Italy’ and his charm had matched his brilliance, he had shown no evidence of any spiritual inclination. Even after his appointment as cardinal at the exceptional age of eighteen, he had continued as before. Admittedly, his indulgent behaviour had not been particularly unusual. By this time, cardinals had become a byword for excessive wealth and worldliness. What makes Cesare Borgia stand out is his psychological make-up. Long before he contracted syphilis, his character had begun exhibiting elements of dangerous instability. The extravagant peacock who delighted in hunting with his friends, charming all who came into contact with him, would on occasion disappear without warning for days on end, prostrate in his bed in a darkened chamber. From the outset there appears to have been a persistent and crippling depressive element in his personality. On top of this was his peculiar sensitivity. Beneath all the swagger and wilfulness lay a deep vulnerability. He seldom forgave even the most minor slight and was liable to wreak drastic revenge. The previously mentioned Roman satirist who had his tongue cut out and nailed to his severed hand was not an isolated victim of Cesare Borgia’s sadistic retribution. Tales of other similar incidents soon spread. Those who insulted the Pope’s son were liable to end up floating in the Tiber, their corpses hideously disfigured. Likewise, his preternatural closeness to his sister had inspired at least two murders – her beloved husband Alfonso had followed her lover Perotto into the Tiber. And her first husband Giovanni had only eluded Cesare by fleeing for his life. As we have seen, these murders were far from being the only ones in which he had been directly involved. The ruthless elimination of his arrogant and inept younger brother Juan, his unfortunate predecessor as Captain-General of the Papal Forces, was perhaps his most sensational outrage. By this later stage in his military career, when he had proved his powers as a military commander in the conquest of his own territory, his increasingly impulsive unpredictability had demonstrated that he remained but loosely under his father’s charge. And this, despite the fact that the strategy and diplomacy which paved the way for these achievements was almost entirely his father’s doing. No, with Cesare Borgia we seem to have a mind characterized by a total absence of spirituality, allied with flashes of brilliance and instability.

  ________________

  *Cardinal da Costa would not die until 1508, when he was 102 years old, making him the oldest cardinal ever in the history of the Catholic Church.

  *There have been suggestions that her ‘indiscretion’ with the ill-fated Perotto may not have been her first such affair.

  CHAPTER 14

  CESARE STRIKES OUT

  ACCORDING TO ROMAN GOSSIP, during the autumn of 1501 Cesare Borgia continued with his sapping regime of almost nightly parties in his apartments at the Vatican. Only occasionally was he seen on the streets of Rome during the hours of daylight. Yet such occasions were witness to a dramatic development. Not only did Cesare Borgia dress from head to toe in his customary black velvet tunic and black robe, but he also wore a black mask. According to the contemporary physician Paolo Giovio, this was to cover the syphilis ‘blooms’ that had once again erupted, disfiguring his face, which Giovio described as ‘swarthy and de
formed by blotches’. However, Giovio was not resident in Rome during this period and may well have been recounting gossip. No other source mentions Cesare having any facial disfigurement at this time. Furthermore, modern knowledge of syphilis suggests that after the appearance of the rashes marking the secondary stage of this disease, such as appeared on his face after his return from Naples in 1498, no further disfigurement was likely to appear for several years – until the appearance of the hideous, and often fatal, tertiary stage of this disease. However, with treatment – even such basic medication as provided by his personal physician Gaspar Torella – the tertiary stage frequently did not appear. Thus, it seems highly unlikely that Cesare Borgia was suffering from conspicuous facial ‘blooms’ during this period. More likely, he adopted the wearing of a black mask for other reasons. Dramatic effect may well have been one of them. It has also been suggested that this black mask could have acted as a disguise when he rode through the streets of Rome accompanied by his attendant guards. Any political or vengeful assassin could not have been certain that this man in the black mask was in fact the actual Cesare Borgia – or merely a body double, intended to draw out anyone intent on taking his life.

  Likewise, the reports of Cesare Borgia having almost nightly parties would also seem to have been an exaggeration, especially as the autumn turned to winter. In line with previous occasions, Cesare Borgia would have been preparing himself physically for the rigours of his third campaign in the Romagna. His mind was also concentrated on the coming campaign, whose strategy he had already begun to plan.

  Reports by the Ferrarese envoys must have allayed any fears on behalf of Ercole I concerning the worthiness of Lucrezia Borgia becoming his daughter-in-law. He now agreed to allow her proxy marriage to take place in Rome. This was celebrated with due pomp and ceremony on 30 December. Lucrezia Borgia is described as arriving in the piazza before St Peter’s ‘dressed in a robe of gold brocade, designed in the Spanish style, with a long train behind, which was carried by a young girl. She was escorted by the brother of her husband.’ There followed a service in the Vatican, during which a sermon was delivered by Niccolò Maria d’Este, Bishop of Adria (an illegitimate nephew of Ercole I). Evidently, the bishop had not consulted with Alexander VI prior to delivering his sermon, or he would have known of the Pope’s inability to tolerate any but the shortest of homilies from the pulpit. Consequently, the bishop was interrupted by the Pope ‘on several occasions’, calling on him to terminate his sermon. Despite this, Lucrezia’s proxy wedding ceremony was successfully completed.

  It happened to coincide with the opening of the Carnival horse races, which appear to have monopolized the attention of her brother Cesare. The races took place over a course which ran through the streets of Rome from the Campo dei Fiori to St Peter’s, a distance of around a mile. As we have seen, Cesare Borgia took such horse races extremely seriously – as did his chief rival in this field, Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua. This was the Gonzaga who had fallen out with Cesare when his horse had cheated in the vain attempt to win the Palio at Siena in 1493. Gonzaga was described as ‘short, pop-eyed, snub-nosed and extremely brave, and was regarded as the finest knight in Italy’. It was he who had somewhat ineptly commanded the forces of the Holy League at the decisive Battle of Fornovo against the army of Charles VIII. Gonzaga regarded Borgia with contempt: an upstart bastard devoid of breeding or honour, and was determined to teach him a lesson, at least on the racing field.

  During the 30 December Carnival races, there were three main races. The first, between Barbary horses (close relatives of the Arab horse); the next between genets (small Spanish horses); and the third between mares. The traditional prize in each case was a bolt of fine cloth. But between Cesare Borgia and Francesco Gonzaga much more was at stake. According to Burchard, during each of the three races

  There was much violence and cheating. The Barbary belonging to Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, came first, but did not receive the bolt of cloth because the horse lost its rider, who had fallen off at the start of the race, so the prize went to the Barbary belonging to Duke Cesare. The prize for winning the genets’ race was given to Duke Cesare’s household, though his horse did not begin with the others at Campo dei Fiori but was seen leaving the vice-chancellor’s palace [formerly the Borgia residence] before the pack arrived, which was how he managed to come first. During the mares’ race one of Duke Cesare’s grooms crossed the course on the Ponte Sant’Angelo, causing the leading mare to lose her jockey.

  This time Gonzaga had been roundly vanquished. Cesare Borgia would not allow himself to be defeated on his own ground; any more than his father, the Pope, would tolerate being subjected to a lengthy lecture on morality during a sermon in his own church. These two incidents serve as exemplary illustrations of how the Borgia now regarded themselves; and, by implication, how they had come to be regarded throughout aristocratic Italy. They also indicate one salient fact: the Borgia were now in charge, ruling on their own terms.

  Lucrezia’s proxy wedding in Rome was followed by a round of extravagant celebrations, including bullfights in St Peter’s Square and further races of all kinds. Indeed, the celebrations were said by some to have been on a scale not seen in the city since ancient times. Alexander VI was determined that his daughter should lack nothing. And her father-in-law in distant Ferrara, Ercole I, seemed to feel a similar soft spot for the woman who was soon to be united with his son and heir. Ercole I had despatched to Rome a delegation of no less than 1,500 people – including all the top citizens and nobles of Ferrara. Amongst the many wedding gifts which accompanied this delegation was a piece of jewellery valued at no less than 70,000 ducats. Ercole I well knew the extravagance of which Alexander VI was capable, and was determined that the d’Este family should not be seen to be outdone during the wedding celebrations in the Holy City.

  Finally, the time came for Lucrezia to depart for her married life in Ferrara. On 6 January 1502, as snow fell over the rooftops of Rome, Lucrezia rode out at the head of a large procession. She was wearing a protective cloak made of cloth of gold, lined with ermine, and the mule on which she rode ‘was harnessed very richly with beaten gold and a long wide cloth of mulberry velvet’. Her father was observed moving hurriedly from window to window of the Vatican, eager to catch glimpses of her as she rode away. It was as if he knew that he would never see her again.

  Lucrezia’s two young children were not permitted to make the journey with their mother. According to the dictates of contemporary protocol, the new bride was expected to arrive in Ferrara alone, as if she were a virgin. She also divested herself of all her titles and estates – many of them linked to former Colonna and Savelli properties given to her by her father. These would be passed on to her children. Thus Rodrigo, her two-year-old son by her murdered second husband Alfonso, Duke of Bisceglie, became Duke of Sermoneta, while the elder, illegitimate Giovanni (the Infans Romanus) inherited the duchy of Nepi. This would seem to be a further indication that Giovanni was her son – though it does not confirm this.

  On leaving Rome, Lucrezia and her procession made their way north towards the Apennines. For the first few miles beyond the city walls she was accompanied by Cesare, but after ensuring that the soldiers of the Papal Guard were sufficiently briefed to protect her on her journey, he took his farewell of his sister and rode back to Rome. His feelings at this point can only be surmised; he, too, appeared to be losing the person he held most dear.

  Lucrezia and her long procession now continued up the Via Flaminia and over the mountains. This was no simple procession. Lucrezia’s baggage train alone consisted of forty-two mules, draped in her own personal colours of yellow and mulberry; and it carried a trousseau worth well over 200,000 ducats. Lucrezia was also accompanied by her husband Alfonso d’Este’s two brothers, Ferrante and Sigismund, who carried with them the 100,000-ducat dowry given by Alexander VI. Indeed, the Pope had drained the papal coffers with his generosity towards his daughter, whose trousseau was accompa
nied by a small fortune in expensive jewellery. After all the expenses of the dowry, the marriage and the entertainments, Alexander VI found that he simply had no money left to provide for all the transport involved in his daughter’s procession to Ferrara. As a result, he issued an order to all the cardinals resident in Rome that they were each required to provide two horses or two mules for the journey. (As Burchard later recorded in his diary: ‘None of these animals was returned.’) Lucrezia’s procession was also joined by several hundred of the Ferrarese delegation that had been despatched to Rome by Ercole I, and inevitably such a travelling party required a numerous armed guard. According to the contemporary Venetian diarist Marino Sanuto the younger, Lucrezia Borgia’s procession consisted in all of ‘753 people, 426 horses and 234 mules’.

  The procession would take almost a month to cover the winding 300-mile journey to Ferrara. (The direct journey would normally be covered by a fast courier in around four days.) As if travelling across the snowy mountain passes and along muddy highways in midwinter was not tiring enough, at every place where Lucrezia stayed on her journey she would expect to endure whole days of celebrations. These were not always willingly provided, but each city knew that all of Italy was watching, and lavish entertainments were a requirement if it was to maintain any reputation. After passing through Perugia, the next main stop was at Urbino, home of the Duke Guidobaldo da Montefeltro and his wife Elizabetta, a member of the Gonzaga family. Guidobaldo da Montefeltro had never forgiven Alexander VI for not paying his ransom after he had been taken prisoner while fighting for the papal forces alongside the Pope’s son Juan Borgia. Guidobaldo’s wife Isabella, both as a Gonzaga and an avid gossipmonger, also had strong reasons to despise Lucrezia. Nevertheless, lavish hospitality was laid on by the hosts day and night, whilst a façade of gracious hospitality was maintained.