The Borgias

by Paul Strathern

  Impulsive as ever, Cesare Borgia had decided to take matters into his own hands. He would abandon his camp and ride north to meet Louis XII. Here he would confront his enemies and persuade Louis XII of his loyalty. When Alexander VI learned what was happening, he was angered beyond measure at Cesare’s rash gesture, which was liable to upset all his well-laid plans. Yet at the same time he could not help but express his admiration at Cesare’s bravery. In a way, he too suspected that there might perhaps be no other means of saving the day. Everything depended on how Cesare handled his meeting with Louis XII.

  Given the importance, to say nothing of the danger, of Cesare Borgia’s courageous dash for Milan, his next move came completely out of the blue. Having reached Imola, he suddenly decided to make a detour off the Via Emelia which led directly to Milan. Without warning, he turned north and headed for Ferrara. At the time of his greatest peril, when the very fortunes of the Borgias hung in the balance, he had decided to pay a visit to his sister Lucrezia.

  ________________

  *Not for nothing was this the small, out-of-the-way city which had produced Raphael, who had learned his art here, before leaving just a year or so prior to Borgia’s invasion.

  *i.e. Borgia.

  CHAPTER 15

  CHANGING FORTUNES

  LUCREZIA BORGIA, NOW GIFTED by marriage with the aristocratic name of d’Este, and at last independent of her dominating father and possessive brother, had been determined from the outset to make a success of her new life in Ferrara. This had not proved easy, despite the welcome accorded her by her new father-in-law Duke Ercole I. Her husband Alfonso d’Este had also shown his warm feelings for his new wife, after his own fashion. He enjoyed her company at night, but his daytime pursuits remained unaltered: smelting cannon in the armoury, and roistering away his leisure hours with his fellow soldiers in the taverns. This left Lucrezia largely to her own devices. As part of the marriage agreement, Alexander VI had insisted that Ercole I provide his daughter with a generous annual allowance of 12,000 ducats. Ercole I was a man of parsimonious tastes, who had in his earlier years avidly read the works of Savonarola, a native of Ferrara before he travelled to make his name in Florence. Lucrezia, by contrast, was accustomed to living, and dining, in style with her father and her brother, and continued her somewhat extravagant ways in Ferrara, sharing her table with her large retinue of mainly Spanish attendants. During Lent, when meat was forbidden, Ercole I fed his retinue on the most stringent diet. On the other hand Lucrezia, aware that fish was permitted, chose to dine on ‘dishes from oysters and scampi to sturgeon, crayfish and caviar’.*

  Ercole I was convinced that Lucrezia could easily manage on 8,000 ducats a year, but the Pope refused to countenance any such austerity for his daughter. However, Ercole I did retaliate by insisting that Lucrezia should replace her numerous Spanish attendants with a more modest retinue of local women. Lucrezia accepted this with equanimity, determined to remain on good terms with her father-in-law. She soon charmed her new attendants, who much preferred the livelier atmosphere of Lucrezia’s apartments and style of life.

  However, amongst these attendants were a number of spies, briefed to report on her behaviour. These had been recruited by her sister-in-law Isabella d’Este, who was married to Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua. Isabella, Marquesa of Mantua, was six years older than Lucrezia and a formidable personality. Lucrezia’s new sister-in-law was renowned for her humanist culture and learning, her aristocratic connections throughout Italy, and her snobbishness.† In Isabella’s eyes, the illegitimate Spanish Lucrezia was a parvenu. Worse still, when Lucrezia’s husband succeeded to the dukedom of Ferrara, Lucrezia would become a duchess and socially outrank her.

  From the outset, Lucrezia started at something of a disadvantage in Ferrara. Its citizens would always compare her – unfavourably – to Ercole I’s wife, Isabella’s mother Eleanora of Naples, the formidable Duchess of Ferrara who had died nine years previously. Eleanora had ruled Ferrara when her husband was away serving as a soldier, and during the consequent period when he was sick. She had proved a popular and able ruler, and Lucrezia’s role as the future duchess meant that she lived in Eleanora’s shadow. The citizens of Ferrara, to say nothing of Isabella d’Este, remained ignorant of the fact that Lucrezia had not only proved an able ruler of Spoletto, but had on occasion even taken over her father’s duties as pope.

  Lucrezia’s situation in Ferrara was hardly helped by the news of her brother Cesare’s third campaign in the Romagna. His treachery in the taking of Urbino and Camerino made him even more despised throughout Italy than he had been beforehand. And despite the fact that Lucrezia’s position in Ferrara guaranteed its continued safety from Cesare, she remained unpopular amongst its citizens. Meanwhile, Isabella d’Este became terrified of Cesare Borgia, especially after her brother-in-law Guidobaldo da Montefeltro had sought refuge from Borgia at her court. Mantua now stood in even more danger from Cesare Borgia, despite Louis XII’s guarantee of protection, which she rightly suspected was hardly of great concern to the French king. Little wonder that Isabella’s husband Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, had rushed to join Borgia’s enemies gathering in Milan at the court of Louis XII.

  By now Lucrezia had already become pregnant. This news had been greeted with enthusiastic joy by Alexander VI in Rome. According to Burchard: ‘His Holiness has taken on a new lease of life in consequence of the news from Ferrara.’ This ‘new lease of life’ took the form of an extreme rejuvenation in the seventy-one-year-old Pope: ‘Every night he is commanding into his presence young women chosen from the best Roman brothels.’ And this reinvigoration certainly extended beyond the mere voyeurism that Burchard’s words might suggest. According to one account, the Pope summoned his unfortunate son Jofrè, along with his irrepressible wife Sancia and her current lover, to his apartments. After a while, he left the room, accompanied by Sancia. Later, when he returned, he informed Jofrè and her lover that Sancia was ‘still worth the serious attention of a young man’.*

  Meanwhile in Ferrara, as Lucrezia’s pregnancy progressed she became increasingly ill. Initially, she had retired to the countryside, resting in Ercole I’s villa at Belriguardo, some five miles south-west of the city in the Po valley. However, this had only brought about a temporary respite, and on her return to Ferrara she had collapsed and taken to her bed. Alexander VI wrote furiously from Rome, berating Ercole I, claiming that her illness was due to her suffering because he had limited her allowance. During the stifling heat of summer, Lucrezia’s health deteriorated still further. Alexander VI grew even more concerned. In his opinion, his daughter had been poisoned. (Such a suspicion was hardly surprising, in the light of his own not infrequent resort to this method.) But it soon became clear that Lucrezia was merely suffering from an extreme form of an unknown malady which had spread through the entire court.* Even her normally thoughtless husband Alfonso became worried and soon began spending each night sleeping in an antechamber to her room. At the same time the Pope despatched his personal physician to Ferrara; and Cesare, too, ordered his Spanish pox-doctor Gaspar Torella to attend his sister. By mid-July Lucrezia was suffering from paroxysms and periods of delirium: she appeared to be on her deathbed. Little wonder that her loving brother Cesare, even in his greatest hour of need, felt impelled to divert from his frantic dash to the court of Louis XII in Milan, and make for Ferrara.

  On the evening of 28 July Cesare Borgia galloped into Ferrara. Here he found that Lucrezia had rallied somewhat, so that she was able to sit up in bed and receive her brother. According to Lucrezia Borgia’s Italian biographer Maria Bellonci, Cesare and Lucrezia ‘spent the whole night conversing in the incomprehensible dialect of Valencia’. It seems they were both concerned that she might die. Cesare is said to have promised her that he would make the mysterious Infans Romanus his heir as Duke of Romagna. Does this confirm that Giovanni Borgia was the son of Lucrezia, or perhaps Cesare? Or, more sensationally (and improbably), both? The rumour-mongers cer
tainly favoured the latter. Either way, it does seem a curious matter for Cesare to be discussing with Lucrezia on what was assumed to be her deathbed.

  After Cesare Borgia rode from Ferrara at dawn, Lucrezia suffered a serious relapse. But she did not die, and she did not lose her child. Cesare and his two attendants continued their hectic gallop to Milan. When forced by exhaustion to spend the night at Modena, Cesare sent an express messenger ahead to Milan to inform Louis XII of his imminent arrival. By now Louis XII was growing tired of being pestered by so many of Cesare’s enemies who had arrived at his court, and was pleasantly surprised at this unexpected news of his visit. According to the contemporary chronicler Bernardi, Louis XII confided to the governor of Milan: ‘I have a piece of information to give you, which no one else is yet aware of. His Excellency, Cesare Borgia, is . . . at this moment on his way hither.’ This news was conveyed by Louis XII in a stage whisper, so that all in attendance – including Borgia’s enemies – overheard him and were thrown into consternation. Worse was to follow. According to an eyewitness, Louis XII personally greeted Cesare Borgia on his arrival:

  His Most Christian Majesty welcomed and embraced him with great joy and led him to the castle where he had him lodge in the chamber nearest his own, and he himself ordered the supper, choosing diverse dishes.

  Indeed, the French king even went so far as to give Borgia his own ‘shirts, tunic and robes’, as he could see that Cesare had ridden with no baggage of his own. Cesare’s enemies were thrown into disarray by Louis XII’s references to Cesare as ‘my cousin and my kinsman’. The fact is, Louis XII had formed a genuine affection for Cesare Borgia during their time together in Chinon, when Cesare had married into his family. And despite all the vexation he had caused Louis XII on his previous campaign – his menacing of Bologna, his blatant invasion of Florentine territory, even his treacherous behaviour on his present campaign – Cesare remained in the king’s eyes like a prodigal son. In his time of need, he had turned to Louis XII, regardless of personal danger. Unbeknown to Cesare’s enemies at the French court, Louis XII also had very real diplomatic reasons for favouring Borgia. French relations with Spain had broken down over the division of conquered Naples, and Louis XII was pleased to feel he could rely upon the support of Cesare and his papal army. Consequently, Louis XII decided to reward his wayward young ally even further. Discreetly, he gave Borgia permission to take Bologna, which continued to believe itself under French protection. Furthermore, Louis XII decided that Cesare Borgia’s infant daughter Louise, by his distant and long-suffering wife Charlotte d’Albret, should be married to the equally young Federigo Gonzaga, heir to the Marquis of Mantua.*

  These moves would ensure that the entire northern border of Borgia’s Romagna possessions would be protected by allied states. Louis XII was all in favour of Borgia’s Romagna dukedom, which also served to protect much of the eastern flank of Milanese territory, apart from the northern stretch, which bordered on Venetian territory. At the time, Venice remained preoccupied with defending the remnants of its eastern Mediterranean empire from the predations of the Ottoman Turks, and thus provided little threat to the territory of its traditional enemy, Milan. Yet should it ever turn its attentions once more to Milan, Borgia’s Romagna and its allied states would prove a more than useful ally.

  Meanwhile in Rome Alexander VI was aghast at recent developments. The Venetian ambassador to Rome wrote:

  The Pope is not content with this recent journey of his [son], and is deeply troubled, because from an unimpeachable source I hear that the Duke went without any consultation nor informing His Holiness.

  Here was yet another example of Cesare Borgia’s reckless behaviour. Quite contrary to all Alexander VI’s strategy, Cesare Borgia had placed himself at the mercy of Louis XII. Alexander VI remained deeply suspicious of the French king’s intentions and felt sure that Louis XII would keep Cesare Borgia hostage in order to restrain the Pope’s natural sympathies for the Spanish in Naples. However, when Alexander VI learned of the full extent of Louis XII’s generosity towards Cesare and his territorial ambitions, and how he had dismissed the Borgia enemies from his court, the Pope’s outlook shifted somewhat.

  He praised the prudence of the Duke, that with the ability of his mind he had made the king so friendly towards him, when at first he seemed to regard him as a rebel.

  At the next consistory, Alexander VI regaled the assembled cardinals with a eulogy on his son’s bravery. Even Machiavelli would write: ‘The Duke is not to be measured like other lords, who have only their titles, in respect to his state; but one must think of him as a new power in Italy.’ This would be the beginning of Machiavelli’s understanding of the profound and disturbing principles of political reality. Here was the man who would eventually feature as the exemplary, yet necessarily amoral, ruler in The Prince. Such was the master of ‘Virtù e Fortuna’.

  The only Borgia enemy who remained at the court of Louis XII was Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, whom the king had specifically invited to remain. Prior to Cesare Borgia’s arrival, Francesco Gonzaga had informed the Venetian ambassador that if Borgia ever dared show his face in Milan, he would challenge ‘that bastard son of a priest’ to a duel and in doing so rid Italy of the Spanish cur. Yet, just days after this, Louis XII had managed to persuade Gonzaga that it was in his best interests to betrothe his young son and heir to Borgia’s infant daughter. How on earth had he managed this? Louis XII needed as many troops as possible to combat the Spanish in Naples. He had already covertly withdrawn his protection from Bologna, and he could just as easily abandon Mantua to its fate. Borgia would certainly have seized the opportunity to add Mantua to his Romagna state. If Francesco Gonzaga wished to remain the ruler of Mantua, he was forced to come to terms with Borgia. Worse still, Borgia drove a hard bargain. If he was to trust Mantua, Francesco Gonzaga would have to expel the fugitive Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, former ruler of Urbino, from his court. Borgia well realized that Guidobaldo da Montefeltro represented a threat to his rule: he could easily prove a rallying point for those opposed to him. At the same time, Cesare Borgia decided to play a trick on Guidobaldo da Montefeltro and discredit him. Borgia contacted his father and Alexander VI offered Montefeltro a cardinal’s red hat. This would normally have been seen as a great honour; however, Montefeltro was already married. Borgia had ascertained some valuable gossip concerning Montefeltro. Although he had been married for fourteen years, he had no children; and the reason for this was because he was sexually impotent. This meant that he was certainly in a position to accept a cardinalate, and the offer of a red hat signalled that his secret was now out. Although Guidobaldo’s wife loyally and angrily declared her intention to stand by him, Borgia knew that this leaked gossip would certainly put an end to any chance of Montefeltro heading the opposition to his rule. Such was the Italian obsession with ‘manhood’ that no army would have accepted him as a leader.

  As Alexander VI wisely realized, Cesare Borgia’s bold journey to Milan had achieved a political coup. And one of even more significance that even Louis XII himself understood. It was the prescient Machiavelli, still attached to Borgia’s camp in the Romagna, who perceived the full implications of what had taken place. With his wide knowledge of diplomatic policy throughout the Italian peninsula, Machiavelli had come to the conclusion ‘that the French knew nothing of politics’. Blinkered by his own military might, Louis XII had made two fatal diplomatic blunders. Firstly, he had invited yet another foreign power into the peninsula: namely, Spain. And secondly, he had relied upon the power of people he could not trust: namely, the Borgias. The consequences of these mistakes would only gradually become apparent.

  After a month at Louis XII’s court, which had by now moved to Genoa, Cesare Borgia took his leave of his royal mentor on 2 September. His parting words were fulsome with gratitude: ‘Sacred Majesty, I render infinite thanks for the great benefit I have received from you . . . When the time comes I will present myself to you at the head of ten thousand
men.’ The latter refers to Borgia’s promise to aid Louis XII in his war against the Spanish in Naples ‘when the time comes’.

  On his way back to the Romagna, Cesare Borgia once again broke off his journey to visit Lucrezia in Ferrara, arriving on the night of 7 September. Here he found that his sister’s situation had deteriorated disastrously. The beginning of September had marked the seventh month of her pregnancy, but her ill-health and weakness had been such that her physicians had despaired for her life. Just two days prior to Cesare’s arrival, she had given birth to a stillborn child, and remained too ill to receive her brother when he arrived. The following morning, Cesare browbeat the physicians into allowing him to see her. Whereupon her temperature rose alarmingly and the assembled physicians concurred that she should be bled, this being the only remedy which could save her. As one of the physicians would later report to her father-in-law Ercole I:

  Today at the twentieth hour [i.e. around two in the afternoon] we bled Madonna [Lucrezia] on the right foot. It was exceedingly difficult to accomplish it, and we could not have done it but for the Duke of Romagna, who held her foot. Her Majesty spent two hours with the Duke, who made her laugh and cheered her greatly.