Cesare Borgia

by Sarah Bradford

  On the morning of the 21st, only a few hours after Guidobaldo’s hasty departure, Cesare rode triumphantly into Urbino. He had every reason to be triumphant, for the taking of Urbino was his most spectacular coup to date, tactically brilliant, if morally questionable. In Machiavelli’s words: ‘The manner of this victory is entirely founded on the prudence of this Lord [Cesare], who, being seven miles from Camerino, without eating or drinking, presented himself before Cagli which was about thirty-five miles distant … and at the same time left Camerino besieged …’ At Foligno he had dispatched Oliverotto da Fermo and the Orsini captains to set up the attack on Camerino, and had then proceeded in the normal way as far as Nocera, where instead of turning east to Camerino he had pushed on in a forced march to join his troops at Cagli, intending to take Urbino before the unsuspecting Guidobaldo had the chance to escape.

  Cesare’s justification for this sudden unprovoked attack was that on his march northward he had discovered evidence of Guidobaldo’s treachery, to the effect that he had sent help to Camerino and plotted to seize the Borgia artillery as it passed through Urbinese territory. Whatever the truth of these charges, indignantly denied by Guidobaldo in a long letter to Giuliano della Rovere in which he accused Cesare of a totally unprovoked and treacherous attack on an ally, there is little doubt that plans for the coup were carefully laid before leaving Rome. Without the grant of free passage through Cagli, Cesare’s coup would have had no chance of success, since Guildobaldo’s fortress there commanded a narrow gorge and could have held up a besieging army – hence Alexander’s advance request to Guidobaldo. Moreover, the duchy of Urbino, situated between the Romagna to the north and Le Marche to the south, and commanding the passes into the Romagna and Tuscany, was strategically a logical acquisition for Cesare.

  News of his taking of Urbino sent a shock wave through the courts of Italy; the Montefeltros were one of the most prestigious of the signorial families and closely related to all of them. They were popular and established in the rule of their duchy, and the ease and speed with which they had been overthrown left their contemporaries stunned. While Cesare’s earlier successes could have been ascribed to French support and the presence of French troops, this time there could be no doubt that his coup was based on his own skill and initiative, commanding his own troops. Cesare’s contemporaries could no longer be in any doubt as to his abilities. While deploring Guidobaldo’s unwarranted overthrow, they could not help but admire, in Machiavelli’s words, ‘this stratagem and so much celerity joined with an extreme felicity …’

  It was in this light that Niccolo Machiavelli first saw Cesare Borgia when he interviewed him at Urbino on 24 June, gaining a vivid impression of power, confidence, intelligence and dynamic energy which still coloured his image of Cesare when, years later, he made him the model for Chapter VII of The Prince. Machiavelli, Secretary to the Ten, with Francesco Soderini, Bishop of Volterra, had been dispatched by the Florentine government to Urbino at Cesare’s request, and arrived there not knowing what they had to expect from him. At the end of their mission they were still uncertain, their dispatches revealing a puzzled admiration for this man whose character and motives they could not fathom. They found him alone in the great ducal palace of Urbino, the doors locked and closely guarded. At twenty-six, six years younger than Machiavelli, Cesare represented the greatest single threat to the Florentine state, yet such was his skill and the force of his personality that the envoys found themselves arguing his case to their government, whose true interest it was that he should be destroyed. This was their first impression of him, recorded in a letter of 26 June 1502, signed by Soderini as head of mission, but composed by Machiavelli:

  This Lord is truly splendid and magnificent, and in war there is no enterprise so great that it does not appear small to him; in the pursuit of glory and lands he never rests nor recognizes fatigue or danger. He arrives in one place before it is known that he has left another; he is popular with his soldiers and he has collected the best men in Italy, these things make him victorious and formidable, particularly when added to perpetual good fortune.

  And this despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that Cesare’s manner with them during this first interview was tough, direct and domineering. Without mincing his words he went straight to the point, complaining that Florence had not kept the promises made to him at Campi, assuring them that all he wanted was her friendship, and threatening that otherwise he must secure his states at all costs:

  I want from you a good security, and if this is done, you will have me always at your disposal in everything, but if it is not done, I will be constrained to carry on this undertaking and assure myself of you by any means, so that I do not remain in danger. For I know too well that your city is not well-disposed towards me, rather you treat me like an assassin; and have tried to stir up much trouble for me both with the Pope and the King of France.

  Brushing aside the envoys’ protestations he continued menacingly:

  I know well that you are prudent men and understand me; however I will repeat what I said in a few words. I do not like this government and I cannot trust it. You must change it and give me guarantees of the observance of the promises you made me; otherwise you will soon realize that I do not intend to live in this way, and if you will not have me as a friend, you shall have me as an enemy.

  Cesare’s blunt words evoked assurances of Florentine good faith, and the envoys, plucking up courage, retorted that in return he should show his good faith by withdrawing Vitellozzo from Arezzo. Their temerity provoked a sharp reply:

  Do not expect that I should begin to do you any great favour, because not only have you not deserved it, but actually the reverse; it is true that Vitellozzo is my man, but I swear to you that I never knew anything of the business of Arezzo. I have not been displeased at the things you have lost, rather it has given me satisfaction, and will continue to do so if they take things further.

  Then, putting on the velvet glove, he assured them that he had no designs on Florentine territory, having refused his captains’ offers to that effect, and that he was ‘not a man to play the tyrant, but to extinguish tyrants …’ However, he added menacingly: ‘Make your decision speedily because I cannot keep my army here since it is mountain country which would soon be stripped bare; and between you and myself there can be no middle way: either you are my friends or my enemies.’ On this note the interview ended, and the Florentine envoys retired to their lodgings, as Machiavelli wrote, ‘with little satisfaction’. Cesare then used Giulio and Paolo Orsini to frighten them further: the two condottieri hinted to the envoys that the King of France had consented to their operations in Tuscany, and advised them to come quickly to terms with Cesare. The next day he delivered an ultimatum: four days for Florence to decide whether she would be his friend or his enemy.

  His tactics had the desired effect, on the envoys at least: on the 29th Machiavelli rode off in dramatic haste to carry the ultimatum to his government, leaving the unhappy Soderini to deal with Cesare on his own, a task he found lamentably difficult. Cesare’s secrecy made it impossible to divine his true intentions. Discreet inquiries among his household elicited the dispiriting response: ‘He alone decides, and at the moment of action, so that his purpose cannot be known beforehand.’ And the eloquence and ingenuity of Cesare’s arguments made it hard for Soderini to hold his own in discussion, as the bewildered Bishop wrote on 9 July: ‘He argued with so many reasons that it would be lengthy to repeat them, because of his mind and his tongue he makes what use he wills.’

  However, the Florentine government, beyond the reach of il Valentino’s personality and eloquence, saw the question more clearly than their men on the spot. They had no intention of employing a man whom they regarded as their principal Italian enemy as their condottiere, and they knew, as Cesare himself knew, that time was on their side. Louis was once again on the march for Italy to settle the affairs of Naples; they had only to prolong negotiations until his arrival, and again the game w
ould be up for Cesare Borgia, so they instructed Soderini to temporize over the terms of the condotta. The envoy’s dispatch reporting the negotiations throws an interesting light on Cesare’s treatment of his troops and his methods of recruitment. The Florentine proposals, Cesare argued, would not suit them: ‘because I give so much freedom to my soldiers that I know that to you it would seem too much … And then I want hand-picked men and would sooner give them double pay, and this cannot be done by dozens. I could recruit them collectively to furnish the condotta, as others do, but this would result neither to my honour nor your advantage. I form the companies of Italians or foreigners as I find good men …’ This statement goes far to disprove the claim that he relied heavily on a loyal Romagnol militia; he used the resources at his disposal to obtain the best men whether Italians or foreigners, and to keep their loyalty by paying them well and treating them generously. Perhaps he consciously followed the dictum of his mentor Julius Caesar: ‘If you lack money, you will have no soldiers, but if you have no soldiers, there will be no money.’

  Nonetheless Cesare’s persuasiveness failed to move the Florentines; on 7 July Louis was at Asti, and on the 10th the Signoria sent a letter consisting of empty words to be shown to Cesare. Soderini noted his reaction:

  I saw him completely change and his first words were: all this is nothing; those men do not want my friendship nor care anything about it; therefore it will be better to remit this negotiation to Our Lord [the Pope] and the King, who will know how to conduct it to my purpose, because I am not a tradesman and I came to you with that freedom that one looks for between good brothers; and to that alliance which I wish to make and your people care nothing for, and want to give me words of the King which I already know, because they know well that for my honour I cannot climb down from the terms of the condotta and this asking for time is seeking occasion for new disputes; and they do not wish to give me security, but show that they want to deceive me.

  With increasing nervousness Soderini observed Cesare’s obvious dissatisfaction and tension over the following week, and on 20 July he literally fled from camp: ‘To escape from these continual suspicions I came with all speed this evening to Bagno …’

  Soderini had correctly observed the deep disturbance in Cesare caused by the collapse of his hopes for an alliance with Florence, but he misinterpreted its cause. Cesare’s inward reaction to the blow was not anger, but fear. Neither Soderini, nor indeed the more astute Machiavelli, dazzled as they were by Cesare’s recent success and the strength of his army, perceived the reality of the situation: that in his desperate pursuit of Florentine friendship, Cesare was acting not from strength but from weakness. One of the essential qualities of a successful politician is the ability to scent danger before it overtakes him, and Cesare, with his mind always attuned to the future, had the rare gift of foreseeing the logical consequences of events. Cesare’s enemies confidently expected that he would now get his deserts from France; this time, surely, in overthrowing Guidobaldo and threatening Tuscany, he had at last pushed the King too far. Louis at Asti was already surrounded by influential enemies of the Borgias, and it was authoritatively reported in both Florence and Venice that on the 8th, the day after his arrival, he had summoned the Marquis of Mantua to captain a French force to be used against Cesare. But Cesare was not seriously worried by the threat of retribution from France – indeed when Machiavelli and Soderini taunted him with the French King’s resentment, he answered sharply ‘that he understood French affairs as well as any man in Italy, that he knew he was not deceiving himself, but that they indeed would be deceived’. He was being kept fully informed by daily letters from agents at the French court, and he knew, as he told Soderini, that the King ‘thinks so much of the affairs of Naples that he does not care much about anything else …’ Where Louis and Naples were concerned, he knew that he held two trump cards, his own army and the prestige of his father the Pope.

  The danger lay not from without but from within his own ranks, a consequence of his own success in the takeover of the lands of the Church, planned from the day he was made Gonfalonier. By the end of June 1502, most of the former vicariates north of the Campagna were in his hands, Camerino was about to fall, and Sinigallia also marked out for destruction, while in the area round Rome, the lands of all the Roman barons with the lone exception of the Orsinis had been taken over by his family. Within the Papal States only Bologna, Perugia, Città di Castello, Fermo and, obviously, the Orsini lands remained outside his control. The conclusion was obvious: it would be their turn next. The lords of all these cities, with the exception of Bentivoglio of Bologna, who was closely allied with the Orsinis, were captains in Cesare’s pay, and thus, if they joined together against him, might have the power to destroy him. Threatened men can be dangerous, as Cesare was well aware, and the overthrow of Guidobaldo had shocked them into a realization of the perils of their situation. Some time towards the end of June, Vitellozzo and Gian Paolo Baglioni held a conference with Morgante Baglioni at Lake Transimene, at which, according to the Perugian chronicler Matarazzo, Gian Paolo ‘spoke at length of the great betrayal [Urbino] executed by the Duke, beginning to recognize his marrano faith more clearly …’

  No doubt Cesare had originally intended to use his condottieri’s Tuscan exploits to pressure Florence into making concessions, but now the extent of their success made them even more dangerous to him. In this perilous situation he needed all the friends he could get, and Florence was the logical choice: her boundaries marched with his states of the Romagna and Urbino, while his potential enemies, Vitellozzo, Baglioni and the Orsinis, were also hers. But with his customary wariness he was afraid to give the Florentines a hint of the truth, for fear of revealing his weakness, nor did he want to arouse his condottieri to precipitate action by any rumour as to his suspicions of them, until the time had come when he would be ready and able to crush them.

  While Cesare, solitary and secretive at Urbino, held his tongue, Alexander at Rome talked and the whole court listened. Giustinian remarked that Alexander was ‘so self-indulgent in his appetites that he cannot refrain from saying some word which indicates his mind’. As early as 1 July he reported: ‘His intention is not to treat these poor Orsinis any better than he has the Colonnesis and others … and this … has not been a secret to the Orsinis, nor to all this court.’ While a month later he wrote that every action on the part of the Pope indicates ‘that the Pope and the Duke have the intention of clipping the Orsinis’ wings, so that he alone remains master of the synagogue’. Moreover the Pope showed open hostility towards Vitellozzo: ‘Alexander spoke in an ugly manner of Vitellozzo, as he did the day before … demonstrating that nothing would give him more satisfaction than to see him ruined; and if the King [Louis] wanted to punish him he will help him until his death and total destruction.’ Alexander’s talkativeness must have irritated Cesare, but his diplomatic skill was vital to him. While letters passed daily between him and his father, secret negotiations were being carried on through the means of the Borgias’ confidential agent Troches with the Cardinal of Rouen to persuade Louis to abandon his protection of the Orsinis and Bologna in return for Borgia help in Naples.

  Cesare, as behind the safety of locked doors he paced alone through the high cool rooms of the ducal palace of the Montefeltros, must have felt, not perhaps for the first time, the loneliness and danger of the course he had set himself, surrounded as he was by enemies, open and concealed. Even the walls of the palace, with their memories of the great soldier Federigo da Montefeltro who had built it, must have increased his insecurity, reminding him that his hold on Federigo’s son’s duchy was likely to be tenuous. Doors, pilasters and chimney pieces in marble and creamy limestone were emblazoned with the insignia conferred on Federigo by his grateful employers, the English Order of the Garter, the Neapolitan Order of the Ermine, even the papal keys, for Federigo, like Cesare, had been Captain General of the Church. The walls were hung with magnificent tapestries and paintings by the artists he
had patronized, Melozzo da Forlì, Raphael’s father Giovanni Santi, and two portraits of Federigo himself, one with his second wife Battista Sforza, by Piero della Francesca, the other showing him reading one of the precious volumes from his famous library to his little blond son, Guidobaldo. Federigo’s formidable profile (he always had himself painted from the left since losing his right eye in a tournament) with its great broken nose and deeply indented chin under a hawk’s mouth looked down upon the usurper wherever he went, even perhaps on his vast alcova, bed, with its three sides of painted gilded wood and brocade curtains, in which Cesare probably slept, and above all his presence would have been alive in his studiolo, where marquetry trompe l’oeil panels depicted his armour hanging in a cupboard, his favourite books piled on a shelf. Cesare, as he looked down over the hostile roofs of the little town towards the bare hills of Urbino and the mountain passes which Federigo would never have been foolish enough to have left undefended, must have reflected that, unlike the plains of his own state of the Romagna where armies could move swiftly, the mountain duchy was guerrilla country where the sympathy of the population was necessary to the security of the ruler – a sympathy which he knew he did not possess.