The Borgias

by Paul Strathern

  The first member of Alexander VI’s family which he summoned to be at his side in Rome during his time of need was his beloved daughter Lucrezia, who had now blossomed into a strikingly attractive sixteen-yearold with the long tresses of curly golden hair she had inherited from her mother. Lucrezia had made no secret of her dissatisfaction with provincial life in the small backwater of Pesaro, ruled by her husband, and was glad to be back amidst the splendours of Rome, where she could attend the lavish banquets thrown by her father and her brother Cesare. She resided, along with her husband Giovanni Sforza, in the Palazzo Santa Maria in Portico, where she had grown up under the care of her aunt Adriana de Milà, in the company of her father’s young mistress Giulia Farnese.

  Next to return to Rome was Jofrè Borgia, who travelled from Naples in May, accompanied by his wife Sancia of Aragon. Jofrè and his train arrived at the southern gate of San Giovanni in Laterano, followed by over two dozen mules bearing his possessions, each case emblazoned with his royal coat of arms as Prince of Squillace. Alexander VI had laid on a grand ceremonial reception for his fourteen-year-old son. Jofrè was greeted by the commander of the Vatican guard with 200 soldiers, as well as the ambassadors of Spain, Venice and Milan, along with a line-up of Roman dignitaries. Also present was his sister Lucrezia, ‘accompanied by some twenty ladies and preceded by two pages on horseback wearing capes’. After the ceremonial greeting, Jofrè and the procession made their way across Rome, past the Colosseum and his former home, the grandiose Borgia palazzo now occupied by Cardinal Ascanio Sforza of Milan, until finally he crossed the bridge of Castel Sant’Angelo into Trastevere. ‘Jofrè and Sancia rode to the Vatican, where Alexander peeped down at their approach through a half-closed shutter before going down with Cesare to greet them.’

  The gossips of Rome had heard much about the tempestuous temptress Sancia of Aragon, but when they saw her in person they were not wholly impressed. The ever-present Mantuan envoy Gian Carlo Scalona recorded of Sancia:

  In truth she did not appear as beautiful as she had been made out to be. Indeed the lady of Pesaro [Lucrezia Borgia] surpassed her. However that may be, by her gestures and aspect the sheep will put herself easily at the disposal of the wolf. She has also some ladies of hers who are in no way inferior to their mistress, thus they say publicly it will be a fine flock . . . She is more than twenty-two years old,* naturally dark, with glancing eyes, and aquiline nose and very well made up, and will in my opinion not give the lie to my predictions.

  Scalona was unimpressed by the fourteen-year-old Jofrè, describing him as ‘dark in complexion and otherwise lascivious-looking, with long hair with a reddish tinge’.

  The Mantuan ambassador’s predictions concerning Sancia would prove correct. Within months gossip was spreading around Rome concerning how ‘the sheep had put herself at the disposal of the wolf ’. Later, Scalona would write back to Mantua: ‘Jofrè, younger than his wife, had not consummated the marriage; he is not a man and, I understand, for many months past the lady Sancia has given herself to the Cardinal of Valencia [Cesare Borgia].’

  The Borgia reputation for sexual misconduct was already well-established by the behaviour of Alexander VI during his days as cardinal and vice-chancellor. Even so, his behaviour does not appear to have been as bad as many of his colleagues, or his predecessors in the highest office. In all fairness, Alexander VI’s conduct had been in essence uxorious – albeit with three successive ‘wives’. And admittedly, his third ‘bride’, Giulia Farnese, had been of a similar age to his daughter Lucrezia, with whom she had become friends when they lived together at the Palazzo Santa Maria. And, of course, there remained the business of the scandalous ‘party’ in the gardens at Siena. Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia may have been forgiven by his friend Pius II, on the grounds that the reports had been exaggerated by his enemies, but most still held firm to the belief that in this instance there had been no smoke without fire.

  Thus, up to this stage, the Borgia family reputation, largely formed by Alexander VI, had not been markedly more tarnished than that of several families occupying the upper echelons of the Church. His consummate, if devious, political expertise, developed over his unprecedented thirty-six years as vice-chancellor, had certainly earned him powerful enemies, such as the della Rovere family. On the other hand, many admired his skills, especially his attempts to strengthen the papacy. As we shall see, at this stage such plans were merely in their infancy. It is only now that the Borgia family reputation for depravity would begin to unfold. And it is no accident that this development took place as his favoured children – Juan, Cesare, Lucrezia and Jofrè (all his children born to Vanozza de’ Cattanei) – began coming of age.

  However, from now on it becomes increasingly difficult to separate any truth concerning depravity from the exaggerations of rumour and gossip. Such exaggerations were, of course, encouraged by the Borgia family’s many enemies. Yet it will also be increasingly difficult to deny that the florid and overblown rumours had their origin in certain seeds of fact. Especially now that Cardinal Cesare Borgia comes into his own. By contrast, at this stage Lucrezia Borgia appears to have retained a remarkable element of innocence. As one Borgia biographer put it: ‘Lucrezia was deeply attached to her brother Cesare, who loved her perhaps more devotedly than he could bring himself to love anyone else.’ And she loved him. The evidence suggests that Lucrezia had no idea that her doting brother was having an affair with Sancia. Lucrezia and Sancia were both living in the Palazzo Santa Maria and soon became close friends. Indeed, the two teenagers appear to have brought out a childish aspect in each other’s character, often behaving like unruly schoolgirls. On one occasion they attended Mass together at St Peter’s, where a Spanish priest delivered a sermon, described by Burchard as being ‘too long and boring, which displeased the Pope’. However, as the priest droned on, Burchard was shocked to observe Lucrezia and Sancia leave their seats and slip up the stairs to the choir reserved for the canons, where they began chattering and giggling together.

  In August the last of Alexander VI’s favoured children, the wayward Juan, 2nd Duke of Gandia, arrived back in Rome, summoned from Spain by his father. He too was accorded a grand reception, despite having left his pregnant wife Maria Enriquez and their son behind in the ducal castle at Gandia. The twenty-year-old Juan revelled in the occasion. Sporting a scarlet cap hung with pearls, and a Turkish cape of gold brocade thrown over his brown-velvet doublet adorned with jewels, he rode into the city on his bay horse with gold fringes and tinkling silver bells. Behind him rode his six squires, who included a dark-skinned Moor dressed in crimson velvet, as well as a gaggle of dwarfs and jesters. He was welcomed with heartfelt joy by his devoted father, who appeared to have forgiven him his earlier misdemeanours. Though, if anything, Juan’s character seems to have deteriorated during his time in Spain, where a contemporary chronicler referred to him as being ‘a spoilt boy. [He was] a very mean young man, full of ideas of grandeur . . . haughty, cruel and unreasonable.’ The inner circle of the Borgia family was now complete.

  It was not long before the Mantuan ambassador was reporting a predictable division in the family. The conceited and less intellectually gifted Juan may have been away for three years in Spain, but Alexander VI held him in high regard, a fact greatly resented by Juan’s talented older brother Cesare. Just a month after Juan’s arrival, the Mantuan ambassador was writing: ‘every effort is made to conceal that these sons of the Pope are consumed with envy of each other.’ Both felt they had cause for complaint. It was evident that Cesare had now become his father’s closest adviser, whereas Juan seemed to remain his father’s favourite. The situation was further exacerbated when Alexander VI revealed his plans to turn the tables on the rebellious Orsini family.

  Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino and son of the great condottiere Federigo da Montefeltro, was hired as Captain-General of the Papal Forces. He was instructed to lead a campaign against the Orsini, driving them from the papal territories which they had occupie
d to the north and south of Rome. Assisting the duke as second-incommand, Alexander VI appointed his son Juan. On 26 October the Pope duly presented the Duke of Urbino and the Duke of Gandia with their banners of office in a ceremony at St Peter’s, bestowing his papal blessing on their campaign. The two young dukes, resplendent in their shining armour, then led their forces out into the countryside of the Roman Campagna. Guidobaldo da Montefeltro had inherited his father’s mercenary army, but had little of his military ability. Juan Borgia had obtained some military experience with the Aragonese army during his time in Spain, but had never taken command of troops in action. Despite their commanders’ limited expertise, within two months the papal troops had captured no less than ten Orsini-held castles. However, they proved unable to dislodge the Orsini from their stronghold at Bracciano, and began to lay siege to the massive medieval fortress. Guidobaldo da Montefeltro had been wounded in the initial attack and retired to his tent, leaving Juan Borgia in sole command.

  The Orsini defenders of Bracciano were seasoned soldiers and had nothing but contempt for Juan Borgia. In a gesture of mockery they despatched a donkey towards the papal camp. This had a placard placed around its neck proclaiming, ‘I am the ambassador of the Duke of Gandia.’ An insulting letter addressed to Juan Borgia was inscribed on a scroll which had been inserted in the donkey’s anus. News now reached Juan Borgia that a force under the command of Carlo Orsini was on its way to relieve the besieged castle. Impulsively, Juan Borgia decided to lift his siege and march out to confront Carlo Orsini. The two armies met in open countryside some twenty miles south of Bracciano at Soriano on 24 January 1497. In the words of Burchard, the papal army was

  heavily defeated in great dishonour . . . The Duke of Urbino was captured [and] some five hundred of our soldiers were killed and many more wounded, while the Orsini captured all our cannon and utterly scattered our forces.

  Juan Borgia was lucky to escape with only a wound to his face, managing to flee as his troops scattered in disarray around him. News of developments had been reaching Rome at regular intervals during the preceding weeks. This had caused Alexander VI to become so sick with worry concerning the fate of the campaign and the safety of his son that he had been unable to attend Mass in St Peter’s on Christmas Day. His joy at the safe return of Juan contrasted with the barely concealed scorn of Cardinal Cesare Borgia.

  The campaign had resulted in utter failure. As part of the ensuing peace agreement Alexander VI had to consent to surrender all ten captured castles to Orsini control, in return for which the Orsini were to pay an indemnity of 50,000 gold ducats for an assurance of peace. The Orsini were expecting to raise this 50,000 ducats as a ransom for Guidobaldo da Montefeltro; but Alexander VI – ever the wily negotiator – refused to pay a ransom for Montefeltro. Consequently, the Orsini were forced to pay the indemnity, much of which Alexander VI passed on to Juan, as a ‘reward’. On top of this, the Pope refused to surrender a couple of the Orsini castles. Even so, the Orsini had extracted the promise of peace, and remained a thorn in the Pope’s side.

  As if this was not bad enough, Alexander VI now determined to despatch Juan Borgia once more into the field. Although the Pope had been forced to make peace with the Orsini, he was still free to attack the backers upon whom they depended – namely the French, who continued to hold Ostia. Alexander VI called upon the Duke of Gandia’s Spanish overlords King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain, who duly despatched their most battle-hardened commander, Gonsalvo de Córdoba, to lead a force of seasoned Spanish troops from Naples. This new papal force arrived in Rome at the end of February. Whereupon, Alexander VI appointed his son Juan as second-in-command, and ordered Gonsalvo and Juan to march on Ostia, which was now the last remaining French stronghold in Italy. By early March the French had surrendered, although

  the French commander Ménaut Aguerre was later to accuse the Pope of using devilish weapons against the fortress, including some form of poison gas produced by throwing chemicals on to bonfires to the windward of the walls.

  This time Juan Borgia had been on the winning side, but on his return to Rome his behaviour would outrage Gonsalvo de Córdoba. Juan would claim to his father that he shared equal responsibility for this victory, in which the artillery he commanded had merely played a minor supporting role.

  At Easter some sensational news began spreading through Rome. Giovanni Sforza had suddenly fled the city in secret, riding back to his Adriatic castle at Pesaro, abandoning his wife Lucrezia. This gave rise to all manner of speculation. Some said that he had fled in fear of his life. According to the Mantuan ambassador, Sforza had suspected that he would be poisoned. In the words of Lucrezia Borgia’s biographer: ‘It may be that hints had been dropped, probably by Cesare, that a husband for Lucrezia was surplus to requirements.’ Cesare Borgia’s possessiveness with regard to his sister, and his antipathy towards her partners, was to become an increasing trait. Such feelings also seem to have been echoed in her father’s feelings towards his daughter. On the other hand, the Milanese ambassador suspected a different reason for Giovanni Sforza’s flight: ‘I suspect that something concerning the reputation of his wife might have led him into a serious quarrel and then to make a departure in this manner.’ Hints that something was wrong with Lucrezia’s marriage had been noted for some time.

  The rumour-mongers, and all enemies of the Borgia family, had a field day. However, the main reason for Giovanni Sforza’s flight may well have been political. It was becoming evident to all that Alexander VI was intent upon forming strong links with Spain and the Kingdom of Naples, where the weak King Ferrantino had been replaced by his uncle Federigo, who still blamed the Sforzas of Milan for inviting the French into Italy. Alexander VI no longer wished to be tied to Milan; he now saw a strong alliance with Naples as the best guarantee of papal independence. In a gesture of papal solidarity Alexander VI decided that he would send a papal legate to the coronation of King Federigo, thus conferring his blessing upon the kingdom which still theoretically remained under the suzerainty of the Pope.

  Such a legate would normally have been chosen from amongst the most senior members of the College of Cardinals, but Alexander VI decided to break with precedent by nominating the young Cardinal Cesare Borgia as his legate. This may have made him further enemies amongst the cardinals, but it confirmed the strength of the Pope’s bond with Naples. However, in a further familial gesture intended to confirm his links with Naples, Alexander VI decided to reward his favourite son Juan by making him Duke of Benevento, ruler of an enclave of Papal Territory which lay within the borders of the Kingdom of Naples.

  Although Cardinal Cesare Borgia was proud to represent his father at the coronation in Naples, this was but a passing honour. Juan, already Duke of Gandia, now held even more titles and land. The undeserving son was becoming ever more powerful, and his arrogance knew no restraint. Now the older brother, Cardinal Cesare Borgia, had even more reason to be jealous.

  On the afternoon of 14 June 1497 Vanozza de’ Cattanei held a party at her country villa in a vineyard near San Martino ai Monti, on the outskirts of Rome. This was intended as a farewell party in honour of her son Cesare, who was due to depart next day for Naples as papal legate. It was just a week since Juan had been created Duke of Benevento, and he too attended the party. Afterwards, as dusk was falling, Cesare and Juan, along with their servants, set off to ride back into Rome. When they reached the bridge of Castel Sant’Angelo, leading across the river to the Vatican, Juan announced to the company that he had decided to go off alone into the city. Cesare and the others did their best to dissuade him. The streets of Rome were dangerous at night. Juan insisted, but made one concession. He despatched his groom to get his light ‘night armour’, telling the servant to meet up with him at a nearby piazza. Cesare and the servants reluctantly watched Juan ride off into the night. They assumed he was off to spend the night with some young woman, as he often did. Next day, when Juan did not return, the Pope became increasingly anxious. He summoned
Cesare to demand what had happened the previous night. According to the Mantuan ambassador, after Alexander VI had heard Cesare’s explanation, he said ‘that if he was dead, he knew the origin and the cause’. According to Burchard, the Pope was then ‘seized with mortal terror’. He immediately ordered his Spanish guards to search the city. As the soldiers spread through the streets with drawn swords ‘the city was in an uproar; many citizens fearing wholesale vendetta closed their shops and barricaded their doors’. The following day Juan Borgia’s body was dragged from the Tiber: it had been stabbed repeatedly.

  In the words of Burchard:

  When the Pope heard that the Duke [Juan Borgia] was dead and thrown into the river like dung, he fell into a paroxysm of grief, and such was the anguish and bitterness in his heart that he locked himself away in his room and wailed with abandon.

  The suspects for this murder were legion. Juan Borgia had incurred widespread hatred by his arrogance alone. Add to this his vendetta against anyone to do with the Orsini, especially after his return from his unsuccessful campaign. To say nothing of the insults he had received on the campaign, which had caused mirth even amongst his own soldiers. Then there was his penchant for seducing the wives of important Roman figures. This seems to have been his reason for venturing into Rome alone that night. Soon all manner of rumours were sweeping through the city. However, the favourite suspect amongst the gossips was, of course, Juan’s older brother Cardinal Cesare. It appears that Juan Borgia had even had the temerity to move in on Cesare Borgia’s affair with young Jofrè Borgia’s wife Sancia.