Light on Lucrezia (35 page)

In his castle
beside the Mincio, Francesco Gonzaga read accounts of the wedding.

From his wife Isabella he heard that Lucrezia was quite pleasant to look at but far from the beauty they had been led to expect. The poor girl looked wan and fatigued when she arrived, and was a great disappointment to all who beheld her. She would have been well-advised to have made her entry into Ferrara after dark. She would have looked so much more charming by the flare of torches.

One of his wife’s ladies wrote in similar strain, stressing Ferrara’s disappointment with the girl, who had turned out to be quite plain after being heralded as a beauty. “It would have been so much better if she had not defied the clear light of day. Everywhere one heard the comment: ‘Compare her with Donna Isabella! There is true beauty. And her garments lack the style and dazzling delight of those of Donna Isabella.’ ”

But Francesco heard reports from other quarters which were not inspired by the malice of his dominating wife.

“Lucrezia Borgia is very pretty indeed; her eyes are light in color and adorable. Her hair is as golden as it is said to be. She is full of vitality, yet serene withal. And although she might appear to be a little too slender this but adds to her grace. She is extremely fragile, wholly feminine and a delight to look upon.”

Francesco grimaced when he read that.

He was remembering the young girl he had met when she was in her early teens. He recalled her dainty charm. He was glad that she was beautiful. He hoped she would prove a match for Isabella.

During the next
few days Lucrezia realized the depth of that enmity which Isabella felt toward her, and it seemed to her that her only friends were those women she had brought with her. Ferrante and Sigismondo were charming to her, but Ferrante was frivolous and Sigismondo was very much under the influence of his family. Duke Ercole had not wanted the match and was anxiously counting the cost of feeding the wedding guests; he was amazed by Borgia extravagance and ready to listen to Isabella’s stories concerning his new daughter-in-law. She might have expected support from Alfonso, but uxorious as he was for part of the night, he was indifferent during the day and seemed scarcely aware of his wife. Lucrezia realized that if she asked for his support against his sister she would receive scant sympathy from him. His thoughts were on his foundry; all she had to concern herself about was getting with child. Alfonso had a horror of sterile women; he could not rid himself of the idea that he was virile enough to overcome infertility, and his favorite mistresses were his fruitful ones.

It was, on the whole, a hostile household, and Lucrezia was glad of her experience and upbringing which was helping her to steel herself against it, and to produce a mood almost of indifference.

She rose late, which was a habit Isabella deplored. She refused to be roused to anger, since she realized that it was her serenity which infuriated Isabella almost as much as her beauty and good taste in clothes.

Each day Lucrezia appeared among the guests in some dazzling gown of her own design which, brilliant as it was, accentuated her elegance; and beside her Isabella seemed coarse and overdressed.

Isabella, furious, determined to discountenance Lucrezia, and during the performance of a comedy,
Miles Gloriosus
, Isabella began to titter, and her attendants—who always sprang slavishly to do her bidding—joined in the tittering so that it was impossible to hear the actors speak. This was meant as an insult to Lucrezia, for the play was being given in her honor.

Lucrezia sat upright during the performance, looking at the players as though she was unaware of the disturbance.

And, when on the next night the somewhat bawdy
Casina
was performed, Isabella declared herself to be so shocked by the choice of the play that she would not allow her women (who were notorious for their lechery) to see it; so again Lucrezia sat through the play laughing heartily at the parts which would have amused her father, and seeming quite unaware of Isabella’s disapproval.

But Lucrezia was unhappy, understanding how her sister-in-law was determined to hate her. Her father or Cesare would have gone wholeheartedly into the battle; they would have sought victory over Isabella. Not so Lucrezia, who longed to be loved and had no wish to be anyone’s enemy.

There was yet another disturbing element. Isabella was giving Lucrezia’s Spanish dwarfs costly materials, velvets and brocades, from which garments could be made. She knew how vain the dwarfs were; they were continually longing to wear clothes as fine as their mistress. This, Isabella pointed out to them, they could do; and there would be more presents for them if they would shout “Long live Donna Isabella” instead of “Long live Donna Lucrezia.”

A few days after the wedding Lucrezia declared that she would spend the day in her own apartments, as her hair must be washed and there were letters to be written. Isabella was delighted, for this gave her a chance to win the French ambassador to her side.

She invited him to dinner; she played the lute and sang to him; and before he left she took off one of her scented gloves and gave it to him.

Philippe de la Roche Martin was susceptible, and Isabella was considered to be a very beautiful woman.

This would teach the sly creature to shut herself away, washing her hair! thought Isabella grimly. She was determined to parade her triumph that evening at the ball of torches.

During such balls each lady carried a torch which she gave to her partner of the evening and, when Lucrezia appeared, her hair freshly golden and her eyes sparkling with that vitality which was entirely her own because it was so serene, she looked more delightful than ever in her favorite morello and gold lined with ermine.

She had heard from Angela, who was turning out to be a perfect and reliable little spy for her mistress, of Isabella’s encounter with the French ambassador, and she knew that Isabella was determined to lure him from her. So, with a charming smile she handed her torch to Philippe de la Roche Martin, and after such a gesture the gallant Frenchman was so charmed that he had eyes only for Lucrezia, seeming scarcely aware of Isabella’s presence, and all were declaring that at last Lucrezia had scored a victory over her rival.

Thereafter Lucrezia kept the Frenchman at her side, which was a triumph indeed, as the French were more feared than any and it was important for all to be on good terms with Louis’ ambassador.

The French were subtle; one could never be sure what meaning lurked behind their words and actions. Even those wedding presents which Philippe de la Roche Martin brought from his master seemed to have some subtlety attached to them for those who could understand the dry humor of the King of France. There was an engraving of St. Francis on a gold medal for the Duke; was that meant to imply: What a pious man is Duke Ercole! Here is an image of St. Francis for him to pray to, but if there is one thing he admires as much as the saints it is gold. For Lucrezia there was a rosary of golden beads, but when these beads were opened they were seen to contain musk. Did that mean: She is outwardly demure but what lies within? For Alfonso there was a recipe for casting cannon and a figure in gold of Mary Magdalene. Was Louis slyly reminding the bridegroom of the scandals he had heard concerning his bride?

With the French no one could be sure. That was why it was necessary to be on good terms with the French King’s ambassador. That was why Angela, Adriana, Nicola and all those whom Lucrezia had brought with her rejoiced, and Isabella and the rest of the Ferrarese looked on in dismay.

The celebrations went
on. Each day there was some spectacle to be witnessed. Each day Isabella in company with Elizabetta planned some fresh insult for Lucrezia, each day Lucrezia realized more and more how difficult it was going to be to live in harmony with her relations.

Alfonso continued passionate by night, indifferent by day; Duke Ercole continued to count the cost; letters went to and fro between Rome and Ferrara, but no one yet dared tell the Pope that his daughter had her enemies in the Este stronghold.

The Ferrarese were now being deliberately insulting to Lucrezia, laughing at her as she passed, mocking her graceful walk and her beautiful clothes. She gave no sign at the time that she noticed their rudeness, but she told those ladies who had been selected by Duke Ercole to be her attendants that she had no more use for them and refused to allow them into her apartments. She remained in bed during the greater part of the morning, chatting with her ladies, discussing dresses, attending to her toilet; in her imperturbable way she was behaving as she would in her home at Santa Maria in Portico.

She appeared at the balls and banquets serenely lovely. Once at a ball her
own ladies played Spanish tunes on their lutes and, selecting one of the very pretty girls who had come with her to Ferrara, Lucretia danced with her, their skirts whirling, the castanets in their hands; and so enchanted was the company that there was a hushed silence all about them, and Isabella’s attempts to start a conversation on some entirely different subject were defeated.

When the dancing was over, and the applause ringing out, Angela demanded of Isabella: “Do you not think Madonna Lucrezia dances like an angel, Donna Isabella?”

“An angel? I was thinking of a Spanish gypsy. Donna Lucrezia dances with fire and spirit, as I hear they do.”

Angela was furious, but Giulio was beside her, laying a restraining hand on her arm.

There was talk and laughter throughout the company—and Angela cried to Giulio: “Are you all afraid of her … this sister of yours?”

But Lucrezia was sitting back in her chair, while one of her Spaniards fanned her. She was smiling, as though she had not understood the malice behind Isabella’s remarks.

That night Alfonso and Giulio danced together for the enjoyment of the company, and later Alfonso played his viol.

It was strange to see his somewhat clumsy fingers, the foundry grime still on them, making such music. Lucrezia began to wonder then whether there was a side to her husband which she had not yet discovered.

Isabella would soon
return to Mantua, and she was determined that she must leave some lasting memory of her visit behind for Lucrezia.

She sought out her father. Ercole was pondering over his accounts.

“Do you know, daughter,” he said, “that there are still more than four hundred guests in the castle? What do you think it costs me to feed them?”

Isabella, never having time for other people’s problems, ignored the question.

“Your daughter-in-law will make Este into a Spanish Court before she has been here long.”

“She will do no such thing,” retorted Ercole.

“And how can you be sure?”

“Because I would never permit it.”

“It will creep in subtly before you realize it. Oh, she is so calm, so smug. There are no tantrums with Madonna Lucrezia. She merely looks like a fragile flower and says ‘I want this. I want that.’ And because no one takes her seriously and tries to stop her she gets it.”