Isabella d’Este: A Renaissance Princess 0367002477, 9780367002473

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Isabella d’Este

Isabella d’Este, Marchioness of Mantua (1474–1539), is one of the most studied figures of Renaissance Italy, as an epitome of Renaissance court culture and as a woman having an unusually prominent role in the politics of her day. This biography provides a well-rounded account of the full range of her activities and interests from her childhood to her final years as a dowager, and considers Isabella d’Este not as an icon but as a woman of her time and place in the world. It covers all aspects of her life including her relationship with her parents and siblings as well as with her husband and children; her interest in literature and music, painting and antiquities; her political and diplomatic activities; her concern with fashion and jewellery; her relations with other women; and her love of travel. In this book, grounded in an understanding of the context of the Italy of her day, the typical interests and behaviour of women of Isabella d’Este’s status within Renaissance Italy are distinguished from those that were unique to her, such as the elaborate apartments that she created for herself and her extensive surviving correspondence, which provides insights into all aspects of life in the major courts of northern Italy, centres of Renaissance culture. Providing fresh perspectives on one of the most famous figures of Renaissance Italy, Isabella d’Este will be of great interest to undergraduates and graduates of early modern history, gender studies, Renaissance studies and art history. Christine Shaw is an Associate Member of the History Faculty of the University of Oxford. Her research interests are centred on the political society of Renaissance Italy. Her major publications include Julius II: The Warrior Pope (1993); The Politics of Exile in Renaissance Italy (2000); Barons and Castellans: The Military Nobility of Renaissance Italy (2015); and The Italian Wars: War, State and Society in Early Modern Europe (2012; second edition 2019).

ROUTLEDGE HISTORICAL BIOGRAPHIES Series Editor: Robert Pearce

Routledge Historical Biographies provide engaging, readable and academically credible biographies written from an explicitly historical perspective. These concise and accessible accounts will bring important historical figures to life for students and general readers alike. In the same series: Franco by Antonio Cazorla-Sanchez Gladstone by Michael Partridge Henry V by John Matusiak Henry VI by David Grummitt Henry VII by Sean Cunningham Henry VIII by Lucy Wooding (second edition 2015) Hitler by Michael Lynch John F. Kennedy by Peter J. Ling John Maynard Keynes by Vincent Barnett Lenin by Christopher Read Louis XIV by Richard Wilkinson (second edition 2017) Martin Luther by Michael A. Mullet (second edition 2014) Martin Luther King Jr. by Peter J. Ling (second edition 2015) Mao by Michael Lynch (second edition 2017) Marx by Vincent Barnett Mary Queen of Scots by Retha M. Warnicke Mary Tudor by Judith M. Richards Mussolini by Peter Neville (second edition 2014) Nehru by Benjamin Zachariah Neville Chamberlain by Nick Smart Oliver Cromwell by Martyn Bennett Queen Victoria by Paula Bartley Richard III by David Hipshon Thatcher by Graham Goodlad Trotsky by Ian Thatcher Stalin by Christopher Read Thomas Cranmer by Susan Wabuda Ho Chi Minh by Peter Neville Isabella d’Este by Christine Shaw Forthcoming: Churchill by Robert Pearce Gandhi by Benjamin Zachariah Khrushchev by Alexander Titov Wolsey by Glenn Richardson

Isabella d’Este A Renaissance Princess Christine Shaw

First published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2019 Christine Shaw The right of Christine Shaw to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Shaw, Christine (Italian Renaissance historian), author. Title: Isabella d’Este : a Renaissance princess / Christine Shaw. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2019. | Series: Routledge historical biographies | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018054747 (print) | LCCN 2018059199 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Isabella d’Este, consort of Francesco II Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, 1474–1539. | Princesses— Italy—Biography. | Renaissance—Italy—Biography. | Italy—Court and courtiers—Biography. | Women—Political activity—Italy—History. | Italy—History—1492-1559. Classification: LCC DG540.8.I7 (ebook) | LCC DG540.8.I7 S53 2019 (print) | DDC 945/.28106092 [B] —dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018054747 ISBN: 978-0-367-00249-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-00247-3 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-40056-8 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

Introduction: “Isabella d’Este, granddaughter and niece of Aragonese kings, daughter and sister of dukes of Ferrara, wife and mother of Gonzaga marquises”

1

1 A child in Ferrara

5

2 Wife and consort

26

3 Always an Este

75

4 Patron and collector

103

5 The first lady

146

6 The traveller

185

7 The dowager

239

Bibliography Index

290 300

Introduction “Isabella d’Este, granddaughter and niece of Aragonese kings, daughter and sister of dukes of Ferrara, wife and mother of Gonzaga marquises”1

After Lucrezia Borgia, Isabella d’Este must be the most famous woman of Renaissance Italy. Unlike Lucrezia – who, despite the best efforts of her biographers, cannot escape the taint of Borgia iniquity – Isabella for a long time enjoyed a more exalted reputation than she really deserved. For over a century, the works of one of her greatest admirers, Alessandro Luzio, an archivist who spent a lifetime gathering and publishing materials for a biography of her that he never wrote, have been an indispensable source for anyone studying Isabella and her world. To him, she was not only the epitome of the culture of the Italian Renaissance at its height, a paragon of feminine charm and grace and a woman of great intelligence, but also a politician who held her own in a man’s world, a “Machiavelli in skirts”. Isabella can still manage to seduce some of those who study her, admirers of her taste, of the broad scope of her interests, her energy and her determination to be her own woman. Others have been less entranced. She has been criticized for being attention-seeking, self-centred, obsessive. Her famous collections of art and antiquities and the exquisite apartments she fashioned for herself have been seen as, for her, just another way of outshining others, of demanding adulation. There are grounds for making all these judgements about Isabella. None can be dismissed completely as fantasy or prejudice – which indicates just how complex a woman she was. But the impression of complexity is also in part the outcome of the sheer wealth of the evidence for her life, for what she did and thought and felt, above all, of the abundance of her own correspondence, the letters she wrote and received, preserved in the archives in Mantua.

2  Introduction In recent years, historians thinking and writing about “women of power” in Renaissance Italy have been looking “beyond Isabella”.2 It is easier now to see how exceptional Isabella truly was or was not. None of the roles that she took on – including those of patron of the arts, and of regent for her husband and her son – were unusual for women of her status in her time. This is not to say that she might not have performed them exceptionally well. And in any case, putting her into context does not diminish the fascination of observing how an intelligent, astute, vivacious woman confronted the challenges and took advantage of the opportunities that came her way throughout her life. Isabella spent her life in the princely courts of northern Italy. She had close family ties to all the major ones. She was the daughter of Duke Ercole d’Este of Ferrara and became the wife of Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua. Her younger sister, Beatrice, was married to the duke of Milan, and her sister-in-law and close friend, Elisabetta Gonzaga, and her daughter Eleonora, were both duchesses of Urbino. None of these courts was the forerunner of the kind of hieratic, formal court that would be created by Louis XIV of France at Versailles in the seventeenth century. Of the north Italian courts that Isabella knew, only the Milanese could vie with those of the sovereign princes over the Alps. In Mantua, Ferrara and Urbino, the courts were more like great aristocratic households in their style and their ethos. The lives of the princes and their families were not circumscribed by etiquette and daily rituals; the spaces they lived in from day to day were chambers, rather than halls. All the courts with which Isabella was familiar were important cultural centres. The beauty and splendour of the surroundings the princes created for themselves were an essential element in the image of their power and authority that they aimed to project. Yet there was more to their patronage of the visual arts, of music and of literature than self-aggrandizement or a desire for prestige. Some princes – Isabella’s father among them – had an unquestionably genuine love of the arts, and their patronage was founded on knowledge and taste. In striving as she did to shine in such circles, Isabella had to set her standards high. But the princes of northern Italy were far from secure. All her life, Isabella would have been aware of this. She was too young

Introduction 3 to retain a memory of the challenge to her father launched by his nephew, Niccolò d’Este, in 1476, but she would probably have remembered the attacks on Ferrara by the Venetians in 1482–4. The legal status of Ferrara as a papal fief proved perilous for her brother Alfonso as duke, when successive popes wanted to depose him, and Isabella did all she could to support him and defend his interests. Both Elisabetta Gonzaga’s husband, Guidobaldo, and Isabella’s son-in-law, Francesco Maria, were driven out of the duchy of Urbino for some years by popes who wanted to give it to their own relatives. They and their families were given refuge in Mantua when they were in exile, until it became too dangerous for them to stay. There was a limit to how far Francesco Gonzaga was prepared to go to defend his brothers-in-law or his son-in-law. He had enough to do preserving the independence of Mantua in the Italian Wars that began in 1494 and would continue, off and on, to the middle of the sixteenth century, long after Francesco and Isabella were dead. These wars brought the armies of major European powers  – the kings of Spain and France and the emperor – to Italy. The duchy of Milan was one of the main prizes they fought over. Isabella had to watch her nephews, Beatrice’s sons, struggle to secure the duchy which their father, Ludovico Sforza, had lost in 1500. For lesser Italian princes, the problem of preserving their small states as independent units was complicated by the fact that they were almost obliged to be professional soldiers – obliged, because payment for commanding the troops of other powers was such an important element in their finances. Isabella’s father, her husband, two of her brothers, two of her sons, a brother-in-law and a son-in-law3 all served as military commanders in the service of other powers. Ercole d’Este was too old to take an active part in the military campaigns of the Italian Wars, but the other soldiers in her family did. For most of her adult life, there was no question of Isabella being able to ignore events in the wider world, creating a haven for herself in the palace in Mantua. There were times when she could be accused of being cold-hearted and callous in the face of the traumas suffered by some of those closest to her. But her appetite for art and music and literature, her efforts to surround

4  Introduction herself with beautiful objects and even her interest in clothes and perfumes were never merely escapism. She would not have been able to imagine life without them. It was on them, most of all, that her reputation and her fame rested in her own day, and has continued into ours.

Notes 1 The inscription in the “secret” garden of Isabella’s Corte Vecchia apartments; see above, Chapter 4. 2 Letizia Arcangeli and Susanna Peyronel (eds.), Donne di Potere nel Rinascimento (Rome: Viella, 2008); Sheryl E. Reiss and David G. Wilkins (eds.), Beyond Isabella: Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2000). 3 Ercole d’Este, Francesco Gonzaga, Alfonso and Ferrante d’Este, Federico and Ferrante Gonzaga, Giovanni Gonzaga and Francesco Maria della Rovere.

1 A child in Ferrara

Isabella was a very fortunate child. She was born into a princely dynasty that had created one of the major cultural centres of Renaissance Italy, to parents who genuinely loved their daughter, who were concerned for her happiness and her welfare, and educated her with care. Of course, she had to conform to the demands and restrictions that her status entailed. At the age of five she was betrothed to a husband chosen for political and dynastic reasons. It would have been difficult for her to remember a time when she was not aware that one day she would be the Marchioness of Mantua. But she would always remain Isabella d’Este. This was not just a question of her keeping her family name when she married, for that was common practice for women of her rank in the Italy of her time. Throughout her life, she felt a strong affinity with her birth family, and with Ferrara. In character, she was very different from both of her parents, and she would, notoriously, aim to make manifest her unique qualities as an individual. Yet she would retain the stamp of her upbringing at the court in Ferrara to the end of her days. Isabella was the first child of Ercole d’Este, Duke of Ferrara and his consort, Eleonora d’Aragona, the daughter of King Ferrante of Naples. Their marriage was not, as hers would be, the outcome of a long and untroubled betrothal. Ercole knew Eleonora’s father well, for he was brought up in the Neapolitan court, as his companion. Sent to Naples in 1445 at the age of about fourteen, he stayed there for seventeen years while two of his illegitimate half-brothers, Leonello and Borso, preceded him on the throne of Ferrara. (Their father Niccolò III had sired no fewer than fourteen illegitimate sons, as well as three legitimate

6  A child in Ferrara ones, and ten illegitimate and two legitimate daughters.) At the conveniently distant Neapolitan court, Ercole could be kept in honourable exile under the supervision of Leonello’s father-inlaw, King Alfonso.1 After Alfonso’s death in 1458, Ferrante was faced by a baronial rebellion and a challenge from the French prince Jean d’Anjou, who came to reclaim the crown for the Angevin dynasty which Alfonso had displaced. At first Ercole supported Ferrante, but then, probably acting under instructions from Borso, he fought for the Angevins until his return to Ferrara in 1462. Understandably, Ferrante felt this as a personal betrayal. He was a vengeful man. Some of the barons who had fought against him and were supposedly pardoned, vanished into the dungeons of the royal fortresses in Naples, never to emerge. But he seemed to become genuinely reconciled to Ercole. Either he accepted that Ercole had only been acting on his brother’s instructions, or he took a pragmatic view of the advantages of being on good terms with him, as the most likely successor to the childless Borso. In any case, he did not wait for Borso’s death in 1471 to open discussions with Ercole about marrying Eleonora. Ercole liked the suggestion, but there was one major obstacle. She was already married, to a brother of the duke of Milan. Eleonora, who was born in 1450, was married to Sforza Maria Sforza by proxy in 1465, but did not go to join her husband. The following year her father-in-law, Francesco Sforza, died and the new duke, Galeazzo Maria, refused to fulfil the terms of the marriage settlement. Eleonora was left in limbo, married and yet not married. As the years passed, her situation became humiliating and distressing to her. ‘Always weeping’, she felt her youth slipping away from her.2 This might seem a touch melodramatic for a young woman of twenty, but by contemporary standards, she was well past the age when it would have been considered fitting for her to be with the man to whom she had been betrothed for so long. Ferrante felt for his daughter. He was very fond of her, proud of her intelligence and good sense, and he wanted her to have a husband. He could not think of a better match for her in Italy then Ercole.3 But before Eleonora could become Ercole’s bride, she would have to be divorced from Sforza Maria Sforza. There were canonical grounds for divorce, as the marriage had not been consummated, so the pope’s consent was not a problem.

A child in Ferrara 7 Sforza Maria’s opinion in the matter did not count for much. It was his brother, Duke Galeazzo Maria, who had to agree to the dissolution of the marriage. Among the conditions he insisted on were that Ferrante’s granddaughter, Isabella d’Aragona, should be married to Galeazzo’s own son and heir, and that the girl should be sent to Milan to be brought up there (a suggestion that sent her mother into hysterics).4 Despite resenting his daughter’s dilemma being used as a diplomatic bargaining counter in this way, Ferrante, anxious to liberate Eleonora from her embarrassing situation, was prepared to discuss Galeazzo’s demands. Happy to swap Sforza Maria for Ercole, Eleonora was speaking of her second marriage as fixed while her father was still wrangling for the consent of the duke of Milan to the dissolution of her first. A marble portrait bust of her was carved to send to Ercole. Preparations of her trousseau were under way, so that she could leave for Ferrara in September 1472. Ercole was becoming impatient – there was talk of him considering an offer of the hand of a daughter of the duke of Savoy – and Eleonora again began to lament her fate. If the affair was going to continue to drag on like this, she protested, she would rather enter a convent.5 To settle them both, Ferrante arranged a wedding by proxy, with Ercole’s ambassador standing in for him at a private ceremony, before the papal dispensation was officially notified. Even though it was decided that she should stay at Naples until the spring to avoid her making the long journey to Ferrara in winter weather, Eleonora was now content. Finally, in mid-May 1473, Sigismondo d’Este arrived in Naples to accompany his brother’s bride to her new home. Another proxy marriage was held, this time in a more public ceremony, with Sigismondo standing in for Ercole. Jewels and cloth of gold said to be worth over 80,000 ducats were presented to her as gifts from Ercole, and the size of her dowry – again, 80,000 ducats – was published.6 Galeazzo Maria Sforza was still quibbling as Eleonora was making her journey to Ferrara. A splendid company of nobles had been sent to Naples by Ercole to accompany his bride, and she was much fêted as she made her way north. Her arrival at Ferrara on 3 July was no anti-climax. Ercole was out to impress. He awaited her on horseback at one of the city gates, dressed in a mantle of crimson cloth of gold and a

8  A child in Ferrara black velvet hat bearing a large ruby and a pendant pearl. Processing through streets shaded by woollen cloth stretched across the street, Eleonora rode a white horse under a baldaquin of crimson cloth of gold, past set pieces representing the planets, with dancers and singers. She too was dressed in gold brocade, in what was noted as the ‘Neapolitan style’, her hair loose over her shoulders as befitted a young bride, with a white veil covered with pearls, and wearing a golden crown with rubies, diamonds and pearls as befitted a king’s daughter.7 The next day she went through yet another wedding ceremony, in the cathedral of Ferrara, this time with Ercole in person. She would not dazzle her new subjects by her beauty – short and fat, a big face, short neck, rather brown, a small mouth, small, black eyes and a small nose that turned up a little, not given to dressing finely, was the less than flattering description of her by a local chronicler. Nor was he impressed by her manner – haughty, abrupt and domineering, insisting that those to whom she gave audience should address her on their knees, ‘as though they were adoring God’.8 Conscious of her dignity as a princess as she may have been, she was also conscious of the duties of her new role, and the way she performed them would win her the esteem of her subjects. To her mind, her duties as Ercole’s consort were not limited to providing him with heirs, or conventional works of piety and charity, although she fulfilled those too. She soon showed gifts as an administrator and manager, proving more capable than her husband of keeping a careful eye on routine business. A memorandum she compiled after some years in Ferrara of tasks to be done was principally concerned with checks on income and expenditure, with regular reports from the officials who handled the revenues, and going through the accounts weekly. She did not think it beneath her to make personal checks on the lodgings of visitors to the court to see that they were in good order – and that no one was making off with the furnishings.9 Advice Eleonora sent to her sixteen-year-old daughter Isabella on the duties of a consort has the ring of practical experience, not pious exhortation. Be solicitous and diligent in what is necessary and expedient, not minding the effort and taking pleasure in everything,

A child in Ferrara 9 because you will feel it less and have a quieter mind when you have done the tasks, for you know well that she who has a husband and a state, will necessarily have to exert herself, bearing in mind that you will have children and that you have to see to maintaining and conserving the property and the state, and do what is needful for your subjects and citizens, according to what may crop up.10 Nor did she think it beneath her dignity to tend her husband personally when he was ill; that was the way, she advised Isabella, to make her husband love her twice as much as before.11 While she always formally deferred to Ercole’s wishes and judgement, she expected him to treat her with consideration and to respect her opinion. Forgive me if I  complain a little of the instructions you have given me, without first finding out from me what happened, she wrote to him in 1487, because it looks as though you hold me in little account, and that I proceed hastily, and without concern for justice. If that is what you think, you had better give this responsibility to someone else.12 If it were not for the authority I have in representing you and the brusque words I have to use, nothing would get done, she told Ercole two years later. No one wants to come to show their accounts, and they are all hoping to come to some sort of arrangement through your benevolence.13 Soft touch as Ercole may sometimes have seemed compared to his consort, he was by no means incapable of governing. He could show good judgement, good sense and needful diligence. But he was liable to bouts of indecision and reluctance to confront difficulties, preferring to seek distraction in hunting or playing cards or music. Details of architecture and town planning were of more interest to him than the details of financial administration to which Eleonora paid such close attention. More reserved and less approachable than Borso had been, Ercole wanted the city as well as the court of Ferrara to reflect his ducal status. From her father, as well as from her mother, Isabella imbibed a strong sense of her own status as the daughter of a duke of Ferrara and the granddaughter of a king. She was not brought up to consider affairs of state as a male preserve. In the household and court in which she grew up, the consort of the prince had a

10  A child in Ferrara recognized and respected role in government and administration, far beyond the running of her own household and the care of her children. Exceptionally diligent as she was, Eleonora set her daughters a high standard. Neither Isabella nor Beatrice would ever really match this, partly because they would have different priorities, and partly because their husbands would not leave so much to their care. Eleonora was delighted by the birth of her first baby, on 17 May 1474. ‘Although it is not the custom to write about the birth of little girls’, she wrote to Barbara of Brandenburg, Marchioness of Mantua, to tell her of her safe delivery of ‘a beautiful little damsel’.14 To celebrate the arrival of their duke’s first child, the people of Ferrara lit two great bonfires in the square before the palace. (Unfortunately, these fires got out of control, and burned the shutters of many of the shops and workshops around the square.) Her baptism was celebrated in great style. Isabella was carried into the cathedral by a courtier dressed in a mantle of gold brocade, accompanied by a large crowd of gentlemen, members of the university and townspeople, as well as the households of her father and mother. She was baptized by a bishop. Representatives of Ferrante and of the duke of Urbino were among her godfathers. A ball followed in the ‘great public hall’, and then there were races, one for horses, one for men and another in which 150 boys took part. Eleonora watched the races with her ladies and the girls who had been invited to the ball, while the duke presided on horseback.15 Isabella was not the only child for long. A year later, on 29 June, her sister Beatrice was born. This time ‘there were no celebrations, because everyone wished for a boy’.16 Their wishes were satisfied by the arrival of Alfonso, born on 21 July  1476. Three days of public festivities greeted his birth. Two-year-old Isabella attended his baptism, as a personage in her own right, in the charge of one of Ercole’s men rather than a nursemaid. Three more sons followed: Ferrante in 1477, Ippolito in 1479 and finally Sigismondo in 1480. Eleonora had unquestionably done her dynastic duty, providing Ercole with four healthy sons and two daughters. Another duty the loyal consort of a prince or nobleman was often called upon to perform was to raise his illegitimate children, or at least his favourite ones, in her household with her own. Two illegitimate children of Ercole received a mother’s care from

A child in Ferrara 11 Eleonora: Lucrezia, who was born before the duke’s marriage, and Giulio, born in 1478. Giulio may well have been conceived while Eleonora was away from Ferrara from June to November 1477, visiting her father with her daughters. Her own son Ferrante was born while she was in Naples, and she left him there on her return, together with her younger daughter. Beatrice enchanted her grandfather, and it would be eight years before he allowed her to go back to Ferrara, in September 1485. Little Ferrante would not see Ferrara until 1489, so Isabella did not have much time to get to know this brother before she left for Mantua the following year. As a young girl, she would have known her half-sister Lucrezia better than she knew Beatrice, and she would always feel great affection for her. But once Beatrice returned to Ferrara, Isabella formed a close bond with her, too. In the princely families of the Po valley, it had become an established practice for girls as well as boys to be given a broad education. Not for them an education restricted to basic literacy, readings in pious texts and training in the social graces. The idea of a “liberal” education, based principally on the study of the Latin classics (classical Greek was much less widely taught), as the best preparation for those destined to govern, became established in Italy in the fifteenth century. There was still an aura of freshness, of discovery, in studying Latin literature; it had not yet become desiccated into a routine of learning a “dead language” by rote. One of the most influential figures in this educational movement, Guarino Guarini da Verona, had come to Ferrara to be the tutor of Leonello d’Este, and stayed there for the rest of his life, running a school and teaching at the university. Isabella’s first Latin tutor was his son Battista, who held his father’s university post as professor of Greek and Latin, while having more of the courtier about him than his father had. Sentimental memories of her Latin lessons as a teenager were recalled by another of her tutors, Jacopo Gallino. A schoolmaster rather than a university professor, he evidently felt honoured that he had been entrusted with the education of a princess. Writing to her soon after she had left Ferrara for Mantua, he reminisced about how attentively she had listened as he told her some tale or history, and how much she had enjoyed this, how studiously she had composed ‘our little declamations’ or scanned the verses of

12  A child in Ferrara Virgil, or turned prose into verse. What a good memory she had, when on Saturdays she recited passages from Virgil or Cicero, or Greek and Latin grammar. How gracefully she had discussed the readings he gave her, especially of Terence and Virgil. He sent her the books she had used with him, sure they would bring back pleasant memories of her childish studies (and, he hoped, of her tutor) – a copy of Virgil, the Latin grammar (Regulae grammaticales) of Guarino Guarini, ‘some little Latin books and some letters’.17 Allowing for the fact that he was hoping for the favour of his illustrious former pupil, there was a note of genuine affection for her in these memories. Isabella may have had fond memories as well: she had certainly not been put off learning Latin by Gallino’s lessons, for she would continue her studies in Mantua, but she does not appear to have persevered with learning Greek. Poetry was the kind of Latin literature that appealed most to her, rather than works of philosophy or theology. She never became a learned classicist herself. There were other women in Italy who could undoubtedly outshine her in that respect. Christian texts and moral precepts would have been part of her education, too, some of them perhaps learned at her mother’s knee. Both her parents were in fact notably pious. All of the 38 paintings listed in an inventory of Eleonora’s goods soon after her death in 1493 were of religious subjects; only 10 of the 74 books in the inventory were on secular subjects.18 Ercole’s religious observance went well beyond the practices expected of a prince – they have been described as bordering on fanaticism.19 His devotion found expression in regular attendance at vespers as well as the morning mass that was part of the daily ritual of many princes, and in charitable works, in the encouragement of philanthropic religious confraternities. In the construction of churches and in the patronage of church music, Ercole’s religious zeal enriched rather than blighted the lives of his subjects and his family. Isabella’s passion for literature, especially poetry, found plenty of nourishment at her father’s court. Naturally, she was introduced to the major classics of Italian as well as Latin literature, to Petrarch and Dante as well as Virgil. Petrarch became a particular favourite with her. But she was also imbued with a taste she would never lose, for chivalric romances. Ferrara was a centre of the

A child in Ferrara 13 chivalric cultural tradition that is more usually associated with courts on the other side of the Alps. Tales of heroes such as Arthur and Roland were very popular in Renaissance Italy – a fact often overlooked or glossed over in accounts of Renaissance culture that concentrate on the revival and renewal of classical ideas and forms. Princes and the military nobility and their households could identify with the tales of adventure, military exploits, tournaments and war. These were closer reflections of their own life and aspirations than were the ideals of republican Rome and civic virtue that enabled some citizens of republics such as Florence and Venice to see classical values or institutions as patterns they might adopt. Yet these two cultural traditions were not separate or distinct. Citizens of republics could enjoy romantic tales of knightly exploits; they might organize tournaments, as the young Lorenzo de’ Medici did in Florence. Court societies were receptive to the revived classical learning, and princes were major patrons of scholars and artists who looked to ancient Rome and Greece for inspiration. Isabella was familiar with both traditions, and enjoyed both. Two of the late masterpieces of the chivalrous tradition were written by men associated with the Este and the court of Ferrara, the Orlando inamorato of Matteo Boiardo, and the Orlando furioso of Ludovico Ariosto. Isabella knew both men personally, and had the privilege of hearing or reading their poems when they were works in progress. Both came from prominent local families. Boiardo was a member of the landed military nobility, and Ariosto of a family that served the Este as officials and courtiers. Another noble poet and friend of Isabella, Niccolò da Correggio, was related to her, for his mother Beatrice was one of the illegitimate daughters of Niccolò III d’Este. Isabella grew up accustomed to nobles and courtiers producing poetry that was more than just occasional pieces and word games written to flatter and amuse. She was used to conversing with poets as friends, if not quite social equals (for the Este were always conscious of their status). Another of the privileges Isabella enjoyed as she grew up in the Ferrarese court was to witness the revival of performances of classical secular comedies, one of Ercole’s celebrated cultural initiatives. There had been performances of religious drama earlier in his reign, but the staging of the Menaechmi of Plautus in

14  A child in Ferrara January 1486 was the first secular play he sponsored. It is thought to have been the first performance of a classical comedy since antiquity. This was no private, small-scale affair. A  special stage was built in the main courtyard of the ducal palace, with scenery including a galley with sails. The duke and his family and courtiers – and his special guest, Isabella’s betrothed, Francesco Gonzaga, who had come to Ferrara for the occasion – sat on a platform raised opposite the stage, with all the citizens who could fit in filling the rest of the courtyard. Performed in an Italian translation so all could appreciate it, the play was met with warm applause. Performances of classical plays in translation, and of original Italian secular and religious dramas and comedies, put on at court for a wide audience, became a regular occurrence in Ferrara. Isabella developed a taste for the theatre, but may well have preferred to be part of a smaller, more select audience.20 Music was an important part of Isabella’s education, and not merely as a decorative accomplishment for a young lady. The art of music was taken very seriously at Ercole’s court. His appreciation of it was fostered by the time he spent in Naples, for King Alfonso had been a great lover of music. Eleonora had also received some musical training in Naples; she played the “lira”, probably the lira da braccio, a forerunner of the viola.21 Under Ercole, music became central to the daily life of the court. From the beginning of his reign he formed choirs to sing sacred music, joining the competition among princes throughout Italy and northern Europe for the services of the best singers. Composers of the stature of Josquin des Prez were attracted to Ferrara to work for him. Ercole heard a sung mass every day, sometimes singing with his choir, who also sang at services for the feasts of the Church and on special occasions. He wanted singers who could perform secular music as well, and he had a substantial number of instrumental players on his payroll; he enjoyed performing himself, singing and playing. There was a “music room” in the palace where instruments were kept – the account of Eleonora showing it to a visitor in 1481 may be the earliest reference to a domestic “music room” in Renaissance Italy.22 All the children of Ercole and Eleonora were taught to perform music, as well as to appreciate it; all became to some degree patrons of music, generally secular rather than sacred.23 Their

A child in Ferrara 15 main teacher was Johannes Martini, a composer and singer from Brabant who settled at the Ferrarese court for over two decades from just after Isabella was born. Isabella was taught to sing, and to play the lute, and would learn other instruments after her marriage. Ippolito learned to play the harpsichord, Alfonso the viols. Beatrice could play all three instruments.24 All the children were probably taught to dance as well, although this would be a more important part of the curriculum for Isabella and Beatrice than for their brothers. Lessons began when they were very young. By the age of seven, Isabella was able to dance with notable skill.25 Besides dances for men and women together, dances for girls and women only were a favourite public entertainment. Isabella would have been taught both. Graceful deportment rather than fancy footwork was the main criterion by which a lady’s skill would be judged. Treatises on dancing emphasized modesty of demeanour for ladies, but naturally this did not exclude an element of seduction and flirtation.26 One element of her brothers’ education in which Isabella and her sisters did not share, of course, was training in the handling of weapons, but they may well have been taught to ride – to do more, that is, than learn to sit well on a horse being led at walking pace by a groom. It is unlikely that Isabella was given lessons in formal manège, the finer points of horsemanship that even princes and kings would be proud to display. Yet she was a sufficiently skilful rider to take pleasure in swift horses. Being taught to draw and paint was not part of her education. Appreciation of the visual arts was one thing; training in the skills required quite another. Living in late fifteenth-century Ferrara, as in so many Italian cities of the time, would in itself be an education in painting and architecture. Much of the splendour of the city that Isabella knew has been lost. The distinctive “Gothic” style of Ferrarese painting, aristocratic, highly finished and decorative – Cosimo Tura is perhaps its bestknown exponent – has not been so appealing to later generations as other schools of Italian painting. Its iconography is replete with symbols and allusions that are arcane to modern viewers, and were perhaps intentionally enigmatic to contemporaries. As a patron, Isabella would commission paintings from artists of other Italian schools, but she kept a taste for symbolism and puzzles,

16  A child in Ferrara some of which art historians still debate, and which will probably never be resolved. She would not have the resources, or the space, at her disposal to commission one of the major fresco cycles that were a feature of the palaces and villas she knew as a child, and which have almost all been lost. The surviving frescoes in the palace of Schifanoia, depicting the life of Borso d’Este and his court, give a glimpse of the beauties Isabella could see from day to day. Her father was himself responsible, directly or indirectly, for some of the finest buildings in Ferrara. His major contribution to the cityscape, the “Herculean Addition”, a whole new quarter that he projected with the architect Biagio Rossetti, and where he encouraged his courtiers to build new palaces. This was begun after Isabella had left for Mantua, but she would have seen it take shape on her many visits to Ferrara. It has to be said that the main ducal palace at Ferrara was not an especially impressive building. To be fair, it had not been built as a ducal palace, but was a conglomeration of different buildings taken over by the Este since the late twelfth century. Most Italian lords whose families, like the Este, had come to power as faction leaders who had established their dominance over a city and its communal government, lived in similar residences. Stables for horses and mules, kennels for hunting dogs, not to mention a piggery, were to be found within the complex, adding to the noise – and, according to the chronicler Ugo Caleffini, the stench – of what was the main residence of the duke, his household and his central administration. Ercole set about trying to bring order into this confusion, creating chambers in which the prince and his family could appear in proper style, and distinguished guests be given a fitting welcome, at formal ceremonies and entertainments. Apartments for the duke and his family were made more separate from the service quarters. The government offices were grouped around a courtyard with a beautiful external staircase that still survives. On the side of the palace looking onto the main square, opposite the cathedral, a fine facade was built to give more visual unity and a more imposing presence. For most of her childhood, Isabella did not live in the palace, but in the castle next to it. Her mother was responsible for transforming what had been a functional fourteenth-century fortress into a princely residence, where she lived with the children, while

A child in Ferrara 17 Ercole kept his own apartments in the palace. Work was begun in the castle not long after Eleonora had fled there with the children, through the raised corridor that connected it to the palace, during an attempt to overthrow Ercole by his nephew Niccolò in 1476. Yet security was not Eleonora’s primary concern in the extensive alterations she planned. This was to be no grim retreat. Some of the defence works of the fortress were sacrificed by blocking up apertures on the walkways. Eleonora was more concerned with preventing her young brood falling through them than with providing good sightlines and slits through which weapons could be fired. In Naples she had been used to the royal castles in the city being luxurious residences as well as effective fortresses. One of the most striking features of her own rooms in the castle of Ferrara was a large fresco of the city of Naples, depicting its harbour and the castles and gardens she knew so well. The new apartments she had created and decorated in the castle were made light and airy by new windows, balconies and loggias. Much attention was paid to the creation of wonderful gardens, one a hanging garden above a courtyard to the east, and another on the other side of the ditch surrounding the castle to the north. There, in the midst of pavilions and fountains, flowers and fruit trees, Eleonora and her ladies would take their ease, loosening their tight sleeves and removing their headdresses. Isabella’s own rooms may have been within this garden, possibly in an old house that had been left in place when the site was cleared.27 As she grew up, she would have been accustomed to constant building works going on around her, to seeing both her parents actively engaged in planning and supervising the construction and decoration of their apartments. Her own patronage would be focused on the adaptation of rooms within a fortress and an old palace to form her own suite of apartments, and with decorating and furnishing them. Much of the family’s time was spent in the renowned Este “delizie”, pleasure-grounds, fine villas and hunting lodges, some on the outskirts of Ferrara, some further out in the countryside. Nearly all have vanished, with their famous gardens and parks, their frescoes and elaborate ceilings. On the whole, we know more about what the buildings and their decorations cost than what they looked like.

18  A child in Ferrara Fortunately, some literary descriptions have survived, including a lengthy account of two of the Este’s favourite delizie, Belfiore and Belriguardo, in a panegyric addressed to Ercole by a Bolognese humanist, Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti. Sabadino was not a courtier; he was shown around the buildings when the duke and his family were not there. Belfiore, just outside Ferrara to the north, had frescoes depicting Alberto d’Este and his court, and many scenes of men and ladies hunting. One of these depicted Eleonora, part of a cycle showing her arrival in Ferrara, the celebrations for her wedding and her life in Ferrara. Belriguardo, within ten miles of the city, was the largest of the delizie, surrounded by meadows with a huge fishpond. A rambling, complex building, with several courtyards and enclosed gardens, it was big enough and grand enough to accommodate distinguished visitors and their trains as well as the duke and his household (the stables were said to hold 500 horses). The frescoes included portraits of Ercole relaxing with his courtiers (identified in one by their names and coats of arms at their feet), on horseback with his brothers, and in bejewelled pomp, wearing the Order of the Garter given to him in 1480. One of the gardens had frescoes depicting the legend of Cupid and Psyche, painted for Ercole. Sabadino associated them with a poem on the same theme by Niccolò da Correggio, dedicated to Isabella in 1491, when she was a young bride.28 It was a day when Ercole had left Ferrara for Belriguardo that Niccolò d’Este made his attempt to oust him from the dukedom. As the legitimate son of Leonello, Niccolò did have some grounds for feeling that he, rather than Ercole, should have succeeded Borso. In exile in Mantua, he may have been spurred into action by news of the birth of Alfonso. On 1 September  1476, having heard Ercole would be out of the city, he came with several hundred men. They took control of the main square, while Eleonora and her children, the infant Alfonso in her arms, took refuge in the castle. Niccolò and his men attempted to rouse the people to support them, promising cuts in taxes and grain prices, and saying they had come to deliver them from the hands of the ‘Catalans’, that is, the Neapolitans. Sitting on a bench in the piazza, Niccolò waited for an uprising in his favour that did not come. Before Ercole returned to the city, his brothers Sigismondo and Rinaldo had gathered Ercole’s

A child in Ferrara 19 supporters and had driven Niccolò and his men from the square. By the end of the day, Niccolò and many of his luckless followers had been captured and imprisoned and the executions had begun. Niccolò himself was executed on 4 September, but his decapitated head was sewn back on his body and he was given the funeral and burial of an Este prince. Eleonora wept as she watched the procession from a balcony.29 Isabella was too young to remember this dramatic episode. During the second major threat to Ercole’s rule, the war waged against Ferrara by the Venetians from 1482 to 1484, she and the other children were sent for long periods to Modena for safety.30 She would not have witnessed how Eleonora had rallied the people to support their duke when Ercole lay sick and despondent in early December 1482. If still a child and shielded from danger, Isabella was old enough to have some sense of how serious the threat to her father and her family was in these years. When her brother Alfonso was duke and faced a similar threat, she felt the danger to him and to the position of the Este acutely, and gave what support and help she could from Mantua. For most of her childhood, Isabella knew that she was destined to be the Marchioness of Mantua. Negotiations for her betrothal began before she had turned six years of age. It did not betoken a close friendship between her own family and the Gonzaga. On the contrary, it was intended to help to put them on better terms, after a period of rivalry, at times verging on hostility. Niccolò d’Este’s mother was a Gonzaga, and the Gonzaga would have preferred him to Ercole as duke of Ferrara. Relations had continued to be cool when Ludovico’s son, Federico, succeeded his father in 1478. Just a few months before the negotiations for Isabella’s betrothal began, Ercole had felt that he needed to ask for a safe conduct when he wanted to travel through Mantuan territory.31 Apparently, it was Federico Gonzaga who made the first move, in the context of a general diplomatic reshuffle of the Italian powers in early 1480. A pact of non-aggression and mutual defence was to accompany the betrothal. It was Eleonora who handled the negotiations for her daughter’s betrothal, with the envoy sent from Mantua, Beltramino Cusatro. No indication had been given by Federico about the size of dowry he had in mind. He wanted an Italian match for his son, he said, not a German one (there was

20  A child in Ferrara something of a Gonzaga tradition of marrying Germans), because the ultramontanes were more interested in the dowry than the bride; he was sure Isabella would be given a dowry befitting a daughter of the duke of Ferrara.32 Twenty-five thousand ducats was the sum proposed and accepted, and that was indeed a dowry befitting a princess. Jewels and silver plate that Isabella would have were to be included in that sum, but not the rest of her trousseau. Careful stipulations Eleonora made about what should happen to the dowry and what provision should be made for Isabella should Francesco die first, with or without children, followed Neapolitan customs. A  portrait of Isabella by Cosimo Tura was sent to Mantua, so Federico and Francesco could see what she looked like. Her youth spared her the routine assessment of her physical charms and child-bearing capability that would have been made of an older girl. What really aroused the admiration of Cusatro was ‘her wonderful intellect and cleverness’.33 On first seeing her, he had been impressed by her understanding and the fluency of her replies to questions. It seemed a miracle to me that a little girl, six years old, could respond so well, and although I had been told before of her singular cleverness, I  would never have thought it could be such, and so great, as it was.34 Within two months, the marriage had been agreed, and the contract was signed on 28 May. Isabella was to go to be married at thirteen. Federico had asked that she should be sent to Mantua when she was twelve. That was old enough to be married, he argued, although if Ercole and Eleonora wanted, the consummation of the marriage could be delayed for a year. Eleonora insisted that Isabella would be too young at twelve, and that once she was in Mantua, Francesco, who was older than Isabella, would want to bed her. Thirteen was the minimum she would agree to.35 In the event, Isabella was sixteen before she was sent to join her husband in Mantua – partly because of her mother’s reluctance to part with her sooner, partly because of repeated bouts of ill-health. But the problems she would have with her health – the fevers and digestive problems that plagued so many people at that time – were never so

A child in Ferrara 21 bad as to give the Gonzaga reason to wish to back out of the arrangement. A fever prevented Isabella from attending the celebrations for her betrothal. Her betrothed was not there either. Francesco was represented by his uncle Gianfrancesco Gonzaga, and one of the most influential figures at the Gonzaga court, Francesco Secco, represented the marquis. Well aware of their arrival and what they had come for (and perhaps excited by the anticipation of presents), Isabella was eager to see them. Lying in bed in her mother’s chambers on the day they were to visit her, she impatiently sent messengers to find out if they were on their way. They gave her a letter from Francesco and a necklace of gold and jewels, sent by the Marquis Federico, which Eleonora put around her neck for her. Isabella was delighted with both.36 For the formal conclusion of the contract, the great hall of the palace was lined with tapestries and sumptuous wall hangings of gold and silk (some of them made for King Alfonso and brought to Ferrara by Eleonora as part of her dowry). Against one wall stood a great sideboard, bearing vessels of gold and silver and a crystal eagle with jewels around its neck. Opposite this was a canopied platform, on which sat Ercole, Eleonora and other Este, the Neapolitan and Milanese ambassadors and other dignitaries. Hundreds of guests, ‘all the gentlewomen and citizens’ of Fer­ rara, were there to witness the formal publication of the betrothal, Ercole’s promise to give Isabella to be the wife of Francesco Gonzaga, and Secco promising, on behalf of Marquis Federico, that Francesco would take her to wife when she reached marriageable age. There was dancing till late into the night. Supper was served to the sound of trumpets and fifes, with sweet wines and sugar castles and animals decorated with the gilded arms of the Este and the Gonzaga. At the end, these sugar sculptures were broken up by the courtiers and scattered into the crowd.37 The absence of Isabella and Francesco from the publication and celebration of their betrothal did not herald one of those dynastic engagements in which the future spouses had little contact other than polite letters and exchanges of gifts for several years. Within a month Eleonora took Isabella and her little brother Alfonso to Mantua to meet the Gonzaga, and returned after a few days bringing Francesco with them. There were other visits, too.

22  A child in Ferrara Isabella spent the Christmas season of 1481 in Mantua, returning to Ferrara in the New Year, again accompanied by Francesco.38 The War of Ferrara put a stop to such pleasure trips, and then the death of Federico Gonzaga in July  1484 brought Francesco greater responsibilities. If they could not exchange visits so freely as in the first years of their betrothal, they had had opportunities to get to know one another, and the letters and gifts sent between them could have evoked a familiar face and personality. When Isabella left Ferrara for Mantua as a bride, she was not going to an unknown place to be the wife of a stranger. According to the Ferrarese chronicler, Ugo Caleffini, they were married in the castle at the end of April 1489, a few weeks before Isabella’s fifteenth birthday, but neither he nor other chroniclers mention any public celebration.39 If he was right, and their marriage did take place then, the explanation might be that it was a concession to Francesco’s impatience, for Eleonora was still reluctant to trust her daughter to him. Later that year, discussing with Ercole when Beatrice should be sent to Milan to be the wife of Ludovico Sforza, Eleonora said that they need not have the same concern at sending their younger daughter to Milan, as had made them delay sending Isabella to her husband. Ludovico was prudent and discreet, and would know how to behave.40 (And indeed, when his young wife was afraid to consummate their marriage, so that her parents even feared that it would break down, Ludovico was patient and bided his time until Beatrice was ready.41) Not until November, after consultations with astrologers to find an auspicious time for her to enter Mantua, was Isabella’s departure fixed for February 1490. Francesco came to Ferrara on 23 December, spending Christmas and Epiphany there. To please him, there was much dancing in the castle during his visit, and Ercole gave permission for people to wear masks in the streets before the Carnival season when it was usually permitted. On 7 January, Francesco gave a banquet in a courtier’s house for all the Este, and there was a masked ball. He left on 11 January to prepare to receive Isabella in Mantua.42 As the day fixed for Isabella’s departure from Ferrara drew nearer, Francesco’s uncle, the protonotary Ludovico Gonzaga, arrived with a company of gentlemen and ladies to escort the bride. Duke Guidobaldo of Urbino and his consort, Elisabetta Gonzaga, Francesco’s sister, also came. To honour the bride and

A child in Ferrara 23 these distinguished guests, on 10 February there was dancing long into the night in the great hall of the castle, punctuated by the performance of a comedy and by a dinner. Sneak thieves took advantage of the occasion. One of the silken wall hangings disappeared, and many purses were stolen. In the press of people, pieces of fabric were cut from the rich mantles and sleeves and trains of the guests; if the fabrics were woven or embroidered with gold or silver thread, or were jewelled, such pieces could be valuable. Another dance was held on the following night for a possibly more select band of courtiers, gentlemen and ladies. Dozens of platters of confectionery, modelled in the forms of eagles, oxen, bears, monkeys, unicorns and other real and fabulous beasts and birds, presented to the duke by the commune of Ferrara, were put before the guests, before being torn apart ‘to the joy of all the spectators and the bride’.43 After this, some of the ladies went to the castle for yet more dancing. That was how Isabella passed her last evening in Ferrara. And she could have no reason to complain that she was not sent off to her husband in fine style the next day. On her way to board the state barge that was to take her to Mantua, dressed in gold brocade and mounted on a finely caparisoned white horse, Isabella processed through the streets of Ferrara which were covered with flowers and branches. Accompanying her were her family and the whole court, Ludovico Gonzaga, the duke of Urbino and the ambassadors of Naples, Milan and Hungary (the king of Hungary was to be married to Eleonora’s sister Beatrice), not to mention four wagonettes full of ladies and a gilded triumphal car, with red wheels and a red shaft, and lined with gold brocade. Eleonora went ahead to receive her daughter where the fleet of barges and boats was waiting on the river Po to carry Isabella and most of her family (her father would travel later), the Gonzaga escort and her sumptuous dowry goods to her new home in Mantua.

Notes 1 Leonello had married Alfonso’s illegitimate daughter Maria as his second wife in 1444. 2 Zaccaria Barbero, Dispacci (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato, Libreria dello Stato, 1994), pp. 200, 217. 3 Ibid., pp. 217, 221.

24  A child in Ferrara 4 Ibid., p. 265. 5 Ibid., pp. 335–6. 6 Ibid., p. 598. 7 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga. Promessi sposi’, Archivio storico lombardo, 4th ser., 9 (1908), pp. 34–5. 8 Marco Folin, ‘La corte della duchessa: Eleonora d’Aragona a Ferrara’, in Letizia Arcangeli and Susanna Peyronel (eds.), Donne di potere nel Rinascimento (Rome: Viella, 2008), pp.  485–6; the chronicler was Hondedio di Vitale. 9 Ibid., pp. 511–12. 10 Luciano Chiappini, Eleonora d’Aragona, prima duchessa di Ferrara (Rovigo, n.d.), p.  75: Eleonora to Isabella, 15 April  1491, Ferrara; also in Folin, ‘La corte della duchessa’, p. 487. 11 Monica Ferrari, ‘Principesse in divenire nel Quattrocento italiano’, in Luisa Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este 1475–1497 (Pisa: ETS, 2008), p. 26: Eleonora to Isabella, 28 July 1491, Belriguardo. 12 Luciano Chiappini, Gli Estensi. Mille anni di storia (Ferrara: Corbo Editore, 2001), p. 204: Eleonora to Ercole, 14 May 1487. 13 Chiappini, Eleonora d’Aragona, p. 63: Eleonora to Ercole, 16 September 1489, Reggio. 14 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Francesco Gonzaga’, p. 36: Eleonora to Barbara of Brandenburg, 19 May 1474. 15 Ugo Caleffini, Croniche 1471–1494 (Ferrara: Deputazione provinciale ferrarese di storia patria, 2006), pp. 72–3, 78–9. 16 ‘Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti’, in Giuseppe Pardi (ed.), Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, XXIV, Part VII (Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1928–33), p. 90. 17 Alessandro Luzio, I precettori d’Isabella d’Este: Appunti e documenti (Ancona, 1887), pp. 14–16: Jacopo Gallino to Isabella, 25 March, 25 May 1490, Ferrara. 18 Roberta Iotti, ‘Ricchezze ed eleganze di corte negli inventari di celebri principesse italiane’, in Daniele Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este. La prima donna del Rinascimento (Modena: il Bulino, 2001), p. 46. 19 Werner L. Gundersheimer, Ferrara: The Style of a Renaissance Despotism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973), p. 185. 20 Ibid., pp. 209–12. 21 Chiappini, Eleonora d’Aragona, p. 45. 22 Lewis Lockwood, Music in Renaissance Ferrara 1400–1505: The Creation of a Musical Centre in the Fifteenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon, 1984), p. 145. 23 Lewis Lockwood, ‘Musica a corte e in chiesa nel XV secolo’, in Adriano Prosperi (ed.), Storia di Ferrara, Il Rinascimento, situazioni e personaggi (Ferrara: Corbo, 2000), vol. VI, pp. 325–6.

A child in Ferrara 25 24 Lockwood, Music in Renaissance Ferrara, pp. 144–5, 167, 169, 172; Ferrari, ‘Principesse in divenire’, p. 23; Alessandra Ferrari, ‘Le lettere di Beatrice d’Este I Dal privato al ruolo pubblico’, in Luisa Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este 1475–1497 (Pisa: ETS, 2008), p. 45. 25 Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, La Coltura e le relazioni letterarie di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga, ed. Simone Albonico (Milan: Sylvestre Bonnard, 2005), p. 4. 26 Gigliola Gori, ‘La danza nelle corti italiani’, in Angela Giallongo (ed.), Donne di palazzo nelle corti europee (Milan: Unicopli, 2005), pp. 171–81. 27 Thomas Tuohy, Herculean Ferrara: Ercole d’Este, 1471–1505, and the Invention of a Ducal Capital (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 97–114 (p. 109 for Isabella’s rooms); Folin, ‘La corte della duchessa’, pp. 494–500. 28 Gundersheimer, Ferrara, pp. 255–64. 29 Ibid., pp. 180–3; Chiappini, Gli Estensi, pp. 172–5. 30 Bernardino Zambotti, ‘Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1476 sino al 1504’, in Giuseppe Pardi (ed.), Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, Vol. XXIV, Part 7 (Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1934–7), pp. 134, 147. 31 Carteggio degli oratori mantovani alla Corte Sforzesca, Vol. XI, ed. Marcello Simonetta (Rome: Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Direzione Generale per gli Archivi, 2001), pp. 503–10. 32 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Francesco Gonzaga’, p. 42. 33 Ibid., p. 45: Beltramino Cusatro to Federico Gonzaga, 17 April 1480. 34 Ibid., p. 44: Beltramino Cusatro to Federico Gonzaga, 8 April 1480. 35 Ibid., pp. 44–6. 36 Ibid., p. 47. 37 Caleffini, Croniche, p. 333; Zambotti, ‘Diario ferrarese’, p. 76; Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Francesco Gonzaga’, p. 47. 38 Zambotti, ‘Diario ferrarese’, pp. 78, 98–9. 39 Caleffini, Croniche, p. 738. 40 Chiappini, Eleonora d’Aragona, p. 63: Eleonora to Ercole, 16 September 1489, Reggio. 41 Maria Nadia Covini, ‘Beatrice d’Este, i figli del Moro e la Pala Sforzesca. Arte e politica dinastica’, in Luisa Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este 1475–1497 (Pisa: ETS, 2008), p. 95. 42 Zambotti, ‘Diario ferrarese’, p. 212; Caleffini, Croniche, p. 746. 43 Caleffini, Croniche, p. 750; Zambotti, ‘Diario ferrarese’, p. 213.

2 Wife and consort

The flotilla of barges and boats bringing Isabella to her new home had to halt three miles from Mantua because of low water. Francesco came to greet her and escort her to Belgoioso, a Gonzaga villa two miles from the city. There she rested that night while he returned to Mantua. Next morning, Monday, 15 February, he came back with a guard of honour, and ambassadors from Naples, Hungary and Venice, to escort her to the city. Waiting to greet her at Mantua were the duke of Urbino and many gentlemen, together with musicians playing wind instruments. Isabella made her entry into the city under a white damask baldaquin, past the customary theatrical decorations, tableaux and recitations, among them representations of the planets, with little boys dressed as angels reciting poetry in her praise to the sound of music. At the palace she was received by cries of ‘Isabella’ and ‘Diamante’ (‘diamond’, the Este symbol). While she listened to the official welcoming oration, notaries got down to business compiling the inventory of the dowry goods which had come with her. This inventory has been lost, but according to Caleffini, the dowry included 50 gowns of cloth of gold and gold brocade, a black velvet gown covered with jewels, as well as quantities of chemises worth a hundred ducats each, silver candelabra, bowls and other vessels (including a chamber pot), and a portable altar.1 The silver plate and jewels brought for Isabella’s personal use were officially valued at 8,747 ducats, in addition to 9,000 ducats worth of clothes and gold cloth, finely decorated chests and ornaments.2 No one could say that Isabella had not been sent off from home in style.

Wife and consort 27 The celebrations went on for a week. Hundreds of guests were put up in the houses of citizens at the expense of the marquis. Ercole helped him to accommodate his other guests by being present officially ‘incognito’ (although naturally everyone knew who he was), and consequently not requiring the hospitality that Francesco would have been expected to show to his ducal father-in-law. There were banquets and dancing enough to keep Isabella happy, but the high point of the festivities was two days of jousting on 16 and 17 February, held in the piazza before the palace. Isabella and her mother watched this from a balcony, her father disguised as a “Turk” (a favourite masquing costume) on horseback in the square. On the second day, Francesco himself took part in the jousting, accompanied by twenty of his courtiers bearing gilded lances and riding some of the renowned Gonzaga war horses, and with an escort of mounted troops and gentlemen. Unsurprisingly, he was awarded the top prize for his skill by the judges.3 Ercole and most of the company who had come from Ferrara left for home on the 23rd, but Eleonora lingered on with her daughter for three more days before leaving her to settle down to her new life as a wife and consort. How did Isabella appear to her new subjects? No such vivid description of her at this turning point of her life survives as we have of the first impression her mother made in Ferrara. In any case, some Mantuans would have at least glimpsed her before during her visits to the city as a child. On the whole, she probably made a more favourable impression as a bride than her mother had done. Isabella was not a beauty. Her image on the portrait medal of her and Francesco struck in 1490 to celebrate their marriage has been described – accurately, if a little ungallantly – as ‘lumpen and undignified’.4 Perhaps she had the kind of looks that today would not photograph well; perhaps the charm of her face lay in its play of expression, which no static portrait could convey. She was an attractive, vivacious, graceful (if a little plump) fifteen-year-old girl, intelligent and confident, appearing to her new subjects in all the dazzling splendour that fine fabrics and jewels could give. Young as she was, she was no shy adolescent straight from the schoolroom. Accustomed to appearing in public, she would not have been too daunted by being the centre of attention.

28  Wife and consort Her husband, saturnine and coarse-featured, was no beauty, either. But he was well-built, physically strong and vigorous, sanguine and courageous, a manly man. Contrary to the long tradition that contrasted his physicality with the intellectual and aesthetic qualities of Isabella, he was not an oaf but a cultured man, interested in painting, music, literature, the theatre and architecture. His claim to be taken seriously as a patron, particularly of painting and building, has been vindicated by recent scholarship.5 If Isabella missed her home, her loving parents and her brothers and sisters, as she undoubtedly would have done, she had the compensation of being her own mistress. There was no senior Gonzaga lady, no dowager-marchioness to whom she would have to defer. None of Francesco’s sisters lived in Mantua. Elisabetta Gonzaga, who had come to welcome her brother’s bride, stayed for a while to help her settle in, and it was at this time that their lifelong friendship developed. Barely a month after her arrival in Mantua, they went on a pleasure trip together to Lake Garda. When, in April, Isabella made the first of the many visits to her family in Ferrara that she would continue throughout her life, she regretted that Elisabetta, who was unwell, could not go with her.6 Isabella was not so much her own mistress that she could come and go from Mantua just as she chose. Whenever she wanted to leave, she needed her husband’s permission. As with any marriage, Isabella and Francesco had to work out their respective roles and the balance between them within the customs and conventions of their time and place and social rank. She was his wife and his consort, not his equal. Theirs was not a love match, and no one would have expected them to be a pattern of domestic bliss. There would be difficulties between them, differences of opinion personal and political. The last decade of their marriage in particular would not be easy, and there were times when she would want to go travelling to escape from a situation she found intolerable. Even before those troubles came, they would not be so united as her own parents had been. Nevertheless, for the first two decades at least, the marriage must be judged a success. They quickly established an effective and, to all appearances, affectionate, working partnership. From the first, Isabella and Francesco spent a lot of their time apart. It was not just that they had separate apartments, for that,

Wife and consort 29 of course, was quite usual for princes and their consorts. Nor was it that Francesco was away for long periods, serving as a military commander for other powers. For a second-rank Italian prince, that was also quite usual. Nor was it that Francesco was so busy with affairs of state and the cares of government that he had little time to spare for his young wife. Mantua did not really take all that much governing. Rather, it was that Francesco appeared to carry on the same pattern of daily life as in his bachelor days, without making much adjustment to fit in spending time regularly, domestically, with Isabella. Visiting her sister Beatrice and her husband Ludovico Sforza (who seems to have found more time to spend with his young wife) in 1492, Isabella wrote to Francesco that, being so distant from him, she could not enjoy herself as much as ‘if it were granted to me to see you more often’.7 Isabella did not complain of feeling slighted or neglected. Perhaps it would be fair to say that the way in which they led separate lives differed in degree, rather than kind, from that of more uxorious princes and their consorts. Early on in her marriage, Isabella expressed love for Francesco in phrases that were warm, if conventional. ‘I cannot have pleasure in anything when I think that I am far from Your Lordship, whom I  love more than my own life’, she wrote to him from Ferrara in November  1490, signing herself ‘She who loves Your Lordship more than herself’.8 Doubtless, Isabella knew what she was expected to say, but that does not necessarily mean that she was being completely insincere. Yet Eleonora was concerned that Isabella was not developing a physical, not merely sexual, intimacy with her husband. Knowing that you are accustomed to being shamefaced and not to put yourself forward as you should, her mother advised her in July 1491, I thought I should write ‘to exhort you and admonish you that you should go often to visit your Lord consort in this illness of his, and that you should ask him how he has been and how he is, and with loving words and a cheerful face comfort and caress him, serving him with your own hands’, just as she had seen Eleonora herself do when Ercole was ill.9 This was not the only time she urged her daughter to take personal care of Francesco when he was sick. There may well have been some element of sexual incompatibility between Isabella and Francesco, at least in their sexual

30  Wife and consort appetite. But then no one, not even Isabella, would have expected that she alone would satisfy her husband. He already had a reputation for having many women, moving rapidly from one to another. At least two illegitimate children were born to him in the early years of their marriage, Teodora, born around 1493 and Orfeo, born in June 1494 (at the time of his birth, Mantegna was working on a picture of Orpheus for Francesco’s villa at Marmirolo). Another daughter, Margherita, born in 1487, lived in Urbino with her aunt Elisabetta Gonzaga.10 Other probable or possible illegitimate children fathered by him have left fleeting traces in the records. Isabella was not expected to take responsibility for their care. Nothing is known of these children apart from the bare fact of their existence, except for Margherita, who had a prominent place among the ladies of the court of Urbino, and Teodora, who created a scandal by eloping in 1505 with one of Francesco’s courtiers to whom she was betrothed, after he had murdered another. Only Teodora and Margherita were mentioned in Francesco’s will. Orfeo – said to be the image of his father, at least as an infant, ‘especially the nose and mouth with the lips turned out’ (but this may well have been a joke by a courtier, taking liberties as he reported the birth to his flat-nosed, full-lipped master) – probably died young.11 If he survived, Francesco would surely have made provision for him, and set him on his way to a career as a soldier or a cleric. Isabella would know that she had to put up with her husband having mistresses. On at least one occasion, at a tournament in Brescia in 1497, Francesco appeared in public with one of them.12 One of his correspondents, Floriano Dolfo (whose letters to him were sometimes grossly obscene), told him that he was blessed with a wife who was unusually forbearing, not interfering with his pursuit of his appetites, pretending not to see or hear things he did that were injurious or hateful to her.13 In all the many surviving letters between Isabella and her husband, she never reproached him for his sexual behaviour. But she did take against those who encouraged him in his excesses. One element in her dislike of an official called Vigo da Camposampiero, for example, was that he procured boys for Francesco.14 Another man she disapproved of was Francesco’s secretary, Tolomeo Spagnoli. Letters written in Francesco’s own hand to him in 1507 bear the impression of a

Wife and consort 31 personal seal of the marquis (possibly based on an ancient Roman brothel token) depicting a couple apparently having anal intercourse.15 Obscene anecdotes and jokes were recounted to the marquis by his correspondents, who were evidently confident he would appreciate them. It is unlikely these graphic accounts of who did what to whom would have appealed to his wife. No prude, Isabella enjoyed racy, even salacious stories. Her own correspondence contained sexual allusions, but they were more suggestive than explicit. If they related to her personally, they always concerned Francesco. Expressions of admiration for her never went beyond gallantry. Tolerant as Isabella had to be, there were signs that she drew the line on some matters. One was pederasty. Despite being condemned as a sin and a crime, this was treated by many as a subject for joking, especially in scurrilous or truthful accusations levelled against the clergy from the pope down. Isabella could take joking on this subject, even about her own child, in good part. Extravagantly praising her son Federico, Bernardo Dovizi, a future cardinal, assured her that while such praise from a Florentine might arouse some suspicion in her (Florentines had a reputation for being prone to pederasty), she could take pleasure in it, knowing Tuscans were good judges of boys. It had occurred to her, she rejoined, that Tuscans’ praise of boys could be believed, but not that there was any spark of the motive that usually underlay their appraisals in Dovizi’s attitude to Federico.16 But Isabella’s distaste for pederasty can be inferred not just from her reaction to Vigo da Camposampiero. There is, for instance, an account of a gathering on a summer’s day at Isabella’s villa at Porto, just outside Mantua, in the introduction to one of the tales written by Matteo Bandello, who used to visit her there. While Isabella retired to her rooms with her ladies after dining, the gentlemen relaxed under a grove of poplars planted by her in memory of her father. Taking advantage of her absence, they swapped stories about a notorious pederast in Francesco’s service, an archdeacon, Alessandro Gabbioneta. As soon as they heard the barking of Isabella’s little dogs announcing she had come outside again, they went to join her in the loggia of her garden and talked of other matters.17 Whether or not this is a true account of an actual day Bandello spent at Isabella’s villa, the implication of the way the speakers introduce the

32  Wife and consort tales about the archdeacon’s exploits and then break off as soon as she reappears is clear. They would only discuss them when Isabella was not there. Nor would she tolerate Francesco having affairs with her own ladies under her nose. For many princes, the households of their consorts were happy hunting grounds, but for Francesco, priapic as he was, Isabella’s ladies seem to have been off-limits. The only known suggestion that he might have breached this rule came in 1507. Isabella attacked one of her donzelle, Elisabetta Tosabezzi, beating her and cutting off her hair, accusing her of ‘playing the nymph’ with Francesco. Denying any liaison with Elisabetta, Francesco was angered, not least because the girl came from a prominent Mantuan family who were outraged by the way she had been treated.18 At the time of Isabella’s outburst of temper, she was just recovering from the difficult birth of one of her sons, Ferrante. Whatever Francesco’s absences and distractions, and whatever Isabella’s reservations, the fact that she produced eight children over fifteen years is testimony to the fact that Francesco continued to come to his wife’s bed. Their first child, Eleonora, was born on 31 December 1493; the second, another daughter, Margherita, on 13 July 1496, but she lived only a matter of weeks. To Isabella’s joy, their next child was a boy, Federico, born on 17 May 1500. Then the nursery really began to fill up, with the birth of five children in eight years: Ippolita in 1501, Livia Giulia on 13 November 1503, Ercole on 22 November 1505, Ferrante on 28 January 1507, and Livia Osanna on 30 July 1508. Isabella was comparatively fortunate in her childbeds, not having to endure exhaustingly prolonged deliveries or suffering from complications after them. Her first delivery she found ‘very difficult’, despite the aid of an “eagle’s stone”, reputed to ease the pangs of childbirth.19 An “eagle’s stone” was a hollow stone, containing another; they were still considered to have powers to help birth and prevent miscarriages in nineteenth-century Italy. She carried one during her second pregnancy, and this time had a very rapid delivery.20 Perhaps that experience encouraged her to continue to trust such an amulet. She also had the benefit of the midwife of choice for high-born ladies, Frassina.21 Her failure to conceive during the first years of her marriage had begun to cause some concern to her family. Perhaps not

Wife and consort 33 wishing to tempt fate, perhaps, as her ladies thought, out of shyness, in the early months of her first pregnancy she kept quiet about it. They were left to draw their own conclusions from observing her, and a secretary reported on progress to her husband.22 It was Francesco who broke the news to her mother, in May, although at that stage he was still not sure. Eleonora invited her daughter to come to Ferrara so she could check if Isabella really was pregnant (but told her not to come if she was not). Having established to her own satisfaction that Isabella was with child, Eleonora sent confirmation to Francesco on 9 July.23 Three months later, Eleonora died. Francesco wanted the news of her mother’s death kept from Isabella, but she found out via Milan. She had already begun to suspect something was wrong when she received no letters from Ferrara for a week. Mindful of her unborn baby, she restrained her grief; Ercole himself exhorted her to stay calm, for the sake of the child.24 The little girl was given her grandmother’s name, but the consolation she might have brought to her mother was vitiated by disappointment that she was not a boy. ‘You will have heard how I have given birth to a little girl, who is well, as I am, although she is not what I wanted’, Isabella confided to her sister. ‘But since this is as God pleases, I will hold her dear’.25 Her disappointment was even greater when the next child she bore also turned out to be a girl, who was named Margherita after Francesco’s mother. ‘I unburdened myself of a little girl’, was how Isabella described the birth to Beatrice; I leave you to imagine how disappointed I am.26 She was even less enthusiastic in her letter to Francesco, announcing the birth of his daughter not as something welcome to her or to him, but to do her duty; it had cast a chill not only over her, but over the whole city, she wrote.27 Francesco himself was much more philosophical about the birth of girls. A  fine cradle sent from Ferrara for Eleonora was not used, on Isabella’s orders, because she considered it ‘too good for a daughter’.28 Nor did she want it used for Margherita, but Francesco ordered ‘the beautiful cradle’ to be brought out for her.29 Being a girl, the baby did not merit a public baptism, Isabella thought, but Francesco disagreed.30 There is no reason for you or anyone else to be cold because the baby is a girl, Francesco wrote to his wife after Margherita’s birth, ‘because if ever a father

34  Wife and consort called himself content with a daughter, we do about this one and the other, hoping that Our Lord God, as he has granted us girls, will also give us boys’ (and I am ready to make them, he added).31 Away on campaign in Naples, he never saw Margherita, who died on 22 September. Isabella was also away, on a pleasure trip to Lake Garda, at the time, and the news was broken to her by her brother-in-law, Sigismondo, who made the arrangements for the baby’s burial.32 Francesco had taken great pleasure in visiting his elder daughter as an infant. Reporting to Isabella (who was away on a pilgrimage to Loreto) on a visit he had paid to the nursery to see his threemonth-old daughter, he described how he was ‘pleased to see her happy and healthy, having her dressed in our presence in her white damask clothes, as you ordered, which look really fine on her, and she was very pleased’. The next morning he went again to see her: ‘finding her sleeping, we did not want to wake her up’.33 His tender love for his little girl is reflected in letters written on her behalf to him when he was away on campaign. Wherever she was, in her crib, at her nurse’s breast, playing in her mother’s arms, she continually heard praise of her father for his part in the victory of Fornovo, ran the letter signed as from ‘Your most obedient daughter Dioadora, still sucking milk’.34 Obviously, at twenty months old, Eleonora could have had no part in framing this letter, but another message purporting to be on her behalf in October 1496, when she was nearly three, might have come from her. ‘Madonna Leonora’ wanted him to let her have ‘a beautiful doll dressed in silk that she can take with her to bed, because the one she has now is falling apart’, a secretary wrote to Francesco.35 A month before, taken by her mother to see paintings of Francesco and his courtiers in the palace at Marmirolo, Eleonora ‘immediately, without anyone saying anything to her, recognized the painting of Your Lordship and said “Mummy [Mamina], look at my lord father”, and had herself lifted up, and wanted to touch it’.36 No one would have dreamt of sending such letters to the marquis unless they knew what pleasure they would give the fond father. None of these letters came directly from Isabella. The first, from the still-nursing Eleonora, has been attributed to Isabella37 but since she is described in it as ‘my most illustrious, most sweet

Wife and consort 35 mother’, it was more likely to have been written by a courtier, perhaps by one of her ladies. There is no reason to believe that Isabella neglected her daughter, or left her care entirely to the servants. When Eleonora’s tutor was absent on personal business, Isabella was worried that her daughter was losing time for learning at an age when that mattered (Eleonora was eight years old).38 She reported to Francesco on their daughter’s progress during and after some serious bouts of illness that she suffered. During her recovery from one of these, Isabella had a little girl to stay to play with Eleonora, hoping this would encourage her to be more spirited.39 But these letters read as though they were written to reassure an anxious father, rather than expressing the fears and concerns of an anxious mother. In the letters Isabella wrote to Francesco about Eleonora there are no indications that her firstborn child – her only child for most of six years – had any special place in her heart. Francesco’s delight in his children and his tender, playful attitude to them was one of his most sympathetic characteristics; Isabella’s comparative coldness to her daughters was one of her least attractive traits.40 Her maternal devotion was concentrated on her eldest son, Federico. She had never felt so happy in her life ‘as when God with such grace granted a male child’, she told Floriano Dolfo.41 She attributed this grace to the intercession of a nun, Osanna, renowned for her piety and revered by both Isabella and Francesco. In gratitude, she gave a life-size silver effigy of her infant son to the church of Santa Maria delle Grazie outside Mantua.42 Her joyous letter to Dolfo was in reply to some rather tactless congratulations he had sent her, expressing the hope that it would ‘warm the tepid heart’ of ‘my earthly god’, Francesco, towards her, and cause him to curb his extravagance and his ‘many inordinate appetites’, so as not to give a bad example to his son.43 If Federico’s arrival failed to make a reformed character of his father, it does seem to have brought his parents together in their joy. A kind of playful competition developed between them as to who loved the boy the most, and whom he loved the most. If you are fond of our little boy, I am very fond indeed, Isabella wrote to her husband in November 1501.44 ‘He’s forgotten you as though he had never seen you’, Francesco teased his wife, who was absent from Mantua at her brother’s wedding. Asked what he had to say about his

36  Wife and consort mother coming home, ‘he began to bang his hands on the table, so that we think he has a mind to take his revenge’.45 Soon after Isabella returned to Mantua, she was off again, this time on a visit to Venice. I am pleased you are enjoying our little son so much, she wrote to Francesco, I cannot help but envy you, but ‘when I am in Mantua, I want to make up for lost time’.46 ‘Kiss our sweet little boy for love of me’, she enjoined him, ‘give the little boy a hundred kisses in my name so that when I am there, it won’t seem strange to him if I kiss him’.47 No kisses were sent to Eleonora. No kisses were sent from Eleonora, only from Federico, when Francesco was away from Mantua, and it was Isabella’s turn to report on the boy. Eleonora had to play second fiddle to her adored little brother for her father as well as her mother. She was taken to the villa at Gonzaga by her father in April 1503 along with Federico, but it was ‘to keep him company’. Both were well, Francesco reported, and then proceeded to give Isabella news only of Federico – how he was running about more than he did in Mantua, how he had been taken to watch peasants dancing at a parish feast, how he particularly loved horses and had been shown all the mares and foals. ‘We give him every possible diversion, to recover that part of his love that Your Ladyship steals when you have him all to yourself without us’.48 Francesco indulged his son: ‘he hasn’t anyone to turn to, being away from his daddy [pà], who never refuses him anything he wants’.49 His efforts to ensure the boy liked to be with him were rather too successful. ‘Now we have to try everything to go somewhere without him sometimes’.50 From a very young age, Federico was aware what his father was, and played the part of the young prince. Francesco was not pleased to hear that Isabella had taken their three-year-old son to a play put on by some pupils of a master she may have had in mind to be his tutor. He wanted his son to have only a little learning, he grumbled, and was already thinking of taking the boy with him when he went away from Mantua.51 Not that Isabella was trying to make a mother’s boy out of her son. As Francesco was heading for the kingdom of Naples in 1503 to command the French army against the Spanish there, Isabella described to him how Federico was going to the stables, and to church to say a prayer for his father, ‘and he asks you to let him come to the

Wife and consort 37 camp to kill Spaniards’.52 She recounted with pride how the boy behaved on New Year’s Day 1503, when merchants came to present a sword, as was customary. Having accepted it and thanked them in Francesco’s name, she gave it to Federico, who said, without any prompting, ‘Thank you very much. We’ll keep it for my lord daddy’.53 Some messages came directly from “Daddy’s big boy” [“el puton del pà”], through the secretaries, telling his father that ‘My horse is lame in one foot’, and that he had carried out his father’s instructions to kiss his mother and his sisters. ‘Because it is too hot now, when night comes I will go to the stable to see the horses and have them attended to well, as Your Lordship wrote to me’.54 In the full glow of her maternal love and pride for her son, Isabella had attention and affection to spare for her infant daughter Ippolita. She told Francesco when the little girl was ‘beginning to walk and to chatter’ that ‘she gets funnier every day’,55 and a year later about how good she was being as she was weaned.56 In her mother’s eyes, Ippolita at the age of three was much more beautiful than Eleonora. Isabella suggested that she might take her sister’s place as the bride of Francesco Maria della Rovere, the heir to the duchy of Urbino. Eleonora could be sent to France, where the queen was promising that she would find a husband and a dowry for her.57 After Eleonora did marry Francesco Maria, Francesco decided that Ippolita could go to France. Isabella agreed with this plan, although she wanted to delay Ippolita’s departure until she was older and stronger and better able to withstand the demands of life in an itinerant court.58 But instead of joining the household of the queen of France, Ippolita entered the Dominican convent of San Vincenzo in Mantua when she was barely aged ten. This was at her own wish, Ippolita herself assured her brother Federico. She had gone there for a retreat during Holy Week and decided that she did not want to leave, resisting the persuasions of their parents.59 Within six months, her father had consented to her taking the veil. He showed more emotion than Isabella at the ceremony, ‘giving his blessing to her three times with all possible tenderness’, Federico was told.60 Two of Isabella’s nieces, daughters of her half-sister Lucrezia, joined Ippolita in taking their vows – on their own insistence, according to their aunt. The girls, one about Ippolita’s age,

38  Wife and consort one a little younger, had been placed by their mother in the convent to be educated and, it was hoped, to develop a liking for the religious life, being ‘quiet little girls and disposed to devotions’.61 There was not time to wait for her approval, Isabella told Lucrezia, but ‘we are certain that we will never have complaints or bad news about their husband’, as they became brides of Christ.62 The birth of Livia Giulia in November 1503 was a great disappointment for her mother. I  relieved myself of my burden quite easily, she wrote to her brother a week later, but she had not sent him the news, because the birth did not merit it.63 She and the baby were both well, but ‘for shame and discontent, I don’t want to say anything else about this’, was all that Isabella could find to say to Francesco about their new daughter. The thought of her son was her consolation. ‘It’s enough that Federico is well, and is so beautiful and flourishing that he can fill the place of two boys’.64 Francesco still showed more fondness for his daughters than their mother did. ‘Kiss Ippolita for me, and Giulia too’, Francesco instructed Eleonora in July 1504, ‘it’s good to hear her teeth are beginning to come through, a sign that soon she will know how to eat well’.65 Livia Giulia’s death at the age of four on 26 January 1508 distressed him: ‘Livia, our youngest daughter of all but not loved the less . . . has flown to heaven as a pure dove, leaving us in bitter grief’.66 Francesco hoped that the child Isabella was carrying might be a girl, another Livia.67 Born six months after her sister’s death, the new baby was duly named after her, and, perhaps significantly, on Francesco’s instructions, after the nun Osanna. In fact, she was destined for the religious life by her mother from an early age, and was placed in a convent before she was four years old.68 Francesco visited her and her sister Ippolita regularly, taking them gifts, and he left their convents 3,000 ducats each in his will. Isabella did not visit her cloistered daughters with any regularity, and there is little evidence she took much interest in them when they were young.69 The birth of two more sons between the arrivals of the two Livias did not bring Francesco and Isabella closer together, as Federico had done. They quarrelled over the naming of the elder of the boys, whose birth delighted Isabella. She wanted to call him Ercole after her father; Francesco named him Alvise (an Italian form of Louis) after the king of France. Rebuking his wife for persisting in

Wife and consort 39 changing the name he had given his son, Francesco ordered her to stop it. Isabella apologized, saying that she would not have done it if she had thought it would annoy him. In her defence, she recalled Francesco saying that the boy looked like her father, and that she had told him he was wrong not to agree to call him Ercole. ‘Your Lordship laughed, and said nothing more. If you had spoken out then, I would not have run into this error’. She would produce another son, and Francesco could name whichever of them he wanted Alvise, ‘and leave an Ercole for me. But if I have a thousand sons, I believe that, apart from Federico, I will never love any other as much as this one’. Nevertheless, she would do as Francesco wished.70 In future, she generally (although not invariably) called her second son Alvise to her husband, while continuing to use both names for him to others.71 After Francesco’s death, she reverted to calling him Ercole consistently. In the event, when their third son was born, on 28 January 1507, he was named Ferrante. Neither of her two younger sons would arouse such adoration in Isabella as Federico had done, and Ferrante was perhaps the least favoured. But she found something of a kindred spirit in her second son, who grew up to relish his studies, and be well suited to the ecclesiastical career that was chosen for him, as Ferrante would take to the military career mapped out for him. As consort of a ruling prince, a role awaited Isabella too, one that proved to her taste. From the start, Francesco was ready to appoint his young wife to be regent during his absences from Mantua. The first time he did so was barely a month after her arrival as a bride. At first, the responsibility was shared with Francesco Secco, who had long been a power in the Gonzaga court and state. Too much of a power for comfort, perhaps. He fell into disgrace in 1491, leaving Mantua for good in July of that year. A clear sign of trouble ahead for Secco had been when the marquis left Isabella in sole charge a few weeks earlier. Francesco wanted it to be known that he had entrusted the burden and government of our state and dominion to our illustrious consort, knowing we can rely on her prudence and integrity, although she is of a tender age, and up until now Her Ladyship has made a very good start, and she is well suited to dealing with great matters of importance and honour, and in

40  Wife and consort all her actions she has demonstrated singular ability, so that freely and with a tranquil heart and quiet mind we can go where we please without having to look back all the time.72 Did Isabella clear her path to holding sole power in her husband’s absence by playing a part in Secco’s downfall?73 Just because she benefited from his disgrace does not mean she contrived it. Some months earlier it was reported that Francesco wished to remove Secco from Mantua to facilitate the return of his uncles Rodolfo, Ludovico and Gianfrancesco. They had been exiled in 1487, accused of plotting against their nephew, and Secco may have helped to cook up the charges against them. He would himself be charged with treason after he left, and Francesco’s uncles rehabilitated. Apart from the officials and councillors who would stay behind to administer the city and state when the marquis was away from Mantua, Isabella’s main supports during her regencies were her brothers-in-law, Giovanni and Sigismondo. As a soldier, Giovanni would often be away too, but Sigismondo, an ecclesiastic, was usually at her side. Only occasionally would she be without either of Francesco’s brothers – as in the autumn of 1492, when he summoned her back to Mantua from a visit to the duchy of Milan and Genoa, ‘because all of we three brothers will be absent at the same time’, so ‘your presence at Mantua is very necessary’.74 If Giovanni or Sigismondo was in Mantua when Isabella was regent, they would not merely act as her advisers. They shared the responsibility with her. She seems to have worked well with her brothersin-law. There is no record of any disputes or jealousies or struggles for power between them. Francesco could be away for a variety of reasons – simply travelling for pleasure or relaxing at his own villas or hunting lodges, or on business such as diplomatic visits – but his longest absences tended to be when he was on campaign. Isabella knew the mixed emotions, the pride mingled with anxiety, of a soldier’s wife. As her husband was about to take part in a punitive expedition against Genoa led by King Louis XII in April 1507, she wrote of how, ‘timid as I am’, she was not as eager for him to go as he was. Even though I hope in a few days to have cause to rejoice in the victory of the king and your safety, meanwhile there are

Wife and consort 41 so many cares and fears for someone who is not present there, that the evil seems to me to outstrip the good. And so I conclude that it would be better to be married to a poltroon than to a gallant man, or perhaps to some doctor who goes home in the evening and relaxes, eating by his own fireside, than to have so many honours with so much anguish. Yet ‘I would not want a poltroon, or a different sort of man than Your Lordship is in some ways, although in some others’, she teased, ‘I would willingly change you’.75 As a soldier, Francesco took greatest pride in his part in the battle of Fornovo in July 1495, when he commanded the forces of the Italian league against Charles VIII of France, who was returning home with his army from the conquest of the kingdom of Naples. In fact, honours in the battle were more or less even, and the casualties included his uncle, Rodolfo, who commanded the league’s reserves. As trophies, Francesco sent Isabella the broken lance he had used in the battle, and four pieces of the hangings from the royal pavilion. He also sent her a book of drawings, portraits of the king’s Italian mistresses that Charles had kept as souvenirs, which he later returned to the king. Isabella did not arrange celebrations for the battle itself, but for Francesco’s promotion to be captain-general of Venice soon afterwards, ordering all local officials to have bells rung and bonfires lit.76 Francesco himself saw to the commemoration of his victory, building the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria. Mantegna’s famous altarpiece for this church, depicting the marquis kneeling in his armour at the feet of the Virgin, was originally commissioned by Sigismondo, who envisaged that he and Giovanni should appear on one side of Francesco, and Isabella on the other, but the marquis wanted to appear alone with the saints and the Virgin. Isabella and Sigismondo organized the procession that accompanied the finished altarpiece to the church from Mantegna’s house in July 1496. Heavily pregnant, Isabella could not walk in the procession, but she watched it pass from the portal of Giovanni’s palace.77 As regent, Isabella was chiefly concerned with supervision of the routine government of the little state of Mantua. Happy to leave decisions to her, Francesco expected his officials to obey her orders as though they came from him. Sometimes she referred

42  Wife and consort difficult or delicate matters to him, but he might well just refer them straight back to her. ‘In this matter and in every other, do as you please, for we will always approve whatever you do, knowing from experience you are intelligent, prudent and wise’, he reassured her, when she had asked his opinion on a question concerning sheep belonging to a neighbouring family of territorial lords.78 On occasion he rebuked her for troubling him unnecessarily. Asked whether he would approve the grant of an exemption from tolls for some wine her father wanted to transport across Mantuan territory, Francesco replied that she should have done it without asking him, ‘as you have the authority to do this and more’. He would always like her ‘to show what you are, and take that care of our affairs that you should rightfully take’.79 At times of crisis, she would consult more widely among the leading citizens. When there were bread riots in the summer of 1495, she sought the advice of many gentlemen as well as officials. With their counsel, she assured Francesco, ‘I will govern in a way that you will not suffer any bother or harm, and everything will be done to the benefit of the subjects’. Not only officials, but any subject, could speak to her whenever they wished.80 Isabella appreciated the importance of cultivating their subjects’ goodwill. Sententious as her response to the collapse of the power of the Aragonese monarchy in Naples when Charles VIII’s army appeared in the kingdom might sound – ‘it should be an example to all the lords and powers of the world to esteem the hearts of their subjects more than fortresses, treasure and men-at-arms’81 – she in truth was never an advocate of repressive government, of keeping the people in line through fear. In administering justice, she had to order and approve the corporal and capital punishments that were a regular and accepted part of law enforcement. She was not entirely hardened to this judicial violence. On her way to church one day in March 1498, she heard that three men were to be punished for stealing pheasants. One of them was to have both his hands cut off, another one hand, and a third to have three ‘tratti di corda’ (where a person was suspended by the arms bound behind the back, and then dropped from a height). So upset was she by the plight of the man condemned to lose both hands that she could not concentrate on the sermon or anything else, and was so shaken by the sight of the

Wife and consort 43 preparations for the execution of the sentence as she was returning home that she could not eat her dinner. Until she had given orders that one of his hands should be spared, she could not rest. She was worried that Francesco might not approve. If he would not grant this mitigation for her sake, she said, she would see the other hand was amputated as well.82 Isabella was no lady bountiful. The pattern of the pious, charitable consort, winning the hearts of her subjects by intercessions for mercy and good works, was not one to which she felt obliged to conform. Nor did she fraternize or mingle with the townspeople, or encourage the introduction of the Este practice of inviting or permitting large numbers of local people to be spectators at court entertainments. There are no signs that she ever truly won the hearts of the Mantuans. Fortunately for her, she never had to face the challenge of defending Mantua under siege, or of directing other military operations while Francesco was away. How would she have reacted if she had found herself in the situation of Caterina Sforza Riario, the regent of Imola and Forlì, who held out for weeks in January  1500 against the forces of Cesare Borgia and the French? Caterina defied them from the ramparts of the Forlivese fortress of Ravaldino, urging on her disheartened soldiers, standing among them dressed in a cuirass. Her courage impressed the French commanders, but infuriated Cesare Borgia, who raped and humiliated her when she became his prisoner. Difficult as it is to imagine Isabella behaving quite like Caterina Sforza in this situation, it is easy to imagine her following the example of fortitude and resolution set by her mother during the war of Ferrara. Isabella’s responsibilities as regent were usually limited to the internal affairs of the state, and dealing with routine problems that might arise with neighbouring lords and states. Strategic matters, “foreign” policy, would be for Francesco to decide and pursue, wherever he might be at the time. Always eager for news, Isabella had an extensive network of correspondents who helped to keep her informed about current affairs (along with gossip, new books, the latest fashions and much else besides). Contrary to what has sometimes been claimed, this did not amount to a separate diplomatic network. In portraying Isabella as the real director at times of Gonzaga statecraft, Luzio was certainly misled by his

44  Wife and consort adoration of her.83 It is also an exaggeration to describe her as an equal partner in power with Francesco.84 On the other hand, to say that Francesco felt threatened by ‘Isabella’s refusal to enter into a working partnership with him which would have enabled them both to share power’, that he found her too ambitious, ‘unwilling to compromise her ideas on the political strategy Mantua should follow’,85 is to caricature the subtle and shifting pattern of the way they worked together. At times, especially in the later years of their marriage, Isabella did feel excluded. Francesco’s justifiable concern that she was too intent on defending the interests of the Este to give proper precedence to the interests of the Gonzaga had a considerable part in that. Yet for much of the time, Isabella and Francesco exchanged news and information, and she gave him her opinions and advice, while recognizing that ultimately decisions rested with him. Gonzaga agents and diplomats would often send separate letters to Francesco and Isabella. When they did, the letters to her would be notably shorter and less political in content. They might contain a summary of news, but not the detailed reports of discussions and diplomatic news that would be sent to the marquis. If he wanted to share these reports with his wife, that was for him to do, and not for his agents to assume that he expected to be done. In working as a team, Isabella and Francesco were at their most effective in dealing with the menace of Cesare Borgia. At that time, united in adoration of their young son and heir Federico, they were probably as close as they ever were. Both had family members who became caught up in the Borgia drama. Her brother Alfonso was betrothed, and then married, to Cesare’s sister Lucrezia in 1502. Francesco’s sister and Isabella’s dear friend, Elisabetta and her husband Guidobaldo, were driven into exile from Urbino by Cesare’s army. Still closer to home, they negotiated the betrothal of Federico to Cesare’s infant daughter. Integral to their strategy in dealing with the Borgia was the management of relations with the king of France, the greatest power in Italy in the first years of the sixteenth century, and an ally of Cesare’s father, Pope Alexander VI. Francesco’s own relations with the French were ambivalent. The self-proclaimed victor over Charles VIII’s army at Fornovo, as Venetian captain-general he had also taken part in the subsequent

Wife and consort 45 expulsion of the French from Naples. Yet the French commander in Naples, Montpensier, was his brother-in-law, and when Montpensier died there in November 1496, his wife, Francesco’s sister Chiara, was in Mantua. Suspicions that Francesco was trying to negotiate with the French through Chiara caused the Venetians to dismiss him from their service in June 1497. He offered his services to Charles, to no avail, then tried to be taken on by Ludovico Sforza, duke of Milan, Isabella’s brother-in-law, then to return to the Venetians before offering his services to Louis XII (who succeeded Charles VIII in 1498) and being accepted. And so when the French army conquered the duchy of Milan (which Louis XII claimed was rightfully his) in August and September 1499, Francesco was on the winning side. He had not actually fought in the campaign, just refused Sforza’s appeals for help and concentrated his efforts on the defence of his own borders. He again avoided becoming directly involved when the Sforza recovered much of the duchy for a short while in the early months of 1500, and Isabella wanted him to go to fight for Ludovico. Francesco did not do that, but he did send his brother Giovanni to help the Sforza and the French were not pleased with him. Purposefully exaggerating Gonzaga support for the Sforza, the pope suggested to Louis that Cesare should have Mantua and Ferrara to add to the other territory he was grabbing. To appease the Borgia, Francesco invited Cesare to be a godfather to Federico. Cesare accepted the invitation  – not that this would have held him back for an instant if he had the chance to take Mantua for himself. Better insurance was arranged for Ferrara  – the match between Alfonso and Lucrezia Borgia. There were rumours of a plot to seize Francesco at the wedding,86 which might well explain why Ercole only invited Isabella to attend it. Francesco showed no resentment at his exclusion from the invitation, agreeing with Ercole that ‘the condition of the present times’ dictated he should stay away.87 Much as she disapproved of her brother’s Borgia bride, Isabella was ready to exploit the Este connection to the pope’s family for the benefit of the Gonzaga. She began exchanging friendly, even affectionate, letters with her new brother-in-law, and joined Francesco in negotiating the betrothal of Federico to Cesare’s baby daughter Luisa. This match, Cesare wrote to her in

46  Wife and consort mid-June 1502, would reinforce their friendship, which he wanted to be as close as possible, for the mutual benefit and stability of their respective states.88 A week later, his troops took Urbino, and the duke, Francesco’s brother-in-law, fled to Mantua, where an unsuspecting Elisabetta had gone on a visit with Guidobaldo’s adopted heir, Francesco Maria della Rovere. Other victims of the Borgia had also taken refuge there. Among them was Giovanni Sforza, the lord of Pesaro, whose first wife had been Francesco’s sister Maddalena, and who had later married Lucrezia Borgia. He had personal experience of how the Borgia respected links between families by marriage, once those links had ceased to meet their own purposes, as Alexander had arranged for his divorce from Lucrezia and Cesare driven him from his state. ‘We are all so astonished, so confused, and so grieved’ by the unexpected loss of Urbino, Isabella lamented to Chiara Gonzaga, ‘that we don’t know where we are ourselves’.89 She hoped that Louis would intervene to restore the exiled lords, who followed Francesco when he went to Milan to join the king in July. Having heard that her husband had been openly critical of Cesare Borgia at the French court, Isabella was very concerned that reports of such comments, true or not, might reach Cesare’s ears. As he was the sort of man who had no scruples about plotting against members of his own family, she felt sure that he would plot against Francesco, if he thought he had any reason to fear him. The fact that Francesco was taking no precautions against being poisoned alarmed her. If he was not concerned about himself, she pleaded, for her sake and that of her son, would he have more care for his personal safety, and only take food and drink from a trusted servant; she would send one from Mantua if need be. ‘I would rather you were annoyed with me, than that I should have cause to weep, together with our little boy’. Don’t make fun of my letter, she added in a postscript written in her own hand, or say that women are always fearful, because their malice is greater than my fear or your courage.90 On the same day, she wrote another letter to Francesco, this time cautioning him against speaking too boldly in support of the exiled lords. ‘At present one does not know whom to trust’, and if Louis and Cesare made an agreement, it would be best if Francesco had protected himself. In affairs of state, as he well knew,

Wife and consort 47 no one looked to the interests of friends or previous enmities.91 Francesco understood the rules of the game as well as she did. When Cesare Borgia arrived at the French court, they greeted one another with all the external signs of friendship, and spent the day with the king in dancing and banqueting. Francesco asked Isabella to despatch his boat to Pavia for Cesare to use.92 While her husband was in Milan, Isabella handled negotiations with Cesare’s envoy, Francesco Trocio, in Mantua. Suspecting that Trocio was sent there to report on any signs that the Gonzaga were working against his master, Isabella asked Francesco to send her a letter she could show to the envoy, concealing any ill-feeling towards Cesare. The letter came, but Isabella felt it did not quite fit the bill – not fulsome enough in speaking of Francesco’s feelings for Cesare, not cautious enough in its references to the duke and duchess of Urbino. If he had spoken on behalf of the duke, he had been moved by the feelings of a brother-in-law, but that did not mean he did not wish to be a good brother to Cesare, was Francesco’s version. In Isabella’s version, this became Francesco wishing Cesare to know that he had deliberately spoken in favour of his brother-in-law in public, only so that word of this would get back to Guidobaldo and Elisabetta, to give them some comfort. Having decided to regard Cesare as a brother, he would not draw back if Cesare did not.93 Telling Francesco what she had done, she explained that she did not want anyone else to know of it, particularly Guidobaldo and Elisabetta.94 No objection came from Francesco to her manipulation of his letter. Evidently he trusted her tact and intelligence in the delicate business of negotiating with Cesare Borgia. She was also entrusted with the task of gathering information about Cesare and his army in the Romagna, which Louis wanted to know. When Francesco sent her news from the French court, she asked for the most important items to be put in a separate postscript, ‘so I can keep that with me and feed others generalities’.95 Propitiating Cesare Borgia came to take precedence over succouring the Montefeltro, for both Francesco and Isabella. After his return to Mantua in September, Francesco sent Guidobaldo away, at Cesare’s insistence. Guidobaldo went to Venice, where Elisabetta chose to join him. Even before their departure, Isabella was persuading Cesare to give her two statues from the

48  Wife and consort collection at Urbino, an antique Venus and a Cupid by Michelangelo that had been passed off as an antique. This might have been a sympathetic attempt to salvage something for the Montefeltro in their distress, as some small consolation for them – except that Isabella obviously intended from the first to hold on to them. When Cesare’s power collapsed after the death of his father, and Guidobaldo and Elisabetta could return to Urbino, Isabella hung on to her prizes. Fond as she was of Elisabetta, her passion for collecting came first. As regent when Francesco was again at the French court in October (by which time Louis was back in France), Isabella did not send help when Guidobaldo briefly recovered his duchy, following a conspiracy against Cesare by some of his Italian captains. Giovanni Gonzaga went to support the captains and exiled lords associated with them. Concerned that Cesare would blame her and Francesco, Isabella was quick to inform his envoy in Mantua that neither of them had wanted Giovanni to go. She ordered it to be proclaimed that as Giovanni had gone to join Cesare’s opponents against the wishes of the marquis, no subject should go to fight under him. Fortunately, Cesare responded that he did not care what Giovanni had done.96 Negotiations for the betrothal of Federico and Luisa continued. Isabella kept Francesco fully informed about these, and passed on all the information about Cesare and his opponents that she garnered, including information from Giovanni. Naturally, Francesco and Isabella would only be keen to be on good terms with Cesare for as long as his star was in the ascendant. They would have known – Cesare himself was fully aware – how brittle, how unstable the foundations of his power were, resting as they ultimately did on the life of his father, the pope. It is very doubtful that they ever seriously believed that their son would marry his daughter. Such diplomatically driven betrothals of children barely out of their cradles often failed to come to fruition, even when they were arranged between members of secure dynasties. After his fall from power, Cesare tried to maintain a connection with the Gonzaga, hoping for their support, but he hoped in vain. They welcomed the exiled lords’ recovery of their states, particularly, of course, the return of the Montefeltro to Urbino. Not that this stopped Francesco from asking Isabella to use her

Wife and consort 49 ingenuity to secure Cesare’s horses that he thought, wrongly, were stabled at Urbino.97 The most difficult regency for Isabella was when Francesco was captured and held prisoner by the Venetians for nearly a year, from August 1509. This turned into the most challenging political dilemma she ever had to face, and the greatest test of their marriage. He fell into Venetian hands as he was trying to gain some personal advantage from the attack on Venice launched by the League of Cambrai, whose principal members were Louis, Pope Julius II, and Maximilian, the emperor-elect. At that time, Francesco was an ally of Louis. He had turned down the offer of a condotta from the Venetians (who had approached Isabella, asking her to use her influence to persuade him to accept). Some French troops were sent to help defend the Mantovano, while Francesco went to join the campaign against Venice in April, leaving Isabella as regent with his brothers. His part in the fighting was largely confined to skirmishing with the Venetian forces on the frontiers of his state and, with the French forces sent to support him, taking places on their side of the border. He met up with the main body of the French army led by the king on 9 May, but took no part in the battle of Agnadello, in which the Venetians were routed, on 14 May. His excuse for missing the battle was that he was ill, and this was quite likely to have been true: his syphilis was undermining his health more and more. Louis mocked him in a letter, saying that if he were not such a poltroon, Francesco would have been happy to have had the chance to take his revenge on the Venetians. But anyway, he added, get well soon and come to join me in finishing the job.98 I am not a coward, and never was, Francesco replied. My poltroonery has been my bed, and my great misfortune, and I hope to show my service to Your Majesty on some future occasion.99 Louis’s letter was not a serious accusation of cowardice, and the tone of Francesco’s reply would have been very different if it had been. But he was not entirely trusted by the French, and he felt that. Captured places in the Bresciano that he wanted were assigned to him as his share of the spoils of victory, but not all the ones he wanted, and French garrisons were put in the most important ones. Retiring to Mantua, again on the excuse of sickness, he warded off requests from Louis and from Maximilian to go to

50  Wife and consort guard Verona. Finally, he left Mantua for Verona on 1 August, but within a few days of arriving there went to attempt the seizure of the coveted fortress of Legnago, to the east of Mantua, for himself. He never reached it. The Venetian commander at Legnago, Lucio Malvezzi, a seasoned soldier, surprised him during the night as he slept at Isola della Scala. Initially, Francesco managed to evade Malvezzi’s men, but was soon found hiding and detained by four peasants. To add to the somewhat ignominious circumstances of his capture  – Isabella’s description to Sigismondo of his valiant defence is not confirmed by other sources100 – he lost his horses and artillery, his arms and armour, his jewels and plate, and what cash he had at the time, which was all with him. No less humiliating was his treatment by the Venetians. Not for him the honour and courtesy that according to the conventions of chivalrous warfare should be shown to nobles and princes captured in battle. Isabella was pained to hear of Francesco’s progress through jubilant crowds on his way from Legnago to Padua. In Venice itself, he was jeered as he was led through Piazza San Marco to the doge’s palace, and there were cries of ‘Hang the traitor’.101 This was not how Isabella described his reception to the Gonzaga envoy in Rome, where she wanted it to be believed that he had been honourably escorted by many gentlemen, visited by the councillors, that it had been publicly declared that he would be treated as a great lord and, liberty aside, would want for nothing – although she did say that such courtesies were intended to mock him rather than honour him.102 In fact, he was closely confined, and Isabella was pleading ‘as a poor afflicted woman, deprived of her husband and lord’, to be allowed to send him a doctor and a servant to take care of him, and an official who could report to her on how he was.103 Experienced as she was as a regent, Isabella had never had such responsibility before. Above all, she had never had such responsibility for external policy, for the defence of Mantua and the interests of the Gonzaga dynasty. In dealing with Cesare Borgia, she had been working in tandem with Francesco. Now, with her husband sequestered in a Venetian prison, she had to take charge of negotiations with the king of France, the emperor-elect and the pope. At times she felt the strain: the pose she occasionally adopted of a woman deprived of her husband’s support, struggling

Wife and consort 51 to cope with unaccustomed problems and challenges was not entirely feigned. But she was not left to face them alone. The very day of Francesco’s capture, she wrote to Sigismondo Gonzaga, who was then papal legate at Macerata, urging him to come to Mantua. He answered her call and stayed at her side. Although letters were generally signed by Isabella alone, she frequently stressed that decisions had been reached jointly with Sigismondo, that he shared in the government of Mantua – especially if she felt she must refute allegations that she did not truly have her husband’s interests at heart, as the Venetians insinuated to Francesco. One thing that she and Sigismondo did not have to worry about was the loyalty of the marquis’s subjects. The Mantuans’ initial reaction to news of their lord’s capture was to overwhelm her with assurances of their goodwill. In turn, she assured local officials that she was not so distracted by worry that she was not resolved to do everything possible to keep the state intact. Those near the border with Verona were instructed to tell the people they should not fear, but go about their usual business.104 She did not have to face any revolt or rebellion, and was able to concentrate on efforts to interest Francesco’s allies in trying to secure his release. Unfortunately, the most powerful ally, Louis, did not much care, blaming Francesco’s misfortune on failure to follow his advice. He was more interested in sending a French garrison to Mantua, a suggestion Isabella was quick to parry. In the French camp, the marquis was not held in much repute as a soldier, and Isabella was advised by the Mantuan ambassador with the king not to pursue an idea that he might be exchanged for the highly esteemed Venetian commander, Bartolomeo d’Alviano, who had been captured by the French at Agnadello and was a prisoner in France. Still less was to be hoped from Maximilian, who only offered to send a representative to govern Mantua with Isabella. To this suggestion, she responded that the state was quiet and under no immediate threat, and she could not have more faithful counsel than from Sigismondo.105 Then Maximilian (who was always short of money and notoriously incapable of making good use of whatever came his way) asked for subsidies. These she refused, protesting that her subjects had enough to bear already.106 Her best hope of help in bringing about Francesco’s release was in fact from the pope. Annoyed by the news of his capture, Julius

52  Wife and consort had reacted in characteristic style by an outburst of temper, swearing and throwing his hat on the floor. What annoyed him most was the triumph of the Venetians rather than Francesco’s plight, but nevertheless he promised the papacy’s protection for the Gonzaga and their state. Hoping to arouse a more personal concern in the pope for the welfare of the Gonzaga, Isabella, with Francesco’s consent and tender blessing, sent their fifteen-year-old daughter, Eleonora, to the husband to whom she had been formally married since 1505 – Francesco Maria della Rovere, duke of Urbino since Guidobaldo’s death the year before and, more to the point at that moment, beloved nephew of the pope.107 Remember to use the favour of the pope to the benefit of your father, she enjoined Eleonora; she was sure they would have this matter at heart above all else.108 As it turned out, political interest rather than family affection made Julius intercede for Francesco. Disengaging from his allies in the League of Cambrai, he was negotiating with Venice. But there was a complication, which affected the pope’s attitude to Isabella herself. He was contemplating an attack on Ferrara, and in Isabella he saw Alfonso d’Este’s sister as much as Francesco Gonzaga’s wife. Dispirited, humbled, ailing, desperate to be released, Francesco was being kept in isolation, his contacts with the outside world, including his wife, monitored and limited. When he begged on bended knees to be allowed the attendance of two favourite servants, the Venetian government agreed to ask the Senate whether he could have one of them, but only as a replacement for the servant he had already, who would be kept in custody to prevent him leaving Venice. This exchange did not take place, and by late October Francesco’s health was causing real concern to the Venetians. If he died in their prison, it would reflect badly on them, they feared, and they would lose the benefits they hoped to gain from such a captive. He had petitioned for permission to take the air sometimes, and was still asking for his two favoured servants. It was proposed that during the day he might be allowed into the next room to the one where he was being held, but still be locked up at night, and that Giulio, the junior in age and authority of the two servants, should replace the current one, so that he could be looked after by someone he knew and liked. Unmoved, the Senate decided he should stay where he was, but should be provided with

Wife and consort 53 doctors and medicines. A  fortnight later, as he was very unwell and melancholy, he was grudgingly allowed some minor improvements to the conditions of his imprisonment, but still deprived of the attendance of his familiar servants. One reason the Venetians treated Francesco with so little consideration was annoyance with Isabella. A friar she sent to speak to him (on family matters, she claimed) was turned away without being allowed to see the marquis. Like all those seeking to visit Francesco, the friar had had to appear before the doge and his council to disclose his message, but the doge had launched into a tirade against Isabella. She was too pro-French, he objected, and showing little love for the husband who was in their power. Not that she minded being called a French partisan, Isabella wrote to the Mantuan envoy in France, because Louis’s support was Francesco’s best chance of being freed – except that she feared if the Venetians heard she had said this, they would make his conditions of imprisonment harsher.109 The Venetians were especially angry with her in 1510 because of the heavy defeat they had just suffered in an attack on Ferrara. Their river fleet had been destroyed by the Ferrarese artillery – as great a blow to the Venetians as their defeat at Agnadello. As they were preparing to attack Ferrara, Isabella sent troops to guard the Mantuan borders and had bastions constructed, following plans drawn up by Francesco (earthwork and timber bastions could be built quickly and be very effective in defending roads or river crossings). Although she wanted the French to know what she was doing, she hoped that she would not need to call for French troops. Louis was impressed: he was said to have been moved to tears when told that Isabella had ordered that even if Francesco should be brought before one of his fortresses by the Venetians and executed in the face of his own men, they should not surrender.110 In the event, Venetian forces only made a few incursions into Mantuan territory, not a full-blown assault. Nevertheless, these were destructive and troublesome enough for Isabella to try appeasement. Letters she had written to Giovanni Gonzaga, who was with the Imperial forces at Verona, about the defeat of the river fleet of the Venetians had fallen into their hands; she excused their jubilant tone by saying that she had only been repeating what

54  Wife and consort her brother Alfonso had written to her. She argued the Venetians must accept the force of the explanations she and Sigismondo had given of what little help they had sent to Maximilian. After putting him off for so long with excuses, and continuing to refuse him the money he was pressing for, they could not deny the lord of the Imperial fief of Mantua that much aid without imperilling the state.111 But the Venetians were adamant that Francesco’s prospects of being freed depended on aid from Mantua not being given to the French and Imperial troops fighting against Venice, but being given to them instead. Any news gleaned by the Mantuan envoys with the pope, Louis or Maximilian that could possibly be of use to Venice should be passed on. Pouring out her troubles to Elisabetta, Isabella complained that the Venetians would not accept the justifications she and Sigismondo put to them. Now they were demanding that she pay 300 ducats a month for the expenses of Francesco and the other Mantuan prisoners, including the cost of the guards. From the way the letter was written, Isabella evidently wanted its contents passed on to the pope – Elisabetta was in Rome – but it still reads as a cry from the heart. What pained her most was that the Venetians were telling Francesco that it was her fault, hers and Sigismondo’s, that he was still in prison, tormenting him with promises that he would soon be freed, or that a house had been prepared for him where he would be held in more honourable conditions, provided his wife and brother behaved as the Venetians desired. This psychological pressure was affecting Francesco, and she was worried that the Venetians were inciting him to think badly of her and Sigismondo. ‘We would not mind about that, were it not for the trouble and anguish it causes the poor lord, because as for us, the pope and all the world know what we have done for his liberation. Still, being flesh and blood as I am, I have often been ready in desperation to give up this unfortunate government and leave the state abandoned, and I will certainly do this if His Holiness does not intervene’ to make the Venetians understand that she and Sigismondo could not have behaved differently. Julius’s counsel that Francesco’s life and liberty depended on the preservation of his state had been borne in mind, yet they were going to propose to Venice that if Francesco were freed, some fortresses might be put in papal custody for the duration of the war, and

Wife and consort 55 Federico and the other children sent to stay with the pope. Isabella knew that Francesco was in a bad way: ‘the poor man has been left on his own, with no one to serve him’, and he no longer had the comfort of visits from those he knew, for all Mantuans except merchants had been sent away from Venice.112 Julius’s reaction, when Francesco Maria Della Rovere told him what Isabella had written, was not what she would have hoped. Suspecting a trick to obstruct his own negotiations with Venice, he furiously accused his nephew of trying to behave like Cesare Borgia with Alexander VI (Isabella’s notion of winning the sympathies of the pope through her daughter and son-in-law had not reckoned with Julius’s determination not to be seen as a pope who let his relatives influence papal policy). Later, when he had calmed down, Julius did tell the duke and duchess and Elisabetta at dinner that he hoped to have the marquis freed soon.113 How he proposed to achieve this created yet another problem for Isabella. He suggested that, as the Venetians were in need of a new captaingeneral to replace their old one, Niccolò Orsini, who had died in January, they should appoint Francesco. Isabella feared that that would bring down French and Imperial troops on Mantua. Casting about for a replacement for Orsini, which was a matter of urgency as the new campaigning season was approaching, some Venetians began to come round to the idea of taking Francesco on again. The official trying to deal with the disorder in the Venetian army thought it a good idea, but suggested that Isabella and the children, as well as the Mantuan fortresses, should be handed over as security for his loyalty.114 Francesco’s conditions of imprisonment were eased a little; Isabella was told she could send someone once a week to visit him.115 But in the middle of March he was still in despair, weeping continually, saying that he wanted to die, still pleading to be allowed the company of one of the servants who had been captured with him.116 Naturally, when the proposal he might gain his freedom by becoming the Venetian captain-general was put to him, he was ready to agree. The Venetians were still criticizing Isabella’s stance towards the French, and Francesco, now admitted to audiences with the Signoria, told them he did not trust his wife, that she was being kept on the side of the French by the influence of her brothers. The prospect of Federico coming to Venice as security for his father’s

56  Wife and consort loyalty was mooted. Doubting that Isabella would allow their son to come, Francesco suggested he might send someone to tell Federico to go secretly to a place, Ponte Molini, where he could be met by an escort of Venetian troops.117 Once Federico was in Venice, the Signoria promised, his father would be freed and made their captain-general. What Isabella told the French in Milan about her husband’s views was rather different. Openly, according to her, he had sent to tell her not to allow French troops into the Mantovano and that the Venetians were offering to defend Mantua, but secretly he had given her to understand that she should do as she thought best, because he did not know how matters really stood. And, she added, once the Venetians had shown Francesco in public, saying he was to be sent to join their army, they had put him back in his usual prison, under closer surveillance than before.118 How sincere were Francesco’s criticisms and denunciations of Isabella to the Venetians? What messages was he sending to Mantua: instructions to his nine-year-old son to go, without his mother’s knowledge, to a place where he would in effect be kidnapped by Venetian troops and taken as a hostage to Venice, where his father was still held prisoner, or advice to his wife to follow her own judgement on a question of critical importance for the security, perhaps the very survival of his state? Dejected and ailing as he was, was he prepared to run the risk of the Venetians keeping both him and his son captive? He might have made such an offer, confident that Federico could not have been spirited away, escaping his mother’s vigilant care of her cherished son, to a place where he would be exposed to seizure by Venetian troops, and that he would be able to blame his wife when the plot to get the boy to Venice was foiled. On the other hand, would he have given Isabella carte blanche in deciding whether to prohibit French troops crossing Mantuan territory, in case they came to occupy it instead, or to accept Venetian troops, when it was obvious there was every chance they would occupy Mantua rather than defend it? Given the obstacles placed in the way of Isabella’s communicating with her husband by the Venetians, especially concerning affairs of state, he could only guess how she interpreted a political and military situation which had greatly changed since his incarceration, and he could not be confident that she would decide as

Wife and consort 57 he would have done had he been free. After all, they had been of different minds at other critical moments in the wars, such as when the French had ousted Ludovico Sforza from Milan. And he was aware that the interests of the Este were in play now, with Ferrara having been drawn into the wars, and he knew how dear the interests of the Este were to his wife’s heart. It would have been easy for him to believe that she was being influenced by her brothers. On balance, given Francesco’s state of mind and the fact that he did agree both to be the Venetian captain-general and that Federico should be a hostage in Venice for him, it is more likely that he felt his best hope of liberation was to go along with what the Venetians wanted, rather than that he would leave the decision whether to side with France or Venice entirely to Isabella. She was under mounting pressure at this time, for the Venetians were not the only ones to want Federico as a hostage. Maximilian’s reaction to the first intimations of Francesco perhaps becoming Venetian captain-general in March 1510 had been to demand that the boy should be handed over to him. Thrown into confusion by this bolt from the blue, Isabella soon made up her mind to refuse. She could not bear to be parted from her son, so there was no question of her agreeing, Maximilian was to be told, and the presence of the boy was of great comfort to his subjects, given his father’s plight.119 A month later, it was the turn of the French king to ask for Federico, recalling a written promise made by Francesco years before to send his son to be educated at the French court. When she did not yield to blandishments, Louis’s envoy, Galeazzo Visconti, turned to threats. Under instruction not to leave Mantua without a firm answer, Visconti, after much pleading from Isabella, agreed to wait until she had sent her own envoy to Louis to put her case. The warmth of her maternal love, not unmixed with reason, was to be the basis of her arguments, she instructed her envoy, Soardino. It was undeniable that Federico would benefit greatly from being raised in the French court, and it would be to his honour, but she was sure that he would perish, that he was too young and delicate to stand such a long journey, and a different climate and customs. If anything happened to him, she would die of grief. Should Louis bring up Francesco’s promise, Soardino was to say that a father was not so tender as a mother towards his children

58  Wife and consort (a questionable assertion in the case of Francesco and Isabella). While Francesco was a prisoner, Federico was husband to her as well as son, because the people looked to him as their lord, and there would probably be unrest if they were deprived of him as well. As Louis had condemned Maximilian’s demand for Federico, she could not believe he was now making the same demand himself. There was no reason to doubt that she would be disloyal to Louis, even if Francesco commanded her to be, knowing as she did that he would not do so of his own free will, and that it would be the ruin of the state, his children, and his life, ‘which solely depends on the power and victory of France, under whose protection we want to remain’. There was no reason to suspect otherwise. Any other security he required she would be willing to give – but not her eldest son.120 Louis allowed himself to be persuaded by her pleas, and did not insist. Meanwhile, Francesco had openly instructed Isabella to send their son to Venice, so that he himself could be freed. Resolutely, Isabella refused. Stressing that she was in accord with Sigismondo as to what had to be done, she argued there was no guarantee the Venetians would release the father once they had the son in their hands; they might well hold on to both. If Federico was sent to Venice, Maximilian and Louis would be offended; if Francesco took the field against him with the Venetian army, Maximilian could declare the Imperial fief of Mantua confiscate. She would rather risk losing her husband’s love and good opinion than lose his state. In time, she hoped he would realize she was showing greater love for him than he was for himself. Be patient, she urged him; she and Sigismondo were always thinking of his liberation. If she were sure that Francesco really would be freed, she was willing to send not only Federico to Venice, but their other children, too. ‘Please excuse me if this letter is written badly and expressed worse, because I do not know if I am alive or dead’, she concluded, signing herself, ‘She who desires the welfare of Your Lordship no less than her own’.121 Disappointed, furious, frustrated, Francesco wept when this letter was read to him, and cursed his wife.122 The Venetians argued that it was her brother Alfonso’s influence that was making her cling to the French. At least, that was what they told the pope, who was bent on war against the French and Ferrara. Julius was

Wife and consort 59 playing his own game, which would prove to be the decisive one. He sent a nuncio to Francesco, urging him not to harm Isabella once he was freed – Julius said Isabella had written to him that her husband had threatened to cut her throat – and that he was sure she had only been acting for the preservation of the state. He suggested that Federico should stay with the duke of Urbino in Bologna until his father was at liberty; then he could be transferred to Venice. Federico would be on his way to Bologna already, Isabella and Sigismondo assured the pope, had not the Venetians jumped the gun, ordering arms and horses should be sent to Francesco in Venice, which might well have put French and German troops on the alert. Now it would be impossible to send the boy secretly, without consulting the Mantuans, who were already fearful that Mantua would be attacked, and impossible to send him safely. So this was not an outright refusal – but Isabella and Sigismondo did stipulate two further conditions if they were to comply. The first was that it should be understood that Francesco would not truly be at liberty until he was back in Mantua; in the Venetian camp, he would be as much a prisoner as before. The second condition was that there should be a fixed term to Federico’s stay in Venice, and some guarantee that he would be returned when the term was up.123 Julius did not like being thwarted, abusing Isabella, saying that Francesco was not Venice’s prisoner, but hers.124 She claimed that the Mantuans she had consulted approved what she had done; in fact, some thought she was wrong. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to disarm the suspicions of the French and the emperor, while resisting the combined pressure from the pope, the Venetians and her husband. By the end of June, Isabella and Sigismondo offered to send Federico, either to the duke of Urbino in Bologna, or to Rome, provided the pope promised not to hand the boy over to the Venetians and to secure Francesco’s return to Mantua. In early July, Julius asked the Venetians to send Francesco to him, to prevent Isabella keeping Mantua on the side of the French. Their alliance with the pope was too important to the Venetians at this time for them to refuse. At last, Francesco was freed. On 15 July, he left Venice by galley for Rimini. Julius and the Venetians had agreed that Francesco should go to Rome. As it turned out he did not have to go to Rome to be

60  Wife and consort with the pope, who decided to come north to Bologna. He wanted Francesco to be captain-general of the papal troops as well as the Venetian army in the imminent war against Ferrara. Feeling honour-bound to serve the pope, who had been responsible for negotiating his release, Francesco was about to be called on to command an attack on his wife’s brother. Isabella’s feelings at this prospect can be imagined. To add to her anguish, she finally had to bid farewell to Federico, who left to be Julius’s hostage. At least she felt easier in her mind about this than she had been about the idea of his going to Venice. Indeed, he would be very well treated and become a favourite of the pope. Her situation did not become as painful as it might have been: she was not obliged to witness her husband leading the campaign against her brother. At the beginning of November Francesco returned to Mantua from Bologna, taking 2,000 infantry and his men-at-arms with him on the pretext that he had to defend his state. Once there, he resisted pressure to join the papal camp, on the grounds that he was suffering from a resurgence of his syphilis. Julius was sceptical – after all, he did not allow his own syphilis to keep him out of action. But Francesco’s health was seriously undermined, and he would never take the field again. Assuring her brother Ippolito that Francesco had no wish to attack Alfonso, or Louis, but would give them what help he honourably and safely could, Isabella said that he had an understanding with the French that he would make no significant moves against them, only threaten them with words. There was a legitimate reason for him to stay at home after his treatment for his malady, and Louis would have to excuse what he was doing for the pope, to whom he was obliged for his liberation, and who had his son in his hands. It was too risky to annoy the pope into carrying out his oft-repeated threat to give Federico over to the Venetians. Burn this letter, and don’t let anyone get hold of it, she warned her brother. If the pope got to hear of what she had written, it would mean ruin.125 Doubtless, Francesco had no wish to fight the French troops who had come to defend Ferrara – but was he as keen on helping Alfonso as Isabella was? Were they truly of one mind at this time, on these important matters? As Francesco made his way home after the Venetians released him, Isabella had sent him her justifications for what she had been

Wife and consort 61 doing while he was imprisoned. Responding graciously, demonstrating confidence in her, he sent her a jewel, with the promise that she should have the township of Asola as a reward for her efforts. Both of them had thought it necessary to guard against possible attempts by French troops to take over Mantuan fortresses at the time of his release. Isabella took pains to persuade Louis and Maximilian, that in handing Federico over to the pope after refusing to send the boy to either of them, she had been obeying her husband.126 Francesco probably approved of her instructions to officials on the borders in late September to let French troops pass through Mantuan territory, then to write to her that they had let them through because they had no orders what to do, and could not stop them. These letters were to be sent on to Francesco, so that he could show them to the pope, if need be.127 Very likely, if Francesco had been in Mantua he would have issued the same instructions himself. But Isabella’s efforts to help her brother were more compromising to her husband. She alerted Alfonso to preparations to build a pontoon bridge across the Po at Sermide on Mantuan territory on the pope’s orders, to facilitate the invasion of Ferrara. Alfonso came and wrecked the bridge, taking with him the boats that formed it. At the end of September, Julius ordered another bridge to be built, sending Isabella’s bugbear, Vigo da Camposampiero, to supervise the construction. Vigo wrote to the pope that Isabella was being obstructive; he also wrote to her, but she responded that he was beneath her notice.128 She really overstepped the mark when she decided to leave Mantua for a few days to meet Ippolito, despite both her husband and her son being with the pope in Bologna at the time. Courtiers, officials, even Giovanni Gonzaga, suspecting she might not return, insisted that she should stay. Indignant that her protestations that she would only be away for three days were not believed (and that she was not given credit for being capable of stealing away from Mantua secretly, if she had wanted to), she persisted in saying she would go, but eventually had to back down.129 Apologizing to Francesco, she confessed she had been wrong to want to leave Mantua without his permission, and promised never to do it again. It had been a snap decision, and her desire to talk to her brother, mixed with a touch of anger, had stopped her thinking it through.130 Her explanation satisfied Francesco, and he had taken it in the right way, she told Giovanni.131

62  Wife and consort Once Francesco was back in Mantua permanently, Isabella continued to keep in close contact with her brothers. They urged her to get Francesco to send help. He did not – it would have been foolhardy for him to do so. Nor could he obstruct the building of the pontoon bridge over the Po at Sermide, although it was of no service to the papal troops, as ice on the frozen river repeatedly broke it apart. On the other hand, he was still doing little to advance the papal campaign, and presenting himself to the French as their covert ally. Given advance warning by the French commander Chaumont in January 1511 that he was bringing troops for the defence of Ferrara, Francesco gave a written promise that they could pass through Mantuan territory unopposed, and buy supplies there. All he asked was that damage to his territory should be kept to a minimum, and safeconducts be given to messengers he would send to the pope to make his excuses. Exasperated by their captain’s lack of contribution to the war, both Julius and the Venetians were inclined to see Isabella’s influence at work on her husband. Supporters of Venice in the papal court sneered that he was ruled by her, and did what she wanted.132 Vigo da Camposampiero told Francesco that he had rebutted this accusation, declaring to the pope that Francesco was not a man to be governed by women. Although Isabella was treated better than any queen or duchess in Italy, Francesco left her to take care of her own trivial affairs, and knew how to handle matters of state without feminine counsel.133 Such reports and assurances must have irritated Francesco. It was humiliating for him to be told that people were saying he was under his wife’s thumb. In the circumstances, such gossip was dangerous, too. He did not want to link the fortunes of the Gonzaga to those of the Este. His own situation, the policies he had to adopt to protect his own state, were already complicated enough, in all conscience. The traditional Gonzaga policy of trying to keep Mantua from direct involvement in wars, even when the marquis was serving as the captain of other powers, was always liable to make their fidelity and sincerity suspect. Now Isabella’s overt partisanship for her brothers was opening Francesco up to suspicion of doubledealing, or to ridicule as a man who could not control his wife. This problem came to the fore again in relation to Isabella’s association with her sister Beatrice’s son, Massimiliano Sforza, after he

Wife and consort 63 was made duke of Milan in 1512 by the league that had expelled the French from the duchy. Isabella made an extended visit to Milan with Francesco’s blessing, but he became concerned when in March 1513 she accompanied the young duke to Piacenza and Parma. Those cities had been taken from the duchy of Milan by Julius, and after his death in February, Massimiliano with one of his sponsors, the Spanish viceroy of Naples, Ramón de Cardona, exploited the opportunity offered by the vacancy of the papal throne to recover them peacefully. Well aware that this would be regarded as an affront by the new pope, whoever he might be, Francesco wrote to the special envoy he had sent to the conclave of his displeasure that Isabella’s presence at Piacenza with her nephew might be interpreted as implying Francesco knew and approved of the enterprise. ‘We are ashamed that it has been our lot to have such a wife as always wants to do things her way and as she thinks fit’. Some of her excuses might be true. Perhaps the duke had not wanted her to leave, so that it would look as though Francesco was in favour of what he had done. ‘Nevertheless, we confess to having a wife with a mind of her own, as has been seen in many other matters’.134 On the day he confessed his shame, Isabella had written to make her excuses. Her main reason for staying on after Francesco had instructed her to come home, was that she thought she could be of use to her brother, soliciting support for him from Cardona. Had she believed that her returning sooner could be of any assistance to Francesco’s interests, she would have dropped everything else. For her, he alone outweighed all others. She had not intended to go to Piacenza, but had yielded to the persuasion of Massimiliano, and had also thought she could help Alfonso, whose envoy had arrived to discuss his affairs with Cardona. These reasons were not what he wanted to hear, Francesco retorted. Noting how she had signed the letter – ‘Desiring to see Your Lordship’ – he commented that if she really wanted to see him, nothing would have kept her away. She should remember the respect and honour in which he had always held her, and remember her duty. At her age, she should not need to be reminded. Consideration for him should outweigh everything else, and she should come back without delay. He was going to greet Federico – who was finally returning from Rome – and for love of her son, she should hurry up. In any case, her return would silence the gossip in Mantua.135

64  Wife and consort Stung by this response, Isabella stood her ground, still justifying her having given priority to the interests of her brother and the wishes of her nephew. She was pained, but not surprised that Francesco was not satisfied by her letters; she would have been more pained if it were her fault. But considering she had not obeyed her husband only ‘to serve my brother and please my nephew’, she blamed her ill fortune that he was displeased by whatever she did. Nothing she had done in Milan justified her becoming the subject of common gossip. She had made a host of friends for him and for herself, and she needed lessons from no one in how to behave. By the grace of God, Francesco was under as great an obligation to her as ever any husband was to his wife. If he loved and honoured her as much as any person ever did another, he could still not repay her loyalty. This was why he sometimes called her arrogant (superba), because knowing how much she deserved from him, and how badly recompensed she was, sometimes she behaved in a way that made her seem other than she really was. But although she was certain she would continue to receive nothing but bad from him, she would still return good. The more he showed how little he loved her, the more she would in effect love him  – she could say she was born to it, having been given to him at such an age that she had no recollection of ever being without his love. So she deserved to be able to stay on an extra fifteen or twenty days, for the reasons she had given, without Francesco being cross. And he should not be indignant, thinking she did not want to see him. If she could see him as much as she wanted, she would see him more often than she did in Mantua.136 This time she signed the letter ‘She who loves Your Lordship as much as herself’ – but this exchange of letters lays bare how bad relations between the couple had become. Throughout the remainder of their married life, there was a degree, at times several degrees, of estrangement. The root cause was Francesco’s poor health, as his syphilis undermined his strength and soured his temper. Apparently, Isabella was no readier to play the nurse than she had been as a young bride, when her mother had lectured her about the importance of taking personal care of her husband when he was sick. When his illness had him in its grip and he was confined to bed, Francesco wanted few visitors, yet if his wife had been ready to comfort and soothe him, he might well have

Wife and consort 65 welcomed her attentions. Isabella had other ideas about her role as a consort, but she was no longer called upon to be a partner in government as she had been, and she found this difficult to accept. There would be no more captaincies, no more military contracts for Francesco, nor would he be well enough to make any diplomatic journeys to Rome or Venice or the French court. He no longer lived in the usual state apartments of the marquis on the ground floor of the Castello part of the palace complex, which communicated with Isabella’s apartments on the floor above by a small staircase. His permanent residence was now the palace – really an urban villa with a large garden – that he had built for himself at San Sebastiano, over half a mile away on the other side of the city. Work on this palace had begun around 1506. It was just inside the city walls, near a gate that gave onto a causeway to the Te island where Francesco kept some of his prized horses. Stables and a palazzina had been built on the island shortly after 1500 (which were later incorporated into the Palazzo del Te built by Federico as marquis). Naturally, there were good views of the island from Francesco’s apartments in San Sebastiano. Although Francesco had moved there in 1508, seeking greater quiet and privacy in his suffering, the palace was provided with a large hall on the first floor, leading to his private apartments, that could be used for ceremonies and for entertaining. The hall was designed to display Mantegna’s great series of paintings, The Triumph of Julius Caesar. Some chambers could be used as guest rooms. Several of the rooms had fine carved and painted wooden ceilings, some so fine that a later marquis, Vincenzo I, had them transferred to the old palace in the early seventeenth century. A ground floor loggia looking out on to the garden was large enough for plays to be mounted in it. Francesco paid great attention to the decoration of the palace (little work was done on it while he was in prison). Among the paintings by Lorenzo Costa in what was probably his bedchamber was a depiction of Isabella surrounded by her ladies making music.137 No apartments were set aside for Isabella at San Sebastiano; she never spent the night there. For perfectly understandable reasons, she avoided marital relations with Francesco. She was afraid of contracting syphilis.138 Living to a healthy old age, she never showed any symptoms of the disease. (She was spared the fate of

66  Wife and consort her great-niece, Lucrezia d’Este, a legendary beauty, whose husband Francesco Maria II, duke of Urbino, added the injury of giving her syphilis to the insult of having slighted her from the first.) When she was lingering in Milan in early 1513, the news that Francesco’s sores were healing and that he was speaking fondly of her and seemed to be thinking of consummating their marriage afresh, was unlikely to entice her back.139 Even when Francesco was reduced to the condition of a chronic invalid, rarely able to leave his palace, Isabella was not given an increased role in government as her mother had been when Ercole was ill, let alone given the powers of a regent. San Sebastiano was too small to house officials dealing with routine administrative affairs, but it did become the seat of government. Its decorative schemes, celebrating Francesco’s martial virtues and exploits, and his connections with the pope, the king of France and the emperor provided a setting in which he could receive and entertain ambassadors and distinguished visitors as a prince. Venetian ambassadors passing through Mantua in 1515 were received by the marquis, sitting by a fire and screened from draughts, surrounded by hounds and hawks and pictures of horses and dogs.140 Isabella still had a role in entertaining important guests. The most notable occasion was in August  1512, when an important diplomatic conference, of representatives of members of the league which had just expelled the French from the duchy of Milan, was held in Mantua. Neither Francesco nor, still less, Isabella took part in the deliberations, but they went to great trouble to impress their guests, above all the two most important, the Imperial representative, the Bishop of Gurk, and Ramón de Cardona, who represented King Ferdinand of Aragon. An arrogant man, all too conscious of the status of his master and of his own dignity as his minister, Gurk was nevertheless susceptible to feminine charm, and Isabella invited a flock of gentlewomen to be present when he came to visit her. The next day, she and her ladies were present at a banquet Francesco gave at San Sebastiano for Gurk and the Spanish ambassador (before Cardona arrived), all seated at a long table put up in the street. When Cardona paid his formal visit to Isabella after his arrival, Francesco was there too. While they talked to him in the famous chamber with Mantegna’s frescoes of Ludovico Gonzaga and his

Wife and consort 67 family, Cardona’s gentlemen visited Isabella’s apartments – whose reputation already stood high  – before Isabella gave Cardona a guided tour. Francesco also attended a banquet Isabella gave for Gurk and Cardona at the lakeside villa of Poggio Reale. Again, she took care to invite many gentlewomen to entertain them. There were songs and jokes and games of forfeits – and thefts, including seven golden candelabra insignia from Isabella’s own gown.141 Neither Isabella nor Francesco were officially informed of what was discussed or decided at the conference, although both naturally tried to glean what information they could from their guests. Outwardly, husband and wife were still on good terms. He loved her as much as anyone could be loved, and wanted to please her more than ever, was the message Francesco sent her in February  1512, inviting her to a party at San Sebastiano, a message which was said to have delighted her.142 If she apparently was not a regular visitor at San Sebastiano, she and her ladies were welcome guests at the plays and festivities he held there, while he was still well enough to enjoy them. In 1515, he decided he would not bother celebrating Carnival with plays and entertainments, since Isabella would not be in Mantua.143 But Isabella was away from Mantua because she felt she had been sidelined. Francesco discussed affairs of state with his secretaries, not with her. One of the secretaries in particular, Tolomeo Spagnoli, Isabella blamed for discouraging Francesco from consulting her. Frustration and resentment drove her to seek diversion in frequent travelling during the final years of Francesco’s life. As she explained after her husband’s death, when she took revenge on Spagnoli, ‘He kept us so low that while in our tender years we had had some authority in this state, then we were completely deprived of it’, as all Mantua knew. And so she had spent time away, ‘ashamed to be so abased in Mantua’.144 She was away more than Francesco liked, as she was well aware. Returning in March 1515 from a long trip which had taken her to Rome for several months, Isabella was uncertain what reception she would get from her husband, and was relieved to be greeted warmly. Her children, too, noticed how much she was absent. Ercole recalled how his mother ‘when she went to Cremona, said she would come back soon. I  think in her language “soon” meant “late” ’.145 As well as her extended journeys further afield, she spent much time

68  Wife and consort in Ferrara, still displeasing Francesco by showing more regard to pleasing her brothers than obeying his commands. At least Isabella was in Mantua, and at her husband’s side, when he died on 29 March 1519. In his will, he named her and his brothers Sigismondo and Giovanni as regents for Federico, until he reached the age of 22.146 For a few years, Isabella had the chance to exercise again the authority she had so sorely missed. Did she miss  Francesco? In formal acknowledging messages of condolence on his death, she wrote of her unbearable pain, impossible to express.147 Yet she made no extravagant display of mourning for him; if anything his death revitalized her. That is not to say that she could not have had fond memories of happier days.

Notes 1 Caleffini, Croniche 1471–1494, pp. 751–2. 2 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga’, p. 67. 3 Zambotti, ‘Diario ferrarese’, p. 215. 4 Luke Syson, ‘Reading faces. Gian Cristoforo Romano’s medal of Isabella d’Este’, in Cesare Mozzarelli, Robert Oresko and Leandro Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga in the Age of Mantegna: 1450–1550 (Rome: Bulzoni, 1997), p. 281. 5 Above all, by Molly Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga: The Soldier Prince as Patron (Rome: Bulzoni, 2008). 6 Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, Mantova e Urbino: Isabella d’Este ed Elisabetta Gonzaga (Sala Bolognese: Arnaldo Forni, 1976; reprint of edition, Turin: L. Roux, 1893), pp. 53–4. 7 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga con Ludovico e Beatrice Sforza’, Archivio storico lombardo, 17 (1890), p. 350: Isabella to Francesco, 16 August 1492. 8 Ibid., p. 81: Isabella to Francesco, 25 November 1490. 9 Ferrari, ‘Principesse in divenire’, p.  26: Eleonora to Isabella, 28 July 1491. 10 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 50. 11 Ibid., p. 122: Bernardino Mazzoni to Francesco, 15 June 1494. 12 Marino Sanuto, I Diarii, ed. R. Fulin and others, 58 vols (Venice: Visentini, 1879–1903), I, col. 766. 13 Floriano Dolfo, Lettere ai Gonzaga, ed. Marzia Minutelli (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 2002), p. 64: Floriano Dolfo to Francesco, 16 December 1495.

Wife and consort 69 14 Molly Bourne, ‘Mail humour and male sociability: sexual innuendo in the epistolary domain of Francesco II Gonzaga’, in Sara F. MatthewsGrieco (ed.), Erotic Cultures of Renaissance Italy (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), pp. 202, 216. 15 Ibid., pp. 204–5. 16 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio alla corte di Giulio II’, Archivio storico della R. Società Romana di Storia Patria, 9 (1886), pp. 518–19: Bernardo Dovizi to Isabella, 3 January 1511, Bologna; Isabella to B. Dovizi, 11 January 1511. 17 Matteo Bandello, Le novelle, ed. Delmo Maestri, 4 vols (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’ Orso, 1992–6), I, pp. 298–302. 18 Costantino Cipolla and Giancarlo Malacarne, “El più soave et dolce et dilectevole et gratioso bochone”. Amore e sesso al tempo dei Gonzaga (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2006), pp. 388–90. 19 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 70; Isabella d’Este, Selected Letters, ed. Deanna Shemek (Toronto: Iter Press and Tempe, Arizona: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2017), p. 63: Isabella to Bernardino Prosperi, 2 February 1494. 20 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, pp. 70, 87. 21 Rita Castagna, ‘Vita di corte e note di costume del periodo Isabelliano in tempo di guerra’, in Guerre, stati e città. Mantova e l’Italia padana dal secolo XIII al XIX (Mantua: G. Arcari, 1988) p. 309. 22 Sarah D. P. Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga: Power Sharing at the Italian Renaissance Court (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013), p. 72. 23 Gabriella Zuccolin, ‘Gravidanza e parto nel Quattrocento: le morti parallele di Beatrice d’Este e Anna Sforza’, in Luisa Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este 1475–97 (Pisa: ETS, 2008), p. 124. 24 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp. 198–9; Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga con Ludovico e Beatrice Sforza’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 2, 7 (1890), pp. 380–1. 25 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, pp. 69–70: Isabella to Beatrice, 1 January 1494. 26 Castagna, ‘Vita di corte’, p. 312; Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 22. 27 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 98: Isabella to Francesco, 13 July 1496. 28 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 21. 29 Marinella Bonvini Mazzanti, ‘Contesse e duchesse d’Urbino: politica e potere’, in Angela Giallongo (ed.), Donne di palazzo nelle corti europee (Milan: Unicopli, 2005), p. 142. 30 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 98–9: Isabella to Francesco, 21 July 1496.

70  Wife and consort 31 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 70: Francesco to Isabella, 29 July 1496. 32 Isabella’s letter to Francesco echoed the terms in which Sigismondo had written to her of the death, and then went on to ask a favour in behalf of Eleonora’s nurse: d’Este, Selected Letters, pp.  102–3: Isabella to Francesco 23 September 1496, Marmirolo. 33 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 75: Francesco to Isabella, 31 March 1494. 34 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, pp. 68–9. 35 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, pp. 86–7. 36 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, pp.  121–2: Benedetto Capilupi to Francesco, 13 September 1496, Marmirolo. 37 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 87. 38 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 193–4: Isabella to Alberto Pio di Savoia, 21 April 1502. 39 Ibid., p. 206: Isabella to Francesco, 21 November 1502. 40 Deanna Shemek argues that in her attitude to her daughters, Isabella was just reflecting the priority commonly given by couples of her time to sons (ibid., p.  63, note 120), but there was a marked difference between her attitude and the acknowledged warmth of Francesco’s feeling for his daughters. 41 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 191–2: Isabella to Floriano Dolfo, 10 June 1500. 42 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 254. 43 Dolfo, Lettere ai Gonzaga, pp. 174–5: Floriano Dolfo to Isabella, 20 May 1500. 44 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 22: Isabella to Francesco, 22 November 1501. 45 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p. 541: Francesco to Isabella, 1 and 5 February 1502. 46 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 315: Isabella to Francesco, 21 March 1502. 47 Ibid., pp. 314, 310: Isabella to Francesco, 17, 15 March 1502. 48 Castagna, ‘Vita di corte’, p. 298: Francesco to Isabella, 26 April 1503. 49 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 146: Francesco to Isabella, 29 July 1502, Milan. 50 Ibid., p. 23: Francesco to Isabella, 2 May 1503, Mantua. 51 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 60. 52 Castagna, ‘Vita di corte’, p. 305. 53 Ibid., p. 298: Isabella to Francesco, 3 January 1503. 54 Ibid., p. 307: letter to Francesco, 14 July 1503. 55 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p.  152; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 206: Isabella to Francesco, 2 November 1502.

Wife and consort 71 56 D’Este, Selected Letters, p.  231: Isabella to Francesco, 1 October 1503. 57 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Giulio II’, pp. 850–1: Isabella to Emilia Pia, 5 July 1504. 58 D’Este, Selected Letters, p.  312: Isabella to Jacopo d’Atri, conte di Pianella, 13 January 1510. 59 Alessandro Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II negli ultimi tre anni del suo pontificato (Milan: L. F. Cogliati, 1912), p. 92: Ippolita to Federico, 4 May 1511. 60 Ibid., p. 94. 61 Ibid., p. 93. 62 Ibid.: Isabella to Lucrezia Bentivoglio, 3, 5 October  1511; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 350–1. 63 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 241: Isabella to Cardinal Ippolito d’Este, 21 November 1503. 64 Castagna, ‘Vita di corte’, pp.  310–11: Isabella to Francesco, 13 November 1513; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 239. 65 Bourne, Francesco II, p. 49: Francesco to Eleonora, 13 July 1504. 66 Ibid.: Francesco to Gian Stefano Rozone, 23 January 1508. Compare the formal notification of the baby’s death sent on behalf of Isabella to members of her family and others: d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 287. 67 Bourne, Francesco II, p. 49. 68 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 358: Isabella to Sister Violante Serafina, 6 March 1512. 69 Sally Anne Hickson, Women, Art and Architectural Patronage in Renaissance Mantua: Matron, Mystics and Monasteries (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012), p. 96. 70 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 161: Francesco to Isabella, 1 October  1506, San Marino; p.  213, Isabella to Francesco, 5 October 1506, Mantua. 71 Ibid., p. 161. 72 Bourne, Francesco II, p. 328: Francesco to Chiara Gonzaga (Montpensier), 20 June 1491, Ferrara. 73 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp. 89–94. 74 Luzio, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga con Ludovico e Beatrice Sforza’, p. 359: Francesco to Isabella, 30 September 1492. 75 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 215: Isabella to Francesco, 26 April 1507. 76 Bourne, Francesco II, p. 71. 77 Ibid., pp. 77, 369, 380–4. 78 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 63: Francesco to Isabella, 11 April 1499. 79 Ibid., p. 62: Francesco to Isabella, 29 September 1497.

72  Wife and consort 80 David S. Chambers, ‘The Gonzaga Signoria, communal institutions and “the honour of the city”: mixed ideas in Quattrocento Mantua’, in John E. Law and Bernadette Paton (eds), Communes and Despots in Medieval and Renaissance Italy (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), p. 115: Isabella to Francesco, 30 June 1495; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 73–4. 81 Luzio and Renier, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga con Ludovico e Beatrice Sforza, pp. 622–3: Isabella to Francesco, 28 February 1495. 82 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 203: Isabella to Girolamo Redini, 8 March 1498. 83 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X e il suo viaggio a Roma nel 1514–1515’, Archivio storico lombardo, 33 (1906), pp. 136–7. 84 The central argument of Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga. 85 Stephen Kolsky, ‘Images of Isabella d’Este’, Italian Studies, 39 (1984), p. 56. 86 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p. 542. 87 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp. 55–6: Ercole to Isabella, 14 November  1501, Ferrara; Francesco to Isabella, 16 November 1501, Goito. 88 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p.  133, note 24: Cesare Borgia to Isabella, 12 June 1502, Rome. 89 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 125: Isabella to Chiara, 27 June 1502. 90 Ibid., pp. 136–7; Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp. 211–12: Isabella to Francesco, 23 July 1502. 91 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 211: Isabella to Francesco, 23 July 1502. 92 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p. 681. 93 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp. 209–10: Francesco to Isabella, 18 July 1502, Asti, and Isabella’s doctored version. 94 Ibid., pp. 141–2: Isabella to Francesco, 20 July 1502, Mantua; Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, pp. 139–40. 95 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 146: Isabella to Francesco, 1 August 1502, Mantua. 96 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, pp. 689–91. 97 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp. 155–6. 98 Alessandro Luzio, ‘La reggenza d’Isabella d’Este durante la prigionia del marito (1509–1510)’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 4, 14 (1910), p. 9.

Wife and consort 73 99 Ibid.: Francesco to Louis, 16 May 1509, Cassano. 100 Ibid., p. 13: Isabella to Cardinal Sigismondo Gonzaga, 8 August 1509. 101 Sanuto, I diarii, IX, col. 45. 102 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, p.  20: Isabella to Lodovico Brognolo, 20 August 1509. 103 Ibid.: Isabella to Carlo Valerio, 16 August 1509. 104 Ibid., p. 14. 105 Ibid., p. 19. 106 Ibid., p. 26. 107 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp.  299–300: Isabella to Elisabetta, 26 August 1509; p. 304: Isabella to Jacopo d’Atri, conte di Pianella, 16 December 1509. 108 Ibid., p. 310: Isabella to Eleonora, 6 January 1510. 109 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp.  216–17: Isabella to Jacopo d’Atri, 17 January  1510; Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, pp. 38–9. 110 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, pp. 32–3. 111 Ibid., p. 38: Isabella to Fra Anselmo da Bologna, 7 January 1510. 112 Ibid., pp. 42–4: Isabella to Elisabetta, 17 February 1510, Mantua. 113 Ibid., pp. 44–5. 114 Sanuto, I diarii, X, col. 165. 115 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, p. 46. 116 Ibid., p. 93. 117 Ibid., pp. 93–4; Sanuto, I diarii, X, cols. 293, 306. 118 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, pp. 49–50: Isabella to Rozone, 6 May 1510. 119 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, p.  511: Isabella to Donato di Preti, 17 March 1510. 120 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, pp. 51–3: Isabella’s instructions to Soardino, 7 May 1510. 121 Ibid., pp. 56–7: Isabella to Francesco, 14 May 1510. 122 Sanuto, I diarii, X, col. 327. 123 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, pp.  61–3: instructions Sigismondo and Isabella to Guglielmo Malaspina, being sent as envoy to the pope, 2 June 1510. 124 Sanuto, I diarii, X, col. 563. 125 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, p. 27: Isabella to Cardinal Ippolito, 14 November 1510. 126 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, pp. 82–3. 127 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp. 12–13. 128 Ibid., pp. 15–16. 129 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp.  334–5: Isabella to Alfonso d’Este, 9 October 1510. 130 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp.  18–19: Isabella to Francesco, 21 October 1510. 131 Ibid., p. 18. 132 Ibid., pp. 37–8.

74  Wife and consort 133 Ibid., p. 59. 134 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 109: Francesco to Lodovico Guerrieri, 9 March 1513. 135 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp.  211–13: Isabella to Francesco, 9 March [1513], Piacenza; Francesco to Isabella, 11 March 1513, Mantua. 136 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e la corte sforzesca’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 3, 15 (1901), pp. 164–5: Isabella to Francesco, 12 March [1513], Piacenza; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 361–2. 137 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, pp. 279–80. 138 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 143, note 2. 139 Ibid.: B. Capilupo to Isabella, 2 February 1513. 140 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 529; Sanuto, I diarii, XXI, cols. 281–2. 141 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp. 153–5. 142 Stephen Kolsky, Mario Equicola: The Real Courtier (Geneva: Droz, 1991), p. 124. 143 Ibid., pp. 149–50. 144 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 190: Isabella to Baldassare Castiglione, 21 July  1519. She also accused him of sowing dissension between Francesco and his brothers Giovanni and Cardinal Sigismondo. 145 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 177. 146 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 45. 147 D’Este, Selected Letters, p.  437: Isabella to various recipients, 4 April 1519.

3 Always an Este

All through her life, Isabella kept a strong bond with the family into which she was born. She called herself Isabella d’Este, rather than Isabella Gonzaga, but married women often continued to be known by the surname of their family of origin, and it would be wrong to attach too much significance to this. That said, to all appearances, she continued to feel she belonged to the Este in a way she never quite felt about the Gonzaga. Of course, she identified herself with the interests of her husband and son and the state they ruled, but Mantua and the Gonzaga dynasty never displaced Ferrara and the Este in her heart. Suspicions that she was prepared to put the interests of the Este first troubled the Mantuans, and at times troubled her relationship with her husband, too. The warmth of her affection for her parents, and theirs for her, was not diminished by her marriage. She was still a loving daughter, not just a dutiful one. The journey between Mantua and Ferrara was easy enough (it was possible to do it in a day) to make a visit to see them a simple undertaking, involving no great planning or trouble or expense. Francesco took his young bride on her first visit to what must still have felt to her like home in April 1490, only a few months after her parents had brought her to Mantua. Her mother invited her to return in September, but Francesco would not give her leave to go, and she obeyed him. Her next visit came soon enough, for she was in Ferrara for three weeks in November and December, as her sister Beatrice was preparing for her wedding to Ludovico Sforza. After accompanying Beatrice to that wedding in Pavia, Isabella then witnessed her brother Alfonso wed Ludovico’s niece, Anna Sforza, in a private

76  Always an Este ceremony in Milan, before accompanying Anna and her bridal party to her new home. There she had a prominent role in Anna’s formal entry into Ferrara on 12 February  1491 and in the celebrations that had been organized by Ercole with great care. At the wedding banquet Isabella danced with Alfonso and Francesco with Anna, and then Isabella and Anna performed some courtly bassedances together. As the couple were bedded, Francesco was to the fore in the traditional mockery of the bride and groom. A variety of reasons brought Isabella to Ferrara several times over the next decade, sometimes with Francesco, sometimes on her own. In April 1491, she and Francesco came for the running of the horse race, the Palio di San Giorgio, on 1 May, and the next year came for the Carnival season. She stayed on alone for a few weeks, and then was soon back, with Francesco, to see her father before he set off on a journey to Rome. They were both in Ferrara again, to see Isabella’s horse win the Palio di San Giorgio in 1499. There did not have to be a special occasion or event to bring Isabella there. She was always a welcome visitor to her parents, either just to spend some time with them, as when she stayed with her mother in the castle in Ferrara in November 1491, or when she stopped in Ferrara for about three weeks on her way to Venice in the late spring of 1493. She was back again for several weeks in July and August that year, so that her mother could confirm to her own satisfaction that her daughter had finally become pregnant. That would be the last time Isabella spent with her mother before her death in the following October. If her visits to Ferrara were perhaps less frequent in the later 1490s, the loss of her mother would not be the only explanation. For one thing, Francesco’s involvement in the opening campaigns of the Italian Wars meant that she had duties to fulfil as regent in Mantua. There were opportunities for her to spend time with her father in Ferrara, like the three weeks she was with him in July and August  1497, and her visit in February  1499, when Ercole had some performances of plays put on for her. Ferrara and her father’s court still had more to offer in entertainment and culture than Mantua and her husband could provide. And after her mother’s death, Isabella was in effect the first lady of the Ferrarese court, outshining her sister-in-law Anna, as well as being the first lady of Mantua. She paid correspondents at the Ferrarese court

Always an Este 77 to keep her abreast of the news there. This was not a secret; they were not her spies. Her father and brothers would use them as a channel of communication with her, giving them information they could pass on. Beatrice’s marriage gave Isabella family ties to a still more glamorous court. Ludovico Sforza was only the regent in Milan until late 1494, but it was no secret that he wanted to be duke. He behaved as though he were the duke, and he wanted his young wife to be every inch the duchess. Beatrice was more than ready to play her part. She showed little compunction in taking the central role in the court that should have fallen to the real duchess of Milan, her cousin Isabella d’Aragona, contributing to her daily humiliation. Since Beatrice’s return from Naples, the two sisters had become very close. When they had been parted again by Isabella’s marriage and her move to Mantua, Isabella wrote to her that being deprived of her ‘most sweet company’ felt as though her soul had been parted from her body. Every hour, every moment, she could think of nothing but her. Although she lacked for no pleasure in Mantua, without Beatrice, she could not enjoy them to the full.1 As Beatrice began to settle into her new life in Milan, she wrote to Isabella in much the same terms. Without her most affectionate sister, she felt as though she had lost a good part of herself. If it were not for the pleasures Ludovico arranged for her every day, she felt she would have been inconsolable until they saw one another again. But at least they could write to one another, and in their own hands, as Isabella had promised.2 Write to each other they did, almost daily in 1491. Much of Beatrice’s correspondence was about clothes, fabrics and fashions. She soon accumulated an extraordinary wardrobe. At one of Ludovico’s favourite residences, Vigevano, she had 84 gowns, so Isabella was informed in March  1493. Becoming increasingly fond of his wife, Ludovico took pride in her taste in clothes, her courage in hunting (she was a better hawker than he was, he told Isabella), and the imagination and effort she put into devising entertainments. Isabella was able to see for herself on a visit to Milan the year before, in August and September, how he indulged his wife, the jewels he gave her, the constant round of diversions, with Beatrice always at the centre of them, petted and

78  Always an Este praised and joyful. One day in Milan, Ludovico showed her his treasury, the chests full of ducats – ‘Would to God that we, who love spending, had as much’, she wrote to Francesco (who had seen the treasure for himself when he had been in Milan).3 It was only human for Isabella to feel a twinge of envy at the good fortune of her younger sister. She was annoyed to hear the following spring that Beatrice was to pay a ceremonial visit to Venice, in which she would appear as the representative of Ludovico, just when Isabella was planning to pay a private visit herself. Let the Senate know that I am not coming to Venice to be honoured, she urged Francesco, but just to pay my respects. ‘On no account will I go’, she said, when her sister was to be there.4 At the time she had another cause to envy Beatrice, who had given birth to a son in January, to the delight of Ludovico (he was so pleased that Beatrice was able to persuade him to part with his favourite mistress, Cecilia Gallerani). Isabella also shared in Francesco’s irritation at Ludovico’s developing tendency to treat the marquis as a subordinate who should follow his political lead. I will see to it that carp from Lake Garda are sent to Milan from time to time, she wrote to her husband, ‘but not every week as they are imperiously demanding, as if they are dealing with their feudataries, so that it won’t look as though we are doing it out of obligation, as a kind of due’.5 She still loved her sister, and accepted Ludovico’s invitation to be present for the birth of Beatrice’s second child, another son, in February  1495. According to Ludovico, she had acted like a skilled midwife as she helped Beatrice, although she had cried when her sister was wracked by labour pains.6 But she was not there to assist and comfort Beatrice when she died in childbed on 3 January 1497, having given birth to a third, stillborn, son. I cannot express the pain I feel for the loss of such a loving, only sister, which will stay with me for the rest of my life, Isabella lamented to her father.7 So overcome with grief was Isabella that she had no strength to fight it, Francesco told Ludovico, although she had shown great spirit in the face of other adversities.8 In December of that year, her sister-in-law, Anna Sforza, died in childbed. Her grief at this loss, to her family and to the people of Ferrara, was as keen as that she had felt on the deaths of her mother and her sister, Isabella wrote to the lady who had cared for

Always an Este 79 Anna in her last illness.9 Dispirited by Alfonso’s neglect, the colourless Anna had, in fact, made little impact on the Ferrarese court. Alfonso’s second wife was a very different proposition. Lucrezia Borgia was a woman who was hard to ignore, especially while her father, the pope, was alive. Alfonso did not want to marry her, and all the Este, not least Isabella, considered her to be beneath him. But with a father on the papal throne, a brother, Cesare, who was being set up as a prince in the region, and both being notoriously vindictive, as well as notoriously fond of Lucrezia, she was a bride that it was impolitic, to say the least, to reject. Salacious gossip that both her father and brother found her irresistible was probably unfounded. Some of that gossip had been fostered by the attempts of her first husband, Giovanni Sforza, lord of Pesaro, to fend off claims that their marriage was unconsummated, claims used by the pope to justify a divorce he thought politically expedient. Humiliated as he was, in time Giovanni could count himself fortunate to have escaped so lightly. Lucrezia’s second husband, Alfonso d’Aragona, had been murdered on the orders of her brother, perhaps because Alfonso held Cesare responsible for an attempt on his life a month before. Genuinely fond of Alfonso, Lucrezia was nursing him back to health after the first attack when he was killed. Her grief did not estrange her from her father and brother, but she still embraced the prospect of settling down away from Rome as wife to the duke of Ferrara. She set out to please and to win the hearts of her new family, and gradually learned how to do this. One member of the family she failed to charm was Isabella. Disapproval of the match coloured Isabella’s perception of the wedding celebrations in February  1502, from the decorations in the streets of Ferrara  – unworthy of comment, she reported to Francesco  – to the plays put on. The Soldato was witty but too long and noisy, she thought; the Asinaria was beautiful and less rowdy but still too long; the third, the Cassina, disagreeably obscene.10 As for Lucrezia, the fact that she was a very attractive young woman, willing to please, with a superb trousseau and a large train of Spaniards who applauded her beauty and grace at every turn, only made Isabella dislike her the more. Here was a rival, someone who could fill the role of first lady of the Ferrarese court that had fallen to Isabella by default in recent

80  Always an Este years. Onlookers sensed her determination to cast the bride into the shade, and her friends and servants loyally declared she was dressed more finely, was more graceful and gracious, danced better, and spoke more elegantly than Lucrezia did. Francesco was much more taken with his new sister-in-law. He had seen her, possibly met her. Aware of this, Isabella thought it unnecessary to describe her in her letters to him about the wedding. They became better acquainted when he accompanied Isabella on a visit to Ferrara in the spring of 1504. Although he did not stay long, he stayed long enough for Lucrezia’s donzelle to write to him after he left saying how much she, and they, missed him.11 This was the beginning of a correspondence between them that continued for years, sometimes as a direct exchange of letters, often through an intermediary writing on her behalf. Most of the impetus to keep up the correspondence came from her. She described herself as his “sister”. There was nothing odd about the use of that term by a sister-in-law, but Lucrezia and those who wrote on her behalf seemed to imply there was a warmer, more intimate relationship than formal affection between in-laws. Messages sent to Francesco emphasized how she missed him, that she wished to see him, asked him to come to meet her. Their relationship was almost certainly not a kind of love affair, as it has sometimes been presented. Lucrezia was ready to deploy her charm to gain the protection of men – as she had been brought up to do. In the early years of her marriage, she did not feel entirely at home in Ferrara, and she could not yet feel secure in the affection and respect of her husband. Alfonso’s own position as heir to Ferrara was not considered wholly secure in the last years of Ercole’s life. There were rumours that he would face a challenge from one or more of his brothers. For Lucrezia, Francesco’s friendship was a kind of insurance. She was also afraid for her own brother. Cesare had sought the protection of King Ferdinand of Aragon after his fall from power following their father’s death in August 1503, but had instead been made his prisoner. The Este had no interest in trying to secure his release – he would not have been a welcome guest in Ferrara – and Lucrezia looked to Francesco for diplomatic support for her brother. Francesco’s cautious response to her approaches was not what she hoped for. Doubtless he had enjoyed her company, perhaps

Always an Este 81 flirted with her a little. He was ailing because he was ‘deprived of the air of Ferrara which agrees with me so well and the company of Your Ladyship which I enjoy so much’, he wrote to her in July 1504.12 But he also sent excuses for not writing in his own hand (his failure to write himself would be a recurring theme of their correspondence), and for not sending her some sonnets he had promised. He had already given her another promise of a more substantial favour – that he would go to Revere, on the border between Mantuan and Ferrarese territory, if she needed his help. She feared that she might need it, when Ercole was ill while Alfonso was far away from Ferrara in June. Francesco’s intervention would bring the whole of Ferrara to rally to Lucrezia, he was told,13 but as it turned out, there was no call for him to make his promise good. Lucrezia continued to look for evidence of his devotion. He was invited to join her on a trip to Comacchio that autumn – to show he loved her like a sister, and so that they could make up for lost time. He did not go. Nor did he grant a favour she asked of him, the release of a prisoner. She would have thought he would have pardoned a thousand men for her, never mind just one, she wrote to him, somewhat petulantly.14 They did meet in the late autumn of the following year, 1505, at Borgoforte in Mantuan territory, as Lucrezia was returning to Ferrara from a stay in Reggio. She had been asking Francesco to intercede for Cesare, and that may well have been the reason why she wanted to see him. After their meeting, she thanked him for promising to send an agent to Spain, and gave him letters for Cesare and King Ferdinand.15 Francesco had professed himself delighted to see her again, and had taken her on to Mantua for a visit. What Isabella thought of this, what part she may have had in entertaining Lucrezia, is not known. Alfonso at least gave his approval, saying that Francesco had no reason to apologize.16 Clearly, Alfonso did not see this meeting at Borgoforte as a lovers’ tryst. He was not a man to overlook the humiliation of an adulterous affair between his wife and his brother-in-law. Almost certainly, there was no adulterous affair. A  libertine Francesco may have been, but he was not a fool. Seducing, or being seduced by, the wife of a neighbouring prince, his own sister-in-law, would have been an unforgiveable insult to the Este, not to mention to

82  Always an Este his wife. It would have been practically impossible to keep it quiet. There is no evidence that any hint of such a scandal came Isabella’s way. At the time that Lucrezia was a guest of Francesco in Mantua, Alfonso was facing a genuine family scandal in Ferrara, where the quarrels and jealousies among Isabella’s brothers had turned murderous. The troubles that divided her family would cause Isabella much distress. At times she tried to mediate, or at least intervene to calm things down, and on more than one occasion Mantua became a place of refuge for one or other of her brothers. But mostly all she could do was observe from a distance as the dramas in Ferrara played out. As Isabella’s brothers grew to adulthood, they had caused their father much anxiety. Alfonso did not behave like a prince. He liked rowdy companions and gross practical jokes. Just as difficult for some to accept as fitting behaviour for someone of Alfonso’s rank was his predilection for working with his hands, for woodturning, making terracotta vases, metal-working. Even before he became duke, however, he was turning these skills and the practical knowledge he had acquired of materials and their properties into expertise in the founding of artillery pieces. There were those who considered he was unfit to govern. Ippolito seemed to have more of the prince about him. Intelligent and astute, he knew how to be affable and make himself accessible. But he was also arrogant, expecting recognition of his status as a prince of the Church (he was made a cardinal in 1493) as well as of the Este family, and he was vain and personally fastidious, with a love of fine fabrics and elegant clothes. Family connections helped him accumulate benefices which provided him with a large income, including the rich archbishopric of Ezstergom in Hungary (worth 50,000 ducats a year), where he spent long periods as a boy, and the archbishopric of Milan, to which he was appointed in 1498. What troubled his increasingly pious father most was that he did not behave like an ecclesiastic. It was not just that he loved hunting – popes, let alone cardinals, went hunting – but he also developed a taste for carousing and chasing women. It was evident he would much rather have been a soldier than a priest. When the French were threatening the duchy of Milan in 1499, he bought himself some armour. Admonished by his father

Always an Este 83 to behave like an archbishop and a cardinal, the unrepentant Ippolito assured him that he would have been ready to risk his life for Ludovico Sforza if it would have helped him to victory.17 In April 1504, accused of having a messenger from the pope who had brought a letter that displeased him beaten up, Ippolito took refuge in Mantua from his father’s ire. He had the gall to accuse Ercole of driving him into exile, warning him of the bad example he was setting for his successors, who might send their brothers and sons away for any minor misdeed. Understandably furious, Ercole accused him of disobedience, ingratitude, of caring nothing for the welfare of his family. But then he forgave him, and Ippolito returned home to Ferrara.18 The reluctant cleric, Ippolito, would very probably have made more of a success of a military career than his brothers Ferrante and Sigismondo managed to do. Raised at the Neapolitan court where he had been born in 1477 during Eleonora’s visit there, Ferrante had eventually been brought to Ferrara in 1489. Within five years he had been sent off to the court of the French king, Charles VIII, coming with him on the expedition to conquer Naples in 1494–5. Ferrante failed to shine at the French court, although in fairness to him, it should be said the Ercole did keep him very short of money. Eventually, he was given leave to go back to Ferrara just for a visit in 1497, but his father decided not to send him back to France. At that point, it suited Ercole more to place his son in the service of Venice. He was sent off to be part of the Venetian forces defending Pisa, which had rebelled against Florence. Handsome and energetic, Ferrante could look the part of a soldier but he did not win the respect of his men and could not control them, had mixed success in the little action he saw, and did not impress the Venetians. To cap it all, his father, appointed arbitrator in the dispute over Pisa, decided that the city should again be subject to Florence, which displeased the Venetians. Ferrante’s condotta was not renewed at the end of its term in 1499. He returned to Ferrara to idle away his time, hoping for another condotta, but no offers came his way. Perhaps discouraged by the results of his efforts to help Ferrante make his way in the wider world, Ercole does not appear to have made much, if any, effort to find a position for his youngest son, Sigismondo, who seems to have been content to settle for a quiet life in Ferrara.

84  Always an Este There were rumours that Ferrante and Ippolito both dreamed of becoming duke on Ercole’s death.19 Some said the Venetians, playing a characteristically long game, had given the condotta to Ferrante, because they were thinking of eventually setting him against Alfonso.20 Towards the end of Ercole’s reign, however, Alfonso had begun to show more interest in political affairs, and some signs of aptitude for rule, and his father came to rely on him more. No challenge was made when he assumed power on Ercole’s death. Among the changes he made as he set about putting the government in order was to give his dependent brothers increased allowances, so they had enough to live comfortably in Ferrara. Ippolito was not dependent on Alfonso, for he had plenty of money from his ecclesiastical revenues. He might have been able to help his half-brother Giulio, the illegitimate son of Ercole, who was destined for an ecclesiastical career. Giulio was not as intelligent or capable as Ippolito, yet they were alike in many ways, and during Ercole’s lifetime were on close and friendly terms. Giulio was just as interested as his brother in accumulating benefices for the sake of their income, and even less interested in taking on the duties and responsibilities that came with them. He was just as vain as Ippolito, too, boasting of his own beauty. As very young men, they exchanged letters recounting their amorous adventures and other escapades. By the time Alfonso succeeded to the dukedom, this easy friendship between Ippolito and Giulio had soured, and Ippolito had drawn closer to Alfonso. Perhaps Ippolito’s respect for his elder brother grew as Alfonso began to show his true colours, and it became clear that those who had dismissed him as an unintelligent, uncultured oaf had badly misjudged him. Giulio, on the other hand, showed no signs of maturity; he was as vain and silly and self-absorbed as ever. It was an obscure affair involving a chaplain of Giulio, Rainaldo da Sassuolo, that caused an open breach between him and Ippolito. In late 1504, Ippolito had imprisoned Rainaldo, and several months passed before Giulio finally learned where he was being held. Gathering a group of armed men in early July 1505, he stormed the fortress and freed his chaplain. Furious, Ippolito protested to Alfonso against what he saw as a personal affront, saying if Alfonso did not do anything about it, he would. In fact,

Always an Este 85 Alfonso saw it as an affront to his own authority, one that he could not leave unpunished.21 The chaplain was persuaded he had better return to the fortress of Casalgrande; Giulio was ordered to go to exile in Brescello. Isabella had helped to have this sentence replace Alfonso’s original order that Giulio would be exiled from Ferrarese territory altogether. Within a few weeks, she took advantage, as Ferrante urged her to do, of Lucrezia giving birth to a son on 19 September to ask Alfonso to pardon Giulio, to include him in the release of prisoners and pardoning of exiles to celebrate the arrival of his first-born son.22 Alfonso pardoned Giulio, but Ippolito did not consider a few weeks’ exile anything like sufficient punishment, and his anger festered. It was not this episode, but rivalry in love, that was popularly believed to drive Ippolito to take violent revenge on his half-brother. Both were said to be in love with the same lady at court, and the story went that not only did she prefer Giulio, but told Ippolito that what attracted her above all was Giulio’s beautiful eyes. Giulio, indeed, was very proud of his beautiful eyes, and bragged of their power over women. Whatever the truth of the story, it was his eyes that the cardinal’s men went for when Ippolito, encountering him in the meadows towards Belriguardo on 3 November  1505, ordered his men to attack him. The official version Alfonso spread abroad of the horrific attack on Giulio exculpated Ippolito, putting the blame on his servants. He sent that version to Isabella and Francesco. But he also sent them both postscripts, which he asked them to burn when they had read them, giving an account nearer the truth. ‘Kill him, gouge his eyes out’ were the orders Ippolito gave, according to what Alfonso told their sister, and his grooms had pulled Giulio off his horse and struck him in the eyes. At first he was completely blinded, although he had already recovered a little sight in one eye. ‘This affair weighs on my heart’, Alfonso wrote to Isabella, ‘both because it is more cruel than if he had been killed’, and because of the shame it brought to their family ‘besides the other bad things we believe will come from this in time’.23 Alfonso’s attempts to cover up the truth were pointless, and Isabella dourly replied that ‘there wasn’t a barber in the square that could not have given a better account than was in the postscript’.24

86  Always an Este Had Ippolito really wanted Giulio dead, he could probably have found a way to have him killed, and he was intelligent enough to know that it would have been better if he were not there in person when the deed was done. He evidently thought it best to get out of Ferrara for a while, as Giulio was given over to the care of Alfonso’s physicians and one sent by the Gonzaga. In the middle of November he turned up in Mantua. Francesco assured the duke that he had not been invited, and that Isabella had not made him welcome, but Alfonso said he did not mind their receiving Ippolito, who was free to go wherever he liked.25 In fact, Isabella seems to have behaved as Alfonso did, showing sympathy and concern for Giulio, but not ostracizing Ippolito. After a few weeks, he returned to Ferrara, and Alfonso staged a reconciliation between the brothers, described to Isabella in a letter. Ippolito told Giulio he was sorry, and that he wanted to be a good brother to him; Giulio replied that he thanked God and the Virgin for granting him some sight, and although he had been treated cruelly, for no reason, he pardoned Ippolito, and would be as good a brother as he had ever been. Alfonso urged them to love one another, and live in peace – or he would be forced to show his displeasure.26 Giulio was still suffering badly. He recovered the sight of his left eye, but his right eye was half-blinded and disfigured, and he had to keep it covered. He had not forgiven Ippolito (probably no more than Ippolito had really repented) and he was also angry with Alfonso for trying to smooth matters over. He began to plot to kill Alfonso, discussing with Ferrante schemes to have the duke assassinated when he was wandering masked through the streets during Carnival. The Carnival season came and went, and Giulio still talked of how to kill the duke. Ferrante seems to have listened but not to have encouraged him. Still next in line to the throne, he stood to gain more from Alfonso’s death, but he was less audacious – or had more sense – than Giulio. Alfonso would have known of Giulio’s discontent, if not his intentions. In April, Isabella was told that Alfonso had suggested that he should leave Ferrara, but Giulio refused to go.27 Soon after, Alfonso himself went away from Ferrara on what was intended to be a lengthy trip, for he planned to go to Spain. He left Ippolito, who was becoming his mainstay, in charge. In late May, Ippolito arrested one of Giulio’s servants. It is possible

Always an Este 87 that this servant was in the pay of the cardinal, maybe acting as a spy, maybe stirring Giulio up to some irrevocable folly. Urged by Ferrante to bring Giulio to Mantua ‘to avoid trouble’,28 Isabella got Francesco to invite him to come, on the pretext of seeing the Gonzaga horses. According to Francesco, Giulio delayed coming for a while, thinking that his leaving Ferrara might be interpreted as fear of what his servant might reveal, until he felt it was more dangerous to stay than to go.29 He was at Mantua by the end of June, when Alfonso, who had cut short his trip, was on his way home. Ferrante does not seem to have been frightened for himself, even though one of his servants was held for a few days on the orders of the cardinal, and was still in Ferrara when the duke returned on 2 July. Francesco and Isabella sent a confidential secretary, Benedetto Capilupi, to speak to Alfonso on Giulio’s behalf, but the duke made it plain that he wanted his brother back in Ferrara at once.30 But Giulio sent to say he would not come,31 and Francesco argued that he had some justification. If he returned to Ferrara he would be in danger of his life, Giulio had been warned. Where the danger came from, Francesco did not say, but implied it was not from the duke. Presumably, it was to be understood that the threat came from Ippolito. Would Alfonso give Giulio a safeconduct, Francesco asked, so that when it was understood that the duke meant him no harm, it would also be understood that he would not tolerate others harming him either.32 As he had believed that Giulio only wanted assurance that no harm would come to him from Ippolito, was the reply, Alfonso was willing to give him security against assault from the cardinal or anybody else. But he was not prepared to give him security against being brought to justice, if he was found to deserve punishment for the conspiracy against Alfonso of which he stood accused.33 By now, Ferrante feared for his own safety. Judicial enquiries had begun on 22 July, on Alfonso’s orders, and on 26 July Ferrante finally spoke to Alfonso about the conspiracy. He was afraid that the fact he had waited so long before revealing it, and thus given Giulio the chance to flee, would make him be considered equally guilty. He appealed to Francesco to hand Giulio over to their brother Sigismondo, who had been sent to Mantua to take custody of him. This would save my life, he pleaded, begging

88  Always an Este Francesco to put his welfare before that of Giulio.34 To Alfonso, ill in bed with fever, it seemed that the marquis should have more concern for him, the duke, than for ‘traitors’.35 Among those traitors, Alfonso would now include Ferrante, who was arrested on 29 July. Brought before his brother in the palace, Ferrante threw himself at his feet begging for pardon, but Alfonso escorted him to the castle and imprisoned him in a tower. Four days later, the windows were bricked up half way, so Ferrante could not see out or be seen from outside. The duke would not permit the judges to interrogate his brother in person; their questions had to be put in writing, through him. Following Ferrante’s arrest, the treatment of Giulio in Mantua changed. What Isabella, who was staying at her villa at Sacchetta, thought and felt about this can only be imagined, for no direct testimony survives. Francesco ordered Giulio to be detained in his room in the palace, and all the property he had brought with him from Ferrara was handed over to an envoy of Alfonso. He still refused to let Giulio be taken to Ferrara, even after he had a meeting with Alfonso at Sermide on 10 August, at which the duke may have promised that Giulio’s life would be spared. But he would not see him, and from a letter Giulio sent to him asking for permission to walk in the armoury, and if someone could be sent for him to talk to, it appears that Isabella was not visiting her brother either.36 She asked Francesco’s permission on 30 August to go to Ferrara for a few days – did she hope to intercede directly for her brothers? – but does not seem to have gone. Francesco himself went there, on his way to take up command of the papal troops, and it was probably during his stay there from 6 to 8 September that he finally agreed Giulio should be given over. On 9 September, Giulio was taken away, in chains, by the escort of soldiers Alfonso had sent to Mantua. There had been a last-minute delay, as Isabella found it hard to steel herself to sign the necessary order to the castellan. She left Sacchetta so that she would not have to see him as he passed through.37 Francesco had told her to send a member of her household with Guilio, but they were all occupied with preparations for her return to Mantua, she said, so she sent one of Francesco’s secretaries, Battista Scalona, to speak to Alfonso on Giulio’s behalf, and to observe and report on his treatment.38

Always an Este 89 Two days after Giulio arrived in Ferrara and was taken to the castle, there was the grisly spectacle of the execution of three of the men accused of having been part of the conspiracy, who were beheaded and quartered. Giulio and Ferrante were also condemned to death, but Alfonso commuted their sentences to life imprisonment. They were held in the castle, in two separate chambers in a tower, Ferrante above and Giulio below. Their conditions of imprisonment were decent, but not luxurious; theirs was no gilded cage. Isabella was very concerned at the reports she received from Scalona of Giulio’s cell. The door had been walled up, and provisions were lowered into it from above. Alfonso maintained that it looked worse than it was, that he would have panelling or hangings put up on the walls, and would pay members of the guard to spend a week at a time keeping Giulio company, as none of his servants wished to share his confinement. He described how Ferrante’s cell was also to have the door, and a low window, walled up, to be replaced by a window higher up and an opening like that in Giulio’s cell. He wanted to be sure that they could not escape, he said.39 It was eighteen years before they were allowed to be together. Alfonso’s death in 1536 did not bring them release. Ferrante died in prison in 1540. Giulio was only freed in 1559, dressed still in the fashion of his youth; he died two years later. There is no evidence that Isabella had any contact with them. But she did not forget the brothers confined in a tower of the castle where she had been brought up, and where her brother Alfonso lived in preference to the old palace. When she heard in 1523 that Alfonso intended to have them moved to better accommodation, she hoped for more ‘signs of clemency for those poor lads [quelli poverelli]’.40 Whatever compassion Isabella felt for the plight of her younger brothers, her affection for Alfonso was undiminished. Francesco’s relationship with Alfonso, on the other hand, at times became fractious. Routine problems that inevitably arose between neighbouring states provoked irritation and bad feeling between them. By contrast, his relations with Lucrezia continued to be expressed in terms of warm affection – although still not as warm or affectionate as she would have liked. She kept in contact with Francesco through Ercole Strozzi, a poet, and unpopular financial official, in Ferrara. His letters to Francesco, signed “Ziliolo”

90  Always an Este and addressed to “Guido”, also used pseudonyms for Lucrezia, Alfonso, Ippolito and Isabella (“Madonna Lena”). They have a mischievous tone to them, speaking of the ill-will of Alfonso and Ippolito as well as Lucrezia’s concern for his health, her desire to see him and to hear from him: ‘I assure you she loves you; she is displeased that you are lukewarm, but pleased by your secrecy’.41 When Lucrezia gave birth to a son, Ercole, in April  1508, and sent to announce the news only to Isabella, Strozzi wrote making her excuses to Francesco, saying Alfonso had not wanted her to announce the birth to him.42 In fact, Alfonso, who was on a visit to Venice, himself wrote to Francesco about it, the day he heard the news. It would be normal diplomatic practice for one prince to inform another of the birth of an heir; it was not normally a task for the newly delivered mother. Francesco would understand that. Rather than taking offence, he congratulated Alfonso warmly on the birth of his heir, and there was something of a reconciliation between them. This reconciliation pleased Lucrezia, according to Strozzi, because it meant that Francesco could come to where she was. Alfonso left for France a few days afterwards, and Strozzi tried to entice Francesco to Ferrara, writing more like a pander than a confidential servant. She loves you more than you perhaps think, because if you believed that she loves you as much as I have always told you, you would write more warmly than you do, and make more effort to come. Follow the way I can show you, and if you do not get what you would like, I give you leave to blame me.43 Francesco did not go near her. Soon after Alfonso returned to Ferrara, Strozzi was murdered, found dead in the street with multiple stab wounds. In Fer­ rara, it was thought better not to be too curious about who was behind the murder. Some suspected that it might be Alfonso, or even Lucrezia – but not because of Strozzi’s role as intermediary between Lucrezia and Francesco. Jealousy of one kind or another over Strozzi’s new wife, Barbara Torelli, was thought to be the key to the mystery. Relatives of her first husband (with whom she was involved in a dispute over property) were the most likely culprits. Deprived of Ercole Strozzi’s assistance, Lucrezia turned to his brother Lorenzo to continue her correspondence with Francesco. She asked him to come to see her at Reggio in August 1508, but once again he sent his excuses. She wanted to talk to him, Lucrezia

Always an Este 91 said, but as Cesare was now dead (killed in March 1507 after he had escaped from his Spanish prison, fighting for his father-inlaw, the king of Navarre), what confidential business could she have that required a personal discussion with her brother-in-law? Perhaps there was an element of pique behind her persistence, pique at Francesco’s keeping his distance, perhaps, too, pique at the closeness of Isabella’s relationship with Alfonso. There was a hint of this in December  1508, when Lucrezia aligned herself with Francesco against her own husband and his sister. On a visit to Ferrara, Isabella asked Alfonso to arrange for a girl in Mantua that Francesco had his eye on to be taken into Lucrezia’s household. A courier was kept waiting for several days for the letter to Isabella that Alfonso was insisting Lucrezia should write, asking for the girl, until finally she had to comply. I  am not joking, I  did all I  could, she assured Francesco, and yet she thanked God that at least there would be something of Francesco’s that would draw him to show his face in Ferrara sometimes, because it had really been too long since he was there.44 For her part, Isabella still had a low opinion of her sister-in-law’s sexual morals. She had great fun mocking Lucrezia when she heard that, to show her fidelity to her husband, she was having a male servant sleep in her antechamber.45 Francesco was told of his wife’s mockery of Lucrezia barely a month before he fell captive to the Venetians. While he was a prisoner, Ferrara came under attack from the forces of Julius II and the Venetians, and Isabella faced the challenge of trying to assist her brother as well as trying to secure the release of her husband. Lucrezia had a much less active role in helping her husband, and still thought of Francesco as insurance. Soon after his release, Lorenzo Strozzi passed on to him Lucrezia’s words: ‘if it were not for the hope I have in the Lord Marquis, that he would help me in my every need, and take me into his protection, I would die of grief’. All her hopes are placed in you, Strozzi emphasized.46 In April 1511 Francesco told Strozzi that he hoped Lucrezia could come to Mantua for some relief from her troubles, and that he would lodge her in new chambers being finished off in his palace at San Sebastiano.47 There was no real prospect of her coming to Mantua, and no real prospect of the ailing marquis going to Ferrara, either. Francesco and Lucrezia never did meet again.

92  Always an Este Isabella’s own identification with the Este and with Ferrara was never more obvious than during the crisis of 1510–11. Even as regent, and still less after Francesco was freed from incarceration in Venice, she was in no position to align Mantua openly in the defence of Ferrara. Neither Francesco nor his subjects were willing to do that. Isabella had to defend herself against accusations of putting the interests of the Este before those of the Gonzaga when she was forced to abandon her plans to go to meet Ippolito in October 1510. Her husband’s caution, not to mention his position as papal commander, restricted what practical help she could give her brothers, but she continued to do what she could. Isabella, Alfonso and Ippolito became united by bonds of mutual respect and esteem as well as affection, a sense of common purpose in protecting the Este family and state. Even allowing for the fact that it was in their interests to praise Isabella’s judgement and to stress how helpful she could be to them, her brothers’ respect for her opinion and practical capabilities was evident. Ciphers were used, and coded names, in case their letters fell into enemy hands; often, the writer asked for the letter to be burned once it had been read. One important service that she could render was in transmitting to Alfonso money raised from the French, or from loans. On one occasion, Alfonso got her secretary, Capilupi, to pretend a shipment of cash had been seized by the enemy; Isabella was dismayed, but could laugh when she was told it was only a joke.48 Her principal contribution was the provision of intelligence garnered by the network of Gonzaga envoys and agents and her own personal contacts, especially at the papal court. She could even pass on information about what had been discussed and decided by the pope and his commanders as they laid plans for their attack in late November 1510.49 She tried to use some of those contacts – notably the pope’s nephew, her sonin-law, Francesco Maria della Rovere – to placate the pope, but that was a hopeless enterprise. It also fell to her to pass on suggestions to her husband about how he could avoid being drawn into the campaign against Ferrara. Ippolito agreed with the French commander Chaumont, who was supporting Alfonso, that they would like the marquis to appear to be afraid of a French attack on Mantua, giving him a legitimate excuse to stay there with his troops. Isabella was asked

Always an Este 93 to let him know this. She gave assurances that Francesco would rather help Alfonso than obey orders to attack him.50 As Francesco was not prepared to stick his neck out to aid his brother-inlaw, however, appeals to him through Isabella yielded small result. In their desperation, Alfonso and Ippolito had exaggerated expectations of what their sister could get from him for them. Better than anyone, she knew the limits on what help could realistically be looked for from Francesco, who had the interests of his own family and state to consider. Never again would Ferrara itself be in such peril during Alfonso’s lifetime. There were times when another assault by papal troops appeared likely. Large parts of Alfonso’s state, including the two other main cities, Modena and Reggio, were lost to him for several years. Modena had fallen to papal troops in August 1510, and then been given over to Maximilian in January 1511; Reggio submitted to the pope in early July  1512 after French power in northern Italy collapsed. That collapse left Alfonso isolated and vulnerable. Julius ordered Francesco to attack Ferrara; Francesco argued that accomplishing the complete rout of the French should take priority, and Julius came over to that view. The pope asked Isabella to act as a mediator with her brother. Naturally, Isabella agreed, with Francesco’s full approval. Julius sent her a safeconduct for Alfonso to go to Rome, and Isabella took it to Ferrara on 16 June. Some in Rome thought she should accompany Alfonso, but there was no indication that she considered the idea.51 Had she done so, it is unlikely that she could have averted the ultimate failure of Alfonso’s negotiations in Rome. Within a week of his arrival there on 4 July, he had received formal absolution from the pope, only to be faced with two demands that he refused to accept. One was that he should release his brothers Ferrante (who was Julius’s godson) and Giulio. The other was that he should surrender Ferrara, in exchange for some other city that the pope claimed to have at his disposal. Giving up Ferrara on any terms was out of the question for Alfonso, and he left Rome, defying the pope, on 19 July. Julius never forgave him, and was obsessed with taking Ferrara until he died. It took Alfonso three months, often travelling in disguise, to make his way back home. Fortunately for him, the pope could not persuade his allies to join in an attack on Ferrara; they had

94  Always an Este other priorities. Working closely with Ippolito, Isabella did what she could while Alfonso was still on the road – from taking some valuables from Ferrara into safekeeping, to backing up Ippolito’s efforts to scotch the suggestion from the Imperial representative, Bishop Matthaeus Lang, that Ferrara might be handed over to Maximilian if it could not be defended from the pope. She also incited the duke of Urbino not to press the assault on Ferrara as Julius was urging him to do.52 Isabella’s efforts continued after Alfonso’s return. When the Venetian government wanted to make an informal, cautious approach to Alfonso about suspending hostilities between them, they sent the message to Isabella, so she could sound him out.53 Meanwhile, Francesco was professing support for the pope, sincerely or not. His position became increasingly awkward. Embarrassed by an unannounced visit to Mantua by Ippolito, Francesco tried to placate the infuriated pope by promising he would capture Alfonso if he could get his hands on him. Any secret dealings with Ferrara were Isabella’s responsibility, he maintained. It might be, as we have written on other occasions, that our lady consort, who is the sister of Don Alfonso and tender towards the family of her birth, and who is a woman with a mind of her own [donna di sua opinione], has some secret intelligence, by letters and messengers, with that court, but hidden from us, as she knows very well how it would displease us, and how we would show that displeasure if we knew.54 By the end of the year, Francesco and Isabella agreed that it would be better if she left Mantua for a while, to spend some time in Milan with her nephew, Massimiliano Sforza, who had just been installed as duke there. This Isabella saw as an opportunity to plead Alfonso’s cause to Lang and Ramón de Cardona, Ferdinand of Aragon’s viceroy of Naples, who were in Milan. Asking Alfonso if there was ‘anything in particular’ he would like her to say to them, she assured him that ‘in general, I  know what I have to do, and where I will be you can consider yourself there in person’.55 The threat of another campaign against Ferrara was averted by the death of Julius in February 1513. Both Isabella and Alfonso

Always an Este 95 had high hopes that the new pope, Giovanni de’ Medici, Leo X, would be much more benevolent to the Este, restore Reggio to Alfonso and assist him in recovering Modena as well. Alfonso looked to Isabella to exploit the friendly relations she had established in Milan to put diplomatic pressure on the pope. He had great faith in her understanding and loyalty. You are ‘another me’ [un altro mi], he told her, you ‘know my heart and know how to express my ideas before they have been formed in my mind’.56 But there was nothing that she, or anyone, could do to persuade Leo to give Reggio back, and far from agreeing to Alfonso recovering Modena, Leo bought it from Maximilian in June 1514. His heart was set on creating a state for his brother Giuliano in central Italy, and he had his own plans for Modena and Reggio and for Ferrara itself. Isabella never lost an opportunity of putting Alfonso’s case. Personally, she got on well with Leo, during visits to Rome in the winter of 1514–15, but charm and smiles and persuasive gifts alone were of no avail. She could not even wield what little weight Mantua had in the power politics of Italy. Fortunately, she was in a better position to give her brother practical help when he again came under serious threat, for it happened when she was acting as regent in Mantua for Federico. She helped to ward off a plot against Alfonso when he was ill in the winter of 1519–20, gathering intelligence and urging him to be on his guard. Leo was believed to be behind the plot. Of course, he denied this. Then in July 1520 Leo made a surprising move, proposing that the twenty-year-old Federico Gonzaga should become captain of the papal troops. Federico was keen to accept, and Isabella agreed that it would be unwise to refuse it. She felt some unease, nevertheless, for, as Alfonso reminded her, it was possible that Leo might one day order his captain to attack Ferrara. If it turned out to be aimed against Alfonso, it would be the greatest trouble of her life, she wrote to her brother. But even if this came to pass, she would still behave as a loving sister, as she was bound to do.57 Her fears were nearly realized. As the wars in Lombardy recommenced, her son and brother were on opposing sides, with Federico, the papal captain, acting in alliance with the Imperial troops, and Alfonso the ally of the French and Venetians. Alfonso’s territory was attacked by papal troops – at least they were not under

96  Always an Este the command of Federico, who was engaged in the campaign in the duchy of Milan. Once again, the death of a pope came to Alfonso’s aid. Leo died suddenly, on 1 December 1521. With Leo dead, and French troops only twenty miles from Mantuan territory, Isabella turned to Alfonso for advice. He suggested Federico should bring his troops home to Mantua, and tell the French he had only been acting in accordance with the obligation he had to the pope, an obligation which had ceased with Leo’s death.58 Isabella’s fears of a French attack soon faded, and she thought it would be better for Federico to stay on the side of the new emperor, Charles V. Her opinion was confirmed when Charles’s former tutor, Adrian of Utrecht, was elected pope after a lengthy conclave in January 1522. Adrian had no interest in taking Ferrara. It was even reported that he was ready to sell Modena and Reggio to Alfonso. He did not do that, but Alfonso was able to recover Reggio for himself after Adrian died in September  1523. He shared his success with his sister, writing to her twice on 30 September as first the citadel surrendered to him, and then all the territory of the city came under his control. I thought I should let you know all this, ‘because I  know that it will please you, as any good thing of mine is yours too’. And would it be possible to transport some artillery and munitions, secretly, along the Po inside Mantuan territory?59 By then, Isabella’s time as regent for Federico was over, and Alfonso could not be sure that she could agree to this. The fact that she had supported Federico’s decision to stay on the opposite side to his uncle did not cause a breach between her and her brother. He could understand her dilemma. If she could not ensure he had military support from Mantua, her moral support was unwavering, and perhaps more important to him than ever, after the third member of their trio, their brother Ippolito, had died in August 1520. She was always ready and willing to use what personal influence she might have to put Alfonso’s case for him, where and when she could. And they enjoyed one another’s company. They visited Venice together in May 1523, on what was primarily a pleasure trip rather than a state visit, although they did attend the ceremonies of the inauguration and coronation of the new doge.

Always an Este 97 In Adrian’s successor, Clement VII, Alfonso had to face another hostile pope, who was determined to recover Reggio and to hold on to Modena. Fortunately, his military reputation – not least the reputation of his formidable artillery – made his alliance sought after by both sides in the war being fought in Lombardy over the duchy of Milan. Still inclined to the French side, but disappointed by the support they gave him, even before the French king, Francis I, was captured at the battle of Pavia in February  1525, he listened to offers from the emperor’s men. Charles V gave him the investiture of the Imperial fiefs of Reggio and of Carpi, and of Modena, although that was still held by papal troops. In the end, Alfonso recovered Modena for himself in 1527, as Clement was a prisoner in his own fortress after the sack of Rome by Imperial troops. After he was allowed to leave Rome by his captors, Clement refused to approve terms that his allies had negotiated with Alfonso, who drew closer to the French again. An important consequence of this rapprochement was the marriage of his heir, Ercole, to a French princess, Renée de France, the daughter of Louis XII. There had been discussions about this match before, but the list of potential husbands for Renée suggested in the past was a long one, and included Charles V and Henry VIII of England. Marriage to a legitimate princess of royal blood was an honour for the heir to an Italian duchy; this was a match the family could be proud of. Isabella was happy to greet Renée when Ercole brought her from France on her bridal journey in late 1528. She was waiting with many gentlewomen at the castle in Modena to welcome Renée on her arrival there on 12 November, although they could not converse with one another as Isabella could not speak French, nor Renée Italian.60 At Ferrara on 1 December, flanked by the ladies who had escorted the bride on her formal entry to the city, Isabella formally received her at the foot of the great staircase in the palace. For her entry, Renée put on the dress she had worn at her wedding in Paris, and on her head a crown, which gave rise to much comment, ‘not being a queen, although she is a king’s daughter’.61 As her choice of headdress indicated, Renée was mindful of her royal blood. She would never cease to think of herself as a French princess, and her attitude, and the problems it caused, would eventually do much to estrange Ercole from her.

98  Always an Este Isabella was back in Ferrara early the next year, from 12 January to 10 February 1529. During her visit, Ercole gave a banquet, a particularly elaborate and sumptuous one, of which a long and detailed description survives. She and Alfonso were guests of honour, sitting at a separate table, apart from the hundred and more other diners, including Ercole’s wife and brothers, and French and Venetian ambassadors. Veterans as they were of many such entertainments, Isabella and Alfonso might well have found this particular banquet too much of a good thing. It began with the performance of a play by Ludovico Ariosto, Cassaria, staged in the great hall of the palace. The main guests were then entertained by music and conversation in nearby chambers, while the hall was being prepared for the banquet. Three layers of table cloths were placed on the tables, which were dressed with silver plate and 25 large sugar sculptures, gilded and painted, of Hercules (Ercole in Italian) overcoming the lion, as well as eleven dishes of hors d’oeuvres. To the sound of trumpets, the guests entered, and the marathon meal began. Six courses  – five of ten dishes each, the sixth a mere nine  – of meat (including quail, capons, pheasants, partridges, pigeon, peacocks, rabbits, wild boar, whole roast kids and whole suckling pigs) and fish (including eels and crayfish) were each accompanied by music performed by various vocal and instrumental ensembles. At the end of the fifth course the first cloth was removed, and the figures of Hercules taken away to be replaced by 25 more, this time of Hercules overcoming the Hydra. During the seventh course  – of fruit, sweetmeats and Parmesan cheese  – buffoons circulated round the hall; the eighth course – more fruit, and oysters – was accompanied by wind music. The second tablecloth was then removed, and the figures of Hercules replaced by 25 more, of Hercules overcoming the bull, as well as figures of Mars, Saturn, Venus, Cupid and Eve. Water was provided for the guests to wash their hands, with napkins and perfumed toothpicks, and seven dishes of confectionery and candied fruit, and more instrumental and vocal music. A great dish, with the names of all the guests written on slips, was brought in, and slips were drawn to allot gifts of jewellery, most notably one necklace worth 50 scudi. Then the guests withdrew while the hall was cleared and swept and prepared for dancing (with more

Always an Este 99 fruit and sweetmeats provided, just in case anyone was still feeling peckish). By that point, Isabella had had enough, and she did not come back for the dancing.62 Isabella was always made welcome in Ferrara by her brother and her nephew. There, she would be at the centre of the life and pleasures of the court, in contrast to her position in Mantua, where she lived apart from Federico and his court. After the death of Lucrezia, Alfonso had taken a mistress, Laura, the daughter of an artisan. His choice of a low-born girl was deliberate, reckoning it would not offend her family. He kept her apart, in some style, in a palace he gave her in Ferrara; Isabella was not called on to treat her as an equal. Isabella’s relations with Renée seem to have been outwardly cordial, without their developing any true intimacy or friendship. Renée was intelligent and lively enough, but she was plain and unattractive, and could not compete with Isabella in style. She soon reverted to dressing in French fashions (Isabella’s correspondents kept her fully informed of the details) and continued to staff her household with French ladies, officials and servants. To Ercole’s annoyance, she saw it as her duty to keep Ferrara under the political sway of the king of France. She also displeased him by her sympathies for Protestant reformers, including Calvin. Ercole refused to let her visit Mantua, for fear she would travel on to France and not come back. These troubles between Ercole and Renée were already brewing during the last years of Alfonso’s life. His death on 31 October 1534 would have been a great blow to Isabella. Of all her brothers and sisters, only Ferrante and Giulio survived, in their prison in the tower. But still she was drawn to Ferrara, and invitations came from Ercole to bring her there. Perhaps his aunt’s steadfast devotion to the interests of the Este was some consolation for him in his problems with his wife. Her last visit to Ferrara was for the Carnival season in 1538. It was fortunate for her that there was as yet no hint of the even more serious troubles to afflict the Este later in the century, when the legitimate line of the dynasty died out. A son of Alfonso’s mistress provided the heir who allowed the Este to hold on to Modena, but Ferrara itself was lost to the pope. It would surely have broken Isabella’s heart.

100  Always an Este

Notes 1 Ferrari, ‘Le lettere di Beatrice d’Este, p. 37; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 25: Isabella to Beatrice, no date (c. 23 February 1490). Her secretary noted in the letter-book that similar letters were to be sent to all her brothers. 2 Luzio and Renier, ‘Delle relazioni’, pp. 97–8: Beatrice to Isabella, 23 February 1491. 3 Ibid., p. 356: Isabella to Francesco, 16 September 1492. 4 Ibid., p. 367: Isabella to Francesco, 25 April 1493. 5 Ibid., p. 389: Isabella to Francesco, 1 February 1494. 6 Zuccolin, ‘Gravidanza e parto nel Quattrocento’, p.  126: Ludovico Sforza to Francesco Gonzaga, 6 February 1495. 7 Giulio Bertoni, La biblioteca estense e la coltura ferrarese ai tempi del Duca Ercole I (1471–1505) (Turin: Loescher, 1903), p. 208: Isabella to Ercole, 5 January 1497; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 104. 8 Luzio and Renier, ‘Delle relazioni’, p. 644. 9 D’Este, Selected Letters, p.  117: Isabella to Beatrice de’ Contrari, 3 December  1497. Deanna Shemek has made here an error in transcription and translation which occurs repeatedly in her edition of Isabella’s letters, where ‘V. Mtia’, Vostra Magnificentia, Your Magnificence, has apparently been transcribed as ‘V. Mta’, Vostra Maestà, Your Majesty. ‘Maestà’ was a title accorded exclusively to kings and queens; neither Isabella nor any of her secretaries would have used it in addressing anyone below that rank. 10 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, 41 (1914), pp. 540–7; see d’Este, Selected Letters, pp.  173–92, for some of Isabella’s letters to Francesco on the festivities. 11 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p. 705. 12 Ibid., p. 706, n.1. 13 Ibid., pp. 705–6. 14 Ibid., pp. 706–7: Lucrezia to Francesco, 8 November 1504. 15 Ferdinand Gregorovius, Lucrezia Borgia, ed. Angelo Romano (Rome: Salerno Editrice, n.d.; original German edition, 1874), p. 287. 16 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p. 711. 17 Riccardo Bacchelli, La congiura di Don Giulio d’Este, 2 vols (Milan: Fratelli Treves, 1931), II, pp. 19–23. 18 Ibid., pp. 86–9. 19 Ibid., p. 92. 20 Sergio Mantovani, “Ad honore del signore vostro patre et satisfactione nostra”. Ferrante d’Este condottiero di Venezia (Modena and Ferrara: Deputazione provinciale ferrarese di storia patria, 2005), p. 30.

Always an Este 101 21 Bacchelli, La congiura, II, p. 145. 22 Ibid., p. 150; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 260–1: Isabella to Alfonso, 23 September 1505. 23 Bacchelli, La congiura, II, pp. 158–9. 24 Ibid., p. 161. 25 Ibid., pp. 165–6. 26 Ibid., pp. 175–6. 27 Ibid., p. 203. 28 Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Niccolò da Correggio’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 21 (1893), p. 245. 29 Ibid. 30 Bacchelli, La congiura, II, pp. 220–2. 31 Ibid., p. 223. 32 Luzio and Renier, ‘Niccolò da Correggio’, pp. 245–6: Niccolò da Correggio, 21 July 1506. 33 Bacchelli, La congiura, II, pp. 226–7. 34 Ibid., p. 227. 35 Ibid., p. 228. 36 Ibid., pp. 252–3. 37 Ibid., p. 269. 38 D’Este, Selected Letters, p.  277: Isabella to Francesco, 20 September 1506. 39 Ibid., pp. 277–9. 40 Stephen Kolsky, ‘Images of Isabella d’Este’, Italian Studies, 39 (1984), pp. 56–7: Isabella to the ‘Factor Ferrariae’, 27 August 1523; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 483–4 (another instance of Shemek mistranslating ‘Vostra Magnificentia’ as ‘Your Majesty’: see above, note 9). 41 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p. 719: Ercole Strozzi to “M. Guido” (Francesco Gonzaga), 23 March 1508. 42 Ibid., p. 721. 43 Ibid., pp. 723–4: “Ziliolo” to “M. Guido”, 25 April 1508. 44 Ibid., p. 733: Lucrezia to Francesco, 30 December 1508. 45 Ibid., p. 737: Tolomeo Spagnoli to Francesco, 6 July 1509. 46 Ibid., pp. 741–2: Lorenzo Strozzi to Francesco, 21 August 1510, Ferrara. 47 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp. 58–9. 48 Ibid., p. 43. 49 Ibid., pp. 32–3. 50 Ibid., p. 27: Ippolito to Isabella, 12 November 1510, Parma; Isabella to Ippolito, 14 November 1510. 51 Ibid., pp. 131–8. 52 Ibid., pp. 167–73. 53 Ibid., pp. 186–8.

102  Always an Este 54 Ibid., pp.  183–4: Francesco Gonzaga to ? in Rome, 11 December 1512. 55 Ibid., pp. 188–9: Isabella to Alfonso, 30 December 1512. 56 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X e il suo viaggio a Roma nel 1514–1515’, Archivio storico lombardo, 33 (1906), p. 123. 57 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X dal Congresso di Bologna alla presa di Milano (1515–1521)’, Archivio storico italiano, Ser. 5, 45 (1910), pp. 245–6: Isabella to Alfonso, 8 January 1521. 58 Ibid., pp. 265–6: Alfonso to Isabella, 6 December 1521. 59 Carlo d’Arco, ‘Notizie di Isabella Estense moglie a Francesco Gonzaga’, Archivio storico italiano, Appendice, 1 (1845) pp.  291–2: Alfonso to Isabella, 30 September 1523, Reggio. 60 William F. Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia as patrons of music: the frottola at Mantua and Ferrara’, Journal of the American Musicological Society, 38 (1985), p. 18. 61 Bartolommeo Fontana, Renata di Francia, Duchessa di Ferrara, 2 vols (Rome: Forzani, 1889–93), I, pp. 77–8: Alvisio Gonzaga to Federico Gonzaga, 1 December 1528, Ferrara. 62 Ibid., pp. 90–8.

4 Patron and collector

From her own day to this, Isabella’s chief claim to fame has been as the creator of some of the most celebrated private apartments in Renaissance Italy. Painfully little remains of either of her two sets of apartments in the palace in Mantua: rooms have been demolished or altered beyond recognition, fittings removed, the paintings and collections of antiquities and objets d’art and books dispersed. What does survive – such as the gilded vaulted ceiling of her first “grotto”, some carved marble doorframes (no longer in their original positions), and the paintings and objects that are known to have belonged to her  – is enough to give some idea of the splendour and beauty of the settings she created for herself. She was proud of her achievements, happy for her rooms and her collections to be shown to distinguished visitors as one of the sights of Mantua, a practice that continued for many years after her death. To modern eyes, the general impression given by the most famous rooms of all, her study (“studiolo”), and her grotto (“grotta”), where her collection of antiquities and objets d’art was displayed, would quite possibly have been one of dazzling excess.1 There was nothing minimalist or austere about her taste, which was the taste of her time and place. Every surface and piece of furniture was decorated, painted, gilded, stuccoed, carved, inlaid, the floors of coloured tiles. The objects displayed were set off by elaborate frames and brackets and stands, such as the vases of semi-precious stones given bejewelled gold and silver settings. Her other chambers, too, were frescoed or hung with tapestries or silken fabrics, and furnished with ‘Painted and inlaid chests, elaborately carved

104  Patron and collector and gilded day-beds . . . tables covered with expensive decorative cloths, which set off collections of silver utensils and glassware as well as carved and inlaid musical instruments’.2 Most of the rooms in her apartments were by no means large. These were not halls or chambers intended to impress by their grandeur. They were private spaces, living spaces, where she could spend her days with her chosen companions. Fortunately for Isabella, she seems to have been content to dedicate her efforts to comparatively small-scale projects – compared, that is, to the kind of building projects that Francesco could undertake. Frustrating as she found it to turn down opportunities to purchase desirable objects because she could not afford them, she was not given to complaining that lack of funds inhibited her from fulfilling dreams of undertaking something on a grand scale. Her first set of apartments was in the Castello di San Giorgio, a castle which was incorporated in the rambling complex of the Gonzaga palace in Mantua. Other consorts of the marquises, Barbara of Brandenburg and Margherita of Bavaria, had lived there, and Isabella had their rooms at her disposal as well as those which the Marquis Ludovico had lived in; Francesco had converted the ground floor of the castle for his own apartments. There were limits to the alterations that could be made to what had been constructed as a fortress in the late fourteenth century, in order to make it a residence fit for a prince and his consort, so the apartments she inherited were far from an orderly suite of chambers. Subsequent changes make it problematic to work out exactly how the rooms in which Isabella lived and received her guests were laid out, or connected with one another. The focal point, and probably the largest room, was the Camera delle Armi, decorated with Gonzaga heraldic devices. Like most of the rooms, this could be put to various uses at different times. Large enough to function as an audience chamber, it was also sometimes turned into a bedchamber. From it, a number of doors and corridors and staircases led to the complex of smaller rooms, set on different levels. One staircase, built within the wall, led down to the low-vaulted room that became Isabella’s grotto. Ludovico had created this in a tower, in the space intended for the machinery to raise and lower a drawbridge, to be his treasury. Grottoes of antiquity that were coming to light in the sixteenth

Patron and collector 105 century were thought to be treasure-chambers, so this might be how Isabella’s grotto, where she kept her treasures, her collections, acquired its name. Above it was the room Ludovico had made for his private study, which became her study. In fashioning her own study and “treasury” to house her collections, Isabella took her cue from others, apart from Ludovico. Her mother as well as her father had a study, and her father was a keen collector of antiquities. Discussions with Ercole during a visit to Ferrara in 1495 spurred Isabella into beginning the transformation of what had been unexceptional rooms of their kind into something intended to compete with the best.3 Inspiration also came from visiting Urbino and Gubbio in 1494, where she could see the lovely studies created by Federico da Montefeltro. These, like the one in the Este villa of Belfiore, had intarsia panels, allegorical paintings, or portraits of figures from antiquity, as Isabella’s would do.4 Undoubtedly, there was an element of emulation, if not competition, in Isabella’s application of the lessons to be learned from these other studies. This was also evident when she complimented her husband on his rooms at the palace of San Sebastiano. You will say I am making fun of you, but I’m not, she assured him. If they were not beautiful, I would say nothing, but they are – and even more so, in that you have learned from ‘my room’, and improved on it.5 Much has sometimes been made of the fact that it was rare for a woman of her day to create such a study for herself, or to collect antiquities. Rare it may have been, but not unique. There was no indication that Isabella saw herself as asserting her right as a woman to invade spheres reserved for men. She was competing in activities and interests that were mostly pursued by men, but that were not in themselves inherently masculine. It was not as if she was setting herself up as an expert in the sciences of fortification, or the practical crafts, the wood-turning and metal-casting, enjoyed by her brother Alfonso. Being a woman was not a barrier to collecting antique coins and engraved gemstones, or commissioning works of art based on classical models or mythologies. Just a girl when she came to Mantua, Isabella would have been truly precocious if she had immediately set about transforming her own apartments in the style and beauty that became her hallmark. Francesco apparently took in hand at least one aspect of

106  Patron and collector her instruction in the arts. In a lighthearted letter to her husband, Isabella told him of the learned arguments rehearsed to her by a Ferrarese official dealing with a dispute over water-courses, with citations from Ptolemy, Vitruvius, Homer, Horace, and many other Greek and Latin authors, leaving her befogged. One thing she had found useful, having examined the drawings shown to her (presumably of the sluices that had been constructed), ‘I have begun to learn about architecture, so that when Your Excellency talks to me about your buildings, I will understand it better’.6 What is known of the rooms other than the study and grotto in her first set of apartments indicated that they had conventional decorative schemes, based on heraldic devices and personal mottoes and symbols (“imprese”) adopted by Isabella and Francesco. His device of flames issuing from a crucible was painted on the ceiling of one room; ornamental knots, one of her devices, were painted in another. A third was frescoed with purely ornamental ribbons. Inscriptions which formed part of the schemes have not survived. The study, too, she originally had decorated simply with a frieze of Gonzaga devices. More Gonzaga imprese covered the floor from 1494, when Isabella made use of tiles Francesco had had made for his villa at Marmirolo (some of them are now in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London). These served a dual purpose, adding to the beauty of the room while eliminating the nests of mice that had been sheltered by the floorboards they replaced.7 Her more ambitious scheme for her study began to be put into effect in 1496, when she commissioned the first of a series of allegorical paintings from the most celebrated Mantuan painter, Andrea Mantegna, and a fine carved and inlaid marble door frame from the sculptor Gian Cristoforo Romano. A less illustrious artist, Bernardino Parentino, was set to work on frescoes, perhaps on the ceiling as well as the walls. A decade later she began the transformation of the grotto, which had a painted vault and wainscoting painted to look like marble. A carved and gilded ceiling and inlaid wooden panels for the walls were commissioned from two Mantuan brothers, Antonio and Paolo Mola; some panels may have functioned as doors to cupboards. The timing of her move to her second set of apartments on the ground floor of the Corte Vecchia area of the palace – not long after Francesco’s death and Federico’s accession – may have been

Patron and collector 107 due to mother and son agreeing it would be better if she was not, literally, living on top of him, for he had moved into his father’s old quarters on the ground floor of the castle. She had, however, been planning the move for some years. Judging by her reaction to the alterations Federico had made to her old apartments in the castle in preparation for the arrival of his bride in 1531, when she particularly admired a new terrace overlooking the lake, she had felt that they lacked open spaces, “outdoor rooms”. If she had had such a terrace in her day, she would never have minded staying in the castle, she sighed.8 Building work on her new apartments was in progress in the Corte Vecchia in 1515.9 This time she had more space to work with, more scope to alter the layout of her rooms, and she could incorporate gardens and courtyards. There were two wings, the larger one where she lived, with a courtyard at the centre, and the other, set at a right angle to it around a larger courtyard, housing her collections, and with a private garden. She could not afford to be too ambitious in her rebuilding, but she could have the rooms adorned with elaborate decorations. As with her rooms in the castle, much of this has disappeared (it did not help that the Austrians, when they governed Mantua, turned some of them into kitchens), but what survives gives an idea of the opulence of the rooms in which she would live for the rest of her life. Gonzaga devices, and Isabella’s personal devices, again figured largely, mixed with classical motifs. Some of the rooms had stucco work, although there may have been a problem with it, for she was warned in 1524 that the wrong type of glue had been used, and that the stucco was liable to turn black. At the time, Isabella could not face having this problem fixed, unless it could be done without moving the stucco work. She was, she said, ‘worn and weary with building’.10 But she went on with the decorations, including commissioning Federico’s favourite painter, Giulio Romano, to work for her in 1529. The courtyard lying between the two wings of the apartments was also transformed by Isabella into a space where she could entertain, by adding porticoes on two sides to complement an existing colonnade. One wall was decorated with townscapes of ‘famous cities’, which to Isabella meant Ferrara as well more obvious candidates such as Venice, Constantinople and Cairo.11 Later alterations have made it impossible to be sure where the entrance,

108  Patron and collector or entrances, to the courtyard would have been. One doorway, a copy of a portal she had admired in the Palazzo della Cancelleria in Rome, led from the courtyard into the first room of the grotto wing; it had her name and title carved into it: ‘ISABELLA ESTENSIS MANT. MARCH’. There had been two main rooms in this range. One was kept intact, and decorated with a complex scheme of paintings and stucco work, including hunting scenes, classical busts and grotesques (much of which survives), and on the walls wainscoting painted with panels of blue foliage on a white ground, separated by painted and gilded columns. The other main room, originally about the same size, was divided into three, forming two chambers and a corridor. The two chambers became the new study and grotto, which were on much the same scale as the old ones in the castle, but with slightly different dimensions. Consequently, it was not possible to move either the vaulted ceiling of the grotto or the panelling on the walls to the new rooms. A new gilded ceiling was created, complemented by a mosaic floor commissioned from Tullio Lombardo. Panels that were transferred to the grotto from elsewhere in the palace during restoration work in the 1930s may have been made for it, or be from the original one, or may be from a different room entirely. There are no documents or descriptions that can help to solve the mystery. We do know that, as the walls were higher, there was space for cornices, on which busts and statuettes could be displayed. It was possible to transfer the allegorical paintings from the study, which were again arranged like a frieze along the walls. Two additional paintings were commissioned from Correggio in the late 1520s to join them. Beyond the study and grotto were two smaller rooms, reached by the corridor, which were frescoed by Leonbruno. Both the study and the grotto, as well as the larger room leading into them, looked onto an orchard, which Isabella evidently thought of as contributing to the overall effect of this suite of rooms. A  wall divided the orchard from an enclosed garden, which was reached by the corridor and also connected by a passage to the courtyard. This small garden, its walls painted to look like marble inlaid with semi-precious stone, with a portico at one end, was the outdoor equivalent of the study and grotto, a private space to which it would be a privilege to be admitted. All the more

Patron and collector 109 telling, then, to convey Isabella’s sense of self, that she chose this little garden to carry the inscription around its walls proclaiming her illustrious family connections: ISABELLA ESTENSIS REGUM ARAGONUM NEPTIS DUCUM FERRARIENSIUM FILIA ET SOROR MARCHIONUM GONZAGARUM CONIUX ET MATER FECIT A  PARTU VIRGINIS MDXXII (Isabella d’Este, granddaughter and niece [neptis can mean both] of Aragonese kings, daughter and sister of dukes of Ferrara, wife and mother of Gonzaga marquises, made this in the year 1522 from the delivery of the Virgin). Perhaps she felt the need to assert her pride in her status in this inscription, as the period of her renewed power in the state during Federico’s minority came to an end. In her search for objects to adorn her apartments and for her own use, Isabella set her standards high from the start. She wanted the best in everything she bought – beautiful things, of course, the finest that could be found (for the money she could afford to pay), and preferably rare, unusual. She only wanted to have the same as others had when she knew that they had something of exceptional quality, such as the ‘very beautiful and most perfect clavichord’ that Lorenzo da Pavia had crafted for her sister Beatrice. ‘Wishing to have one that could not be bettered’, Isabella turned to him to make one for her ‘of the beauty and quality that befits the reputation you have and the hope we have in you’. Typical of her, too, was the injunction that the quicker he could do this, the better she would be pleased.12 In garnering antiquities – for which, she said, her appetite was insatiable  – she was a collector rather than a connoisseur, and heavily reliant on the judgement and advice of others. Asking the sculptor Gian Cristoforo Romano to be on the lookout for antique coins ‘or other excellent things’, she instructed him to get ‘precise information’ as to the price and quality of each piece. Coins he could buy without waiting for authorization from her: if he thought they were of good quality, she would reimburse him at once.13 But she was not wholly reliant on the judgement of others when it came to assessing quality, and could reject items sent to her if she thought them not good enough to suit her. Isabella had the avidity and the ruthless instincts of the dedicated collector. Gonzaga ambassadors and agents, clerics in Rome who had connections with Mantua, artists such as Gian Cristoforo

110  Patron and collector Romano, and craftsmen such as Lorenzo da Pavia, were solicited to keep her informed of any desirable pieces – coins, gems, vases, sculpture, paintings – that might be for sale. Her correspondence with her spotters and agents who did the bargaining for her documents the private collections of merchants and men of letters, of clerics and artists, whose treasures Isabella coveted or rejected. Hapless collectors of lesser social status could find it hard to hold out once Isabella had fixed her sights on something in their possession, although she claimed to have scruples about openly admiring objects in the possession of others, let alone asking for them, in case their owners felt compelled to give them to her.14 Quite a number of the antiquities she owned came to her as gifts, such as the ‘beautiful antique head’ of a girl sent to her by Cristoforo Chigi in 1508.15 The antiquities market was very competitive, and Isabella was not best placed in Mantua to strike quickly when some special prize became available. Nor could her budget match those of the rich merchants or clerics who could afford thousands of ducats when she could pay only hundreds. Her son Federico, when a hostage in Rome, might wish he could send his mother the recently discovered Laocoon, but such a major antique statue was well out of Isabella’s league, and she knew it.16 The Laocoon entered the papal collection – where it is still one of the greatest treasures – but even if it had been on the open market, and she could have afforded to buy it, a ban would probably have been imposed on its leaving Rome. Permission from the pope and the Roman civic authorities was required to export antiquities from the city, which was the best source for them. When Isabella wanted antique columns from Rome to furnish marble for doorways for her apartments in the Corte Vecchia, she was privileged to be given a licence by Leo X, who wanted all the precious marble available for the new St Peter’s basilica.17 If permission was not forthcoming, she was not averse to resorting to smuggling. Searching for a section of an antique column to serve as a table top in 1499, she suggested that the slab found for her in Rome could be got out of the city by covering it with a cloth bearing the arms of a friendly cardinal, and transported with some fish being sent to Francesco.18 Fragments of larger statues were within her range, and her collection of antiquities included several. The first she acquired was a

Patron and collector 111 bronze arm, in 1498. Like most collectors of such fragments, what she liked most were antique heads or complete busts, especially those reputed to be portraits. A bust of Faustina, which a reluctant Andrea Mantegna was persuaded into selling to her, was one of her most prized pieces. In 1512 she bought a ‘head of Plato’. Gifts of antique heads, like those given to her by a friend, Eleonora Orsini del Balzo, in 1506, or the one reputed to be of Homer left to her as a legacy by Sigismondo Gonzaga in 1525, were always welcome. Again like other collectors of her day, Isabella was also keen to acquire modern copies of antique works of art, and modern works in antique style. Cameos, carved gemstones, bronze statuettes and busts created by contemporary artists and craftsmen were placed alongside antiquities. Those of exceptional quality could be equally prized. The most famous pairing in Isabella’s collection was the Sleeping Cupid by Michelangelo (which he had made with the intention of showing he could rival the work of the sculptors of classical antiquity), and an antique Sleeping Cupid attributed to the most renowned of classical sculptors, Praxiteles. Michelangelo’s Cupid was the one from the ducal collection in Urbino that she had asked Cesare Borgia to give her in 1502 (when the duke asked for it back after he recovered Urbino, Isabella replied that she was sure that he was joking).19 The antique Cupid had been in Isabella’s sights for a decade before she finally acquired it in 1505 from the heirs of the collector, Guido Bonatto, who had held out against her efforts to buy it from them until she could arrange the grant of an ecclesiastical benefice they wanted.20 Another noteworthy pairing was of her finest antique cameo, an unusually large one, depicting Augustus and his consort Livia, with a gold cast of the portrait medal of herself by Gian Cristoforo Romano, which were both given jewelled settings and kept together. Still to be seen on the chimney piece where Isabella had it placed in her apartments in the Corte Vecchia, in the room now known as the Camera Imperiale, is the antique head of a Roman soldier incorporated into a frieze with four stucco heads made to match it. One of the masters at imitating and copying the works of classical antiquity, Pier Jacopo Alari Bonacolsi, known as “Antico”, was close at hand, in the service of Francesco’s uncle, Ludovico Gonzaga. It was as a gift from Ludovico that a work by Antico

112  Patron and collector first came into her collection. This was a bronze reproduction of the Spinario (still one of the most familiar of all classical statues, the seated boy drawing a thorn from his foot), that had in fact been cast at her request. Having positioned this over a doorway, Isabella asked Antico to make a female figure that could be paired with it. He supplied what was perhaps a seated nymph, with crossed legs. Other bronzes he made for her included a statuette of the Apollo Belvedere and reproductions of some of the bronzes he had made for Ludovico Gonzaga. One of them was a figure of Hercules lifting Antaeus from the earth as they wrestled. This, and two other bronzes which may have been produced for Isabella by Antico, all have softer modelling and expressions than the versions made for Ludovico – a clue to Isabella’s personal taste. Antico also carried out repairs and restorations for her, including work on the antique Sleeping Cupid. (As far as she was concerned, antiquities did not cease to look antique if they were smartened up a bit.)21 He became one of her main advisers on buying and restoring antiquities.22 The best-known of the paintings Isabella commissioned for the walls of her apartments were on classical subjects, but they would have been outnumbered by more traditional kinds of religious paintings, which tend to be overlooked in discussions of her patronage. She had several pictures of the Madonna. The one she thought the most beautiful, by Lorenzo Costa, she sent as a gift to the queen of France in 1510 when she was trying to win the sympathy and support of the king.23 A picture she had of Mary Magdalene – a subject sometimes treated by artists as an opportunity to paint a beautiful young woman with freely flowing hair – was sufficiently devout to attract the pious and austere widow Vittoria Colonna, marchesa di Pescara. Isabella gave it to her after Vittoria had said she would like to have it.24 In 1523 she considered buying a picture of Saint Jerome, possibly by Titian, recommended to her by the librarian of the Venetian republic, Andrea Navagero (knowing, she wrote, that she could not go wrong in following his advice), but soon decided that she could not afford it.25 One religious painting she did buy from another famous Venetian artist, Giovanni Bellini, was a Nativity. Originally she had asked for a classical allegory for her study, but faced by Bellini’s reluctance to tackle such a commission, she said in late 1502 that

Patron and collector 113 she would settle for a Nativity scene, with Saint Joseph and ‘the beasts’ and Saint John the Baptist. Bellini objected to placing John the Baptist at the Nativity, and suggested a Madonna and Child with the Baptist. She would rather have a Nativity, Isabella replied, because she did not have one, but if he wanted to leave the Baptist out, he could. When the painting finally arrived in 1504, she liked it, although she found the figures a little small.26 That year she asked Leonardo da Vinci to paint a figure of the Christ child aged about twelve, ‘executed with that sweetness and soft ethereal charm which is the peculiar excellence of your art’.27 In her approach to Leonardo, she was hoping to persuade him to paint the young Christ for her instead of a painted version of the charcoal portrait of her that he had drawn on a brief visit to Mantua in 1500, but which Francesco had given away.28 She already had other portraits of herself. One had been painted when she was about three; another, perhaps, soon after she was married.29 In July  1491, perhaps after having seen the portrait bust of her sister Beatrice by Cristoforo Romano, she asked for two pieces of flawless white marble to be procured for her, so that she could have one made of herself.30 Sitting for portraits came to bore her. When Francia painted a portrait of her in 1511, she told her half-sister Lucrezia Bentivoglio, who may have commissioned it, that there was no need for him to come to Mantua so that he could create a better likeness. The last time I sat for my portrait, she explained, I got so tired of staying still that I do not want to do it anymore. Besides, Lucrezia knew what she looked like so well, that Isabella hoped her sister could give instructions for any corrections that might be needed. And then she did not see how she could receive Francia in a way that would not offend the court artist, Lorenzo Costa.31 During the period when her brother Alfonso was the major patron of Titian, the most sought after portrait painter of his generation, Isabella did apparently sit for the master, around 1523. This portrait has been lost, and is known from a copy by Rubens, which shows her wearing a red dress and an elaborate headdress.32 As an elderly woman, she arranged to have her portrait painted by Titian again, without sitting to him, by the expedient of having him copy the Francia portrait. By then in the hands of a Ferrarese nobleman, it was lent to him at Isabella’s request in 1534. The

114  Patron and collector owner wanted it back in a matter of weeks, but it took the busy artist two years to produce the copy, updating the costume to one reflecting the fashions of the 1530s. Isabella was pleased with the result – although she doubted whether she had looked so beautiful at the time the original picture was painted – but she delayed payment until the original had been safely returned.33 There is little indication that she collected images of her family and friends. In 1501 she obtained a portrait of her brother Alfonso, which she had been told was an excellent likeness, by the simple expedient of asking the owner to give it to her. You can see the original any time, she told him, and she was sure that he would not refuse; if he did, she would ask Alfonso to intervene, but she would rather he gave it her voluntarily.34 She did have a portrait of Federico painted by Francia in Bologna in 1510, as her son was sent as a hostage to the papal court. This portrait was all too successful. When Isabella sent it back to Bologna to have the hair retouched (Federico had been portrayed as a little too blond), it was much admired by the pope and cardinals, and Isabella had to insist repeatedly before she recovered it.35 Two years later, after she had finally been forced to give away Francia’s portrait of her son, she wanted Raphael to provide a replacement, a life-size portrait of Federico in armour. If Raphael was not in Rome, she ordered, the next best painter available should be commissioned – ‘we do not want to have him portrayed by some minor painter’, but by a ‘good master’.36 Raphael began work on a portrait of Federico, but for Francesco rather than Isabella; it was unfinished when Pope Julius died and his young hostage was free to return home. Federico sought it out and had it brought to Mantua in 1521, after Raphael’s death.37 The great majority of the paintings on her walls would have been by contemporary Italian artists; that would have been true of other collections in Italy at that time, too. One foreign school of painting that was much admired in Italy was that of the Netherlands. Isabella went to some trouble to acquire a painting by Jan van Eyck, of Pharaoh and his army being drowned in the Red Sea, which she had admired on a visit to Venice in 1502 in the collection of Michele Vianello. On his death in 1506, the collection had to be auctioned off to pay his debts, and Isabella gave instructions for bids to be placed for the painting and an agate vase.

Patron and collector 115 She got the vase, but the painting went to a rich Venetian, Andrea Loredan. Determined to have the painting as well, Isabella was ready to pay Loredan a premium. To oblige her, he let her have it for what he had paid (only a little more than the cost of the agate vase  – 115 ducats as against 105 for the vase).38 Towards the end of her life, in 1538, she was given 22 Flemish paintings by Federico, perhaps some of 120 Flemish pictures he had bought in 1535 from a dealer.39 Of all the paintings, of all the works of art, commissioned or bought by Isabella, the allegorical paintings in her study have fascinated art historians the most. Naturally enough, for they have survived (they are all now in the Louvre), unlike most of the frescoes created for her, and they can be identified, unlike any of her religious paintings or the Flemish paintings given to her by Federico which may survive in public or private collections, their provenance from Isabella’s apartments unknown. For art historians, there is also the attraction of complex iconography to ponder and debate. These pictures were unquestionably important to Isabella, an integral part of her conception of her study, and of the impression she hoped it would make on visitors. She invested a lot of time and effort to get the paintings she wanted from the artists she wanted to execute them, but with only partial success. Her aim was ‘to have in our chamber pictures with a story by the outstanding painters that are in Italy at present’.40 The problems in achieving this arose in large part because each painting was intended to form part of a coherent series, as a frieze around the walls of her study, and so she specified not just the dimensions but also the subject matter, the ‘fantasy’41 that she had in mind in great detail. Artists were used to working within such constraints, if they were painting an altarpiece for a specific chapel, for example. But experienced artists, those much in demand, like Giovanni Bellini, could make their own suggestions, and negotiate changes to the plans. The schemes Isabella expected artists to work to were very prescriptive, involving many figures in various groups engaged in different activities. It must have been challenging, to say the least, to devise a satisfactory, balanced, coherent composition on an unaccustomed, perhaps uncongenial, subject. Not surprisingly, some of the ‘outstanding painters’ Isabella would have liked to provide a painting for her, men who would

116  Patron and collector not have been short of work, declined her commission, despite the concessions she was prepared to make in their case. Ironically, one painter who she was told was ready to undertake the task, Botticelli, was not asked.42 Had Isabella (who had not then been to Florence) seen his work, especially his Primavera, it is difficult to believe she would not have accepted the offer; whether Botticelli would in practice have been content to conform to her exacting requirements is another matter. The Florentine master whose work she had seen in Milan, Leonardo da Vinci, was not interested, even though she was ready to leave the subject matter to him. Isabella seems to have known this was a long shot. She was prepared to settle for a ‘little picture of the Madonna, holy and sweet as is his natural manner’, but she failed even to get that, and did not insist.43 The Nativity Giovanni Bellini painted for her was a substitute for the allegory she had originally asked him for. One of the first artists Isabella had thought of for her study, Bellini was approached in 1496 and again in 1501. He half-promised to do it, but baulked at the “story” Isabella provided. Since he was so reluctant to follow her outline, Isabella conceded, she would leave the subject to him, ‘provided he paints some ancient story or fable, or he uses his own invention to devise something that looks like something antique, with a beautiful meaning’.44 The year after Bellini’s Nativity had been delivered to Mantua, she made another attempt to persuade him to paint an allegory for her: ‘we will leave the poetic invention for you to make up if you do not want us to give it to you’.45 Bellini did agree to paint something for her, but the scholar Pietro Bembo, who Isabella asked to provide an ‘invention’, warned her that Bellini ‘does not like to be given many written details which cramp his style’.46 Nothing came of this in the end. The artists who did provide the pictures for Isabella’s study in the castle were Andrea Mantegna, the highly esteemed Gonzaga court artist, the Ferrarese Lorenzo Costa, who became a Gonzaga court artist, and Pietro Vannucci, known as Perugino, who was not of the first rank among the painters of his day but was much in demand. So she did not quite achieve her goal of adorning her study with a series of paintings by the best Italian artists, but settled for those who could be induced to supply the type of paintings she required.

Patron and collector 117 As Mantegna lived in Mantua, there was no call for such correspondence as throws light on Isabella’s negotiations with Leonardo and Bellini. It is unlikely that she had any difficulty in getting him to take on the commission. Not only had he been in the service of the Gonzaga for decades, but the evocation of classical antiquity was very much to his taste. He softened his usual style to suit her. His painting of Venus and Mars (often called, rather inaccurately, Parnassus), was the first of the series to be installed in the study, in 1497. The central figures, a nude Venus and armoured Mars, stand on a rocky arch, their arms entwined, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes, with Apollo and the dancing Muses below. Inevitably, Venus and Mars have often been identified with Isabella and Francesco. The face of Venus could pass for an idealized version of Isabella’s (about the body we have no way of knowing), but the chestnut-haired Mars, with refined, regular features, bore no resemblance whatever to Francesco. The goddess Pallas in the second painting Mantegna completed for her study by 1502, of Pallas expelling the vices from the garden of virtue, has also been said to represent Isabella. Perugino had been on Isabella’s list of possible artists in the early stages of the project, and she had made enquiries about him (not being sure if he were alive or dead) in 1497. He had indicated willingness to undertake the commission, but she had not pursued the matter then.47 She was reminded of Perugino a couple of times by Lorenzo da Pavia when she was having problems with Bellini, as someone who would work quickly ‘and as well as anyone in Italy’.48 Acting on this recommendation in 1502, Isabella gave Perugino a contract in January 1503, which included the detailed programme devised by a Mantuan poet, Paride Ceresara, that he would be expected to follow. This ‘poetic invention’ was a ‘battle of Chastity against Lasciviousness’, represented by Pallas and Diana fighting against Venus and Eros. Pallas should be about to kill Eros with her lance, holding him by his blindfold; his golden arrow should be broken, his silver bow trampled underfoot. By contrast, the fight between Diana and Venus should be more evenly balanced. Diana’s arrow could have touched Venus’s crown or garland, or perhaps a veil around her body; Venus’s torch should have singed Diana’s garment, but that was all. Neither goddess should be wounded. The

118  Patron and collector chaste nymphs of Pallas and Diana (Perugino was to be allowed to choose how they should be shown) would be fighting ‘a lascivious crowd of fauns, satyrs and several thousand cupids’, who were not to have bows and arrows of gold or silver, but of baser materials. ‘And to give more expression and decoration to the picture’, beside Pallas should be placed her sacred olive tree, against which should lean a shield with the head of Medusa depicted on it, and with Pallas’s bird, the owl, in the branches; Venus’s tree, the myrtle, should be beside her. ‘But to enhance the beauty’, Isabella wanted some water, a river or the sea, with fauns, satyrs and more cupids, swimming, flying, riding on swans, hastening to the aid of Eros. At the water’s edge should stand Jupiter, in the form of the bull that carried off Europa, ‘as the enemy of Chastity’, with other gods. Mercury, as an eagle circling above its prey, flies around one of Pallas’s nymphs, called Galucera, who carries a casket engraved with the sacred emblems of the goddess. And there should be Polyphemus chasing Galatea, Phoebus pursuing Daphne, Pluto carrying Persephone down to his kingdom, and Neptune seizing a nymph who has been turned almost entirely into a raven. To make it still clearer what Isabella had in mind, a drawing was sent. If Perugino thought (as he might well have done) that there were too many figures for one picture, he could reduce the number, provided he kept Pallas, Diana, Venus and Eros, but nothing was to be added.49 If this was a fair sample of the kind of instructions Isabella had expected the other artists to work to, no wonder she had problems enticing the ones she wanted. She could not quite come to terms with the fact that it was a lot easier for a scholar to come up with such ‘inventions’ than for artists to execute them faithfully. ‘Who finds the slowness of painters more wearisome?’, she complained to Paride Ceresara in November, she who could not get her chamber completed, or he who had ‘to devise new schemes every day, which then, because of the bizarre ways of these painters, are neither done as soon, nor drawn in entirety, as we would have wished’.50 When she asked him to draw up an ‘invention’ to

Patron and collector 119 be sent to a painter, he could produce something to her satisfaction in a matter of days. She would really like to be so well served by painters, she wrote to him, commending his diligence, but that wish would be in vain: she had to accept from them ‘what they want or what they know’.51 Perugino certainly struggled to fulfil her wishes. He found the figures in the drawing she had sent him too small in proportion to the size of the painting she specified, and enquired how large were the figures in the other paintings that his would hang beside. To indicate the height of the largest figures in the Mantegna painting that would be next to his, Isabella sent him a piece of paper and some thread.52 Then she heard that he was deviating from the instructions for the main figures, painting Venus nude ‘and she was meant to be clothed, and doing something different’, so she asked a contact in Florence, Agostino Strozzi, to go over the instructions with him and try to prevent him deviating from them, ‘because by altering one figure he will pervert the whole sentiment of the fable’.53 The final result was a semi-clothed (or semi-nude) Venus – bare-breasted, as Diana was, with draperies around the lower half of her body, less than Diana’s, but much more than the ‘little veil’ of Ceresara’s description. Apart from whatever she thought of this apparent compromise, when the picture finally reached her, Isabella was not wholly satisfied. Perugino’s drawing and use of colour pleased her, but ‘if it had been more carefully finished, it would have been more to your honour and our satisfaction, since it is hung near those of Mantegna, which are painted with rare delicacy’.54 Indeed the painting was not one of Perugino’s best: his struggle with the composition and the size of the figures is evident. It is generally considered the least successful of the paintings for Isabella’s study. (In 1524 she considered buying a painting by Perugino of Vulcan entrapping Venus and Mars in his net, but decided against, explaining to Perugino’s widow that the buyer should see such paintings first, even if they were by excellent artists. As she was about to leave for Rome, it would be better to sell the picture, for a good price, to someone else.)55 The programme for a painting that Paride Ceresara had provided with such dispatch in November 1504 was sent to Lorenzo Costa. At that time he was settled in Bologna, and it was perhaps

120  Patron and collector at the suggestion of a member of the Bentivoglio family that dominated Bologna, Antonio Galeazzo (brother-in-law to Isabella’s half-sister Lucrezia), while he was on a visit to Mantua, that she asked Costa to undertake one of the paintings. Together with her written instructions, Isabella sent a sketch of the proposed composition with threads to indicate what the size of the painting was to be. Costa declared himself happy with the proposed subject, promising to omit nothing, but said he would improve the composition. Like Perugino, he asked about the precise dimensions of Mantegna’s figures, so that his could fit in with the others.56 Costa’s painting was delivered just after Perugino’s Battle. Its focal scene, set in a grassy arena before a stand of trees, with a river in the background, is the coronation of a woman with a laurel wreath, surrounded by musicians, with many other figures, some significant, some apparently purely decorative. Inevitably, the figure receiving the poet’s crown had sometimes been identified as Isabella. Beautiful as it is, next to the paintings by Mantegna by which it would have hung, it seems a little lifeless. But Isabella was sufficiently pleased by Costa’s fulfilment of the task to entrust him with the commission for another picture that Mantegna had been working on at his death in January 1506. Comus, the last picture in this series  – the name of Comus, the god of musical inspiration, is inscribed on a triumphal arch – is another depiction of vices being driven away, this time apparently by the power of music. The two pictures by Correggio that Isabella commissioned for her study in the Corte Vecchia two decades later are rather different in their composition, with fewer, larger figures, but they echo the themes of the earlier paintings. One is an allegory of the passions, or of vice: a naked man is bound to a tree by Vice while Pleasure plays a flute in his ear, and Conscience stings him with scorpions. The other is an allegory of philosophy, or virtue, with representations of Justice, Courage and Wisdom surrounding a young man dressed in armour. What detailed messages these paintings in her study were intended to convey and what part Isabella had in devising the iconography can never be known for sure. We know that she delegated at least the elaboration of the detail for at least some of them to the learned courtier Ceresara. When she asked him for an

Patron and collector 121 ‘invention’ to be sent to Costa in 1504, even the general subject of the painting was not specified, although Ceresara may have known already what she had in mind. If it would entice Leonardo or Giovanni Bellini to paint an allegory for her, she was prepared to leave the choice of subject to them. So the pictures, however elaborate the iconography, cannot be read as an exposition of Isabella’s personal philosophy, except in the broadest sense. The general themes of virtue driving out and defeating vice, and the celebration of the arts, are clear enough. Interpretations of the iconography become more tricky for the third general theme, that of love in its various aspects, as represented by the figure of Venus, who could personify erotic love, earthly love or spiritual love. Elaborate theories of the nature of love in all its guises underlay much of the literature and philosophy of the time, and found expression in the visual arts and music too. According to some theories, a nude Venus could represent spiritual love as well as the (to our eyes) more obvious, erotic love. Venus clothed could represent baser, earthly love, rather than chaste love – hence Isabella’s objection that if Perugino painted Venus nude rather than clothed he would alter the whole meaning of the painting. Ceresara’s programme for Perugino’s Battle leaves no doubts that Virtue as personified by Pallas was to be shown vanquishing Cupid as Eros, but the chaste Diana and Venus were to be portrayed as evenly matched. The figure of Venus in Mantegna’s painting is the most ambiguous. Can a nude Venus embracing her adulterous lover Mars, with her husband Vulcan pictured in the background, have been intended to represent heavenly love? Some modern scholars are inclined to see more erotic significance in the paintings, not just a celebration of chastity and spiritual love. It has been suggested that Mantegna’s painting of Mars and Venus was a comment on Francesco Gonzaga’s adulteries, that Vulcan is being mocked by the Cupid standing by the couple, and that two of the Muses, one with her finger projecting through a circle formed by the fingers of another, are making an obscene gesture to comment on the adulterous couple.57 Isabella’s study has been dubbed “The Cabinet of Eros”, the allegorical paintings seen as ‘reflections on the nature of Eros – and on the ambivalent values Eros represents, which is the life of the emotions’.58 More traditional interpretations, emphasizing the triumph of virtue

122  Patron and collector over vice, and the association of the arts and learning with virtue (as made explicit in Mantegna’s painting of Pallas expelling the Vices from the Garden of Virtue, with inscriptions in Greek, Latin and Hebrew calling on Pallas, goddess of Wisdom, protectress of the arts, and Daphne, personifying Chastity, to combat the vices that threaten chastity)59 do seem more likely, if less piquant. Would Isabella really have wanted to live with a painting that was designed to be a perpetual reminder of her husband’s adultery, for example? In any case, it is generally agreed that such allegorical paintings were not supposed to yield up their meanings easily. Allegorical paintings were usually intended to provide a subject for discussion, an opportunity for the display of learning and wit.60 It is very likely that Isabella’s paintings were not meant to be fully understood without her being there to explain them. Without doubt, one important function of the paintings was to represent and celebrate her own talents and virtues, but perhaps more by implication then directly. It was surely for visitors to identify Pallas expelling the vices, or the lady being crowned with laurel as Isabella, not for her to point it out to them. If they were to identify her with Venus, they would have to tread more carefully. Court poets attempting to compliment her in referring to these paintings ran into difficulties if they alluded to the conventional associations of classical mythology with erotic love. Suggestions that the Venus standing by Mars was Isabella provoked other court poets to defend her chastity.61 An important element in the overall decorative scheme for both sets of apartments were coats of arms, monograms and personal symbols, imprese. Gonzaga devices figured prominently in the first set of decorations for her study, a frieze of arms and devices, even before she used the floor tiles with Gonzaga arms and imprese that had been made for Francesco.62 The device adopted by Francesco after the battle of Fornovo, of a crucible with flames issuing from it, was the centrepiece of a ceiling in one room, with Isabella’s device of an A, standing for Amore, on the capitals of the wainscoting below.63 Both Gonzaga and Este family devices were used in her second set of apartments, but by the time she moved there, Isabella had adopted several of her own, some of which resist interpretation.

Patron and collector 123 The meaning of Y and YS monograms – for Isabella – is obvious enough. A strange stave of musical symbols is thought to represent time and silence.64 A candelabrum with seven branches but just one light was sometimes accompanied by a motto, “Unum sufficit in tenebris” (In the shadows, one light is enough). No clue was provided with her device of the Greek letters, alpha and omega, entwined with an olive branch, nor with one of bundles of strips of paper, nor with another one she used frequently, of the Roman numerals XXVII. One suggestion for the XXVII impresa is that this referred to a card representing poetry, and numbered XXVII, in a series of printed cards known as the Tarocchi del Mantegna (the Tarot cards of Mantegna). Supporting this identification is the placing of the XXVII impresa on the ceiling of the study near to Costa’s painting celebrating the art of poetry.65 Another favourite impresa was the motto “Nec spe nec metu” (Neither with hope nor with fear), which she considered was of her own invention, although it had a long history, going back to classical antiquity.66 Isabella was not a classical scholar. She never truly mastered Latin, probably not enough for her to be able comfortably to read classical literature in the original language, and she did not know Greek. Well aware of her own deficiency in this respect, she made no secret of it. When in 1505 she was sent a Life of the Mantuan holy woman Osanna Andreasi, written in Latin, she told the author, Francesco Silvestri, that she would not be able to read it ‘without a tutor’, and asked him for an Italian translation.67 For years after her marriage, Isabella made intermittent efforts to improve her Latin, but struggled to find a congenial tutor and, probably, to find the time for serious application to the finer points of Latin grammar, when so many other duties and distractions were at hand. At last she found one to suit her, Mario Equicola, who had been in the service of her friend Margherita Cantelmo, and of Ippolito d’Este. He had been angling for years to be taken on by Isabella, offering in 1503 to ‘love, serve, obey, revere and adore the most illustrious Isabella d’Este’.68 In 1508, she hired him specifically to be her tutor in Latin. In practice, however, he became her secretary, confidential agent and literary adviser. By this stage, what Isabella may have expected of a tutor was that he would read through texts with her, and help her to understand

124  Patron and collector them, rather than equip her with the skills to read Latin (still less write it) unassisted. Her apartments were not the setting for learned debates by scholars, but for cultured, witty conversation. If these conversations touched on matters of religion or philosophy or philology, it would have been at the level of a dinner party discussion rather than a university seminar. Isabella never pretended to be a scholar. Even in the field of literature, the branch of learning that interested her the most, she could be modest about her abilities. ‘By what little judgement we have’, she wrote to Tommaso Foschi, who had sent her some verses, ‘and by that of those who are professionals, which is much greater, and especially of Mario our tutor, they are most learned and elegant, and show they were created in a good workshop by the hand of a good master’.69 Naturally, this did not stop others praising her. I would err greatly if I did not send you, ‘alone among matrons for your intelligence, knowledge of letters and as a supporter of scholars’, my new edition of Catullus, proclaimed Alessandro Guarini, the son of her old tutor Battista.70 Doubtless the gift of Catullus’s poems would have been welcome and the flattering remarks pleasant to receive, but Isabella would have had long experience of such flattery and known it for the convention it was. In fact, Isabella was not a literary patron, except on a quite restricted scale. Letters of recommendation, help with the publication of a book, were about the limits of her patronage. Men of letters found a welcome at her court, but there were only one or two positions in her household such men could fill, and no prospect of a pension or lodging for those not in her employ. She lacked the funds, she said, to support men of letters as she would have wished.71 Hopeful writers who dedicated their work to her, or sent her a copy, would receive thanks and compliments – that is what her correspondence with writers largely consisted of, rather than discussions of poetics or literary style – but were unlikely to be given anything more tangible. Isabella did spend money on books throughout her life. She liked them as objects, both manuscripts and printed books. Having seen in 1501 samples of an edition of Virgil published in Venice by the celebrated printer Aldo Manuzio, attracted by their compact size and the clarity of the small typeface he used, she

Patron and collector 125 immediately wanted to have copies of Virgil, and of Petrarch’s sonnets and the poems of Ovid, in this form.72 Aesthetically, though, her idea of a book – as for many booklovers in those early years of printed books – was still based on the model of a manuscript. She wanted her Aldine editions to be printed on vellum, although she was warned of the difficulties in finding sufficient quantities of kidskin of the right quality and even thickness. In 1516 she commissioned a manuscript copy on vellum of her favourite Petrarch, to be copied from a printed edition published in Florence, giving strict instructions that the text was to be copied accurately, and sending a sample of the form of lettering to be used.73 The miniaturist from whom she commissioned this Petrarch, Cesare de la Vieze, lived in Ferrara, and had already completed, albeit rather slowly, an illuminated breviary for her. Naturally, she liked her books, manuscript or printed, to be well bound. Judging from the description of the volumes in the inventory of her library compiled after her death, stamped leather seems to have been her preferred covering.74 She sent some of her Aldine editions as far as Flanders to be bound,75 but generally she probably had her books bound closer to home. Books formed part of her scheme for the decoration of her study, where they were kept in walnut chests. ‘To ornament our study, we are collecting [tenemo cura de havere] the works of all the modern authors, Latin and vernacular’, she declared in 1501.76 If she really intended to buy the works of ‘all the modern authors’, her shelves would have been crowded with books on subjects such as theology and law, and there is no evidence she had any interest in doing that. Presumably she had in mind the modern authors of works of literature; she does seem to have tried to gather works of poetry, in particular. The best guide to Isabella’s tastes in literature is not the inventory of her books, or the letters of appreciation to writers who had sent her copies of their works, but the letters in which she ordered books or asked to borrow them, or mentioned what she was reading and enjoying at the time. Only a partial picture of her library is given by the inventory. After her death and before it was compiled, Federico took what he wanted for his own collection. Far fewer chivalric romances, which mother and son both loved, than Isabella might be expected to own were listed, and no copies of

126  Patron and collector the works of Ariosto or Boiardo. Of those books that were still on her shelves, some would have been unsolicited gifts from authors. Acknowledgements of such gifts written in her name often read as though they were composed by a secretary, with formal phrases of polite commendation. Other letters, undoubtedly written or dictated by Isabella herself, about books she wanted or was reading at the time, are far more reliable evidence. As a very young woman, when she began to build up her own collection of books (for of course she had access to the Gonzaga library as well), her primary interests were chivalric romances and poetry. Tales from the Arthurian romances, of the legendary warriors that had come to be associated with Charlemagne, picaresque adventures well-seasoned with magic and the trials and triumphs of love, were a staple form of literature read for entertainment in princely courts and noble households throughout western Europe. Often these were written in verse. Poetry and verse in this and various other guises – from sonnets written in the style of Petrarch to occasional verses written for the amusement of an hour – were the currency of sociability in courts. Isabella’s tastes in literature were typical of her society and her time. Her appetite for books was evident from the start. We want you one day to send one of your men to all the shops where books are on sale in Venice, and have a note taken of all the books there in the vernacular, in verse and in prose, which contain battles, histories and fables, by modern and by ancient writers, and especially of the paladins of France, and everything else that is to be found, and send it to us as soon as you can.77 Within a few days, her correspondent Giorgio Brognolo provided her with the list, and she sent him a note of the volumes to be bought for her, a note that shows that the interests of the seventeenyear-old Isabella were really not confined to the paladins of France.78 It included a history by Marcus Junianus Justinus, letters attributed to Phalaris, the ancient tyrant of Agrigento (a popular and much translated apocryphal collection), and a life of Julius Caesar. There was an allegory by Giovanni Boccaccio, Ameto (also known as the Comedia delle ninfe fiorentine), a mixture of

Patron and collector 127 prose and poetry written in the 1340s, in which seven nymphs representing the virtues recount how they attract their lovers, and a work she referred to as ‘Jacomo Pizenino’, probably one of the many sets of verses produced on the death of Jacomo Piccinino, the famous mercenary captain who had been done to death in the prison of Isabella’s grandfather Ferrante in 1465. The remaining books on her shopping list were romances: the prose work Merlino, Falconetto, the epic ballad Fierabraccia (based on a celebrated old French poem, Fierabras) and Dama Rovenza. A month before, she wrote to Ferrara to borrow copies of two other popular romances, the Innamoramento del re Carlo and Drusiano del Leone.79 Isabella was also on the hunt for poems in manuscript. In 1492 she was collecting ‘moral sonnets’, and the following year she was putting together an anthology of eclogues.80 This quest for new poems, both new to her and freshly written, would continue for many years. Moral poems, allegories, ballads, love poems, from epic romances running to thousands of lines to short verses that could be set as a song, she was eager to see them all. Not surprisingly, it was the poetry produced by gentlemen associated with courts that seems to have been what she appreciated the most. The Petrarchan sonnets of the Milanese nobleman Gaspare Visconti pleased her ‘more than those of any one else writing verses at present’, she enthused in 1493 – a little tactlessly, perhaps, since her comments were addressed to another gentleman-poet, Niccolò da Correggio, the dedicatee of Visconti’s poems.81 But she also liked Niccolò’s work. In 1505 she sent a courier expressly to ask for new copies of some of his sonnets that had gone astray; if he did not have any copies, she would be content with as many new ones in their stead.82 After Niccolò’s death in 1508, she dunned his son for a manuscript collection of his works that Niccolò had intended to dedicate and give to her, ‘as we are as much the true heir of that book, as you are of his other things, and his property’.83 She recalled in detail Niccolò showing her the book when she was in Ferrara, and the dedicatory letters to her which prefaced each section. Arguing that the manuscript had many passages marked by his father that he evidently intended to alter, that the manuscript was not bound as a presentation copy to such a dignitary as Isabella should be, and that if his father had

128  Patron and collector intended Isabella to have it, he would have given it to her himself in the years since he had shown it to her, Giangaleazzo held on to it.84 Although she persisted for years in trying to get possession of it, in the end Isabella may never have succeeded. Another poet whose work she prized was the Neapolitan Jacopo Sannazaro, one of the courtiers who followed Isabella’s uncle, King Federigo, into exile in France when he lost his kingdom to the French and Spanish in 1501. Both when he was in France and when he returned to his home in Naples after Federigo’s death, Isabella made repeated efforts to acquire new works by Sannazaro. Such was her respect for him that she commissioned a portrait medal of him in 1519, and Sannazaro responded by writing an elegy in her praise, which has been lost.85 The delicate allegories of a Genoese gentleman, Antonio Fregoso, who had been at the court of Ludovico Sforza, delighted Isabella. The copy of his Cerva bianca (The White Doe) that she was sent in 1510 ‘has been in our lap every day until now, except when we let some learned person see it, being pleased that the judgement of others agrees with our own’.86 Most celebrated of the gentlemen poets she knew, in their own day and ever since, were Matteo Maria Boiardo, lord of Scandiano, who was in the service of her father, and Ludovico Ariosto, who served her brothers Ippolito and Alfonso. Having read the first two books of Boiardo’s masterpiece Orlando innamorato in Ferrara in August 1491 (at the time when she was asking for the loan of other chivalric romances), Isabella asked him to send her what he had written since. Boiardo confessed that he had not made any further progress with his epic poem of the love of Charlemagne’s nephew Roland for Angelica, a Saracen princess, so she asked him to send her the first two books, so that she could read them again.87 Evidently, Isabella did not have a copy of the first edition of the two books, published in 1482–3; undoubtedly she either acquired a copy of the edition published in Venice in 1495 after Boiardo’s death, which included what he had completed of a third book, or a manuscript copy. This version as Boiardo left it, in the Italian of the Emilian region, was the one Isabella would have known best, not the version reworked by Francesco Berni in the Tuscan Italian which was increasingly considered the ‘correct’ literary form of the language,

Patron and collector 129 that replaced it for centuries after. Although Berni’s reworking was not published until 1545, after Isabella’s death, he had originally dedicated it to her, saying that might have been Boiardo’s intention (unlikely, when Boiardo’s patron Ercole d’Este was still alive). But his book was eventually seen through the press by Pietro Aretino, one leading literary figure of the time with whom Isabella was not on good terms.88 In later editions, the dedication to Isabella did appear. Surely she would have relished this association, with what had so soon been accepted as one of the finest works of Italian literature, and one that would have been so much to her taste. Ariosto’s continuation of Orlando innamorato, the Orlando furioso, recounting how Roland was driven to madness by his love for Angelica, contains explicit compliments to Isabella, among many references to the Este. On at least two occasions, she heard Ariosto read parts of his poem when it was still a work in progress. In 1507, Ippolito sent Ariosto to her after the difficult birth of Ferrante, and she found that ‘with the narration of the work he is composing, he has made me pass these two days, not only without discomfort but with the greatest pleasure’.89 When he was in Ferrara in the summer of 1512 Ariosto read some of it to her, from a manuscript he told Francesco (who had asked to see it) was too messy, too full of alterations, for anyone else to decipher.90 Complimentary copies of the first edition of 1516 were sent to both Isabella and Francesco, and of the third, extended edition of 1532 to Isabella, to Federico and to his wife Margherita. Thanking Ariosto for her copy, she told him she was promising herself ‘fresh pleasure and delight’ reading the new version.91 As well as keeping abreast of the poetry being written by her contemporaries, Isabella took an interest in Italian poetry of earlier times. In 1512 she borrowed a manuscript collection of ‘the first Italian poets’ from Isabella del Balzo (a former queen of Naples, then living in Ferrara), assuring her she would treat it with due respect and not lend it to anyone else, and returned it two months later, ‘having seen what we wanted to see’.92 Her abiding love, among the earlier poets, was for Petrarch, a passion shared by many educated Italians of her day (and later). Petrarch’s sonnets were the favourite love poems of Renaissance Italy. Isabella’s library contained several editions, in print and manuscript, including the manuscript she commissioned from Cesare da le Vieze,

130  Patron and collector and the printed edition she bought from Aldo Manuzio in 1501. She also bought Dante’s Divina Commedia from his Venetian press; and possibly her copy of Boccaccio’s prose epic, the Filocolo, about the travails of the lovers Prince Florio and Biancafiore, bought in 1508, came from him too. Most of the output of the Aldine Press was editions of Latin and Greek classics. His edition of Virgil first drew Isabella’s attention to him, and was the first one of his books that she bought. In 1505, she requested a list of all the Latin works Aldo Manuzio had in stock (except the Virgil), in the small format in which he specialized, printed on parchment. On receiving the list, she ordered them all, and asked him to produce a copy on vellum for her of anything else he printed in future ‘in this little type’.93 But when he despatched all the Latin authors he had in her preferred format – Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius and Lucan unbound, and Horace, Juvenal and Persius bound together with miniatures – she refused them, telling him he was asking for twice what they were worth.94 Her library did contain the works by Tibullus, Catullus and Propertius – the copies that appear in the inventory were in manuscript, and bound together, not printed Aldine editions  – and by Lucan and Horace in separate volumes. Several other writers of antiquity were also represented in the inventory, including Cicero, Ovid, Terence, Pliny, Plutarch, Seneca and Aristotle. Greek authors she could only read in translation, and she preferred to read Latin in translation, too. The copy of Herodotus she borrowed from Alberto d’Este in 1498 and kept for several months ‘because it is a very big book and we have not finished reading it’, was probably a translation Boiardo had done for Ercole d’Este.95 Boiardo had also translated Apuleius’s Golden Ass, which Isabella asked to be sent from Ferrara in 1512, so she could have a copy made. She collected translations of the comedies of Plautus, which became a staple of the theatrical entertainments staged by Francesco in Mantua, as well as those of the Este court in Ferrara. These were put on in verse translations, although Isabella said she preferred to read them in prose.96 After one visit to Ferrara in 1529, she brought back with her Ariosto’s translation of Plautus’s Menaechmi, sending it back to him after some weeks.97 Isabella herself solicited some translations. At least one was of an ancient work, a short treatise on painting by Philostratus,

Patron and collector 131 which she had translated by a Greek scholar living in Mantua.98 Lelio Manfredi, a scholar living in Ferrara, translated for her two Spanish romances that she had in her library and perhaps struggled to read in the original, La carcél d’amor, by Diego de San Pedro, and Tirante el blanco, by Juonot Martorell. She sent him money to help pay for the Carcere d’amore to be printed in Venice in 1514. His translation of the lengthy Tirante was not completed until 1519, when he dedicated it to Federico, not Isabella, although he did send her a copy.99 In 1512 she made efforts to find a copy of a Hebrew commentary on the meanings of the Psalms, which she wanted to have translated into Latin.100 Whether she succeeded is not known, unless this is the book that is listed as a Psalter in the inventory. Not many religious works appear there, and there is little mention of them in her correspondence. Some books she needed for her routine devotions. One of the first books she ordered was an ‘illustrated bible’; two bibles were listed in the inventory. In 1506 she spent 50 ducats (ten times more than the prices she had considered excessive for the Latin editions of the Aldine press) for ‘a little book, worked with gold and silver, in which are the seven psalms, and miniatures’,101 and later she commissioned the illuminated breviary from Cesare da le Vieze. When she had need of a breviary in 1506, she sent to Ferrara to ask if she could have one of those that had belonged to her father, who had died the year before, or her mother. On this occasion, it was the sentimental value of the volume that was uppermost in her mind: ‘even if it is not very beautiful, we do not mind, provided it is one of those they used’, although she characteristically specified ‘and in vellum’.102 Alfonso sent her a fine one, for which she was grateful, but which turned out to be not quite what she needed. The breviary given to her by Alfonso ‘could not be more beautiful or more honourable. Nevertheless, if it was a little bit bigger, and the letters more legible, it would be even more pleasing’. Her mother, she knew, had one a little bigger, which she had used towards the end of her life. If that could be found, she would be happy to exchange it for the one she had, even though that was more beautiful, because she wanted a more legible one.103 Other than such necessary books for a good Catholic princess, devotional works do not seem to have formed part of her regular

132  Patron and collector reading, and there is no indication that she was affected by the stirrings of religious reform in Italy. A few books of sermons were found on her shelves when the inventory was compiled. One of them was of the sermons of Girolamo Savonarola, the Ferrarese friar whose prophetic eloquence brought him into dangerous political prominence in Florence, leading to his execution in 1498, and she was sent a copy of the meditation on the psalm “Miserere mei Deus” that Savonarola composed in prison. The ‘prophecies of Saint Brigid’ that Isabella bought in 1527 were rather different from those of Savonarola: the writings of the mystic Saint Brigid of Sweden were popular, and susceptible to superstitious as well as pious interpretation. The Life of Saint Jerome that she had may have been a keepsake of Alda Boiardo, one of her favourite donzelle.104 She also had a couple of Lives of the Blessed Osanna, and a Life of Saint Cecilia, which was translated into Italian for her by a Mantuan Carmelite friar, Battista Spagnoli.105 Much of the writing Isabella read and enjoyed and discussed would have been ephemeral, such as occasional verses, like the sonnets she wanted Antonio Tebaldeo to write in 1494 to console a bereaved lover (whose grief Tebaldeo suspected to be feigned in order to attract the sympathy of another woman), or the verses that could be read back to front that aroused her curiosity in the same year, or mock treatises, such as the “sermons of love” written by a chancellor of the duchess of Urbino, that she obtained a copy of in 1504.106 Such were the fruits of the bantering discussions, the mock debates, the story-telling, improvised versifying and wordplay that were favourite pastimes in the courts of Renaissance Italy, and which Isabella enjoyed as much as anyone. Naturally, a lot of the occasional literature produced in Isabella’s circle or sent to entertain her could be laden with exaggerated compliments to her beauty, grace, wisdom, charm, learning and any other fine quality the author could think of. Isabella was well aware of the rules of this game but could enjoy the gallantries nevertheless. Her intelligence and wit certainly equipped her to hold her own in conversations. She left the writing to others, however, after a few youthful experiments with writing verses, including the words of a couple of songs. Songs, secular songs, were Isabella’s favourite form of music. In them, her love of poetry and her love of music came together.

Patron and collector 133 No music manuscript produced in Mantua in her day is known, but there is a finely illustrated song book, possibly written in Ferrara, which has the Este and Gonzaga arms on one page, and has plausibly been associated with Isabella, perhaps given to her during her betrothal to Francesco. Many of the poems she gathered were set to music. Sometimes it was the poet himself who asked her to have this done. Galeotto del Carretto reminded her in January  1497 of a promise she had given him to have some of his verses set by one of the best musicians who served her, Bartolomeo Tromboncino, and specified the four poems he would like Tromboncino to work on.107 Isabella has been credited with encouraging Tromboncino and another composer of repute whose service she shared with Francesco, Marchetto Cara, to set better quality texts, including Petrarch’s sonnets.108 Tromboncino was a singer as well as a composer, and Isabella had other professional singers in her household, as well as several instrumentalists. These included the lutenist Giovanni Angelo Testagrossa, who also played the viols, keyboard players, and players of the pipe and tabor, who provided music for dancing. Pipe and tabor players could be treated as inferior to the players of more sophisticated instruments, but Isabella valued their skills. Before her marriage, she wrote to Francesco about one of them, Antonio, who had left him, perhaps because he did not receive the salary he thought he deserved, as compared with Francesco’s other musicians. Given his reputation as a musician, Isabella said, she would be pleased if Antonio stayed on in Mantua, because she hoped to enjoy his playing herself some time.109 Soon after she had come to Mantua, Isabella asked her father to lend her for a few weeks the singing teacher, Johannes Martini, who had taught her in Ferrara. She had found no one in Mantua who satisfied her so well as Martini.110 She brought him back to Mantua with her after a visit to Ferrara later that year, and asked Francesco for permission to keep on a young Frenchman who came with him, so that she could continue with her singing lessons when Martini had to leave.111 Her voice was lauded as ‘pure and sweet’ by Pietro Bembo, as he recalled hearing her sing and play with a ‘graceful hand’, and sent her some of his own sonnets and songs, which he hoped she would perform.112 Isabella worked on her instrumental technique as well as her singing, taking

134  Patron and collector lessons from her lutenist Testagrossa, for example. She expanded the range of instruments she could play, although it may be wondered how long she kept practising at some of them once her initial enthusiasm had passed. Girolamo da Sestola was sent to her from Ferrara at her request in 1491, to teach her the harpsichord.113 In 1493, she learned to play the lira da braccio, an instrument like a viol, usually held on the shoulder and principally used to accompany songs, often improvisations. Six years later, she decided to learn to play the “viola”. At that time, the names of various stringed instruments were not yet fixed. “Viola” was used for any stringed instrument with a waist, from a guitar to a viola da gamba. The “viola” that Isabella referred to in 1499 was apparently a viol, an instrument that had only recently been introduced into Italy. Isabella was inspired to learn how to play it by emulation of her brother Alfonso, who was learning it himself. Only two days after taking it up, she already felt she had made enough progress to envisage herself playing with Alfonso, taking the tenor line, on her next visit to Ferrara.114 Isabella’s musicians and her own music-making were essentially domestic, for private entertainment. Generally, she did not perform before large gatherings. Occasionally, she would perform to strangers, as in Ferrara in 1502, when she was trying to outshine Lucrezia Borgia. Inviting dignitaries, including the French ambassador, to dinner, she danced before them and sang to her own accompaniment on the lute.115 As a woman, as a consort not a ruler, she had no need for the trumpeters and other wind players, still less the drummers, that a prince required to signal his presence and strike a martial tone, lending grandeur, vigour and colour to his entertainments (pipe and tabor was really all the wind and drum music she required). Loud music was not considered fitting for a woman. Nor did Isabella have a chapel choir, as princes habitually did. There was much competition and poaching of the best singers for their chapels among Italian princes; Francesco took on several of Alfonso d’Este’s singers when he was forced to dismiss them in 1510. There were probably musical instruments among the goods she brought from Ferrara as a bride – it is difficult to imagine her not bringing a favourite lute, perhaps a clavichord. Over the years, she acquired quite a number of instruments, both for her own

Patron and collector 135 use and for her musicians to play. The first keyboard instrument she ordered, in 1490, was a harpsichord which she had made in Modena of cypress wood bought for her in Venice. The first order she placed with Lorenzo da Pavia, who became her preferred instrument maker, was for the clavichord she wanted after seeing the one he had made for her sister Beatrice. Leaving the design to him, Isabella’s only particular specification was that it should be easy to play, because ‘we have such a light hand that we cannot play well’, if the keys were stiff.116 Lorenzo assured her that the keyboard would have a very light touch, with narrower keys than usual, to suit her delicate hands.117 A decade later he made ‘a large harpsichord with two stops’ for her (perhaps primarily for her musicians to play).118 It is possible that she also bought a positive organ he had made, in the sale of the belongings of Michele Vianello from which she acquired the painting by Jan van Eyck and an agate vase. Originally, the price asked had been well beyond her budget, but it came down after other buyers rejected the organ, thinking it was broken. Lorenzo promised Isabella that he could repair it for her.119 He also made several lutes for her over the years, the first in 1497. One that he sent her was ‘so perfect’ that she had given it to Francesco, because he liked it so much, and Isabella asked Lorenzo to make another one for her that would be just as good.120 In 1506, she asked him to find, rather than make, two small and inexpensive lutes, one for Eleonora, and one for Federico. (She must have baulked at the expense of a lute crafted by Lorenzo for her young daughter, let alone a six-year-old boy, even if it was her adored Federico.) Having been searching for a ‘Spanish lute’, probably a vihuela da mano, she insisted that he should make one, giving strict instructions that it should be entirely in the Spanish style. Lorenzo produced two for her in 1500, assuring her that their tone as well as their form was truly Spanish.121 When Isabella wanted to learn to play the lira da braccio, rather than commission one, she asked a well-known player, the Florentine Atalante Migliorotti, to find her a small one, with as many strings as he thought suitable. Meanwhile, she borrowed one from Niccolò da Correggio. For her viols, she turned to an instrument maker in Brescia. The ones she received from him in 1495 were the earliest known viols of Italian make; the instruments had

136  Patron and collector only appeared in northern Italy a couple of years before. Isabella ordered three viols of different sizes. The maker wanted 25 ducats; Isabella was willing to pay eighteen. On the suggestion of the agent acting for her, she sent a note saying she would not go above fifteen ducats, but sent eighteen by the courier sent to fetch them, who had strict instructions not to return without them.122 Evidently, she was satisfied by the instruments, because in 1499 she went back to the same craftsman in Brescia for another viol of the larger size. This followed news that Alfonso had ordered a consort of five viols from Lorenzo da Pavia. In the same month as she placed her order for the new viol, she borrowed some from Alfonso and sent to ask for the loan, or gift, of three ‘most perfect’ instruments that Tromboncino had seen in Casale, apparently unused by their owner, Costantino Paleologo.123 It sounds as though Isabella was trying to assemble a consort of instruments, perhaps so that she could play with others as she learned herself. Apparently, the instruments she owned could come in for some degree of mistreatment, as her favourite instrument-maker, Lorenzo da Pavia, had cause to complain. Returning to her a clavichord he had just restored for her, he told her bluntly that ‘it seems to have been handled by dogs’, was in very poor condition, and badly affected by damp. Your Ladyship knows that an old thing cannot be made young again, but brought into good order to be played, which is all that matters. At one time, the instrument had an excellent voice, but I am very concerned that, when it is in Mantua, it will become discordant and in bad order, either because of the heat, or because of mistreatment.124 His instruments were loved by Isabella because they were beautiful objects in themselves as well as sounding well. Occasionally, she could put the appearance of an instrument before its sound. For years, she hankered after having a viola made from ebony or sandalwood, though Lorenzo repeatedly warned her it would be very difficult to find a large enough block of these woods of the right quality, and that sandalwood would soon lose its colour. She asked for the first lute he made for her to be entirely of ebony, but he told her bluntly this was not possible. Not only would it look

Patron and collector 137 bad, worse, it ‘would have no voice’, as though it were made of marble. He used cypress wood for the bowl of the lute instead, promising Isabella to add some ebony inlays to it.125 She did not take his word for it. Somebody had told her of a lute made of ebony that he had seen in Venice, she wrote; if Lorenzo would not make one, could he please get someone else to do it. In the end, she may have got her way, with a lute made at least in part of ebony.126 In June 1508, he was able to send her a completed viola of sandalwood that both he and Isabella were pleased with.127 How important music was to Isabella was evident not only from the instruments she acquired, and the many references to her singing and playing, but also from the images of music-making and of musical instruments in the decoration of her apartments, not least in her study and grotto. There were depictions of instruments in the marquetry panels that lined the walls of the grotto, musicians in the picture of the Coronation, Apollo accompanying the muses on his lyre as they sing and dance below Venus and Mars, and the power of music was a main theme of the Comus. Her musical impresa was one of the most striking and elaborate of her devices. Overall, the musical imagery of Isabella’s study ‘functions as one of the main vehicles for conveying the ideas of harmony and balance’.128 Outside her apartments in the palace in Mantua, Isabella’s artistic patronage was very limited. The villas where she passed most of her time in the summer months have all disappeared, so whatever alterations or improvements Isabella had done there have been destroyed. In her correspondence, there is nothing to indicate she planned or commissioned anything to match the major building and frescoes that Francesco had done in the villas he used. Isabella had some works done in her principal summer residence, the Villa di Porto, but that was a comparatively modest place, whose chief attraction for her was its extensive garden (where she planted the poplar grove in memory of her father). It also had the advantage of being near the city, so that visitors could easily go there for the day. Near there, Francesco gave her a piece of land called the “prato d’Ongaria”, the “Hungarian meadow”, where, according to a local tradition, a Hungarian army laying siege to Mantua had encamped. This was to be the site for Isabella’s most ambitious building

138  Patron and collector project, what she called a ‘casino bizarro’, a ‘fantastical pleasurehouse’, presumably a kind of architectural folly. Initially, she planned to divert a water course to it, but Francesco objected this would weaken the defences of the Mantuan suburb, so she decided to scale back her plans. Having already asked Alfonso to send her an architect, she then decided to design it herself, and told him she now needed only a master builder. Sceptical of his sister’s architectural abilities, Alfonso sent her both a builder and the architect Biagio Rossetti, ‘because he wants you to make something intelligent’.129 Thanking Alfonso, Isabella had the grace to acknowledge that, pleased as she had been by her own design, Rossetti’s were much more satisfactory.130 Soon, however, Isabella found it difficult to pay for the building, and the project ran out of steam by mid1512. It may not have been very advanced by the time it was abandoned; there is no mention of Isabella ever spending time there.131 Her only artistic commission for anything not connected with her own residences or for her personal use  – other than minor items such as the votive silver effigy she had made of the infant Federico – was the tomb of Osanna Andreasi.132 Osanna’s funerary chapel in San Domenico was about the only project in which Isabella and Francesco both had a hand. She paid for the tomb; he paid for the alterations to the chapel. She turned to Gian Cristoforo Romano, who had worked on her apartments, and knew her requirements well. Even before he knew what the proposed budget would be, he told her he was bearing two considerations in mind: that the tomb should do honour to Isabella, and that it should cost as little as possible.133 The basic design was for a stone sarcophagus of coloured marble, supported on four columns, with room for two epigraphs, one for Osanna, the other for Isabella. His aim, he assured her, was that it should be sumptuous, modest and as inexpensive as possible, while appearing costly. It would look as though it cost twice as much as it actually did.134 Apart from this, there were no other public commissions which she is known to have even contemplated  – except for a vague scheme in 1499 to erect a statue to Virgil (who was believed to be a native of Mantua), which earned her the praise of humanist scholars in Naples, but never got anywhere.135 In the last years of her life she oversaw the fulfilment of the provisions of the will of her friend Margherita Cantelmo, who had made Isabella her

Patron and collector 139 heir, for the building of a convent for Lateran canonesses where Margherita wished her own tomb to be placed. Nothing remains of the building. Although Isabella conscientiously ensured that the wishes of her friend were carried out, she does not seem to have seen it as a significant architectural project, and it was Margherita’s money that paid for it.136 Being identified above all with her own apartments, that their magnificence, charm and beauty should be her chief claim to fame, would probably not have troubled Isabella in the least. If she is to be regarded as an enlightened, discriminating patron of the arts, it is hard to square our ideas of such a patron with her sometimes capricious and obtuse attitude, not least in her most famous commissions, the allegorical paintings for her study. She wanted to have the best, but she was often reliant on the advice of others to identify it for her. For literature, music and painting, her highest term of praise, other than “beautiful”, was “sweet” (dolce) – which was, admittedly, a term frequently used in contemporary criticism – showing no great insight into the particular characteristics of individual artists and writers. If, however, she is regarded as an educated, cultured woman, with an eye for the beautiful and an interest in contemporary design and fashion in the arts, who aimed to create surroundings for herself in which it would be a pleasure to live, and that would win the admiration of her guests, this all fits her behaviour much better. The modern equivalent of Isabella is not so much the serious, expert collector and influential patron of the arts, as a highly gifted interior decorator, the sort of person whose talents and energies go into the creation of domestic settings which in their own way can amount to a work of art.

Notes 1 Much information about the contents of Isabella’s collections and some indication of how they were arranged can be found in an inventory compiled three years after her death in 1542: Roberta Iotti and others, Commentario al codice Stivini: inventario della collezione di Isabella d’Este nello Studiolo e nella Grotta di Corte Vecchia in Palazzo Ducale a Mantova, 2 vols (Modena: il Bulino, 1995). 2 Clifford M. Brown, Isabella d’Este in the Ducal Palace in Mantua: An Overview of Her Rooms in the Castello di San Giorgio and the Corte

140  Patron and collector Vecchia (Rome: Bulzoni, 2005), p. 39. Brown’s meticulous examinations of the surviving evidence for the layout, decoration and furnishings of Isabella’s apartments, in this and several other books and articles, provide the basis of my account. 3 Clifford M. Brown, ‘A Ferrarese lady and a Mantuan Marchesa. The art and antiquities collections of Isabella d’Este Gonzaga (1474– 1539)’, in Cynthia Lawrence (ed.), Women and Art in Early Modern Europe: Patrons, Collectors and Connoisseurs (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997), p. 64. 4 Leandro Ventura, ‘Isabella d’Este, committenza e collezionismo’, in Daniele Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este. La prima donna del Rinascimento (Modena: il Bulino, 2001), p. 86. 5 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 445: Isabella to Francesco, 5 October 1506, Mantua. 6 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 143: Isabella to Francesco, 13 September 1491, Palazzo di Porto. 7 J.V.G. Mallet, ‘Tiled floors and court designers in Mantua and northern Italy’, in Cesare Mozzarelli, Robert Oresko and LeandroVentura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga in the Age of Mantegna, 1450–1550 (Rome: Bulzoni, 1997), p. 261. 8 Stefano Davari, ‘La palazzina annessa ad castello di Mantova e i supposti dipinti del Correggio’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 3, 3 (1895), p. 436: Ippolito Calandra to Federico, 7 October 1531, Mantua. 9 Leandro Ventura, ‘Gli appartamenti isabelliani in palazzo ducale’, in Daniele Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este: La prima donna del Rinascimento (Modena: il Bulino, 2001), pp. 68–9. 10 Clifford M. Brown, ‘ “Fruste et strache nel fabricare”. Isabella d’Este’s apartments in the Corte Vecchia of the ducal palace in Mantua’, in Cesare Mozzarelli, Robert Oresko and Leandro Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga in the Age of Mantegna, 1450–1550 (Rome: Bulzoni, 1997), p.  296: Isabella to Fra Giovanni da Casale, 28 July 1524. 11 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, pp. 251–2. 12 Clifford M. Brown and Anna Maria Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia: Documents for the History of Art and Culture in Renaissance Mantua (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1982), p. 39: Isabella to Lorenzo, 12 March 1496. 13 Brown, ‘A Ferrarese lady’, pp. 66–7. 14 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, pp. 162– 3: Isabella to Giovanni Gonzaga, 31 March 1515. 15 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, p. 532.

Patron and collector 141 16 Ibid., p. 514. 17 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’, p. 122. 18 Clifford M. Brown, “Per dare qualche splendore a la gloriosa cità di Mantua”. Documents for the Antiquarian Collection of Isabella d’Este (Rome: Bulzoni, 2002), pp. 118–19. 19 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 242–3: Isabella to Gian Lucido Cattaneo, 29 December 1503. 20 Brown, “Per dare qualche splendore a la gloriosa cità di Mantua”, p. 120. 21 Ibid., p. 121. 22 Ann Hersey Allison, ‘Antico e Isabella d’Este’, in Daniele Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este. La prima donna del Rinascimento (Modena: il Bulino, 2001), pp. 128–53. 23 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 245; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 313: Isabella to Jacopo d’Atri, 13 January 1510. 24 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 235. 25 Ibid., p. 73. 26 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, pp. 85, 162–5; David S. Chambers, Patrons and Artists in the Italian Renaissance (London: Macmillan, 1970), pp. 125–30. 27 Chambers, Patrons and Artists, p.  147: Isabella to Leonardo, 14 May 1504. 28 Ibid., pp. 144–5: Isabella to Fra Pietro da Novellara, 27 March 1501. 29 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 554–5: Isabella to Girolamo da Sestola, 31 January 1532. 30 Ibid., p. 43: Isabella to Giorgio Brognolo, 11 July 1491. 31 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, p. 565: Isabella to Lucrezia Bentivoglio, 11 September 1511. 32 Peter Humfrey, Titian: The Complete Paintings (Ghent: Ludion, 2007), pp. 120, 125. 33 Alessandro Luzio, ‘I ritratti di Isabella d’Este. Arte retrospettiva’, Emporium, 11 (1900), p. 432. 34 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 161: Isabella to Alessandro Feruffino (not ‘de Ruffino’, as transcribed by Shemek), 29 May 1505. 35 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, pp. 513, 563–4. 36 Ibid., p. 548. 37 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 43. 38 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, pp. 91–6, 169–82. 39 Guido Rebecchini, ‘Exchanges of works of art at the court of Federico II Gonzaga with an appendix on Flemish art’, Renaissance Studies, 16/3 (2002), p. 388.

142  Patron and collector 40 Clifford M. Brown, ‘Digest of the correspondence concerning the paintings commissioned for the Studiolo in the Castello (1496–1515)’, Appendix II of Stephen Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros: Renaissance Mythological Painting and the Studiolo of Isabella d’Este (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2004), p. 290: Isabella to Francesco Malatesta, 15 September 1502. 41 Chambers, Patrons and Artists, p. 134. 42 Ibid., pp. 134–5. 43 Ibid., p. 144: Isabella to Fra Pietro da Novellara, 27 March 1501. 44 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, p. 160: Isabella to Michele Vianello, 28 June 1501; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 164–5. 45 Chambers, Patrons and Artists, p. 130: Isabella to Giovanni Bellini, 19 October 1505. 46 Ibid., p. 131: Pietro Bembo to Isabella, 1 January 1506. 47 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, pp. 42–3. 48 Ibid., p. 69: Lorenzo to Isabella, 31 August 1502. 49 Chambers, Patrons and Artists, pp. 136–8. 50 Ibid., p. 140: Isabella to Paride Ceresara, 10 November 1504. 51 Luzio and Renier, La coltura, p. 98: Isabella to Paride Ceresara, 15 November 1504. 52 Chambers, Patrons and Artists, pp. 138–9. 53 Ibid., p. 140: Isabella to Agostino Strozzi, 19 February 1505. 54 Ibid., p. 143: Isabella to Perugino, 30 June 1505. 55 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il Sacco di Roma’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 4, 10 (1908), p.  11: Isabella to Chiara Perugina, 20 October 1524; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 493. 56 Brown, ‘Digest of the correspondence concerning the paintings commissioned for the Studiolo’, pp. 294–5. 57 Jaynie Anderson, ‘What was Ferrarese about Isabella d’Este’s camerino?’ in Cesare Mozzarelli, Robert Oresko and Leandro Ventura (eds), The Court of the Gonzaga in the Age of Mantegna, 1450–1550 (Rome: Bulzoni, 1997), pp. 349, 351. 58 Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros, p. 23. 59 Ronald Lightbown, Mantegna (Oxford: Phaidon Christie’s, 1984), p. 202. 60 Rose Marie San Juan, ‘The court lady’s dilemma: Isabella d’Este and art collecting in the Renaissance’, Oxford Art Journal, 14 (1991), pp. 72–3. 61 Ibid., p. 73. 62 Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 275. 63 Brown, Isabella d’Este in the Ducal Palace, p. 38.

Patron and collector 143 64 Iain Fenlon, ‘Music and learning in Isabella d’Este’s Studioli’, in Cesare Mozzarelli, Roberto Oresko and Leandro Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga in the Age of Mantegna, 1450–1550 (Rome: Bulzoni, 1997), p. 362. 65 Mauda Bregoli-Russo, L’impresa come ritratto del Rinascimento (Naples: Loffredo, 1990), pp. 180–1. 66 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, pp. 93–4. 67 Ibid., p. 103. 68 Ibid., pp. 82–3. 69 Ibid., p. 141: Isabella to Tommaso Foschi, Bishop of Comacchio, 3 January 1513. 70 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 120: Alessandro Guarino to Isabella, 1 July 1521. 71 Ibid., p. 262: Isabella to Giano Parrasio, 23 August 1517. 72 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, pp. 55–6: Isabella to Lorenzo, 8 July 1501, Mantua. 73 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 20–1: Isabella to Alfonso Trotti, 8 January 1516; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 404–5. 74 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 273–7. 75 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, p. 74: Lorenzo to Isabella, 17 June 1503. 76 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 122: Isabella to Alfonso Trotti, 10 July 1501. 77 Ibid., p. 7: Isabella to Giorgio Brognolo, 17 September 1491. 78 Ibid., pp. 7–8. 79 Ibid., pp. 8–9. 80 Ibid., pp. 186, 204. 81 Ibid., p. 145. 82 Luzio and Renier, ‘Niccolò da Correggio’, 21 (1893), p. 259: Isabella to Niccolò da Correggio, 29 June 1505, Mantua. 83 Ibid., 22 (1893), p.  76: Isabella to Giangaleazzo da Correggio, 20 February 1508; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 287–8; ibid., pp. 289–90: Isabella to Giangaleazzo da Correggio, 25 February 1508. 84 Luzio and Renier, ‘Niccolò da Correggio’, 22 (1893), pp.  78–9: Giangaleazzo da Correggio, 20 February 1508, Correggio. 85 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 251–9. 86 Ibid., p. 145: Isabella to Gianfrancesco Suardo, 19 September 1510, Mantua. 87 Alessandro Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e l’“Orlando innamorato” ’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 2 (1883), pp. 163–4: Isabella to Matteo Boiardo, 9 August 1491. 88 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 211–12.

144  Patron and collector 89 Ibid., p. 125: Isabella to Ippolito, 3 February 1507. 90 Michele Catalano, Vita di Ludovico Ariosto, ricostruita su nuovi documenti, 2 vols (Geneva: Leo S. Olschki, 1930), I, pp. 296–7. 91 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 126: Isabella to Ludovico Ariosto, 15 October 1532. 92 Ibid., p. 10: Isabella to Queen Isabella, 3 January, 7 March 1512; see d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 354, letter of 3 January, for the identification of Queen Isabella as Isabella del Balzo, not Isabella d’Aragona, as in Luzio and Renier. 93 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 14: Isabella to Aldo Manuzio, 27 May 1505. 94 Ibid., pp. 12–15. 95 Ibid., p. 15. 96 Ibid., pp. 35, 204. 97 Catalano, Vita di Ludovico Ariosto, I, p. 583. 98 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 15–16. 99 Ibid., p. 135; Luzio and Renier, ‘Niccolò da Correggio’, 22 (1893), pp. 72–3. 100 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 18–19. 101 Ibid., p. 19. 102 Ibid., p. 21: Isabella to Gerolamo Ziliolo, 19 October 1506. 103 Ibid., pp. 21–2: Isabella to Gerolamo Ziliolo, 15 December 1507. 104 Ibid., p. 128. 105 Ibid., p. 84. 106 Ibid., pp. 27, 106–7, 241. 107 Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia’, p. 33: Galeotto del Carretto to Isabella, 14 January  1497. In 1499, Isabella intervened in favour of Tromboncino after he had killed his wife, having found her with another man: d’Este, Selected Letters, p.  132: Isabella to Francesco, 21 July 1499. 108 Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia’, p. 17. 109 William F. Prizer, Courtly Pastimes: The Frottole of Marchetto Cara (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1980), p. 169: Isabella to Francesco, 15 October 1489. 110 Ibid., pp. 169–70: Isabella to Ercole d’Este, 30 August 1490. 111 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 37–8: Isabella to Francesco, 10 December 1490, Sermide. 112 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p.  16: Pietro Bembo to Isabella, 1 July 1505, Venice. 113 Lockwood, Music in Renaissance Ferrara, p. 145. 114 William F. Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, master instrument-maker’, Early Music History, 2 (1982), pp. 104–5: Isabella to Giulio d’Este, 14 May  1499. In d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 130, Shemek translates ‘far tenore’ as ‘play accompanist’. 115 Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia’, p. 5. 116 Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia’, pp. 92, 122: Isabella to Lorenzo da Pavia, 12 March 1496.

Patron and collector 145 117 Ibid., p. 93: Lorenzo to Isabella, 29 August 1496. 118 Ibid., pp. 94–5. 119 Ibid., pp. 96–100. 120 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 147: Isabella to Lorenzo, 7 April 1500. 121 Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia’, pp.  111–12, 121: Isabella to Lorenzo, 16 December  1499; Lorenzo to Isabella, 13 March 1500. 122 Ibid., pp. 102–4, 125. 123 Ibid., p. 105: Isabella to Galeotto del Carretto, 23 August 1499. 124 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, p. 133: Lorenzo to Isabella, June 1514, Venice. 125 Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia’, p.  109: Lorenzo da Pavia to Isabella, 3 February 1497. 126 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, pp. 44–5, 46: Isabella to Lorenzo da Pavia, 4 July, 11 August 1497; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 112–13. 127 Prizer, ‘Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia’, pp. 112–13, 200. 128 Fenlon, ‘Music and learning’, p. 304. 129 ‘Che havesse intellecto’: Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, p. 97: Bernardo Capilupi to Isabella, 3 August 1511, Mantua. 130 Amedeo Belluzzi, ‘Le residenze di campagna di Isabella d’Este’, in Monique Chatenet (ed.), Maisons des Champs dans l’Europe de la Renaissance (Paris: Picard, 2006), pp. 111–12. 131 Ibid., p. 113. 132 A painting of the Veneration of Osanna by Francesco Bonsignori, which was an altarpiece in the convent of San Vincenzo where Isabella’s daughter Ippolita was a nun, has been described as a commission by Isabella, and one of the figures wearing widow’s weeds in the painting as a portrait of Isabella (Sally Anne Hickson, Women, Art and Architectural Patronage in Renaissance Mantua: Matrons, Mystics and Monasteries (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012), pp.  1–6, 20). There are, however, strong reasons to doubt this – not least the fact that Bonsignori died on 12 July 1519, just over three months after Isabella was widowed. There is no documentary evidence of Isabella commissioning such a painting (Bourne, Francesco II Gonzaga, p. 259). 133 Bourne, Francesco II Gongaga, p. 424: Gian Cristoforo Romano to Isabella, 30 July 1505, Milan. 134 Ibid., p.  431: Gian Cristoforo Romano to Isabella, 17 September 1507. 135 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp.  248–9; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 131: Isabella to Jacopo d’Atri, conte di Pianella, 14 May 1499. 136 Hickson, Women, Art and Architectural Patronage, pp. 69–75.

5 The first lady

An observer with an interest in the foibles and failings of women at the top of their society could have found much to relish at the celebrations for the marriage of Alfonso d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia – not least in the bearing and behaviour of Isabella. She was determined not to be cast into the shade by the bride, who was replacing her as the first lady of the Ferrarese court and in time would take her mother’s place as duchess of Ferrara. Apart from a reputation, to a considerable degree undeserved, for scandalous behaviour, Lucrezia was known for her seductive allure. Attractive rather than classically beautiful, she drew men’s attention by her vivacity and charm as much as by her physical attributes such as her abundant blonde hair. She was keen to make a good impression on her new family, quite apart from the impression produced by the opulent dowry provided for her from the papal coffers. Staggering reports of the trousseau Alexander was giving his beloved daughter reached Isabella before Lucrezia left Rome. Tapestries, jewels, bed furnishings, trappings for her horses, were said to be worth in all 160,000 ducats. Her fabulous wardrobe included 200 chemises alone, some costing 100 ducats each; a single dress cost 20,000 ducats, a hat 10,000 ducats.1 Eager to know more, Isabella wanted details of what Lucrezia was wearing in Rome, while Lucrezia was making her own enquiries about Isabella’s clothes.2 Isabella knew that she would have to make a real effort if she was to hold her own against such competition. As the first lady of the court, she had a formal role to play in the ceremonies to welcome her brother’s bride to Ferrara. Her first duty was to travel on a luxurious state barge to meet Lucrezia

The first lady 147 and accompany her on the final stage of her journey along the Po. She did not ride into the city with the procession as Lucrezia made her formal entry into Ferrara the next day. Having watched the superb cavalcade from the windows of the palace, Isabella’s task was to welcome her at the grand stairway leading to the state apartments. Whose idea was it to assemble a bevy of illegitimate Este ladies  – Isabella’s half-sister Lucrezia, and three daughters of Sigismondo d’Este  – to receive the pope’s daughter?3 Or was their Este parentage, not their illegitimacy, their salient quality? And why did Isabella choose to wear a mantle decorated with her personal device of the musical pause? If it did signify silence, did she mean to signal that she was keeping her real opinion of the match to herself? Except that she was not doing that, for she was venting her disapproval of the bride in frequent letters to Francesco. She gave detailed descriptions of Lucrezia’s clothes, but said nothing of her looks, because, she said, Francesco had seen her himself.4 In any case, she was always dressed before Lucrezia was, Isabella boasted, and she was confident she was holding her own.5 She was still playing the hostess, accompanying the bride at the entertainments, having the dubious pleasure of watching Lucrezia – who prided herself on her dancing as Isabella did – dance alone, to great applause. On a day when no ball or play was planned, and Lucrezia stayed out of sight, washing her hair, and writing (presumably letters), Isabella seized the opportunity to upstage her. Giving a dinner for the French ambassador, who was a guest of honour at the wedding, she went all out to beguile. She displayed her skill in the arts of gallant and witty conversation, then sang, accompanying herself on the lute. As a parting gift, she gave him her scented gloves. When Venetian ambassadors came to take leave of Lucrezia in her chamber, Isabella was with her, and they addressed formal compliments to her as representing Francesco. Replying first, she put on a display of eloquence, responding elegantly to their speech point by point, in the manner of a diplomat. After Elisabetta Gonzaga, who was also present, had received and returned her share of compliments, Lucrezia finally made her reply. She may have known more men than your wife or your sister, Isabella’s secretary wrote maliciously to Francesco, but she did not have much to add to their responses.6

148  The first lady Others also awarded the palm to Isabella. The marchesa di Cotrone (wife of an exiled Neapolitan baron who ended his days as a slave in Constantinople), one of the ladies who welcomed Lucrezia to Ferrara, wrote to Francesco that Isabella was like a sun obscuring the light of all the stars. She also told him how Isabella kept sighing, ‘Oh God, I  wish I  was at Mantua’. Love for Francesco prompted this wish, according to the marchesa di Cotrone.7 Dislike of Lucrezia was another, more likely motive. Isabella also took the precaution of giving rich clothes to two jesters at the court, who repaid her by singing her praises, as a counterpoint to the extravagant vocal admiration bestowed on Lucrezia by members of her entourage. Anxious to please as she was, Lucrezia was aware of Isabella’s hostility, and her attitude to Isabella became colder. According to one of Isabella’s Ferrarese correspondents, Girolamo da Sestola, there had been an argument among some Spaniards (probably some of the many who had accompanied Lucrezia to Ferrara). One gentleman had said Lucrezia had been imprudent in not showing more affection towards Isabella, who was held in such high esteem by Alfonso and in Ferrara generally. He told them that we regard you as a goddess, Girolamo assured Isabella, and that you are ‘the first lady of the world’, replete with every virtue and courtesy.8 By no means all of Lucrezia’s entourage saw Isabella in so celestial a light. Reports were sent from Rome to Mantua and Urbino of criticisms of the behaviour of both Isabella and Elisabetta by gentlemen who had returned from Ferrara after the festivities. Unfortunately, these are known only through a long, rather cryptic response from Elisabetta (probably written with the assistance of the famously witty Emilia Pia), commenting on both the criticisms and the encomia offered by those who had taken up their defence. From this, it appears that there had been unfavourable comments on Isabella’s behaviour during a play, that she had been accused of displaying ‘arrogant licence’. Isabella had just adapted herself to the ways of the person she was with, Elisabetta explained. Ladies of their rank could and should use the freedom they had, without being accused of flattery, as an inferior might be. (And anyway, Isabella had not thought that the Roman gentlemen were watching her.) Almost certainly, Isabella was included in those described

The first lady 149 as ‘schoolmistresses’. Why should we not be allowed to make witty remarks, and give as good as we get? Elisabetta asked. Comments on elaborate hairstyles and headdresses were definitely aimed at Isabella. They were not protection against sun and rain, but were useful in covering their backs against attacks from behind, was the caustic response.9 An infuriated Isabella did not deign to make a personal response to the comments. She assigned the task to a Mantuan gentleman, Jacopo d’Atri. Such criticisms of her behaviour, her conversation and her clothes were not what she was used to hearing. While the fame of Isabella’s apartments was only starting to spread, her reputation for distinguished personal style, as a leader of fashion, was already established. She set as much store by admiration for her headdresses and her gowns as for her intelligence, her conversation and her musicianship. She would not have been considered vain or frivolous for devoting so much care to her wardrobe and appearance. Nor should it be considered incompatible with her aspiration for a reputation for taste in the arts or as a collector of antiquities. For the men as well as the women of court society, clothes were a serious matter. Both sexes paid careful attention to what they wore, and to what others were wearing. The sombre Spanish fashion of habitually dressing in black had not yet been adopted in the Italian princely courts. Highly skilled weavers and dyers producing the luxury cloth for which Italy was renowned supplied an extraordinary variety of fine fabrics, mostly made of silk – brocades, damasks, tabbys, velvets, satins and taffetas. Descriptions of clothes were usually focused on the fabrics and the colours. Much less attention was paid to their style, or their cut, unless it was really unusual. No account of court ceremonies or entertainments was complete without a recital of what the leading participants or spectators were wearing. The fabric of choice on such occasions was often brocade, especially in the form of silken cloth of gold or silver (especially gold, for there was no problem of tarnish dimming its lustre). As well as elaborate woven patterns, embroidery was frequently used for additional embellishment, particularly on sleeves, again often incorporating gold thread, and sometimes jewels. Personal devices and mottoes would be worked into the decorative schemes, like the musical pauses on the mantle Isabella wore to receive Lucrezia on the

150  The first lady palace staircase, or the little golden candelabra cut from her gown at an entertainment during the diplomatic congress held in Mantua in 1512. From early childhood, Isabella had been accustomed to wearing costly brocades and velvets, like the crimson cloth of gold brocade from a garment of Duke Borso d’Este given by Ercole to Eleonora to have clothes made for their daughters, and the dark crimson velvet gown with a train prepared for her when she went on a visit to Mantua at the age of seven.10 Of course, even a little princess did not wear such clothes every day. Much of the time she was dressed in cotton and woollen fabrics. As an adult, she would generally be dressed in silk, satins and taffetas for summer, sometimes mixtures of silk and wool and fur-lined mantles to keep her warm in winter. Silk would be used for outer garments; shirts, for both men and women, and underclothing were usually of fine linen. The best linen came from outside Italy, like the cloth from Rheims that Isabella was seeking in 1492 for shirts for Francesco.11 Worn over a fine undershirt, women’s dresses had close fitting bodices and full skirts, with separate sleeves attached to the bodice by laces or toggles. As they were separate, sleeves could be worn with different bodices and were often of a different colour from the rest of the dress. Capes of varying length provided extra warmth, unless the weather or the occasion warranted a fulllength mantle. There were regional variations in details such as the neckline or the design of the sleeves. Women displayed their distinctive styles and creativity in their dress by their choice of fabrics and colours, combination of colours, and in the borders and flounces and fringes they added. Sleeves, sometimes a single sleeve, could be the most highly decorated element of their dress. Isabella’s personal preference was often for darker colours, such as morello, a subtle brown tending to violet, purple or black, much favoured by men as well as women. Generally, she bought fabrics, not finished garments. As soon as she was able to choose her own clothes, she had clear ideas of what she wanted. Take from the wardrobe the berettino (dove-grey or ash-grey, another of her favourite colours) and morello satin with broad stripes that I had made in Venice, and cut from it a dress with bands on the bodice in the French style, lined with black velvet, on the sleeves as well, she ordered her tailor, Alberto da Bologna, in 1492. Trim

The first lady 151 it with black velvet, and with black ribbons as long as those I used to trim the black velvet dress.12 I want six or eight ells of Rheims linen, she instructed her agent in Venice, Giorgio Brognolo in August 1496, which should be so fine and beautiful that it is beyond compare, because I  have plenty of the ordinary stuff. Search all the warehouses in Venice to find the most beautiful, and show it to your wife, who will understand it better than you do.13 A few months earlier Brognolo had been told to have made for her nine ells of morello satin, and nine of berettino, ‘not too dark or too light’, but of excellent quality, and, she added characteristically, the quicker the better.14 As autumn approached, her mind turned to heavier fabrics, and she ordered Brognolo to find eleven ells of dark morello velvet, perfect in colour and quality, but we would like a low pile in the Genoese style, quite dense. We are sending you a sample of berettino velvet, which is Genoese, so you can show the master the shortness of the pile, but instructing him to make our morello with a denser pile than this, because the denser it is, the more beautiful it is.15 In later years, her specifications tended to become less detailed, but the guiding principles behind her purchases were unchanged. As she expressed it in a letter in 1507, ‘we want the things for our person to be excellent and suited to us’ – unlike the velvet that had been sent to her from Florence. She rebuked her agent there for paying too much. In future, she warned him, if you are acquiring something for us, do not pay for it before we have seen and approved it.16 That the marchioness became renowned for her style did not mean the women of Mantua studied her clothes and tried to copy them. As in most societies before the later twentieth century, what people wore was supposed to befit their rank and their role in society. Sumptuary laws, defining who could wear what, were intended as moral measures as much as curbs on extravagance. It would not have pleased Isabella to see the streets of Mantua filled with women wearing cheap copies of her clothes; she would not have seen it as a compliment. Even Gonzaga ladies might be wary of offending her by emulating her style. Having admired

152  The first lady something that she had seen Isabella wearing, and being concerned that if she wore the same it might displease her, Susanna Gonzaga first enquired whether ‘as it is your invention, you would mind if I wore it’.17 Granting such permission was to confer a favour, which Isabella could be happy to do to the right person. A request from the marchesa di Cotrone for one of Isabella’s dresses, to show as a pattern to her daughter who was accompanying the new queen of Aragon to Italy in 1506, brought a gift of one in tawny (leonato) velvet, trimmed with cloth of silver and lined with blue sendal.18 Isabella’s fame spread to Spain itself. A gift of a dress to one of the ladies of the Borja family (from which the Italianized Borgia sprang), prompted the grateful assurance that ‘all the ladies here will have to dress to look like’ Isabella; Elionora de Cabanyllas de Borja ‘gloried’ in being the first to bring the style there.19 Still more flattering was the request from Francis I  when he was in Milan in 1515 for her to send a doll to him, with a complete outfit such as she wore, the head dressed as she did hers, because he intended to have some dresses made up in that style to give to French ladies.20 She was happy to oblige the king and had the doll prepared. But she warned that the king would not see anything new, as she dressed in the same way as the Milanese ladies.21 A Milanese princess, Bona Sforza, transplanted to Poland by her marriage to King Sigismund, described Isabella – then approaching fifty – as the ‘fount and origin of all the beautiful fashions of Italy’. She was thanking her for a gift of six scuffiotti (fine caps or hairnets, worn alone or under hats), made of silk and gold ‘in a new fashion’. The queen asked her to send a sample of ‘any new style of binding the head’ she might devise.22 Scuffiotti were often held in place by ribbons tied horizontally around the head, sometimes carrying a jewel on the forehead, or the ribbons could be worn on their own without a net or cap, but this was probably not what the queen had in mind. What she was probably referring to was something that had become Isabella’s signature headdress, which was a far larger and more elaborate affair. It was something between a turban and a wig, incorporating either real hair or curls and waves of rich fabrics. In 1509, having heard that ladies in Milan had already adopted this ‘notable invention’ of Isabella, Eleonora Rusca (a daughter of Niccolò da Correggio)

The first lady 153 asked if she could have one that Isabella was no longer wearing. If she thought that Isabella wanted to keep the style to herself, Eleonora wrote, she would not have dared to ask this, but since it had spread to Milan she presumed she would not mind.23 In this instance, Isabella had no objection to her creation being copied. Indeed, Mantua had a flourishing industry producing headgear for men and women, and she acquired a financial interest in it, owning a fulling mill used in the manufacture of hats.24 Gloves were another of her specialities. Ladies prided themselves on having soft, white hands, and gloves were worn for fashion, not just utility. It was the practice for gloves to be perfumed, and dressed with oil or fats to soften the hands (although these dressings could turn rancid in time). Most prized were gloves of Spanish leather, especially those made in Ocaña near Toledo. That was where Isabella preferred her gloves to come from, but that provenance was no guarantee of quality that would satisfy her exacting standards. Having given ten ducats to a man from Ferrara who was going to Spain, with orders to buy gloves from Ocaña for her, she was less than impressed by the twelve dozen pairs he sent her in July 1506. They were so bad ‘that if he had searched all Spain to find bad ones, we would not have believed he could have found so many’. At Rome, Genoa or Florence, there were gloves that were incomparably better. Gloves as good, maybe even better, might have been found in Ferrara itself, with a bit of effort. So she had decided to send them back to him ‘so that he will not believe we have such poor judgement of gloves that we think these good enough to give to our ladies and some women friends’; she would be ashamed to give them and they would not wear them.25 Hearing that a quantity of gloves from Ocaña had just arrived in Rome, she asked the Mantuan abbot of San Gregorio there ‘to examine them well and show them to some other people, and especially to Spaniards who understand them and know good quality, and how they should be for women to wear’. If they were suitable, he was to spend two ducats and send them as soon as possible.26 With the assistance of the marchesa di Cotrone, he found twelve pairs for her. She asked for more, and a month later he sent her fourteen more pairs as a gift. Gloves were often sent as gifts. Perfumed gloves were particularly appreciated. Queen Claude of France, who was given many

154  The first lady pairs by people in Spain and Italy, so valued gloves prepared by Isabella and presented to her by Federico when he was at the French court that she had husbanded them for years, and still had a pair or two left in 1520. At first she wore a pair only for festivities, and then after a while began to use them for just part of the day, to make them last longer. The Mantuan ambassador asked her to give him one as a sample, saying he was sure Isabella would do everything possible to find more of the same quality. Giving him a pair, the queen confessed she was ashamed at how shabby they were, but she had gone on wearing them because they were so good. She would really like a dozen pairs, six for the winter, six for the summer, saying she would make them last for years and would not have to be continually bothering Isabella for more. No other gloves she had ever had kept her hands so soft and white.27 Such a compliment from the queen of France must have delighted Isabella, who naturally set about meeting her request. Unfortunately, by the time the new gloves arrived in France, the dressing was turning a little rancid, but the ambassador handed them over to the queen nonetheless, and she assured him that it did not matter.28 Isabella may well have been piqued about the unpleasant odour of the gloves, for she prided herself on her skill as a perfumier. ‘In compounding these scents, we would not yield to the best perfumier in the world’, she boasted.29 To a man who had maintained in Rome that Isabella made ‘the most excellent composition that can be found’, she sent a box of it ‘to keep the name of a good, a perfect perfumier’.30 Her perfumes were certainly good enough to be useful as diplomatic presents, to men as well as women. Leo X’s brother, Giuliano de’ Medici, for instance, received what Isabella called the annual tribute of her “composition”.31 She went to some trouble to find fitting containers for her precious ingredients and compounds, boxes of fine woods such as ebony, horn and bone, crystal and semi-precious stones, including a lapis lazuli jar with serpentine inlays that she ordered to be made in Venice in 1502. In later years she relied on a Milanese specialist in the production of small carved artefacts, Cleofas de Donati, for her supply of containers.32 When she sent some perfume to Queen Claude of France in 1516, the box was of crystal with a gold cover; the king’s mother and sister received theirs in boxes carved from horn.33

The first lady 155 Little balls of perfume were also concealed in bracelets or buttons, or in small containers hung from the waist on a cord, like the gold cover Isabella ordered in 1512 from a Ferrarese craftsman, which should not be too delicately worked, she specified, for fear it would be broken as she wore it at her side.34 (By the time it arrived a few years later, she had almost forgotten about it, but it was so well made that she graciously described it as a pleasant surprise, rather than complain about the delay.)35 Some of the buttons she had made to hold perfume were little jewels in their own right, too, such as the one made of gold, shaped like a pine cone and enamelled in red and white that was mentioned in the inventory of her goods compiled after her death.36 Bracelets and ‘some gold buttons filled with perfume, which are better adapted to wear continuously on the arms, especially at night’, were among the gifts Isabella sent to Queen Claude.37 Compounding these perfumes was an expensive pastime. Isabella may well have spent more on buying the ingredients than she did on books. Venice was her main source of supply, because essential ingredients, such as aromatic gums and resins from the Near East and Asia, were shipped through there. Attar of roses also came from the Levant through Venice. Other kinds of rosewater and jasmine essence could be distilled nearer to home in Italy, but much was imported, some coming from Spain. Isabella could secure her own supply of one important ingredient, civet, produced from the anal glands of civet cats, when she succeeded in obtaining and keeping the animals. This was not easy to do, because they were much in demand; those who had them generally wanted to hold on to them. Musk produced by a single civet cat provided enough revenue to keep a woman and her seven children, Isabella was told.38 Eventually she was able to form a little colony of civets. By 1522, when her brother Alfonso sent her a pair of females, she knew from experience the pattern of their breeding cycle.39 Scented waters were used for washing the face and hands. Less innocuous mixtures, supposed to render the skin white and softer, were also in vogue. Women searched out and swapped recipes for beauty aids and cosmetics, which they usually made themselves. Men used them, too. In 1496, Isabella enquired whether any of the men at the Milanese court ‘who dye their hair black have some

156  The first lady remedy for making it then return to its original colour’, because she remembered having seen Francesco Sforza with black hair one day and his own natural colour the next, and she wanted to try it herself.40 On another occasion she was interested in the tooth powder of the marchesa di Cotrone; she said she had run out of it, so she had obviously tried it before.41 Emilia Pia, one of the principal ladies of the court of Urbino, sent her mouthwash of the kind used by the widowed Neapolitan queens who lived in Naples, with full instructions about how to use both that and a nail buffer she was sending (which, she explained, had been given to her, and she did not know how to make it).42 If Isabella was happy to employ such beauty aids, she does not seem to have made or used cosmetics, at least in her younger years. The 60-year-old Isabella was mocked in a satire written in 1534 by Pietro Aretino for using make-up, and indeed in 1532 she was in search of good quality face powder.43 But there was no indication that she resorted to the dangerous concoctions some women applied to their skin. Nor does she seem to have made medicines and herbal remedies as many women did. She has sometimes been credited with producing a salve for syphilis, largely on the evidence of requests from a syphilitic Ferrarese courtier, Camillo Costabili, who wrote asking for some of her ‘composition’. That, of course, was the term she used for her perfume. Since the courtier told her that he wanted it because he had his eye on a beautiful whore ‘but my head stinks a bit’, and so he would like ‘these scented things, which I know will be of great benefit to me’, it is probable that perfume, not some medicinal ointment, was what he had in mind.44 Like any woman of her rank (or, indeed, any man), Isabella would not have considered herself properly dressed without jewellery. She adored jewels, and devoted much attention, not to mention money, to adding to the pieces she had brought with her from Ferrara as a bride and those given to her by her husband. Not content to buy pieces already made, she often bought gemstones, and had them set to meet her wishes. The finest, largest gems were beyond the limits of her budget, but she had an eye for quality of colour and cut. She also had a liking for enamelling, particularly in white, red and green, both in settings for stones and as decoration for items like gold clasps or buttons.

The first lady 157 For everyday wear, a favourite item of jewellery was a string of beads, known as a paternostro. Isabella had many of them. These could, as their name suggests, serve as prayer beads, an aid to devotion, such as the one Isabella ordered in 1511 to be made in ebony, with eight of the beads carved with ‘death’s heads’.45 A paternostro of coral beads that was in the personal collection of jewels of the duke after her death may have originally belonged to Isabella, for it incorporated five gold plaques with her device Nec spe nec metu, and one with a representation of Christ carrying his cross. Paternostri could also serve as necklaces or be suspended from the waist, sometimes to carry items such as perfume holders. No inventory of Isabella’s jewels survives, so it is not known how many paternostri she amassed, but the total could well have matched the 59 listed in the possession of the duchess of Mantua in 1557. As well as those made of her favourite ebony and other fine woods, she bought paternostro beads of ivory and bone (although she changed her mind about having one made of fishbone in 1512), of glass from Murano, and of semi-precious stones such as amethyst, agate, amber and lapis lazuli. In 1514 she ordered one to be made for her from balas rubies and pearls, but she drew the line at spending 50 ducats on a paternostro of crystal beads in 1531.46 Aside from adornment and the display of wealth and magnificence, the more valuable jewels of princes and their consorts, like their gold and silver plate, were treated as assets which could be used as security for loans or pawned or, as a last resort, sold when state coffers ran low. Repeatedly, Isabella had to relinquish items of her personal jewellery to be used to raise money. A list of pieces redeemed from a Milanese goldsmith in 1517 comprised two golden bracelets, each set with nine rubies and nine diamonds; four balas rubies set in gold; a six-sided sapphire with a ruby above it and a large pendant pearl; and a splendid jewel with two horns of plenty made of diamonds, with an emerald and a large ruby, a crown of diamonds above, and on the reverse, “Isabella M” picked out in diamonds (bringing the total of diamonds to 76, it was noted), with a large, round pendant pearl.47 She recognized that people of her status ‘should not keep jewels except as a store to make use of when needed’.48 She accepted that she would be called upon to make such sacrifices from time to time, when state

158  The first lady finances were at a low ebb, or money was needed urgently for some special purpose. On one such occasion, when there was a (remote) prospect that Sigismondo Gonzaga could be elected pope after the death of Leo X in 1521, she offered him all her jewellery, to pledge or sell or dispose of as he pleased to achieve this prize (cardinals could put a high price on their votes in conclave).49 Yet generally she found it painful to deprive herself of her personal ornaments, most acutely when she was younger. Twentyfive years earlier, when Francesco told her to send some jewels to be pledged in Venice to raise money for the promotion of Sigismondo to the cardinalcy (which did not come cheap in the pontificate of Alexander VI), she asked if he had forgotten that all her other jewels had already been used as security in Venice. All she had left with her were four jewels, as well as the balas ruby he had given her after the birth of their first daughter, her favourite large diamond and the one he had given her last. Should she be left without any jewels to wear, ‘I shall be forced to dress in black, because dressed in colours and in brocade, without jewels, a woman of my rank would be mocked’ [calleffata]. Do not take my few remaining jewels from me, she begged him. If money had to be raised, she would rather her dress embroidered with gems was used, because ‘it would not be as bad to be without that as without jewellery’.50 Nor was she ashamed to admit to others besides her husband how important her jewels were to her as a woman. When Cesare Borgia was demanding, during the discussion about a match between his daughter and Federico, that the Gonzaga should deposit 25,000 ducats in a bank as security, Isabella claimed that she had jewellery worth far more than that, but ‘we could never bear to be deprived of it in the flower of our youth’. She would not be able to enjoy it for ten or twelve years, and then she would not be able to enjoy it as much as she approached old age.51 But her pleasure in her jewellery did not diminish in middle age. Nearing forty, she told the viceroy of Naples, Ramón de Cardona, that if bereft of her jewels she would be bereft of what pleasure remained to her.52 There was always the fear that jewels that had been pledged might not be redeemed in time, and might be sold. To her mind, the humiliation if that happened would be worse than the loss.53

The first lady 159 Despite her reluctance to part with her jewellery, occasionally Isabella had to pledge some jewels to raise money for herself. In 1499, for example, she wanted to raise 2,000 ducats in Bologna on the security of jewels and gold chains.54 That was quite a large sum for Isabella to need to raise for herself; she may well have overstretched her finances buying land. Smaller, short-term loans would not require security. Some were needed to finance specific purchases, such as the picture by Jan van Eyck and the agate vase she was looking to acquire from the collection of Michele Vianello in 1506.55 Sometimes she had simply been overspending. It was common practice to buy on credit, and she could not rely on receiving regular payments of her revenues. It was not always easy for her to find funds to repay what she owed when it was due. She said of herself that ‘it has never been my habit to accumulate money’ – as she expected her son Federico to know when he asked her for a loan in 1532.56 Her failure to build up savings and her recurrent cash flow problems were not signs of improvidence. She knew what her income should be, and she liked to match her expenditure to it. She did not build up debts that she could not manage, or have to turn to Francesco to bail her out. Indeed, she had some business sense – not an unusual attribute for women of her rank at the time. Studies of the economic and financial management of ladies such as Eleonora de Toledo, the wife of Duke Cosimo de’ Medici of Florence, not to mention Lucrezia Borgia, have shown how capable they were as managers of their own property and financial affairs.57 Isabella’s grasp of her personal finances is revealed in the letter she wrote in response to a query from her father in 1502, when he was working out what Lucrezia’s income and allowances should be. At first, Isabella explained, she had been assigned 6,000 ducats a year to clothe herself and her ladies and pay all her servants, except for two gentlemen. In addition, provisions for about a hundred persons were supplied by the administration of the court. Then, in place of this allowance, Francesco agreed to her having an additional 2,000 ducats assigned to her for the expenses of her household, including the gentlemen, giving her an income of 8,000 in all. Most of this, 7,000 ducats, came from the revenue of specific taxes, and an estate, Letopaledano, was given to her

160  The first lady to supply the remaining thousand. She and her men had managed to increase the income from this estate by another thousand ducats, and using the surplus she had bought two more properties, Castiglione Mantovano and Bondenazo, so that she was then drawing an income of 2,500 ducats from these lands. On the other hand, she was providing for around fifty more people than before (she did not say whether the servants looking after her children accounted for any of this growth). Other places Francesco had given her, ‘for my enjoyment’, such as her summer retreats at Porto and Sacchetta, yielded little surplus and sometimes were an expense when repairs had to be made.58 Aside from what it tells us of Isabella’s finances, this letter also provides an indication of the scale of the organization that catered to her personal needs. No list of the members of her household or of those receiving wages or allowances from her survives. Her household of around 150, from her own estimate, in 1502 was quite large compared to those of the consorts of other princes. It was not quite so numerous as that of Bianca Maria Visconti, duchess of Milan, which numbered 195 in 1465,59 but it was larger than her mother’s, which had increased from around forty plus her ladies in about 1475 to a payroll of 85 in 1485.60 It was larger, too, than the household of 120 that was agreed for Lucrezia in 1502, for which she was given an allowance of 6,000 ducats in cash and 6,000 ducats in kind.61 Lucrezia’s household and her allowances shrank during the years of war, when Alfonso was fighting to hold on to what remained of his state and to recover what had been lost. By investing in land reclamation, she built up her income again, as Isabella did by her purchases and the management of her estates. By contrast, Beatrice d’Este had money lavished on her by her fond husband. She started out with a household of 80 and an income of 7,000 ducats, but Ludovico considered this inadequate, especially for her clothes. By the time of her death, she enjoyed allowances totalling around 28,500 ducats for herself and her household.62 Extensive as it was, Isabella’s household was just that, not a court within a court. No ceremonial or ritual shaped her days to manifest her status, and her life was not constricted by protocol. She could spend her time much as she chose. Visitors with acceptable credentials of rank or culture were granted access to her

The first lady 161 without apparent difficulty. Those who came to visit Isabella were not required to do so as a token of political loyalty, and she had few jobs or favours, none of any great importance, in her gift. Office hunters were better off seeking favours directly from the marquis. Noblewomen from Mantua and the lands around may have come to see her occasionally to pay their respects, but they were not expected to attend on her regularly. When reminiscing about the time they had spent with her, what visitors recalled was the charm of her conversazione, a term meaning not just what she said, but being in her company. Rome was widowed and desolate, and the sun had not shone since she left, Guglielmo Caetani wrote to her in 1515, making the remembrance of her delightful conversation bitter to him.63 Such compliments might be discounted as just an aspect of the conventional extravagant flattery that a woman in Isabella’s position would routinely receive. She would be told she was revered, adored, by men of letters.64 Men who had never seen her were said to have fallen in love with her, when they heard her described (according to the reports of Gonzaga diplomats, anyway). Charles VIII of France was supposed to have been left ‘stupefied and enamoured’ after he had been given a minute description of Isabella’s looks and graces, her clothes and her virtues.65 As the years passed, it was only to be expected that the compliments would become less fulsome. While her daughter was described by Queen Claude as reputed to be ‘the most beautiful woman in Italy’, Isabella was described by Francis I as ‘a most gracious lady, and wise and still beautiful considering her age’.66 Her reputation as a woman worth knowing persisted. One of the harshest and least accommodating agents of the Emperor Charles V in Italy, Juan Manuel, spoke of her as someone he had always wished to meet, because of her fame.67 Requesting a portrait was another form of flattery, and Isabella sent out a number of portraits of herself as gifts. By 1499, she was joking that she was afraid that all Italy would be becoming weary of them. Nevertheless, this time at the request of Isabella, the dowager duchess of Milan, she was sending another one, even though ‘it is not very like me, because I look a bit fatter than I am’.68 As the years passed, she became more reluctant to have her portrait painted. Although she refused to face the tedium of actually sitting to Francia in 1511, in the end she was pleased with his portrayal of

162  The first lady her, ‘because with your art you have made me considerably more beautiful than nature has done’.69 Five years later, when Claude asked for portraits of her and of her daughter Eleonora, Isabella refused, somewhat pettishly. There were no portraits of herself that she could send, she said, and she did not have the patience to have one done. As Eleonora was not as beautiful as the queen had been told, it was much better to leave that reputation intact and not send one of her either.70 It is hard not to read into this response a measure of pique in the by then middle-aged Isabella that her daughter should have been described as the beauty. Yet for all the care and pride she took in her appearance, even as a young woman, she knew that she was not herself strikingly beautiful; she was also concerned by her tendency to put on weight. Was this another reason why she became impatient with sitting for her portrait? Her self-deprecating remarks about her looks have the ring of a candid appreciation of the facts, not a coy false modesty, fishing for compliments. She was never self-deprecating about the attraction of her company, however. She was a cultured, intelligent, witty woman with broad interests who could hold her own in conversation about politics, literature, art and music and participate with gusto in games and jokes. There is no reason to doubt that she could, when she put her mind to it and was in a good mood, be in truth delightful company, and that paying a visit to her could be a genuine pleasure. Nor can it be doubted that she enjoyed the company of others. Not for her the pleasures of solitude, of a withdrawal from society. Confined to her villa at Sacchetta on Francesco’s orders during an epidemic in 1506, she complained that she was no longer able to endure ‘this wearisome stay in the villa, completely against my nature’, and wished to return to Mantua.71 As a very young woman, Isabella advised her friend Elisabetta Gonzaga, who was ailing, on how to restore and maintain good health and good spirits. Force yourself to take exercise on foot and on horseback, she urged; engage in pleasurable conversations to drive away melancholy and care; take some recreation as I do.72 Riding remained a favourite recreation for Isabella for many years; she was known for her skill as a horsewoman. Gifts such as the horses sent to her by Louis XII and Henry VIII, or the horse trappings that had belonged to Cesare Borgia sent by Francesco

The first lady 163 Maria della Rovere, acknowledged that reputation (she was, however, unsure whether the horse given her by the English king was fit for one of her ladies to ride, let alone herself).73 Occasionally, she went hunting, but perhaps only when it was organized by others; there is no record of her keeping hawks or hunting dogs of her own. For indoor exercise (or outdoor, in the summer), there was always dancing. Since many dances were intended to be performed by women alone, Isabella and her ladies could happily entertain themselves in that way, without any need for male partners. It would be a mistake to imagine Isabella spending her days enveloped in an atmosphere of elegant refinement. That might have been true for some of the time, and she could take pleasure in it, playing her part as the gracious and dignified lady setting the tone for those gathered around her. But much of the time Isabella and her companions, dressed in their fine silks and jewels, in the lovely settings she created in her palace apartments and villas, were playing games, exchanging risqué stories and banter, laughing uproariously at buffoons, and playing practical jokes. Card games and board games were favourite pastimes throughout her life. Now forgotten and obscure games – such as scartino, nichino, flusso – were part of her daily routine. Flusso, a card game, a precursor of poker, was one of the less innocent of these diversions; large sums of money could be won or lost during a session. Perhaps Isabella only played for low stakes, perhaps she was lucky, for gambling does not seem to have led her into debt. In 1502, she was said to be turning from flusso to chess. Initially, knowing little about the game, she just watched others play; eventually she became a skilful chess player herself.74 Backgammon, “tric trac”, also kept its appeal for her. Fortune-telling, in one form or another, was treated as another game, a source of fun, by Isabella, providing opportunities for teasing rather than a guide to the future. But she did have a measure of belief in astrology, which was taken seriously by many at all levels of society. She might delay dealing with business to a propitious time, or be anxious about travelling during the “combustion of the moon”. But when in 1494 an astrologer advised her to beware of riding fast on horses, after showing some concern – what times were particularly dangerous? she enquired, would the

164  The first lady fateful horse have any particular marking or colour? – her love of riding prevailed, and she ignored the astrologer’s admonition.75 Conversation, as an accompaniment to other activities or on its own, was the main entertainment. To shine in Isabella’s company, courtiers and guests would not only have to be able to hold their own in talk on literature and music and current affairs, but also to tell stories and exchange gossip. Joking – not just freshly minted witticisms but telling funny stories – was an integral element of the complete courtier’s array of gifts and qualities. Castiglione’s idealized courtiers devoted much serious attention to the art of telling jokes. The vignettes of aristocratic gatherings in the introductions to the Novelle of Matteo Bandello, which have a more realistic air than Castiglione’s setting in Il cortegiano at the court of Urbino, also highlight the importance of jokes of all kinds in aristocratic sociability. Most of his tales are humorous (or were meant to be). One of the introductions in which the telling of the tale is placed in the context of a gathering in Isabella’s presence recounts a discussion of different types of wit. It begins with her comments on a story of two men arguing about who should give way in the street, with one pushing the other into the mud, and ends with praise for those who could present critical advice to their superiors with a turn of wit that disguised the criticism and rendered the advice acceptable.76 If Bandello described the gentlemen visiting Isabella considering some subjects (pederasty, for one) best avoided in her presence, some stories he thought might plausibly be recounted to her were salacious, even scatological. They included a story about a married woman and her two lovers (in a variation of the “bed trick”), and an account of a Venetian gentleman’s revenging himself on his unfaithful wife by taking a laxative, lying in bed pretending to be her lover, and when she lifted the sheet, spraying her face and breast with excrement before beating her.77 Whatever Isabella might have thought of that particular story, if she did hear it, she evidently enjoyed the whole gamut of humour, from sophisticated wordplay to bawdy stories and silly pranks. Notoriously, old jokes generally lose their savour. What one age finds hilarious may barely raise a smile in later generations. Most of the examples of what she found funny, or those who knew her well expected her to find funny, can seem pretty feeble. Much of

The first lady 165 their punch came from knowledge of the idiosyncrasies of individuals. You had to know the people concerned, or you had to be there, to get the point. Buffoonery was ‘the life and soul of the court’, according to one famous wit of the time, Pietro Aretino.78 Some buffoons were courtiers and gentlemen who were ready to play the fool. One such was Carlo Bonvicino, a Ferrarese official known as “il Barone”. She would have found it hilarious, Isabella was told, when il Barone tried to resist having his hair forcibly cut, putting a bowl on his head and lamenting that he should be so treated in his old age. (He had not followed the example of other courtiers who had cut their hair in imitation of the style Alfonso had to adopt after being treated for a head wound.)79 For others, some of them simple-minded or mentally ill, some just eccentric, and in particular for nimble-minded dwarves and midgets, it was a way of earning a living, if one often dependent on handouts rather than a regular salary. Buffoons and jesters were sent and lent from one court to another, as artists and musicians might be. There was much traffic in buffoons between the courts of Mantua and Ferrara. Isabella repeatedly asked for one favourite, Giovan Francesco dei Corioni, known as “il Fritella”, to be sent from Ferrara; Francesco came to like him, too.80 Clowning, comic dancing, seemed to be his forte. Another of their favourites was “Mattello” (“little madman”), who was an eccentric, mentally unbalanced. It was his mixture of simple-mindedness and obscenity that was found so amusing. Refusing to lend him to Gaspare Sanseverino when Francesco was away at the wars in 1496, Isabella said her only pleasure was making Mattello dictate letters to her husband, and she had no other ‘buffoons or madmen’ with her to keep her entertained.81 The flow of words Mattello produced and, probably, the indiscretions that found their way into his outpourings, could make Isabella dissolve into laughter. His mortal illness in 1499 caused his patrons great concern. On his death, Alfonso (who relished Mattello’s parody masses) wrote Francesco a letter of condolence. Yet Isabella went to see him on his deathbed not, apparently, to condole with him, but so that she could find out how he behaved and pass on the funny remarks he made.82 Memories of Mattello were revived for Isabella three years later when she was sent “Giovanna matta” (“Giovanna the

166  The first lady madwoman”) by a local nobleman, Alberto Pio da Carpi, a noted scholar and man of letters, who would make a career in international diplomacy. If you like her you can keep her, Alberto told Isabella; if not, you can send her back. Whatever Giovanna thought of the arrangement, Isabella found her great fun, as did Francesco, ‘the more so as her actions and especially her material are very like’ those of Mattello.83 Another “matta”, Caterina, chose to come to Isabella from Ferrara after the death of Lucrezia, who had been kind to her. Alfonso had thought of keeping her himself, dressing her as a man, but Isabella asked for her, as did others, and Caterina insisted that “Fonso” should send her to the marchioness, that she did not want to stay in Ferrara to be teased by the boys. Isabella was given warning of her ways. A little wine made her act like a pretty girl; a little more wine and she became a fury, attacking people, whoever they might be, and saying whatever came into her head. If someone said to her ‘pass the water’, she would lift up her skirts ‘and show everything she’s got’. (Lucrezia had punished her for doing that, so she had become a bit more careful.) She was a thief, and would steal anything she could. But if she was spoken to kindly, and asked to show where she had concealed her loot, she would show where it was hidden.84 A favourite buffoon of Francesco, known as Nanino (“little dwarf”), joined Isabella’s household. She found him a female companion, or, to Isabella’s way of thinking, perhaps a “mate”, a dwarf known as Nanina. She referred to her ‘razza’, her ‘line’ or ‘breed’ of dwarves, who could well have been the offspring of Nanino and Nanina, promising to give the young children away as though they were puppies.85 Distasteful and disturbing as this attitude may be to us, Isabella was not being peculiarly heartless, just following accepted practice. She was genuinely fond of the dwarves and midgets she kept by her. Her two favourites in later years were Delia, particularly prized because she was so small, and Morgantino. Isabella remembered them both in her will. Morgantino she commended to Federico, ‘and when he cannot or does not wish to stay with His Excellency’, he was to have a pension of 50 scudi a year for life. Delia she commended to her daughter-in-law, Duchess Margherita, on the same understanding.86 At least these individuals were to be given some choice. Delia may have passed into the service of Isabella’s daughter, Eleonora, instead. There

The first lady 167 was a story in a book of jests about a dwarf called Delia, ‘the most beautiful creature that was ever seen’, who roundly refused Eleonora’s offer to marry her to ‘one like her’.87 Another fashion Isabella followed was to have black children in her entourage. These children were treated as pets, rather than servants. Generally they were slaves, although the children of free Africans living in Italy also came into the sights of ladies who had a fancy for these children. Venice, where Isabella usually turned for exotic purchases, was not the best place to find black slaves, because the usual Venetian source of supply for slaves was the eastern Mediterranean rather than Africa. Looking to satisfy Isabella’s impatient requests for a little black girl not more than two years old and ‘as black as possible’ in 1491, her agent Giorgio Brognolo at first could only hear of a four-year-old girl, the daughter of a Venetian boatman, who had refused to sell his child. Even then he was too late. Isabella’s mother had got there first, and in order to have the little girl in her service, had been obliged to take on her whole family, father, mother and brother. As consolation, Brognolo suggested that Eleonora could now be said to have her own razza of blacks, and in time might share it with Isabella.88 A  few days later, he did find a two-year-old, ‘very black’ girl in a hospital. The drawback this time was that she had suffered a fall from her cradle some months before and still could not stand properly. On the other hand, her price was just a donation to the hospital, and with a fortnight’s care in Brognolo’s home, she recovered the use of her legs, and was sent to Mantua. Isabella pronounced her as black and as pretty as she had wished; if her legs were cured, she would be a delight. The woman who brought her told Isabella of a little black boy, still breastfeeding. If he was as beautiful as the woman said, Isabella ordered that he should be secured for her – but only if he were ‘really black and well-proportioned’.89 Despite his not being as black as the little girl, on being assured that he ‘could not be more beautiful’, Isabella decided she wanted him too. She already had another little girl, with whom she could not be more satisfied (if she were only a bit blacker). A little reserved at first, this child had become so pleasing in what she said and what she did, that she gave promise of turning out ‘the best buffoon in the world’.90 In 1499 Isabella was again in the market for a little black boy. Her

168  The first lady agent this time, Francesco’s secretary Donato de’ Preti, rejected two he was told of, newly arrived from Portugal, because they were not good-looking enough and too ‘raw’; they had not yet been off the ship. He found another, a nine-year-old, also just come from Portugal, but who had begun to speak Italian and to pick up Italian ways, and bought him for Isabella.91 What happened to these children when they grew up and could no longer be treated as playthings? In a household the size of Isabella’s, there would surely be other roles they could fulfil, without being sold or turned away. She had at least one adult black slave in her service, Anteo, in 1522. Her friend Margherita Cantelmo told her of an attractive teenage girl, ‘black as Anteo’, fresh from the Barbary coast, who as yet could only speak her own language and could not do anything, but seemed quick to learn. If Isabella wanted to ‘breed’ from Anteo, Margherita thought that he and the girl would produce lovely children.92 This Anteo was probably the ‘Anteo Moro’, her staffero (groom) mentioned in Isabella’s will together with a ‘Giorgio Moro’. They were described as ‘forestieri’ – “foreigners”, not slaves – and Federico was asked to provide them both with offices, so it would seem that at least by the time Isabella drew up her will in 1535 Anteo was a free man.93 One of the few women who could truly be described as a friend of Isabella, Margherita was not her social equal. She was the daughter of a rich Mantuan notary who had served Ludovico Gonzaga, Bartolomeo Maloselli. As his sole heiress, she had wealth and lands that made her a suitable bride for an exiled Neapolitan nobleman, a son of the duke of Sora, Sigismondo Cantelmo. Had he not been an exile, forced to earn his living as a soldier, he might well have considered a notary’s daughter beneath him. Isabella described Margherita in 1496 as her ‘domestica’ – meaning her intimate, not her servant – and said she had grown up with her.94 This implies that Margherita had been at the Ferrarese court when Isabella was a child, perhaps in Eleonora’s household. Her husband had a house in Ferrara, and that was where Margherita lived at least some of the time. Isabella was writing of her long association with Margherita in a letter to Francesco, who had confiscated Margherita’s property along with lands he had granted to Sigismondo, accusing him of treachery. Given the nature of the accusation, Isabella had to tread carefully in pleading her cause.

The first lady 169 Margherita had asked her to intercede, and she was unable to resist her pleas, she wrote. As a woman, she could not help feeling sorry for another woman, one she had known for a long time, one who was innocent of any wrongdoing against Francesco.95 Margherita apparently got her property back, although Sigismondo never recovered favour in Mantua. Making Isabella her heiress was only the most tangible expression of Margherita’s regard for her. She commissioned Mario Equicola (who was in the service of the Cantelmo at the time) to write a treatise on women, De Mulieribus, in 1501, in which Isabella was lauded for her beauty, the classical proportions of her body, ‘neither thin nor fat’, her political abilities, her patronage and her culture, especially her musicianship.96 Another treatise, on her motto Nec spe nec metu, that he wrote as a birthday gift for Isabella in 1506, may also have been commissioned by Margherita. Isabella regarded it as a gift from them both.97 Margherita expressed her longing to be with her: so painful is the thought of how far I am from that dear little chamber and private grotto, the sweet retreat of my lady, that I have to give vent to my feelings by crying and cursing.98 How strongly Isabella felt about her is less evident. She was probably at most an occasional, rather than a regular companion. It is unlikely that Isabella was conscious of a gap in her circle when she was not there. In later years she became increasingly devout; Isabella did not. Perhaps she was dear to her principally as an old friend, someone she had known for most of her life. Isabella was not a woman to forget the difference in rank between them. Margherita could never have been as important to her as she was to Margherita. Elisabetta Gonzaga was the only woman friend Isabella had who was her social equal. Their mutual affection went well beyond the conventional bond between relations by marriage. The fact that they were about the same age, Elisabetta being the elder by a few years, helped no doubt, for they were rather different in character and disposition. Elisabetta was more serious, somewhat reserved, and suffered frequent bouts of ill-health – a real contrast to the energetic, frivolous, pleasure-seeking Beatrice, who Isabella said was the only one who could rival Elisabetta in her affections.99 This declaration was made in 1494, during the first decade of their

170  The first lady friendship, when it was at its warmest. They were able to spend weeks, sometimes months at a time in each other’s company in that period, as Elisabetta made several visits to Mantua, and their letters to each other recall the pleasures they shared, the trips to Lake Garda and Venice, the games of scartino. She was in Mantua with Isabella when news arrived of her husband being driven out of his duchy of Urbino by Cesare Borgia in 1502. Ultimately, this crisis would lead to a cooling of the friendship between the two women, as Francesco was forced to limit the help he gave to his brother-in-law when he came to take refuge in Mantua, and Guidobaldo had to leave for Venice. Rather than stay in Mantua herself, as she might have done, Elisabetta chose to share whatever misfortune might befall her husband. Isabella’s letter to her after she had gone to Venice seems almost heartless in her avoidance of the issue. I am glad to hear you have both arrived safely in Venice, and have been made welcome there, she wrote. We are all well here, except Eleonora is not yet rid of fever. Federico has been weaned without much trouble. Francesco is leaving tomorrow for France, so you can imagine what it is like for me to be deprived of your company as well. If you write to me frequently, that will be some consolation.100 Elisabetta stayed in Venice over a year until Guidobaldo recovered Urbino as Cesare Borgia’s power collapsed. While she and Isabella continued to exchange letters, her regular social visits to Mantua were ended. The marriage between Isabella’s daughter and Elisabetta’s adopted son Francesco Maria della Rovere brought her to Mantua in 1509 to escort the bride to Urbino, but also generated some dissension over the dowry. A  second, longer period of exile from Urbino, when the duchy was taken from Francesco Maria by Leo X, brought her to Mantua again in 1516. This time she stayed, together with Eleonora, for several years until Francesco Maria was firmly back in control of the duchy in 1522. This provided the opportunity for the friendship between Elisabetta and Isabella to be rekindled, although it may never have recovered the ardour of their youthful years. The news of Elisabetta’s death in early 1526 was a blow to Isabella, and she mourned the loss of a woman she admired as well as loved.101 One of Elisabetta’s ladies, Emilia Pia, was also dear to Isabella. Coming from a powerful family of local nobles, the Pio di Carpi,

The first lady 171 and the wife (from 1500, the widow) of Antonio da Montefeltro, an illegitimate half-brother of Duke Guidobaldo, Emilia had some independent standing at the court of Urbino. She was more than just another donzella. Renowned for her lively, sometimes sharp wit, she did much to give life to the court of the gout-wracked duke and reserved duchess. It was she, not Elisabetta, that Castiglione portrayed as presiding over the debates in Il Cortegiano. Rumour had it that she died discussing Il Cortegiano rather than commending her soul to God.102 She and Isabella were alike in many ways  – too alike perhaps, for her to have fitted into the court of Mantua so easily as she did at Urbino. Isabella might not have relished having such competition by her all the time. But the long, gossipy letters she sent to Isabella, even if they were signed, ‘Emilia, your slave’, were the letters of a friend, one with whom Isabella could discuss everything from politics and scandals to cosmetics.103 None of Isabella’s ladies, her donzelle, could match Emilia Pia, although some acquired a reputation for their wit as well as their beauty. As her most constant companions, keeping her entertained was as important a part of their role as waiting on her, or escorting her. Some became her confidantes  – allowing for the divergence in rank and status, her friends. Most of her donzelle were the daughters of local, minor landed nobles, or from prominent families in Mantua or Ferrara. Some were of lower social status, brought into her household by Isabella as a favour to their fathers. One of those she was closest to was Beatrice de’ Contrari, who had served Isabella’s mother and been sent by her with Isabella when she came to Mantua as a bride. Beatrice stayed with her for several years before returning to Ferrara.104 Generally, the choice of her donzelle was probably left to Isabella. Francesco may possibly have suggested that she take the daughter of this or that influential citizen or local noble, and he did have some say in who among them should stay. When he insisted in 1513 that Alda Boiardo, one of Isabella’s favourites, should leave, accusing her of being unpopular and divisive, Isabella protested but could not refuse to let her go.105 She remained fond of her, sending her a present, a picture of Mary Magdalene, some years later.106 In the early years of her organizing her own household, she took on too many girls, more than she could

172  The first lady provide lodgings for.107 With experience, she may have got a better sense of how many she could provide for at a time. Normally, it seems, donzelle would only serve for a number of years before moving on. Some, perhaps most, would leave to be married. Mistresses were expected to find husbands for their donzelle, and provide them with dowries, too, which would have been welcome to fathers who might be hard-pressed to find adequate dowries and suitable husbands for their daughters. A daughter of her Ferrarese tutor, Elisabetta Guarini, was one of her ladies, until Isabella found a husband for her in Mantua. ‘The name of your son-in-law is Bartolomeo’, she informed Guarini, so plainly he had had little to do with arranging the match.108 (When he asked her a year later to take another of his daughters, Isabella refused, saying she already had too many girls in her household.)109 Delia, the daughter of Antico, the artist who made several bronze statuettes for Isabella, may have been another of her donzelle; Isabella arranged her marriage, too, to a Mantuan nobleman.110 Isabella took this responsibility seriously. She developed a system, based on the age of the donzelle and their length of service, to determine who should be at the head of the queue to be found a husband.111 But if one of them received a proposal of marriage that Isabella considered appropriate, she would not make her wait her turn.112 Alternatively, donzelle might choose to enter a convent. ‘Almost always, the flower of my ladies have taken this route’, Isabella sighed, diplomatically agreeing with the Neapolitan viceroy Cardona that only ugly women should be shut up in convents, while beautiful and charming ones should stay where they could be seen.113 Sometimes, a donzella was made to take this route against her will. Giovanna, daughter of conte Alberto Boschetti, was forced to become a nun in 1506 when her father was accused of complicity in the plot against Alfonso and suffered the ignominious, agonizing death of a traitor. Her father had so besmirched the reputation of his family that no man would want to marry her, Isabella told Giovanna.114 Rather more kindly, she also tried to persuade the poor girl, who struggled as her hair was shorn, that ‘every day you will find yourself better contented, because of the many cares that women who marry and stay in this world have’; eventually, Giovanna did become reconciled to her fate.115 Before her father’s disgrace, Isabella had found a husband for her,

The first lady 173 but Alberto did not approve of him and had asked in vain for his daughter to be sent home.116 Giovanna had already caused problems, falling in love with one of Francesco’s less reputable servants, Vigo da Camposampiero, who was a married man. She agreed to meet him secretly, but had not yet been seduced before Isabella found out about the affair and put a stop to it. Vigo was given a beating – he would have been punished more severely had the girl been dishonoured, Isabella assured her father.117 Vigo never forgave Isabella for shaming him in this way; his abiding resentment underlay the problems that he caused her in later years, when he did his best to estrange Francesco from her. One Gonzaga lady paid an even heavier price for seeking to put restraints on the love affairs of her donzelle. Her interference cost Caterina, widow of Rodolfo Gonzaga da Luzzara, her life in 1501, when she was strangled by one of her ladies, Diambra. Three other donzelle had discussed with Diambra the best way to murder their mistress.118 Isabella’s attack on Elisabetta Tosabezzi, the donzella she accused of flirting, if not more, with Francesco, was that of a jealous wife, not just an indignant mistress. She would not tolerate her ladies ‘playing the nymph’ with her husband. Yet she has been accused of encouraging them to flirt – if not worse – with others, of deploying the sexual attractions of her “flying squad” of ladies in pursuit of her own ends. Taken to its extreme, this results in the charge that she ‘managed, with cold cynicism, the sexuality of many of her ladies, making them a kind of prostitutes on command’.119 In particular, she has been accused of using them to win the favour of Cardona and Cardinal Lang, the powerful minister of the emperor-elect, Maximilian, in Milan in 1513. There is no question that the behaviour of Cardona and Lang with Isabella’s ladies was considered scandalous by the Milanese. She herself described to Francesco how at one party Lang threw himself on the ground, ‘forgetful . . . of his dignity and his rank, and made love as much as he pleased’ with one of her ladies, Eleonora Brogna (usually affectionately known as Brognina).120 Irresistible as some have found the notion of Isabella presiding over the spectacle of a cardinal rolling on the floor with one of her ladies, it is patently absurd. The phrase “making love” was often

174  The first lady used at the time to mean flirtation, not copulation, and this was obviously the sense in which Isabella used it in her letter. The cardinal was making a spectacle of himself, sitting with Brognina on the floor, not lying down with her. Another account of the same evening sheds more light on what happened. One of the gentlemen with Isabella, Cesare Gonzaga, described how Lang, greeting all the ladies on his arrival, took Brognina by the hand and led her into ‘the circle of honour’ (where the grandees were sitting), where she sat at the feet of Isabella and he sat on the floor beside her.121 It was scandalous enough for any cardinal publicly to flirt with a woman. Even in Rome, cardinals did not parade their mistresses in public. Lang was a prelate who was normally very conscious of his status as a representative of the emperor, standing on his dignity to a degree that others found offensive. His poor command of Italian may well have made his comments to Brognina more salacious than he realized. A Ferrarese gentleman, acting as interpreter for him in Mantua in 1511 when he came to see Isabella, had taken malicious pleasure in leading him into talking about “fucking” and “buggering” – ‘everyone laughed until their stomachs ached’.122 (Lang later repented of his unclerical behaviour; in March 1514 he informed Isabella that he was a changed man, a spiritual man, and intended to give a good account of himself in his relatively new dignity of cardinal.)123 At another party in Milan, given in honour of Isabella on 25 January, Lang and Cardona – and the young duke Massimiliano – competed to kiss Brognina. The viceroy paid for his kiss by giving her a length of crimson velvet ‘in recognition of the pleasure he had received’, and a length of black velvet ‘for the shame he knew she felt’, according to one account; according to another, the black velvet was interpreted as a sign of his sadness at being denied another kiss later, as Brognina placed her hand over her mouth, and the crimson signified his ardour.124 Cardona was truly smitten with her. Once Isabella and her ladies returned to Mantua, he wrote several times to Isabella, saying how much he missed her company, and was devoted to Brognina, and how he longed to see them again. One letter he signed as ‘the slave and servant of the mistress of the lady Brognina’.125 The tone of these letters was respectful of Brognina, who, Isabella recalled, had ‘paid every

The first lady 175 courtesy and reverence to Your Excellency, corresponding to your honest and gentlemanly love’.126 But Brognina may have felt embarrassed by the very public attentions she had received from Cardona and from Lang and by the gossip to which they had given rise, perhaps felt her reputation had been compromised. Soon after her return to Mantua, she and another donzella, Eleonora Prosperi (who was about to be married), without any warning entered a convent, went into the sacristy, put on some habits they found there, ‘and would have cut off their hair if they had found any scissors’. Isabella was ‘stupefied’, and wept, but neither she nor Francesco nor Federico could persuade the two women to leave the convent.127 Cardona, however, refused to accept that Brognina was lost to him, and sent a servant to argue her out of her decision.128 Apparently, she was dissuaded from taking vows. She left the convent in February 1514, returning, not to Isabella’s household, but to her family in Ferrara. Cardona gave her 2,000 ducats, which she could use as a dowry, but by the end of that year, she was meeting him and became his mistress; she bore him twin sons. She was living at Goito near Mantua when Francis I conquered the duchy of Milan and took a fancy to see the famous beauty for himself. He sent for her to be fetched to him (Francesco ordered his official at Goito to turn a blind eye to this), but on the way to the king she fell into the hands of some Spanish gentlemen. She went to Naples, where she married one of the viceroy’s captains.129 As well as being charged with debauching her donzelle, Isabella has been accused of using them to debauch her own son, allowing, if not encouraging them to flirt with Federico when he was still a young boy. A  prime exhibit in the evidence adduced to support this accusation is a letter from Brognina written to him when he was ten years old, and staying with his sister Eleonora in Urbino. In what was supposed to be the description of a young beauty, Brognina listed her eyebrows, like two great fish, her nose like a parrot’s beak, teeth like a harp, white as horn and her breast like a shell. All these similes could be read as double entendres. She then recounted to her ‘beautiful, dear, sweet lord’ the meeting between another donzella, la Nocencia, and her husband-tobe, how both had blushed crimson, how their hearts must have burned within them. A charming, childish sketch – signed ‘Opus

176  The first lady Brogna’ – depicted the couple facing one another, their cheeks blushing, beneath two hearts pierced by arrows. This letter was written in the bathroom, she noted, in the presence of Isabella, who sent him a thousand kisses. Alda Boiardo kissed his hand, la Nocencia and Brognina his chest, and ‘those parts that please us most’, and he was asked to greet ‘the duchess’, touching her body and her hand (‘the duchess’ was probably Eleonora, rather than the dowager Elisabetta).130 Given the bawdy tone of much of the humour that Federico would have been accustomed to hearing at the court in Mantua – even more when he was with his father than with his mother – the letter should surely be seen as playful, not insidiously suggestive. It evokes a picture of how Federico would have been petted and teased by his mother’s donzelle, where part of the fun could arise from the boy not understanding the implications of much of what was said. As he grew older, Isabella may have become more cautious about her son’s relations with her donzelle. When she was visiting Rome and Naples in the winter of 1514–15, the ladies with her were exchanging flirtatiously affectionate letters with Federico, who was back in Mantua, about the kisses they wanted to share, while he kept company with the donzelle who had been left behind in Mantua. ‘You know how I enjoy being with women and entertaining them’, he wrote to his mother, telling her of a dinner he had given to Laura and Giulia, Innocentia and Isabetta, with music and dancing.131 Isabella approved ‘this gallant service of women’.132 But she had already given him strict instructions about how he was to behave to her donzelle (who she had ordered were to be kept busy with needlework).133 She would be pleased if he wanted to go to see them sometimes, but in the company of older men – ‘do not take with you any of your scapegraces, because we do not want them going near our donzelle’.134 Flirtation and talk of love, as well as sexual banter and innuendo, were part of the social life and the culture of Renaissance courts. Isabella enjoyed it, and joined in. But she had her personal boundaries. There was, and is, no necessary, direct connection between bawdy humour and innuendo and sexual promiscuity. They can equally well provide an outlet in societies where sexual practice is tightly controlled. Being in love with donzelle, longing for their embraces, were also conventions of court culture.

The first lady 177 (Isabella said of her secretary, Mario Equicola, that he pursued one her ladies, Isabella Lavagnola, so that he would have something to write about, rather than from real affection).135 Donzelle were expected to join in flirtation and banter, but they would need to know where the limits should be set. Not all the flirtations by Isabella’s donzelle were innocent, and her policing of their relationships with men did not always successfully prevent them from crossing the line into dishonourable conduct. In defending himself against Isabella’s accusations that he had an affair with Elisabetta Tosabezzi, Francesco claimed he knew of some of her donzelle who had ‘played the nymph’ with others and become pregnant as a result.136 In 1521, a member of her household, Francesco Bonvicini da Bologna, was prosecuted for seducing one of her donzelle, Giovanna. He confessed that not only had he taken Giovanna’s virginity, but with another member of the household, Ippolito Andreasi (known as “Amorotti”), who was in love with another donzella, Ippolita, had visited Giovanna and Ippolita in their bedroom at night. Isabella’s dwarf, Nanina, had helped them to get in, but she was not considered an accomplice. He also confessed to having sex with a third donzella, Caterina da Ferrara, after she was married but before she had left the court. Isabella demanded he be executed and his property confiscated. Her honour was stained by the seduction and adultery that had taken place in her own apartments, it was argued. Bonvicini pleaded that he had had no intention of offending Isabella, but had done what he had because he was mad with love, and out of lust. Isabella, so one of the lawyers said, wanted the death sentence to be pronounced, but not carried out. Bonvicini may indeed have escaped execution, but all his property was confiscated and given to Isabella by Federico; she handed it over to Bonvicini’s brother.137 Should some at least of those donzelle who chose to enter convents be seen as repentant Magdalenes, rather than unwilling to adjust to being a wife in a comparatively modest household after the glamour of being a companion of Isabella? Many, perhaps most, of Isabella’s donzelle would have stayed with her for only a few years before moving on to a husband or a convent. None stayed with her throughout her adult life. As she grew older, the age gap between her and her donzelle would have widened. She still seems to have liked to have good-looking, lively

178  The first lady young women around her, although she may no longer herself have joined in their romps, as she once had. While they were in her household, her donzelle would have seen more of her than anyone else did (that must have been true for many of the ladies grand enough to have their own donzelle). They helped her with her dress and her hair, laughed with her, read with her, danced with her and for her, listened to her play and sing the music she loved, rejoiced with her over the additions to her collections. They kept her company when she was alone, walked and rode with her, helped her entertain her guests, observed her relations with her brothers and sisters, her children and her husband. They knew something of her sexual relationship with Francesco, if perhaps not all the secrets of the marriage bed. They would have been present (at a discreet distance, no doubt) when she discussed politics and affairs of state, and may well have been privy to the covert help she gave to Alfonso when Ferrara was threatened. They lived in the apartments she created in Mantua, and accompanied her on her many travels. No one else – not even her mother and sister or her husband and brothers – would have been able to observe Isabella so completely in all her moods, all the aspects of her complex persona as one of the first ladies of Italy.

Notes 1 Gregorovius, Lucrezia Borgia, p. 207. 2 Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este marchesa di Mantova’, Nuova Antologia, 147 (1896), pp. 463–4. 3 Gregorovius, Lucrezia Borgia, p. 238. 4 Ibid., p. 244: Isabella to Francesco, 1 February 1502. 5 D’Arco, ‘Notizie di Isabella Estense’, p.  308: Isabella to Francesco Gonzaga, 5 February 1502. 6 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, pp. 114–15: Benedetto Capilupi to Francesco, 17 [sic but 9?] February 1502. 7 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, pp. 543–4: marchesa di Cotrone to Francesco, 5 February 1502. 8 Ibid., p. 546: Girolamo da Sestola to Isabella, 23 February 1502. 9 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, pp. 116–21: Elisabetta Gonzaga to Vincenzo Calmeta, 1 May 1502. 10 Luigi-Alberto Gandini, Isabella, Beatrice e Alfonso d’Este infanti: documenti inediti del secolo XV (Modena, 1896), pp. 45–6, 49–50.

The first lady 179 1 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, p. 461. 1 12 Ibid., p.  454: Isabella to Alberto da Bologna, ? December  1492. In Raphael’s Messa di Bolsena in Julius II’s apartments in the Vatican, one of the kneeling gentlemen, the one with a sword, wears a coat with wide stripes in morello and berettino. 13 Chiara Zaffanella, ‘Isabella d’Este e la moda del suo tempo’, in Daniele Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este. La prima donna del Rinascimento (Modena: il Bulino, 2001), p.  216: Isabella to Giorgio Brognolo, 5 August 1496. 14 Ibid., p. 212: Isabella to Giorgio Brognolo, 13 June 1496. 15 Ibid.: Isabella to G. Brognolo, 11 September 1496. 16 Evelyn Welch, Shopping in the Renaissance: Consumer Cultures in Italy 1400–1600 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2005; reprinted 2009), p.  358: Isabella to Angelo Tovalia, 9 April 1507. 17 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 147, p.  462: Susanna Gonzaga to Isabella, 15 April 1512. 18 Ibid., pp. 454–5. 19 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p. 739, n. 2: Elionora de Borja to Isabella, 11 February 1508, Valencia. 20 Raffaele Tamalio, Federico Gonzaga alla corte di Francesco I di Francia: nel carteggio privato con Mantova (1515–1517) (Paris: H. Champion, 1994), p. 128: Federico to Isabella, 19 November 1515, Milan. 21 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 147, p. 466. 22 Ibid., 149, p. 267: Bona to Isabella, 15 June 1523, Cracow. 23 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e la corte sforzesca’, pp. 171–2, n. 2: Eleonora Rusca to Isabella? 1509. 24 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 149, p. 264. 25 Welch, Shopping in the Renaissance, p. 267: Isabella to Bernardino Prosperi, 18 July 1506, Sacchetta. 26 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 149, p. 683: Isabella to Floramonte Brognolo, 13 August 1506. 27 Ibid., pp. 683–4: Soardino to Isabella, 28 February 1520, Cognac. 28 Zaffanella, ‘Isabella d’Este e la moda’, p. 217. 29 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 149, p. 679: Isabella to Gian Stefano Rozone, 18 May 1516, Mantua; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 407. 30 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 138: Isabella to protonotary Bentivoglio, 19 May  1514; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 378–9. 31 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 137. 32 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, p. 248.

180  The first lady 33 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 149, p.  678; d’Este, Selected Letters, p.  407: Isabella to Gian Stefano Rozone, 18 May 1516, Mantua. 34 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, pp. 680–1. 35 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, p. 251, n. 8: Isabella to Gerolamo Ziliolo, 11 August 1516. 36 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, p. 417. 37 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 149, p. 681. 38 Ibid., p. 678. 39 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, p. 249. 40 Luzio and Renier, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga, p. 635: Isabella to Barone Bonvesino, 23 July 1496. 41 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 149, p. 675. 42 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 167: Emilia Pia to Isabella, 10 March 1505, Urbino. 43 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 212; Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 149, pp. 673–4. 44 Catalano, Vita di Ludovico Ariosto, I, p.  505: Camillo Costabili to Isabella, 7 January 1505. 45 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, p. 121: Isabella to Lorenzo, 30 March 1511. 46 Ibid., pp. 229–33; Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 148, p. 298. 47 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 148, p. 317. 48 Welch, Shopping in the Renaissance, p. 355, n. 39: Isabella to Francesco, 12 June 1506. 49 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X, pp.  261–2: Isabella to Cardinal Sigismondo Gonzaga, 6 December 1521. 50 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 148, pp. 315–16: Isabella to Francesco, 27 August 1496. 51 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p.  692: Isabella’s instructions to Ludovico Brognolo, 7 November 1502. 52 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 129: Isabella to Cardona, 23 November 1513. 53 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 148, p. 316. 54 Ibid. 55 Brown and Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, pp. 175, 181. 56 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 148, p. 310. 57 See, for example, Diane Ghirardo, ‘Lucrezia Borgia as entrepreneur’, Renaissance Quarterly, 61/1 (2008), pp.  53–91; Bruce L. Edelstein, ‘Eleonora di Toledo e la gestione dei beni familiari: una strategia

The first lady 181 economica?’ in Letizia Arcangeli and Susanna Peyronel (eds), Donne di potere nel Rinascimento (Rome: Viella, 2008), pp. 743–64. 58 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 148, pp. 312–13: Isabella to Ercole d’Este, 18 May 1502, Mantua. 59 Nadia Covini, ‘Tra patronage e ruolo politico: Bianca Maria Visconti (1450–1468)’, in Letizia Arcangeli and Susanna Peyronel (eds.), Donne di potere nel Rinascimento (Rome: Viella, 2008), p. 265. 60 Folin, ‘La corte della duchessa, p.  493; Marco Catini and Marzio Romani, ‘Le corti parallele: per una tipologia delle corte padane dal XIII al XVI secolo’, in Sergio Bertelli (ed.), Per Federico Chabod (1901–1960), I, Lo stato e il potere nel Rinascimento (Annali della Facoltà di Scienze Politiche, 17 (1980–81), Materiali di Storia, 5), p. 69. 61 Ghirardo, ‘Lucrezia Borgia as entrepreneur’, pp. 59, 80. 62 Luisa Giordano, ‘La “Ill.ma consorte” di Ludovico Sforza’, in Luisa Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este 1475–1497 (Pisa: ETS, 2008), p. 70. 63 Maria Antonietta Visceglia, ‘ “Farsi imperiale”: faide familiari e identità politiche a Roma nel primo Cinquecento’, in Francesca Cantù and Maria Antonietta Visceglia (eds.), L’Italia di Carlo V. Guerra, religione e politica nel primo Cinquecento (Rome: Viella, 2003), p. 481, n. 14. 64 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, pp. 82–3; Catalano, Vita di Ludovico Ariosto, I, p. 603. 65 Luzio and Renier, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga con Ludovico e Beatrice Sforza’, pp. 629–30: Jacopo d’Atri to Isabella, 6 October 1495. 66 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’, 40 (1907), p. 41: Rozone to Isabella, 18, 25 February 1516, Tournon. 67 Castiglione, Le Lettere, I, p. 562: Baldassare Castiglione to Isabella, 28 July 1520, Rome. 68 Luzio and Renier, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga con Ludovico e Beatrice Sforza’, p. 665: Isabella to Ludovico Sforza, 13 March 1499. 69 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, p. 565: Isabella to Lucrezia Bentivoglio, 11 September 1511; Isabella to Francia, 25 November 1511. 70 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’, 40 (1907), p. 42: Isabella to Rozone, 28 February 1516. 71 Carolyn James, The Letters of Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti (1481–1510) (Florence: Leo S. Olschki Editore, 2002), p. 65. 72 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 58: Isabella to Elisabetta, 17 May 1492. 73 Ibid., p. 186; Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, p. 77.

182  The first lady 74 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, pp. 63–5. 75 Ibid., pp. 81–3. 76 Bandello, Le Novelle, I, pp. 446–7. 77 Ibid., pp. 144–51, 338–45. 78 Alessandro Luzio and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Buffoni, nani e schiavi dei Gonzaga ai tempi d’Isabella d’Este’, Nuova Antologia, 118 (1891), p. 620. 79 Catalano, Vita di Ludovico Ariosto, I, pp. 111, 341. 80 Luzio and Renier, ‘Buffoni, nani e schiavi’, 118, pp. 638–41. 81 Ibid., p. 632. 82 Ibid., p. 634. 83 Ibid., 119, p. 118: Isabella to Alberto Pio, 28 April 1502. 84 Ibid., p. 119: Bernardino Prosperi to Isabella, 9 July 1519, Ferrara. 85 Ibid., pp. 133–4; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 562: Isabella to Diana d’Este, 11 September 1532, Mantua. 86 Hickson, Women, Art and Architecture, p. 142. 87 Luzio and Renier, ‘Buffoni, nani e schiavi’, 119, p. 137. 88 Ibid., pp.  140–1; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp.  41–2: Isabella to Giorgio Brognolo, 14 June  1491, Isabella to Galeazzo Trotto, 15 June 1491. 89 Luzio and Renier, ‘Buffoni, nani e schiavi’, 119, p. 141: Isabella to Giorgio Brognolo, 16 July 1491. 90 Ibid., p. 143: Isabella to Anna Sforza, 14 June 1491. 91 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 127–8: Isabella to Donato de’ Preti, 13 February 1499, Mantua; Kate Lowe, ‘Isabella d’Este and the acquisition of black Africans at the Mantuan court’, in Philippa Jackson and Guido Rebecchini (eds.), Mantova e il Rinascimento italiano: Studi in onore di David S. Chambers (Mantova: Sometti, 2011), p. 75. 92 Lowe, ‘Isabella d’Este and the acquisition of black Africans’, p. 76: Margherita Cantelmo to Isabella, 26 June 1522, Ferrara. 93 Hickson, Women, Art and Architecture, p. 149. 94 Ibid., pp. 157–8: Isabella to Francesco, 23 July 1496. 95 Ibid.; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 99–100. 96 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, pp. 74–5. 97 Ibid., p. 93. 98 Hickson, Women, Art and Architecture, pp. 157–8: Margherita Cantelmo to Isabella? June 1505 (Hickson gives four different dates for this letter in her book). 99 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 71. 100 Ibid., pp. 144–5: Isabella to Elisabetta, 5 October 1502. 101 Ibid., p. 273; d’Este, Selected Letters, p. 499: Isabella to Federico, 11 February 1526, Rome. 102 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 283. 103 Ibid., pp. 161–8. 104 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 372: Isabella to Ramón de Cardona, 19 November 1513.

The first lady 183 105 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 108. 106 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, pp. 124–5. 107 D’Este, Selected Letters, p.  111: Isabella to Battista Guarini, 10 June 1497. 108 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 116: Isabella to Battista Guarini, 1 May 1496. 109 Ibid., p.  117; d’Este, Selected Letters, p.  111: Isabella to Battista Guarini, 10 January 1497. 110 Allison, ‘Antico e Isabella d’Este’, p. 136. 111 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 159: Isabella to conte Alberto Boschetti, 13 April 1501. 112 Ibid., p. 522: Isabella to Alberto Bendidio, 1 May 1529. 113 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp. 215–16, n. 2: Isabella to Cardona, 21 June 1513; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 369–70. 114 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 276: Isabella to Giovanna Boschetti, 30 August 1506, Sacchetta. 115 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 109: Isabella to Giovanna Boschetti, 30 August  1506; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 276–7. 116 Bacchelli, La congiura di don Giulio d’Este, II, p. 148. 117 Luzio, ‘La reggenza’, pp. 66–7. 118 Massimo Marocchi, I Gonzaga di Castiglione delle Stiviere: Vicende pubbliche e private del casato di San Luigi (Verona?: Rotary Club, Castiglione delle Stiviere e alto Mantovano, 1990), pp. 107–12. 119 Costantino Cipolla, ‘Introduzione’, in Costantino Cipolla and Giancarlo Malacarne (eds), “El più soave et dolce et dilectevole et gratioso bocchone”. Amore e sesso al tempo dei Gonzaga (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2006), p. 37. 120 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 182. 121 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, p. 194: Cesare Gonzaga to Tolomeo Spagnoli, 24 January 1513. 122 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 134, n. 126. 123 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, pp. 132–3, note 3. 124 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’ Este e la corte Sforzesca’, p. 161; Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp. 191–2. 125 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, p. 231: Cardona to Isabella, 14 April 1513, Pavia. 126 Ibid., p. 216: Isabella to Cardona, 27 June 1513. 127 Ibid., p.  215: Isabella to Lucrezia Borgia, 24 May  1513; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 364–5. Lucrezia had recently written to her of a similar case in Ferrara. 128 Pedrazzoli, ‘La marchesa Isabella d’Este Gonzaga’, p. 875. 129 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, pp. 187–8. Cockram says that Brognina returned to Isabella’s service after the death of Francesco, but this was another lady of the same name.

184  The first lady 130 Bourne, ‘Mail humour’, pp.  211–13; the letter is reproduced on p. 212. Bourne describes the hearts as being ‘suggestively pierced by arrows’ (p. 213). 131 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 153: Federico to Isabella, 30 December 1514. 132 Ibid.: Isabella to Federico, 11 January 1515. 133 Ibid., p. 144, note 2. 134 Ibid., p. 157: Isabella to Federico, 15 September 1514. 135 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, p. 141. 136 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 214: Francesco to Benedetto Capilupi, 21 February 1507. 137 Cipolla and Malacarne, “El più soave et dolce et dilectevole et gratioso bochone”, pp. 394–8.

6 The traveller

Isabella loved travelling. This, like so many of her characteristics, was an Este family trait – the ‘curse of vagabondage’ passed down through the Este that Baldassare Castiglione joked about with her.1 She was ready to accept the discomforts and inconveniences of travel as a price worth paying for the experience. Buildings new and old, castles and churches as well as palaces, paintings, antiquities, landscapes and shops  – everything the assiduous modern tourist would want to see was of interest to Isabella. She enjoyed meeting new people, as she enjoyed visiting members of her family, and she could be just as entertained by watching peasant girls dancing as by elaborate court festivities. As the years went by, her journeys often had some political purpose, and at times, escaping personal difficulties and troubles in Mantua was the spur. Even in those circumstances, travelling remained one of her greatest pleasures. Except on some visits to Ferrara, she never went travelling with Francesco; if he was to be away from Mantua for any length of time, she needed to be there to act as regent. She never took any of her children with her, either. Would Francesco have objected if she had proposed to do so? It seems unlikely that he would have objected on every occasion, if that were the only obstacle. It is more likely that Isabella chose to leave her children behind. She did make a couple of pleasure trips with Elisabetta Gonzaga, to Lake Garda and to Venice. She accompanied her sister Beatrice with her mother and brother Alfonso to Beatrice’s wedding to Ludovico Sforza and then accompanied Anna Sforza, Alfonso’s

186  The traveller bride, from Milan to Ferrara, but then she was acting as a kind of official escort. Otherwise, she travelled on her own  – except, of course, for her entourage, which could number over a hundred people. If she was going to be away for some time, she would slim this down. Aside from the logistical problems, it was costly to provide food and lodgings for so many people. Fortunately for her, even when she was not visiting relatives, her status meant that she was often treated as an honoured guest, and might be given free lodgings and gifts of food and wine. If she had had to pay all her own expenses, she could not have afforded to travel as much as she did. Isabella was fortunate, too, to live in a region of Italy where much of her travelling could be on rivers or canals. Journeys on inland waterways were quicker, safer and more comfortable than journeys by road. A bucintoro, bucentaur, a spacious boat or barge with a cabin or awnings to protect passengers from the sun, wind and rain, was about the most luxurious mode of transport available, far preferable to a covered carretta. However wellappointed one of these wagonettes might be, its passengers could not avoid being jolted over ruts and stones, or thrown about as it lurched through mud and potholes. In the heat of the summer, they might have to choose between being choked by dust or stifled if they tried to shut the dust out. For Isabella, skilled horsewoman as she was, there was also the option of riding a horse or mule (well-bred, sure-footed mules were highly prized, and a good mule could be as valuable as a good horse). That would be the most comfortable way to negotiate rough tracks and steep ground. She would travel many miles in carrette, or on horseback. Isabella travelled most frequently in the 1490s. Visits to her mother and father in Ferrara accounted for the majority of her journeys. Apart from the enduring closeness of her ties to her family, there was the attraction of the plays and other entertainments that were put on more often in Ferrara than in Mantua. As Ferrara could be reached in a day and must still have felt like home to Isabella, certainly while her mother was alive, there could be little sense of adventure for her in going there. There was more to discover in her visits to her sister, Beatrice. Milan itself was a much greater city than either Ferrara or Mantua – one of the largest and richest in Italy, in fact – and the Sforza court

The traveller 187 was the most sumptuous of all the Italian princely courts. Ludovico Sforza made his sister-in-law very welcome, and Isabella soon found herself at her ease there. None of her subsequent experiences of hospitality in other Italian cities would ever quite match what Ludovico provided for her. Her first visit to Milan was as a member of Beatrice’s wedding party in January 1491. Initially, she planned to take with her 114 people (including trumpeters) and 90 horses, but Ludovico, contemplating the problems of accommodating all his guests, urged her to bring as few people as possible, so reluctantly she cut her entourage to a mere 50, with 30 horses. It was a memorably harsh winter that year, and travelling was difficult. The river Po was icebound at Ferrara, forcing her mother and sister to make the first stages of their journey by carrette, while Alfonso chose to use a sledge. Isabella joined up with them, and they were met at Brescello on the border between Mantuan territory and the duchy of Milan by Galeazzo Visconti, who had come with three bucentaurs and eighteen boats to escort the party to Pavia. One bucentaur and two boats were assigned to Isabella and her train; not enough, it seems, for she procured two more boats herself. The bucentaur she found shabby and draughty, and Isabella complained she was dying of cold. At night, she asked one of her ladies, Beatrice de’ Contrari, to get into bed with her to help her warm up. Adding to their woes, the boat carrying the food lagged behind, and sometimes they went hungry. Unaccustomed to such privations, Isabella endured over a week in this craft, with only a day’s rest at Piacenza to thaw out. At last, on the evening of 15 January, they reached Pavia. Ludovico was there to greet them, and things began to look up. Soon Isabella was dreaming of a trip to Genoa, and thinking of all the places she could see on the way.2 Pavia, which had been the favoured residence of the Visconti dukes of Milan, was itself well worth seeing. With its gardens and park, the castle was the most beautiful of the ducal palaces, and there were many treasures, not least the manuscripts in the fine library, for Ludovico to show to his guests. The wedding took place at Pavia, on 17 January, the day Ludovico’s astrologer adjudged the most propitious. Leaving the bridal party to enjoy the amenities of the castle and park, Ludovico went ahead to Milan to

188  The traveller oversee final preparations for their reception and for the week of celebrations that had already been months in the planning. Isabella’s first sight of Milan, on 22 January, was of a city magnificently arrayed to welcome the bridal party. Scores of trumpeters led the way through streets and squares hung with rich cloth in the Sforza colours of red and blue, with strands of ivy wreathing columns and portals. Models of armed men on horseback lined the street of the armourers (the craftsmen of Milan were renowned throughout Europe for the fine armour they produced). Alfonso’s wedding to Anna Sforza took place in a private ceremony the next day, but the festivities that followed were primarily focused on Beatrice and Ludovico. The main events were a ball, to which 200 Milanese ladies were invited, and a tournament that lasted for three days, opening with a pageant featuring four troops of costumed horsemen. One of these, dressed in green velvet with gold lace, carrying gold lances and olive branches, was from Mantua. Francesco had been invited but, holding a Venetian command at this time, had thought it impolitic to figure among the official guests. He could not resist turning up for the tournament, however, and he was recognized among the knights. Pressed to join the family party, he was with Isabella at the banquet after the final day of jousting. On 1 February, Isabella left with her mother to escort Anna Sforza to Ferrara. Ludovico arranged for them to view the famous Certosa, the Carthusian church and monastery, at Pavia on the way; Eleonora was as keen as Isabella to see it. At Pavia they embarked for the ten-day river journey to Ferrara and the celebrations of the marriage of Alfonso and Anna. Delighted as Ludovico was with his bride, he had admired her sister, too, and he and Isabella had got on well together. He took the time to write to her quite often, principally about what Beatrice had been doing, and repeatedly invited her to return to Milan. She was eager to do so, but had to wait until Francesco gave his permission. Finally, in July 1492, he agreed she could go. Sickness that laid low half her household, and her anxiety that her clothes and jewels should stand comparison with those of the ladies of the Milanese court, delayed her departure, so she could not travel with her father, who was also visiting Milan. She set off on 10 August, this time making the journey in the summer heat, by road. Her first stop in the duchy of Milan was Cremona, where

The traveller 189 she was given an honourable welcome and lodged in the episcopal palace. A cousin of Ludovico, Francesco Sforza, was sent to escort her to Pavia. There she was received with all the ceremony of a visit of state. Beatrice and her unfortunate rival, the duchess of Milan, met her outside the city. A little further along she was greeted by Ludovico and his nephew, Duke Giangaleazzo, with the ambassadors to the court of Milan, and then escorted to the castle by a cavalcade, to the sound of trumpets. After these flattering initial formalities, the visit became more of a family party. Isabella took all her meals with Beatrice and Ludovico. Hunting was the chief recreation  – not the kind that involved hard riding, or any fieldcraft, but the kind that turned the slaughter of animals into a stage-managed spectacle. One day, at a place four miles from Pavia, an area of woodland was cordoned off by lengths of white cloth, so that game could be driven towards open ground where a shady pergola, painted green, had been erected for the ladies, while the men waited on foot and horseback in hides made of green cloth. Eight deer were found; only one luckless stag broke cover and he was brought down by the dogs of Ludovico and Beatrice, and finished off with a spear by a courtier on horseback. Isabella particularly enjoyed a hunt in a wooded valley near the Ticino ‘in the most beautiful site that I think nature could shape for such a show’.3 Again the ladies were installed under their pergola, the men concealed by hides of green cloth and branches, while the game was trapped within a cordon of cloth, and driven over a branch of the river and up the hill towards them. Two of the many deer seen approached them, but were chased so far ‘that we could not see them die’. Her brother Alfonso (who had joined them at Vigevano with Ercole a few days before) followed the deer. A doe and her young fawn were spared; a roebuck and a boar were killed in front of the ladies. The best entertainment was provided by a wolf, twisting and turning, ‘but forced to go to slaughter with the others. And so with much joy and laughter we went home, to end this day at table to let the body enjoy the pleasures received by the spirit’.4 By early September, she was beginning to have had enough of the pleasures of the country, and her thoughts were turning to Genoa. Before she fulfilled that ambition, she spent another two weeks touring the countryside, with yet more hunting, before

190  The traveller Ludovico and Beatrice led their court back to Milan. Isabella spent a happy fortnight roaming the castle and park with Beatrice, watching plays staged by Milanese nobles in honour of her father, before she finally had her wish and left for Genoa. This was not a journey that could be made by river. From Lombardy, there was no alternative but to trek across the mountains hemming in the city. The setting of Genoa and its harbour were the main attractions. Genoa was also known for the villas in the foothills, to which citizens could escape from the narrow streets perpetually overshadowed by the tall buildings that characterized the medieval cityscape (and much of the modern one, for many still survive). As Francesco had seen Genoa himself, Isabella did not describe it to him, but she did give an account of her entry. At this time, Genoa was subject to the duke of Milan, so Ludovico Sforza’s sister-in-law was a personage to be treated with respect. All the major members of the civic government turned out to greet her as she approached the city, including the governor, Agostino Adorno, with many gentlemen and other citizens, ‘all on mules’, she noted, rather than horses. Mules were in fact much better suited than horses to the steep roads and tracks of Liguria. She herself was riding one, lent to her by Ludovico. Her entry was heralded by volleys of gunshots and the sound of trumpets. The infantry guard accompanied her to her lodgings in the house of a nobleman, where the governor’s wife and other ladies were waiting to receive her. To her alarm, the guards claimed their customary right to seize the mule she was riding, with its rich trappings. Many a grand procession in Renaissance Italy ended in an unseemly scuffle, for this custom was widespread, but it might have been a new experience for Isabella. ‘I have never been so frightened’, she told Francesco, ‘they tore all the trappings to pieces, and took the bridle off before I  could dismount, despite the intervention of the governor and my offering it to them freely. I did not lose my head, although among so many weapons I was afraid of an accident’. Finally, she was helped to get away, and then she had to ransom Ludovico’s mule to recover it.5 Her visit to Genoa was brief. She was needed back in Mantua, to take charge while Francesco and both his brothers were away. On the way home, she lingered in Milan, where Beatrice, who was in the later stages of pregnancy, was ill, reaching Mantua by 20

The traveller 191 October. Her next visit to Milan – again at the pressing invitation of Ludovico, then duke of Milan after the death of Giangaleazzo – was to assist Beatrice at the birth of her second child. One of her first duties after she arrived on 19 January 1495 was to offer her condolences to Giangaleazzo’s widow, Isabella d’Aragona. Dressed in heavy mourning, secluded in a darkened room which was draped in black, the widow was a picture of grief, one that moved Isabella to tears. She wept again, for pity at the agonies of her sister, when Beatrice gave birth on 4 February. Celebrations for Beatrice’s safe delivery of a son merged with the carnival celebrations before Lent. Ludovico urged Francesco to grant Isabella permission to stay for the whole season, which he did, a little reluctantly. She was truly impressed by the ‘triumphant and magnificent festivities’, by the decorations of the city streets, a masterclass by Ludovico, she thought.6 The mood was spoiled, however, by the news that came at the end of February of the conquest of Naples by the army of Charles VIII and the flight of her cousin, the young king Ferrandino, who had come to the throne on the abdication of her disheartened uncle Alfonso. ‘It seems a thousand years to me before this Carnival is over’, she sighed, but Ludovico, guided by his astrologer, insisted she should stay to the end.7 She left for Mantua on 14 March, the loss of her company felt not only by Beatrice, but by Ludovico and her little nephew Ercole, who kept looking for her, calling out “Auntie, auntie”. Enjoying the sumptuous pleasures of the Milanese court, watching Beatrice take centre stage playing the role of the duchess of Milan even before her husband usurped the title was one thing. Playing second fiddle to her younger sister in other theatres was quite another. Her excitement when Francesco, on a visit to Venice in March 1493, accepted the doge’s invitation for Isabella to go there at the time of the celebrations of Ascension Day, was dampened by the news that Ludovico planned to send Beatrice to Venice, in the full pomp of a prospective duchess of Milan. Unable to compete with the fabulous clothes and jewels her sister could deploy, Isabella requested that her own visit be treated as a private affair. ‘I am not going to Venice to be honoured, but only to pay my respects and demonstrate my affection, fidelity and service. . . . On no account will I go at the same time’ as Beatrice, she insisted.8 Some relief for her chagrin came when Beatrice’s

192  The traveller journey was delayed, leaving Isabella time to fit in her own visit before her sister’s arrival. While at Ferrara, which she reached on 4 May, making final preparations for her journey, she saw a list of the train Beatrice would be taking, and decided she had to add to her own – ‘not to vye with her’, but because her own entourage as originally planned was quite small.9 Leaving Ferrara on 12 May, she was at Chioggia on the gulf of Venice the next day, lodged in the Venetian official’s well-appointed palace, with the expenses of herself and her entourage covered. Four Venetian gentlemen – three of them had been envoys at her wedding, she noted – came to greet her on behalf of the doge and escort her to Venice. There she was met by a crowd of gentlemen and further on by the doge and other officials. In response to the doge’s welcoming speech, she replied that it was not fitting she should be received by her lord with such ceremony, that she had intended to be received privately.10 In fact, her visit was treated as a state visit. Gratifying as this was in one way, there was a drawback. It meant that much of her time was taken up by elaborate ceremonial and etiquette, time she would probably have preferred to spend seeing the sights and touring the shops. Passing along the Grand Canal among a flotilla of boats, sitting at the right hand of the doge in the state bucentaur, surrounded by gentlemen and ladies (93 ladies, she reckoned, not one of them wearing jewels worth less than 6,000 ducats), to the sound of trumpets and gunfire and bells, ‘so that the very stones seemed to rejoice at my coming’, was exhilarating. The formal audience in the doge’s palace the next day, and then attending a lengthy vespers service with the doge, she found became tedious. ‘Have pity on me’, she wrote to Francesco the next day, ‘because I have never been so wearied as in taking part in these ceremonies’. One of them was the famous ceremony of the doge “marrying” the sea by casting a ring into the waters. To the Venetians, inviting someone to witness this ceremony as a guest of the doge seemed a signal honour; Isabella was not the only such guest to find it a bit of a bore. A  banquet on the following day, even with an exhibition of Venetian dances, also seemed long and wearisome to her. On 19 May, she had to undertake the obligatory duty of a state guest, attending a session of the Great Council (another sight Venetians expected to impress foreigners). But she did have the

The traveller 193 chance to hear the nuns of San Zaccaria sing, and she was visited at the Gonzaga palace in Venice, where she was staying, by Francesco’s uncle, Duke Christopher of Bavaria. She left Venice the next day, and was back in Mantua, travelling via Padua, Vicenza and Verona, on 27 May. Fulfilment of a vow made in childbed, to visit the shrine at Loreto in the spring of 1494, provided an opportunity to visit Elisabetta Gonzaga and to tour the duchy of Urbino, taking in other places of interest in the region on the way. Originally, on leaving Mantua on 10 March for her first stop at Ferrara, her plan was to go to Urbino first to spend Holy Week there, and then to continue to Loreto and on to Assisi. On the advice of Elisabetta Gonzaga, she drew up another itinerary, taking the road down the Adriatic coast, to reach Ancona on 25 March, and to pay her devotions at Loreto on the following two days. Next, she would make her way westward to Gubbio in the duchy of Urbino, from where she planned to visit Assisi, go on to Perugia (‘only ten miles by a lovely valley, so I hear’), spend a day there hearing mass, seeing the sights, and then return to Gubbio. From there she would take her time to tour the duchy, before striking along the highway through the Romagna to Bologna, and then to Ferrara, to satisfy her father and brothers ‘who have pressed me to go that way before I return to Mantua’.11 Her plans changed again after Loreto, when she took a more direct route than she had projected to Gubbio, where Elisabetta and Guidobaldo were waiting to receive her. They refused to let her move on, keeping her for ten days at Gubbio – although she did make a trip to Assisi and to Camerino during that time – and then accompanying her on a slow progress to Urbino, where they detained her for a fortnight. Not that she was an unwilling guest, although she did protest at the lavish hospitality she was given, asking to be treated like one of the family. And she was full of admiration for the ducal palaces. ‘I don’t know if I have ever seen anything that pleased me more’ than the palace at Gubbio, so beautiful in itself, magnificently furnished, with a delightful garden with a fountain, and situated so that it commanded a view of the entire city and the surrounding countryside. ‘The city itself is very attractive, well populated and bustling with trade’.12 But the palace at Urbino surpassed it. Lovelier even than its fame had led

194  The traveller her to imagine, its ‘natural beauty’ was enhanced by the rich tapestries, furnishings and silver vessels that filled its rooms. She was impressed, too, by the court and by the way the young duke, who had only recently attained his majority, was handling the responsibility of governing for himself after a decade of being under the tutelage of a regent. By the time she left Urbino and the hospitality of the duke and duchess, setting off on her journey home on 25 April, she had been away rather longer than she had intended. Not lingering at Bologna, where she was fêted by her Bentivoglio relations, she was back in Mantua by mid-May. Another vow, one perhaps made at the time of the birth of her daughter Ippolita the year before, to visit the church of St Anthony of Padua (then, as now, an important pilgrimage shrine), provided Isabella with the opportunity in 1502 to go to Venice again. An added incentive to go there was that Elisabetta was staying in Mantua, and had never been to Venice. Forewarned by their experience of her previous trip, Isabella was determined this one should be unofficial and as informal as possible. Francesco happily gave his permission. Sigismondo Gonzaga would accompany them, and their entourages included two of their favourite ladies, Emilia Pia and the marchesa di Cotrone. Travelling privately had its disadvantages, as the party found at their first stop, at Chioggia. The inns were full, so Isabella had to send her secretary Benedetto Capilupi to inform the Venetian official of their arrival. Although they requested that he find them some private lodgings near the inns, he insisted they should stay with him, promising they would not be treated as official visitors. That evening he left them to themselves, waiting until the morning to pay his respects. He had already sent news of their arrival to Venice, but they told him they were travelling incognito and did not want any official welcome. They were able to arrive at Venice the next day without any fuss, and go to the palace near San Stae rented by the ambassador of Urbino, where they lodged. From the start, Isabella felt able to appreciate the city better than on her earlier visit. It seemed to her even more beautiful, and Elisabetta judged it to be more marvellous than Rome. Intending to stay only a few days, they were energetic tourists, ranging more widely than many modern day visitors. Beginning their first day in Venice by hearing mass at Santa Maria dei Miracoli (built in

The traveller 195 the 1480s, so for them an exquisite example of modern architecture), they then visited the great Gothic church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo and the nearby Scuola di San Marco (whose facade had been finished less than a decade before). After dinner, they headed by water for San Marco  – hoping in vain that it would not be crowded at that hour  – and then climbed up the campanile of San Marco to admire the panoramic view of the city. Next they crossed over the canal to the Benedictine monastery of San Giorgio, and then made their way to the Scuola della Misericordia (they would have seen the Scuola Vecchia) before turning back along the Grand Canal to their lodgings. Shopping was their priority on the second day. After hearing mass at the Ca’grande (perhaps the old Palazzo Corner, that burned down in 1532), they went by water to the Rialto, walking from the Peschiera over the Rialto bridge, and down the Merceria to the Piazza San Marco. It would have been a novel experience for these two princesses to have to push their way along crowded streets. They were both enjoying themselves so much that they did not get tired; it was Sigismondo who grew weary. On their return to their lodgings they found a secretary of the Signoria waiting for them, to give notice a government delegation would be coming to see them. As it was public knowledge that they were in Venice, Isabella and Elisabetta had thought it best to send representatives to the doge to excuse themselves for not paying their respects in person. Elisabetta wanted to see the doge and the Venetian government but as a spectator, so they had decided to stay until the Sunday, Palm Sunday, to see them in procession. While they were enjoying the Rialto and Merceria, their secretaries appeared before the doge and Collegio (the main government committee) to explain that their mistresses had come to Venice incognito, to be able to see the city more freely than they could do if they were paying a public visit, confident that the government would not mind. Now their presence in the city was more widely known than they had anticipated, however, they thought they should pay their respects, but as they did not have with them suitable clothes in which to appear before the doge, had sent representatives instead. They hoped they would be allowed to remain private visitors, so they could tour the city more easily, because when Isabella had paid a public visit she had been so

196  The traveller honoured and paid such attentions that she had had no time to see it properly. The doge and councillors seemed gratified by these compliments to their city. While he would have liked to honour Isabella and Elisabetta, for their own sakes and to show the love the Venetians had for their consorts, the doge replied, he would not disturb their pleasures, and he gave orders that they should be admitted to see the Treasury of San Marco and the state treasury, the “Rasanata”. Their sense of feeling at liberty was curtailed, nonetheless, by the attentions of the Venetians, beginning with the deputation of four gentlemen sent to their lodgings on behalf of the government. When they encountered the secretary sent to warn them that the deputation would come, ‘we put up a stout resistance, saying it was unnecessary they should treat us in this way’, but the gentlemen arrived immediately after dinner. And so Isabella and Elisabetta were obliged to observe the proper formalities, going on to the staircase to receive their uninvited (and really unwanted) visitors, listening politely to protestations of how the doge would have wished to honour them if he had known they were coming, and phrasing gracious responses about their affection and respect for the Venetian government. Later, they did manage to go to the convent of Santa Maria delle Vergini near the Arsenal, where they enjoyed seeing the nuns’ cells and hearing two of them sing. On their return to their lodgings, a Venetian gentleman brought a message that orders had been given to show them the Treasury of San Marco and the Rasanata in the afternoon. Any other plans they made for the following day had to be set aside; they could not refuse this invitation. And so, after hearing mass at the Scuola della Carità near San Trovaso, they headed for San Marco to be shown the Pala d’Oro and the Treasury, and were then conducted to the great hall and the armouries of the doge’s palace. They had the opportunity to revisit the Merceria and the Rialto before dining and making their way to view the Rasanata (not what they had come to Venice to see, but another thing the Venetians evidently expected to impress visitors). The treasurer, Alvise Marcello, and another gentleman then accompanied them to the church of San Antonio, and back to their lodgings. On the way, they called on Caterina Cornaro, the Venetian-born Queen of Cyprus (who had abdicated in favour

The traveller 197 of Venice in 1489, after inheriting the kingdom of Cyprus from her husband), who lived nearby and had invited them. The details about what Isabella and Elisabetta did during their first three days in Venice came from letters she wrote to Francesco;13 any further letters to him over the next few days have not survived. As they had planned, they stayed to the end of the week, so were probably among the spectators of the state procession on Palm Sunday, before travelling to Padua on Monday. There Isabella could fulfil her vow before they set off to return to Mantua via Vicenza and Verona. This trip to Venice and Padua marked the end of the period when Isabella travelled most frequently. From then on, she did not even go to Ferrara so often. There was much less incentive to go, when her father and brothers were at odds, and Lucrezia was the first lady of the court. She did still make some journeys just for pleasure. One was to Florence, where she had never been before. A vow made when she fell ill while pregnant to visit the Marian shrine of the Santissima Annunziata in Florence, where there was a Gonzaga votive chapel, prompted this journey in March 1506. She had no official business to transact, and the Florentine republic did not pride itself on its ceremonious hospitality as did the Venetian (although she did call on the wife of the head of the government), so she would be at leisure to admire the city and its works of art, and tour the shops. She ordered a silver effigy of herself, to be placed in the Gonzaga chapel at the Annunziata alongside one of Francesco; she still had not paid for it two years later. At the time, the main branch of the Medici were in exile from Florence, but she was entertained by Pierfrancesco de’ Medici at his villa. Her host (a man of few words, she noted) gave her a lavish meal, and then had his servants dance for her, and the next day put on a display of running at the quintain (‘the wooden armed man’).14 Her next long-distance trip should have been a pleasure, but the circumstances were such that she could not wholeheartedly enjoy herself. In May 1507, Francesco summoned her to Milan, where Louis XII was holding court. This was the first time she had returned to Milan since her last visit to her sister, when Beatrice was duchess of Milan and the cynosure of the Sforza court. Now her sister was dead, her brother-in-law Ludovico was closely, and

198  The traveller far from comfortably, confined in a French prison, and her nephews were in exile. But Francesco, like many other Italian lords, was keen to ingratiate himself with the French ruler of Milan, as were her brothers Alfonso and Ippolito, and Louis wanted ladies to grace the many festivities organized to honour the king and celebrate his victory over the rebellious Genoese. As he had come to Italy at the head of an army, the ladies of the French court had stayed at home. Many Italian ladies were invited to take part in the banquets and balls and be spectators at the jousts and mock battles. Isabella was apparently the highest-ranking woman there, and so received particular attentions. She arrived on the first day of the tournament that was the centrepiece of the celebrations. Louis summoned her to join him there, coming to greet her at the staircase of the stand from which he was watching the jousting. During her stay he visited her at her lodgings three times. On the first occasion, he waited half an hour for her to return from dining at the house of Giangiacomo Trivulzio, and on each visit he stayed two or three hours. Noblewomen whose command of French was greater than Isabella’s acted as interpreters in her conversations with the king. She was a guest of honour at a banquet given by the king, with dancing before and after. Louis danced with her, and also made four cardinals – one of them Ippolito – who were among the guests dance too. What impressed Isabella the most was the procession for the feast of Corpus Christi, the day after she arrived in Milan, with the king, several cardinals, the French barons, the king’s guard, and countless Italians taking part. She was less impressed by the tournament – ‘I have seen better-ordered jousts’ – but in general she was struck by the sheer numbers of people, notably noblemen, French and Italian, thronging Milan. In France itself there would not have been so many, she reckoned, because the French lords who were with the king in Milan would not be resident at the French court, and even if they came together for some solemn occasion, there would not be crowds to match the Italians, from Milan and the cities around and still further afield, who were there.15 The king left Milan on 11 June, and Isabella probably left about the same time. In emphasizing the size of the court and the numbers of cardinals present there in her account to Elisabetta Gonzaga of her

The traveller 199 stay in Milan, she was engaging in a playful competition with her friend. Elisabetta might boast that she had seen Rome, ‘but I  have seen Genoa, Florence, and Milan in triumph, that in our days are no less worthy of admiration’. ‘Not that I wish to deny that I really want to see Rome’, not for the court and the variety of people there from different nations, ‘because I could not see anything grander than I have already, but to see the antiquities and famous ruins of Rome and contemplate what it must have been like when a victorious emperor was in triumph there’.16 A different kind of pleasure was to be had on her tour of the southern shore of Lake Garda in the spring of 1514. Mantuan territory reached towards the lake, and Isabella knew this country quite well. Her first excursion there had been soon after her marriage, in March 1490, when she was accompanied by Elisabetta. Her trip to the lake in 1514 was not purely a pleasure jaunt. Two places only recently acquired by Francesco from the Venetians as spoils of war, Lonato and Sirmione, were on her itinerary. From her description, it appeared that Francesco had been to Lonato, but had not yet seen Sirmione for himself. Work was already in hand to construct lodgings for Francesco in the fortress there, and he wanted her opinion on the plans; he was laid up in Mantua, taking a course of medicine for his syphilis. The people of both places were keen to demonstrate their loyalty to the Gonzaga, and there was an official aspect to her visit. Perhaps this explains the size of the entourage she took with her – 93 people and 80 horses – which seems rather large for a fortnight’s tour of some lakeside beauty spots. How much she enjoyed the whole trip is evident from every description she sent to Francesco.17 She never forgot she was writing to a sick man, sympathized when he did not feel the benefits he anticipated from the medicine he had taken, hoped that his health would improve with the coming of spring. If he could only get well enough to come to these beautiful places, and breathe the good air, she was sure he would feel much better, she told him. Her letters were written to cheer as well as comfort him. They show Isabella at her best, good-humoured, interested in everything, ready to admire, and to accept the inevitable mishaps with a sense of fun. Her arrival at Lonato must have tested her temper a little. Shaken about in a carretta, bumping along over stony roads, she

200  The traveller had to accept with good grace the efforts of the people of Lonato to give her a formal welcome, when she must have been longing to rest and recover. Miles from the township she was met by men on horseback, then by a band of infantry, and then children carrying banners with the Gonzaga arms and olive branches, shouting out Francesco’s name and hers. There was nearly a tragic accident, when a ball from one of the guns fired to herald her entry into the town passed through the sleeve of a young man. Fortunately, he was not injured: a good omen, Isabella said, for the Gonzaga keeping possession of the place. Having arrived at her lodgings, she found many women waiting for her and then had to receive the principal men. At some stage, she had to listen to two speeches from men, and one, in Latin, from a boy of seven. But she appreciated their efforts, telling Francesco they were expressing their devotion to the Gonzaga in word and deed, and deserved his good opinion and favour. Refreshed by a good night’s sleep, the next morning Isabella visited the church of the Annunziata. In the afternoon she inspected the fortress, and was fascinated by how far the view from it extended, and anxious to know the names of all the places she could see. If Francesco was intending to have lodgings constructed for him in the fortress, he had good reason, she thought; they would be delightful. She then took a walk in the fields and vineyards around, so well-tended they looked like gardens. Most of the following day was spent on an excursion to the nearby Benedictine abbey of Maguzzano, being entertained by the monks. On the way back to Lonato, the mule carrying one of her donzelle, Livia, was spooked and Livia fell off, with one foot trapped in the stirrup. Fortunately, she was quickly helped and came to no harm – although had she not been wearing long undergarments, she would have made a fine exhibition of herself, Isabella remarked. The day after, she moved on to Sirmione, beautifully situated on a promontory jutting into Lake Garda. Here she was treated to two orations, one by the mayor, the other by the Gonzaga official, the vicar. Having inspected the fortress and seen the plans for the lodgings Francesco wanted to be built there, she gave her opinion (as Francesco had asked for it) that in the turrets by the gates would be a good position. She had, she joked, ‘taken possession bodily’ of the town, sliding down a staircase

The traveller 201 made slippery by the rain (and she had perhaps been distracted, she thought, by the flowery words of the vicar, which made her laugh). ‘These journeys are not complete [belli] unless similar ridiculous accidents happen’ was her comment on this incident and Livia’s tumble.18 Among the attractions of Sirmione were some striking Roman remains, the ruins of a large villa at the edge of the headland, with a superb view over the lake. Catullus had a villa here, and the ruins are still known as the Grotto of Catullus. Isabella spent a day examining the ruins – which were even more wonderful to her, she enthused, as she had not seen the ruins in Rome – and walking and riding around to view them and their setting in detail. It was no surprise the Romans liked it so much, she told Francesco, suggesting that if God restored Francesco to good health and they could hold on to these places in peace, they could build a small villa (casino) on the ruins, ‘not for fame, because that would not be appropriate for our state, but for pleasure and convenience’.19 The following day was not quite so carefree, for she went to visit Peschiera, which Francesco claimed for the Gonzaga. He had hoped to get it in his share of the lands taken from the Venetians in 1509 but his French allies held on to it, and he was forced to accept Sirmione instead. The site of Lonato was beautiful, that of Sirmione even finer, but that of Peschiera Isabella found the best of all, and she felt that everything possible should be done to possess it. Seeing on her arrival there that there were only a dozen or so soldiers guarding the fortress, she fantasized about seizing it with her ladies and household, ‘not without much cursing under my breath of the king of France and the emperor, who have kept the place from us unjustly’.20 It was then in the hands of the Spanish, and although the castellan and captain received her with every courtesy, she could not put her sense of grievance out of her mind, and it still lingered on her return to Sirmione. She was continuing to visit local churches of note, as well as looking over fortresses and admiring the landscape. On the way to Peschiera she stopped at the church of the Madonna dal Frasino, which was acquiring a reputation for miracles, and prayed for Francesco to be restored to health. As she travelled across the lake the following day on the next stage of her tour, accompanied by two boats carrying the principal civic officials of Sirmione, she

202  The traveller visited the community of Minorite friars on the island of Salò. She was met there by the Spanish captain who had come with a crowded flotilla of boats – 25 or more, Isabella reckoned – to escort her to Salò with drums and trumpets and cries of “Isabella”, “Gonzaga” and “Turco” (Francesco’s sobriquet). She was surprised at the warmth of her welcome by the people of the place too, and their gifts of copious amounts of bread and fruit, fish and sweetmeats, seasoned by two more speeches. Their welcome to her, she told Francesco, was out of respect for him, so she formally thanked them in his name (and anyway, she added, there might come a time when it would be useful to have made friends of them). These celebrations for her arrival were explained, at least in part, by the captain telling her that he had been in Mantua with the viceroy Cardona, and again with the envoy who presented the viceroy’s protests about Brognina entering the convent, although Isabella did not recognize him. Her first day in Salò she spent touring the town and visiting the religious communities there, the second she went on an excursion north along the lakeside to ‘Grignano’ (perhaps Gargnano), mainly to see the gardens along the way. At Grignano, she was greeted with gifts of fish and pomegranates, and a long, polished and ornate speech in Italian ‘by a pedant’, which she thought the best of those she had already been treated to.21 As the day after was the feast of the Annunciation, she spent it in visiting churches and monasteries in Salò. The principal church, a collegiate foundation with several priests and choristers – perhaps the present cathedral  – she thought much more beautiful than any in Mantua. On her return to Sirmione she was again fêted by the people, who came to greet her in many boats decorated with laurel. Isabella was already touched by the efforts of ‘these poor men’ to show their affection to the Gonzaga, and she refused to let them pay her expenses. The closing days of her trip were nearly ruined by another accident, this time one too potentially serious to be a laughing matter. One of her servants, Rodolfo Razonatto, fell into the moat from the bridge leading into the fortress when some rotten timber gave way. Luckily, his fall was witnessed, and he was thrown a pole which helped him keep afloat until a rope was lowered to draw him up. It was fortunate Isabella himself had been

The traveller 203 nearby, otherwise no one might have been around to spot him. By the end of March, she was back in Mantua. Apart from her awareness of Gonzaga interests and thwarted ambitions in the area, Isabella did have other political preoccupations during this pleasure trip. She had no news herself to send back to Mantua, but Francesco kept her informed of the latest reports on the affairs of Alfonso and her nephew Massimiliano Sforza, for she was anxious about both. Experience gained in diplomacy during Francesco’s imprisonment and her collaboration with Alfonso and Ippolito to defend the interests of the Este and Ferrara had broadened and deepened her knowledge of the complexities of Italian politics. She still had no independent political weight, let alone power, but she knew how to negotiate, not merely act as a mouthpiece for her husband or her brother. Political as well as personal considerations underlay her visit to Milan in the winter of 1512–13. Massimiliano, newly installed as duke of Milan after the expulsion of the French, pressed her to come. On his way to Milan from the German lands where he had passed his years of exile, he had spent a few days in November in Mantua, meeting his aunt again for the first time since he was a little boy. Only nineteen years of age, he showed little aptitude for government, and threw himself into enjoying the pleasures he had missed as an impoverished dependent of the emperor-elect Maximilian. The real masters in Milan were the Swiss, and their commander Cardinal Mattias Schinner, whose dominance was contested by Maximilian’s representative, Cardinal Lang, and Cardona, the Neapolitan viceroy. In the circumstances, Massimiliano may well have wanted Isabella to come to provide him with moral support, but he also wanted her, and her ladies, to help enliven the court. Francesco was willing to let her go, not least because of the strained relations between them caused by his concern that she was compromising his interests by her determined efforts to help Alfonso. In Milan she would be distanced from the affairs of Ferrara, he argued. Moreover, it would not please the French and so would counter her reputation for being a French partisan (at least, this was how he hoped his permission to Isabella might be interpreted in Rome).22 On the other hand, Isabella was willing to go, because she saw it as an opportunity to lobby for her brother

204  The traveller with Cardona and Lang.23 Francesco must have known full well what his wife intended to do; but it would be easier for him to plead ignorance if she were away in Milan, rather than with him in Mantua. Leaving Mantua on 8 January, Isabella travelled to Milan by land. Orders had been sent to have some work done on the roads in Mantuan territory to ease the passage of her carrette, but in the duchy of Milan, between Cremona and Lodi, the roads were treacherous with mud, and two of her ladies, travelling on horseback, had suffered accidents. At Lodi, for once, Isabella had to put up at an inn. Intending to enter Milan quietly, she did not send ahead to tell her nephew of her imminent arrival. As it turned out, she did have something of an official welcome. Unaware of how close his aunt was to Milan, Massimiliano, to play a joke on one of his chancellors, had sent him out of the city to greet her, thinking he would make the trip in vain. Hearing of her arrival at the Porta Romana, the duke asked her to wait at a nearby monastery until he came to greet her himself in fitting style. He was in council with Cardona, Lang and Schinner, however, and having waited some hours until nightfall, Isabella grew tired and headed for her lodgings in a palace owned by the Gonzaga. On the way she met Massimiliano, coming for her with a large retinue, and they greeted one another affectionately. By the time Isabella finally reached her lodgings, she and her weary party were content just to dine, and then go to bed. All this was rather different from the careful, lavish arrangements made for her when she was a guest of Ludovico Sforza. This time she had to pay her own expenses, and her finances felt the strain. This time, too, she was less enthusiastic about the entertainments to which she was invited. The young duke, off the leash, was turning night into day, and Isabella, constrained to follow his example, was obliged to catch up on her sleep in the daytime. Lengthy banquets, even balls, were losing some of their charm for the now middle-aged Isabella. She had to keep smiling through the heavy-handed gallantries offered to herself, and even more to her ladies, by Cardona and Lang. She had to submit to thefts – of golden ornaments cut from her dress, of a gold-embroidered cover for her carretta, among other things – that were generally laid at the door of the Spanish, so she could not make too much

The traveller 205 fuss about them, not when she was keen to keep Cardona sweet. Cultivating the goodwill of Cardona and of Lang, above all for Alfonso’s sake, but also for the sake of Massimiliano and of Francesco, was her main aim, and to achieve that she was prepared to put up with inconveniences and annoyances. Cardona was under pressure from the pope, who was still intent on his vendetta against Alfonso, to attack Ferrara. Julius claimed that Cardona was obliged to do as he requested by the terms of his alliance with Cardona’s master Ferdinand of Aragon. Ferdinand, however, preoccupied with continuing his struggle against the French king, was thinking on a European scale. Unconcerned with gratifying the pope’s obsession with Ferrara, he wanted peace in Italy and Cardona’s troops free to be employed against the French. Isabella did not have to try to protect her brother from attack by the viceroy, because that was not on the cards (although Cardona taking money from the pope to pay his troops, on the pretence he would attack Ferrara, was). Her role was to act as a channel of communication with Alfonso. When Francesco wrote on 9 February to tell her to come home, saying doctors had advised him to leave Mantua to take some exercise in the country,24 Isabella replied that she was waiting for Alfonso to respond to letters from Cardona, written with her knowledge. It was very important that his reply should not fall into other hands than hers, she claimed. Massimiliano also wrote to Francesco, asking him to agree to Isabella staying a week or ten days longer in Milan, assuring him that if she left now, it would be his ruin.25 What could he mean by that? Was he relying on her support to help keep Lang and Cardona counterbalancing the continued pressure he was under from Cardinal Schinner and the Swiss, who were inclined to behave like the real masters of the duchy? Not enough is known about the relations between Isabella and her nephew to be sure. At first, she made excuses for his behaviour, saying so young a man, beset with so many troubles, had need of recreation.26 But so much of his time and energy were devoted to his pleasures rather than his duties that she must have been disappointed in him. At the end of February, Cardona added his pleas to Francesco to allow Isabella to stay for a further ten or twelve days, saying Massimiliano needed her. At the time he wrote, Cardona must

206  The traveller have known that Julius was dead. The pope’s death brought a significant opportunity for Massimiliano to recover Parma and Piacenza, whose papal governor had left as soon as he heard of it. The Milanese Senate urged their duke to recover the cities for the duchy. The people of Parma and Piacenza, however, were not anxious to be reintegrated into a duchy of Milan burdened by the huge payments promised by the duke to the powers that had driven the French from Milan and installed him there. Attempts to negotiate their voluntary surrender to Massimiliano failed, and he had to fall back on the offer of help from Cardona, who needed to find a way of supporting his troops. Massimiliano asked Isabella to accompany him. He was not asking her to go on a military campaign: Parma and Piacenza were not expected to resist the Spanish troops, nor did they. Leaving Milan with Massimiliano, she assured Francesco that she intended to make her way to Mantua. But when envoys arrived from the city of Reggio – which had been taken from Alfonso by papal troops in 1512 – to solicit Cardona’s favour, Isabella spied an opportunity to help her brother and decided to yield to Massimiliano’s pleas she should stay with him. Don’t think that I am enjoying myself, she protested to Francesco; this journey is killing me.27 If she thought she could be of assistance to Massimiliano, why did she not say so to Francesco? Perhaps because she knew of his concern that her presence might indicate he approved of the recovery of Parma and Piacenza, and was worried that the new pope, whoever he might be, would take this amiss? Insisting that she return to Mantua at once, he signed himself as Gonfalonier of the Church – reminding Isabella that he was supposed to be captain of the papal troops.28 Rather than submission and obedience from his wife, he got Isabella’s famous, scathing letter about her services, and his ingratitude.29 She returned to Mantua in her own good time, arriving home in the last week of March. Isabella rejoiced at the election of the new pope, Leo X. Less than a year had passed since, as Cardinal Giovanni de’ Medici, he had been given hospitality in Ferrara and Mantua after he had escaped from his French captors (he had been legate with the allied forces fighting against the French at the battle of Ravenna in April  1512). Leo himself noted that he had been elected while wearing clothes that had been given to him by Francesco.

The traveller 207 Reckoning on his gratitude, and on the friendship of his brother, Giuliano de’ Medici, Isabella hoped that he would be a support to both Alfonso and Massimiliano, and favour Francesco too. Indeed, he gave Alfonso a warm welcome when he hurried to Rome to pay his respects in April 1513, with promises, once he was established on the papal throne, to restore all Alfonso’s lands and enhance his dignity. Impatient to see the fulfilment of these promises, Alfonso asked Isabella to lobby the pope, and Cardona and Lang and Massimiliano, on his behalf. But Leo’s determination to recover Parma and Piacenza  – which Massimiliano was forced to cede to him in May – did not augur well for Alfonso’s hopes of the pope giving Reggio back. It was soon evident that Leo was secretive, evasive and procrastinating in negotiations, and that little reliance could be placed on his fine words. Isabella had planned another visit to Milan later in 1513, but this had to be postponed when Francesco’s health took a turn for the worse. Hearing of her plans, Leo asked her to speak to Massimiliano on his behalf, exhorting him to stick to his alliance with the Swiss and the papacy. Isabella professed herself gratified for the confidence he was placing in her and promised to do his bidding when she was in Milan.30 Naturally, the pope was not relying on her intervention alone, indeed probably did not attach much significance to it, but his request was a sign that she was being treated with respect as a negotiator in diplomatic affairs. Her growing insight into the practical, personal details underlying diplomatic negotiations was evident when Alfonso  – whose respect for his sister’s judgement was well-established – asked her advice on how he should handle relations with their nephew Massimiliano. From my understanding when I was with him, she told Alfonso, he loves you and wants to stand together with you, and was only cautious in his dealings with you while Julius was alive. It did not matter that he gave audience in private to your envoy, because he had been unwell at the time, and more solitary in his ways than at present. I think he would like to have a representative of yours with him, but it should be someone companiable, not someone who seems to judge him, because men like that are unpleasing to him. But as I am not sure what has happened since I  spoke to him, I  am sending to Giovanni Gonzaga, to get his opinion.31

208  The traveller It was not until July 1514 that Isabella managed to return to Milan, accompanied by a retinue of 120 people and 90 horses, despite her concern about the expense. Francesco wrote that he was content for her to spend some time there, doing what was required to confirm the duke’s goodwill, and she sent back reports on Massimiliano’s search for a bride, his negotiations with the pope over Parma and Piacenza, and the prospects of a French invasion of Milan that year.32 Isabella may already have been planning a much longer journey, however. Before she left Mantua, she had told her husband that she was not a girl anymore, and should not have restrictions placed on how far she should go, or how long she should be away.33 She did not seek Francesco’s permission when she went to Genoa in mid-September. Apparently, she was curious to see the fortress built at the entrance to the port of Genoa by the French (its garrison had only just surrendered, two years after the French had lost control of the city, and the Genoese were keen to demolish what they saw as a symbol of servitude). Was she really so anxious to see a fortress that she was willing to go all the way to Genoa, making the difficult journey over the Apennines? It seems unlikely, just as it seems unlikely that it was only while she was in Genoa that she decided to take ship to Pisa, and then go on to Rome. Again, she went without giving Francesco notice of her intentions, let alone asking for his approval. Her secretary in Mantua, Benedetto Capilupi, valiantly lied on her behalf, denying she would go to Rome, and then that she would go on to Naples, although his efforts to reassure Francesco were hampered by other members of her household in Mantua inadvertently contradicting what he said.34 Evidently, her servants knew what she was intending to do, long before her husband did. To see Rome had been a dream of Isabella’s for a long time, and seeing Rome was probably her primary motive for going there. The political discussions she had there and in Naples were really secondary to that. What requires explanation is not so much why she went to Rome, but why she went to Rome at this time. The answer probably lay in her relations with her husband, her frustration at being excluded from that share in the government that a consort of her maturity and experience would expect to have when her husband’s health was so frail. Isabella herself later

The traveller 209 attributed her prolonged absences to ‘shame at being so abased in Mantua’, when she was ‘completely deprived’ of authority in the state.35 Almost certainly, though, that would not be the explanation she sent back to Mantua from Pisa in a letter to Capilupi. Only his reply survives, assuring her that her explanation was so clear and justified that it could be recognized that she was behaving wisely, and she should return in greater favour.36 She wrote to Federico that she had decided to go to Rome because it seemed shameful that he, a boy, should have seen Rome, while she, his mother, had not.37 There was probably some truth in that, but it would surely not have been enough to satisfy her husband. Making the best of it, Francesco replied that he thought her visit to Rome might be useful. Having heard that the pope was to mediate a peace between Venice and Maximilian, he told Isabella to request that a clause protecting Francesco’s state, in particular those lands that he had recently taken from Venice, be inserted in the treaty. If that happened, while he could boast of having acquired this adjunct to his state, she could be praised for having preserved it.38 While she was in Rome, she did discuss other political business – including, of course, Alfonso’s affairs  – but her principal occupation there was enjoying herself. Originally, Isabella had intended her visit to Rome to be formally incognito, like the trip she had made to Venice with Elisabetta a dozen years before. The advantages were obvious: she would have more freedom to wander round the city as she chose, and it would be cheaper, as she would not require so large an entourage to keep up appearances. The cardinals to whom she gave notice that she was coming to Rome would not hear of this. They arranged for the pope to pay her expenses, and her cousin Cardinal Luigi d’Aragona insisted she and her retinue should lodge in his palace. Francesco had wanted her to lodge with Cardinal Riario, one of his closest allies in the College, and Isabella would not have objected to staying in his magnificent palace. Her explanation for disobeying his wishes was that Aragona had been so pressing in his invitation that she had felt she could not refuse, for fear of offending him and possibly causing him to take umbrage against Riario. She might have been better off accepting Riario’s hospitality. Her cousin’s smaller palace proved a tight fit

210  The traveller for two large households, although he had promised to find extra room for her retinue and horses in the neighbourhood. Reaching the Papal States on 13 October, she was met at Acquapendente two days later by archdeacon Gabbioneta, Francesco’s representative in Rome. Although he was not a favourite of hers, in the circumstances it would have been impolitic to snub him, and Isabella managed to stay on amicable enough terms with him throughout her time in Rome and Naples. In fact, he wrote glowing reports about her to Francesco, emphasizing her reverent reception of Francesco’s letters, how she spoke feelingly of her love for him, and of her willingness to obey him. Clearly, Isabella was out to appease Francesco. She made a great show of joy (which she may indeed have felt) at the affectionate messages and the good news of her husband’s health Gabbioneta brought to her at Acquapendente. As they travelled on together, he relayed what Francesco wanted her to do for him in Rome. According to the archdeacon, she declared that she had no greater desire than to please Francesco, and that she was at his command.39 Leo was in the region, indulging in his favourite pursuit of hunting (so far as his corpulence and his poor eyesight permitted). Isabella did not seek him out, but she was met on the road by Leo’s brother, Giuliano de’ Medici, whom she knew, and by another old acquaintance, Bernardo Dovizi, secretary to Leo before he became pope and now a cardinal himself. With them were one of Leo’s nephews, Cardinal Innocenzo Cibo, and Aragona. They accompanied her for a day, and then went to rejoin the pope, while she continued on her way to Rome. She was not honoured with an official reception on her entry, but she could not complain of her welcome. All too many visitors came to her lodgings in Aragona’s palace, eating into her time. When she rode out she was escorted by as many as 150 or more horsemen; if a cardinal or ambassador or other prominent men accompanied her their own escorts would swell the numbers considerably. She seemed ‘the queen of Rome’, according to the description Mario Equicola sent to Federico, admired for her beauty and her virtues. But he also told Federico that she was honoured as his mother, too, for everyone in Rome cherished the memory of Federico like a god, so perhaps it is best not to take his account of Isabella’s triumph too literally.40 Nevertheless, she

The traveller 211 did not lack for invitations from cardinals and other associates of the papal court, such as the wealthy banker Agostino Chigi, who knew how to enjoy themselves. Many cardinals were not clerics by their own choice, but because it suited their family for them to be ecclesiastics. A woman of Isabella’s standing and charm, and the mistress of such attractive donzelle, was an agreeable addition to their social gatherings. No lady who ever came to this court had been paid as much honour as Isabella; she is adored by the whole court, and the Romans, and other lords, Gabbioneta enthused to Francesco. The nobility of her ways, the graciousness with which she treats everyone, according to their rank, are so appreciated that she will be universally missed when she leaves.41 Among the cardinals who gave entertainments for her was her brother Ippolito, who staged a deer hunt after an excellent dinner and a party with Aragona and other cardinals, lay relatives of the pope (Giuliano and Lorenzo de’ Medici and Franceschetto Cibo, Leo’s brother-in-law), and many other gentlemen, with instrumental music and song. Most extravagant of all was the banquet given for her by Cardinal Riario, which ‘truly was fit for any queen’, Isabella herself pronounced.42 When Giuliano de’ Medici was her host, he provided a play – ‘really most beautiful and very well-acted’, in her opinion – which lasted for over four hours, before the dinner.43 The pope, too, put on a play for her, a comedy, Calandria, written by Bernardo Dovizi before he was a cardinal, with the architect and painter, Baldassare Peruzzi, a master of perspective, designing the setting. Although Isabella complained that her time was so taken up by the cardinals that she had not enough left to say her full daily prayers (so an abbess in Mantua was asked to say them for her), she found plenty of time to visit the sights of Rome, ancient and modern. Every day she went to look at antiquities, which every day seemed to her more wonderful.44 Her thirst for antiquities took her to some of the finest modern buildings in Rome as well, and she was just as appreciative of them. A  day at the Vatican combined seeing the new Saint Peter’s basilica, the Vatican palace, much altered and embellished by recent popes, the papal mitres and other jewels, and the Belvedere, where the collection of the finest antique statues gathered by Julius II was displayed. She greatly admired Cardinal Riario’s palace, the Cancelleria, as

212  The traveller yet unfinished but already famed for its exceptional beauty. (The refreshments he provided for his guests were characteristically extravagant: the donzelle were ‘nearly buried in sweetmeats’).45 Riario had just asked Francesco to send him a note of his imprese and personal colours, with which he planned to decorate one of his main chambers; he also planned to place portraits of the Gonzaga children in his study.46 Later, in his chapel, he had Isabella’s imprese painted in the hands of figures representing the seven virtues.47 How much of the time that she spent exchanging visits, or at the lavish entertainments put on in her honour, was devoted to the business of gaining and consolidating friendships that might be of use to the Gonzaga or the Este is not clear. She did plan, when she was invited to dine and watch a play with the pope, to use the occasion to speak to him about the newly acquired lands that Francesco was so keen to keep. But it was Gabbioneta who handled the more general political business and informationgathering for Francesco. He was the one who dealt with the ambassadors of other powers, not Isabella. Ippolito was in Rome much of the time she was there, and he, being an insider at the papal court, was better placed than she to defend the Este interests. Neither he nor Isabella could do anything to prevent Leo concluding the purchase of Modena from Maximilian during her stay. What the brother and sister said to each other about this blow can only be imagined. Isabella had no choice but to go on smiling through the round of entertainments. She was first received by Leo on 29 October, two days after he had returned from his prolonged hunting trip. He took her by the hand and would not allow her to remain kneeling before him, but seated her at his side. This was simply a courtesy visit. The pope asked after Francesco and Federico, and she responded with assertions of her devotion, and theirs, to him.48 She was his guest at dinner and a play before she sought a second, formal audience on 24 November. Francesco had written reiterating his instructions to speak to Leo about the new lands, and that was the principal subject they discussed. There was little prospect of a peace treaty between Venice and Maximilian, Leo told her, but if he managed to broker one, he would bear Francesco’s state, all of it, in mind. Having rendered proper thanks for this meaningless assurance,

The traveller 213 Isabella took her leave. She went on to Saint Peter’s, where Leo had ordered that two of the most sacred relics, the Volto Sacro (the Veronica, the cloth believed to be imprinted with the face of Christ on his way to Calvary), and the Holy Lance that had pierced his side, be exhibited to her, so she could pay her devotions. On requesting this private audience, Isabella had also asked for Leo’s consent for her to go to Naples. An invitation to go there had come at the beginning of her stay in Rome, from the two dowager queens of Naples. The elder queen, Juana, daughter of King Juan II of Aragon, was the widow of Ferrante I (she was his second wife, and hence not Isabella’s grandmother). The younger queen, her daughter – also, confusingly, called Juana, or Giovanna – had been married as a child to her own nephew, Ferrante’s grandson, Ferrandino. They lived together, in some state, in Naples, although neither had any role in the government, even when the viceroy was absent from the kingdom. Isabella was advised, by Cardinal d’Aragona among others, to accept the invitation and she indicated she would. But when, for form’s sake, she sent to Mantua to ask Francesco’s permission, he refused it, saying he wanted her to come home. Although she objected that the reasons he gave were hardly of such weight as to justify her going back on her word, she indicated she would obey his wishes.49 Then Leo, hearing she was intending to return to Mantua – perhaps Isabella had dropped a hint – wrote himself to Francesco for leave for her to stay in Rome until Christmas.50 Before the papal brief reached him, Francesco had already written to say Isabella could go to Naples. Expressing deep gratitude, Isabella declared she would never ask him for leave to go anywhere again, but would stay by him in future.51 Leo also approved, providing she was back in Rome for Christmas, and sent her a useful present of a beautiful bay horse, quiet and sure-footed. Isabella was very grateful for this, as she was in need of such a mount for her journey. She left for Naples on 25 November, accompanied on the first stages by four cardinals – her brother, Aragona, Cibo, and another of the younger, pleasure-loving cardinals, Alfonso Petrucci – and by Lorenzo de’ Medici. On the first night they were guests at Cardinal Riario’s house at Velletri, and then went on to Sermoneta where her escort took leave of her, and she was given hospitality

214  The traveller by the lord, Guglielmo Caetani. On her arrival at Naples after a week’s journey, on 2 December, she was met outside the city by a crowd of gentlemen. Her hostess, the elder Queen Juana, had ordered that the streets should be decorated as for a festival, in her honour. Lodged in the Palazzo Sanseverino, one of the finest private palaces in the city, where the queens were living, Isabella was given four well-appointed chambers for her own use, and all the expenses for herself and her household were paid by the elder queen. Some degree of notoriety and scandal surrounded both queens, mother and daughter, especially the daughter, rumours of immorality and excessive gambling, but Isabella’s visit did not give rise to any gossip to trouble Francesco back in Mantua. As in Rome, she did not lack for visitors: ‘our chamber is always full from morning to night’.52 She toured the sights of the city with the younger queen in a carretta, with a large escort of mounted gentlemen. An empress could not have been paid greater honours, according to Mario Equicola. Isabella’s own description of her reception was just as hyperbolic: she was ‘adored’, gazed at as something miraculous – for her mother’s sake, she said. You have seen how I am cherished and honoured at Ferrara, she wrote to Capilupi, imagine seeing me still more cherished and honoured here, in Naples.53 Not least of the honours paid to her was a special celebration of the ceremony to implore the liquefaction of the blood of San Gennaro; she shared in the jubilation when the miracle duly occurred. The clement Neapolitan December weather permitted excursions to enjoy the beauties of the countryside around the city and the antiquities at Pozzuoli. Naturally, there were more worldly entertainments given for her by several Neapolitan barons. One of her hosts was Fabrizio Colonna, who was a major baron in the kingdom as well as at Rome. He had helped Alfonso escape from Rome in 1512 and consequently earned Isabella’s gratitude. Colonna invited her to dine at a property he had a couple of miles outside the city. Arriving early, she rode off to visit the Carthusian monastery of San Martino nearby, whose situation she had heard praised, finding ‘the most beautiful view and the most beautiful setting I have ever seen’. After wandering around for a while, she remounted and went down to Colonna’s place. A  fine meal awaited her, served by nobles, one of them Fabrizio’s son. There followed the

The traveller 215 performance of an eclogue, lasting around two hours (as good as she had heard for some days, she thought – faint praise, but was even her appetite for the theatre being sated?), and then she rode home.54 Another baronial host was the young conte di Chiaramonte, about twelve or thirteen years old, whose courteous conduct towards ladies and skill in doing the honours of the house Isabella commended to Federico as a model. He gave them a banquet which ended with an array of confections made of sugar, including a galley filled with perfumes placed before Isabella. There followed two hours of dancing, and then a Spanish-style farce.55 She was a guest at the wedding of the Marchese di Bitonto, giving her the opportunity to observe Neapolitan wedding customs (and later trump Capilupi’s account of a Neapolitan-style wedding held at Gazzuolo near Mantua by Antonia Del Balzo, which was nothing, Isabella boasted, to the ceremonies she had witnessed).56 There was one item of business that Isabella discussed with the queens while she was in Naples: a proposal that her nephew Massimiliano should marry the younger queen. It is not clear how or when the proposal arose. The elder queen was quite keen on the idea, and Isabella told her (with what degree of sincerity?) of his good qualities. Born in 1486, Juana was a few years older than him and in some ways was a good match, particularly as her uncle, Ferdinand of Aragon, signified his approval. Political considerations aside, their marriage might well have been disastrous, for she was not the woman to provide a steadying influence, or to help the erratic Massimiliano correct his disordered habits and give more serious attention to the business of governing his duchy. Nevertheless, Isabella continued to promote the match on her return to Mantua, and the elder queen looked to her for help in pushing the matter along in Milan. Isabella packed a lot into her time in Naples, which was less than three weeks. True to her promise to the pope, she returned to Rome in time for Christmas, on 23 December. Over the Christmas season she attended a number of religious services, including a papal mass, and some sermons by the learned and eloquent preacher, Egidio da Viterbo. She was thinking of making a tour of the seven basilicas that pilgrims to Rome were supposed to visit, in preparation for departure. Before she could turn to making her own arrangements to leave, she received another commission

216  The traveller from Francesco. Seeing he had signed the letter himself, Isabella kissed the signature, weeping for joy, according to Gabbioneta.57 This time he wanted her to speak to Leo about permission for a friar, Serafino d’Ostuni, to stay out of his monastery and serve the marquis as his doctor (Francesco had great faith in the efficacy of Serafino’s treatment of his syphilis). Isabella asked for another audience with Leo, which took place on 30 December. Again, the pope sat her down beside him, and after chatting about Naples and her journey, she asked him for this permission, and for the promise that Serafino would be promoted to a bishopric, when one became available. Leo gave the desired permission and the promise, and Isabella moved on to a request that was perhaps of greater personal interest to her, for papal approval of the celebration of the cult of the Mantuan holy woman Osanna Andreasi. Osanna, whose tomb Isabella had commissioned a decade earlier, was already regarded in Mantua as a miracle worker, and both Isabella and Francesco hoped she would be promoted to sainthood. Leo made no firm promise at the audience. He issued instructions for the process of canonization to be got under way, and for the clergy in Mantua to be allowed to celebrate her cult meanwhile. It had been Isabella’s declared intention to leave Rome on 8 January, but Leo asked her to stay on a further two or three weeks. He wanted to organize a special hunt for her at his hunting lodge of La Magliana and other entertainments. She agreed to put off her departure, but then news arrived of the death of Louis XII, and Isabella thought the pope would surely have other things on his mind than hunting. Gabbioneta was sent to fix a time for her to take leave of him. Far from agreeing to this, however, Leo said he still had plans for a special hunt, and suggested Isabella should go to stay at Ostia before it, so she could reach the hunting grounds more easily. By the time the hunt had been staged, Carnival season would be on them, and he wanted Isabella to stay on for that. Every kind of festivity would be put on so that Isabella could see them all, he promised, and he would have a new play, very wellstaged, put on for her. Besides, he added, the weather was terrible, raining every day, the roads were in a dreadful state, and it would be disgraceful to let her leave. Gabbioneta saw it was pointless to raise any more objections, although he warned Leo that if Francesco would very likely agree

The traveller 217 to this additional extension to his wife’s absences, he would not be pleased if it were then suggested Isabella should stay on for Lent. Leo gave his word, three times over, that he would let Isabella go at the start of Lent, sweetening the pill a little by bringing up the possibility that some bishopric suitable for Serafino might fall vacant in the interim. On hearing Gabbioneta’s report, Isabella responded that since the pope wished her to stay for Carnival, she would not argue, but would wait to hear whether Francesco agreed. If he did not, she would obey his commands, for it was about time she saw him and Federico again. On the other hand, thinking of how bad the roads were said to be would mitigate her discontent at not seeing them again soon, if Francesco would be so kind as to agree to her staying in Rome for the Carnival.58 Was this all an elaborate deception played on Francesco by Leo and Isabella, to help her spin out her time in Rome without too flagrantly ignoring Francesco’s wish that she should go back to Mantua? It is possible, but unlikely. It is hard to credit Isabella being so brazen as to ask the pope, however easygoing socially he might be, to help her deceive her husband, and on more than one occasion. On the other hand, it is hard to credit Leo being so insistent on her remaining in Rome, however many entertainments he could promise her, if he were aware that she was really anxious to leave. Perhaps hints were dropped that she would like to stay on, but that her husband was telling her to come home, and the sociable Leo, enjoying her company, was ready to do what he easily could – he had only to express a wish, after all – to keep her in Rome a little longer. Whatever had been going on behind the scenes, when Isabella received Francesco’s permission to stay for the Carnival, on the understanding she would leave at the beginning of Lent, she let it be known that she would not take it kindly if anyone tried to persuade her to stay any longer after that.59 The members of her household were certainly not encouraging her to stay, for they had had enough of being crammed into Aragona’s palace. What with hunting and plays and banquets and the famously exuberant festivities of the Roman Carnival, Isabella’s final weeks in Rome were frenetic. Before the Carnival got under way, she managed to find a day, when she was out of Rome for the hunt staged for her by the pope (followed by several others), to go to

218  The traveller see Ostia, but after that she would have had little time to view antiquities. It cannot have been easy for the 40-year-old Isabella to keep up with the pace set by the younger cardinals and members of the pope’s family. On 28 January Lorenzo de’ Medici was her host. In the afternoon there was a bullfight lasting three hours (during which four bulls were killed), followed by several hours of dancing. As well as the pope’s sisters and other relatives, her brother and three other cardinals – Aragona, Cibo and Petrucci – were there, all wearing carnival costumes, and two other cardinals who were not wearing masks. There was the customary feast, lasting two hours, and then a couple of hours more dancing. The next day, she left with Ippolito for Aragona’s property outside Rome at Decima, where he had organized yet more spectacular hunts for them, over four days. The Carnival festivities themselves had become increasingly elaborate during the previous half century, with what had been primarily a popular, at times riotous festival overlaid by elegant masquerades, pageantry, and allegories celebrating the papacy. Not that the papal court did not relish the more popular elements, such as the races of horses, donkeys or buffaloes, of young men, old men, Jews and prostitutes (the last added by Alexander VI). Isabella was invited by Leo to watch a boat race on the Tiber from the Castel Sant’Angelo with him and a dozen cardinals. Bad weather caused one of the traditional highpoints of the Carnival, the races held at Monte Testaccio, to be postponed for a day. When they took place, on 19 February, Isabella watched them from a stand erected on the orders of the pope for his sisters and nieces. Her enjoyment was somewhat spoiled by a Gonzaga horse, “il Scholarino”, napping badly at the start, spinning round and barging into the crowd. Despite then taking off ‘like an arrow’, he could not make up enough ground to overhaul his rivals. The jokes of one of Leo’s favourite buffoons, fra Mariano, helped her recover her temper, and a Mantuan horse won the second race, although the Gonzaga horse, slowed up by the mud, only came second. She also enjoyed the bullfight that followed. For the centrepiece of the Carnival, the Festa d’Agone, Isabella was the guest of a bishop from the noble Roman family of della Valle, so she could watch the pageant of “triumphal cars” and other decorated floats, before going on horseback to see all the

The traveller 219 assembled floats with their escorts from the house of another Roman noble, Angelo del Bufalo. And then, back at Cardinal d’Aragona’s palace, there was dancing for seven hours. A shadow lay across the pleasures of the Carnival for Isabella. Rumours circulating openly throughout Rome, that Giuliano de’ Medici was to be made duke of Modena by the pope, must have reached her. Her disappointment and resentment had to be concealed. As Francesco had reminded her, Gonzaga interests, unlike those of the Este, were not in conflict with those of the pope and his family. Just because her presence in Rome had been of no avail in the case of Modena, she should not relax her efforts on behalf of Mantua.60 Much information was kept from her by Francesco and by her friends in Rome, so as not to upset her more. Gabbioneta avoided talking of Alfonso’s affairs to her. Her visit to Rome finally ended on 27 February. Ten days before, Leo gave her 1,000 ducats, a gift which helped pay the expenses of her departure and her journey home. On Leo’s orders, her expenses were paid by the state as she travelled through Florentine territory, too. Despite this, and an earlier gift of 500 ducats from the pope, and the hospitality she had enjoyed in Naples and in Rome, Isabella had run into debt. Repayment of the loans she had taken out was still troubling her at the end of the year. She showed great financial restraint in one respect, nonetheless, for she came away from Rome without buying any of the antiquities she must have coveted. She could not afford to buy them, and she was too proud to drop hints that she would like pieces as gifts. Isabella was pleased by the warmth of the welcome she received from Francesco on her return to Mantua in mid-March. Apparently, she had not been expecting this.61 But she sighed for Rome and the pleasures, not least the good company, she had found there. ‘I am in Mantua, longing to be in Rome, except for having obeyed and given satisfaction’ to Francesco, she complained to Dovizi. ‘How different this place and my life here is from that of Rome, and how strange it seems to me. . . . My body is here, my spirit in Rome’. She was passing the time daydreaming, imagining she was back there in the company of the cardinals and the pope.62 Six months later, she was still longing for Rome and Naples, choosing to spend her time in her villa at Porto, ‘thinking it is better to stay in a true solitude than in the sparse and unpleasing

220  The traveller company’ to be found in Mantua.63 It was at Porto that she entertained Cardinal d’Aragona when he passed through Mantua in June, sending for wrestlers, and for dancers who could satisfy the cardinal’s curiosity to see the Lombard style of dance. About the time of Aragona’s visit she was asked to go to Milan. This was not an invitation from Milan, but a request by the elder queen in Naples that Isabella should go to pursue the negotiations for the marriage of the young queen to Massimiliano. Although she was prepared to do this, Isabella told the queen that she needed Francesco’s permission to go, and this he had refused. There were good reasons for Francesco to veto a trip to Milan at that time, for there was unrest in the city and duchy, and reports that a French army was preparing to invade  – as indeed it did, with the new king, Francis I, at the head. For once, Isabella may not have minded Francesco’s refusal to give her leave. As it turned out, Isabella would not see Milan again. She had no desire to go to witness the French king celebrating his triumph over her nephew Massimiliano when Francis invited her later in the year; it would only make her ‘cross and melancholy’ to be there against her will. Her main excuse was that Francesco was too ill for her to think of leaving Mantua. Added to that, she could not afford to have the clothes she would need made, which would cost three or four thousand ducats she did not have and could not raise while she was still paying off her debts from Rome and Naples – although she did not want the king to be told this, in case he thought she was angling for a subvention.64 The fact that the French were ruling over Milan actually facilitated the next long journey Isabella made, to Monferrato and Provence in 1517, for she was not passing between hostile states. This was the only time she ventured outside Italy. She did think about a pilgrimage to Sant Iago in Galicia, but there is no evidence she ever made even tentative plans to realize this fancy. A pilgrimage to a shrine of Saint Mary Magdalene near Marseilles was the ostensible aim of her journey to Provence. She had another purpose, too: to meet Federico’s chosen bride, Maria Paleologo, the daughter of the Marquis of Monferrato. Francesco and Isabella had had this match in mind for their son and heir for some time. It had first been proposed to them in January 1515, while Isabella was in Rome; she had not wanted anything

The traveller 221 to be concluded before she got back to Mantua.65 At the end of that year, the Marquis of Monferrato, who had been present at a meeting of Francis I and Leo X at Bologna, took the opportunity while he was in the region of coming to Mantua to discuss the proposal with the Gonzaga. It was agreed that once Lombardy was at peace again, and Francis was at peace with Maximilian, the king’s approval would be sought for the match. As a quasi-hostage at the French court, accompanying the king on his return to France in January 1516, Federico made himself a favourite. Various French brides were proposed for him, none of whom he found appealing. The daughter of Cesare Borgia and Charlotte d’Albret, a French princess, was ugly and graceless. The widow of Giuliano de’ Medici was too old, and had a deformity, one shoulder higher than the other (he did not want to reintroduce into the Gonzaga line the hunchback that had afflicted several members of the family in the fifteenth century). A daughter of the queen of Navarre was too poor, and might pretend to a style of living befitting her royal rank, and a young noblewoman not distinguished enough to be a satisfactory match for Federico.66 In Isabella’s eyes, Maria Paleologo fitted the bill just right. She was descended from families as noble and ancient on her father’s and her mother’s side as any in Italy, and her dowry of 40,000 ducats was satisfactory, perhaps better than 100,000 ducats from another bride.67 Fortunately, when Mantuan and Monferratan envoys were sent to Francis in February 1517 to ask for his consent, he approved the match. Procurators were sent from Mantua to Monferrato to ratify the promise of marriage, with instructions from Francesco about the conclusion of the contract. Isabella had handled the negotiations over the dowry, and the procurators also carried instructions from her, with letters of credence to Maria and her mother.68 As Maria was still only a little girl – she was aged about eight – the intention was for the marriage not to be formally completed until she had turned sixteen. But when Federico, who had been given leave to go home by the king, went to Casale on his return journey and met his bride, he was so pleased with her that he married her, on 15 April, before going on his way to Mantua. Isabella had only a few days with her son in Mantua before her own departure for Casale on the way to Marseilles. She, too,

222  The traveller was very taken by the little bride, by her beauty and grace, and delighted by the affection, as well as the honour, shown to her by the family and the court.69 This was one of Isabella’s “incognito” trips. To save money (her finances had barely recovered from her time in Rome), she took only a small retinue with her. She headed overland to Marseilles, and the nearby shrine of the Magdalene at Sainte-Baume. Having paid her devotions there, she turned her attention to the landscape and cities of the Rhone valley, including Arles, Avignon and Lyons, a centre of the trade in silken textiles, where the clothes of Isabella and her ladies were much admired.70 She arrived back in Mantua on 2 July. It was her last long pleasure trip far from Mantua during Francesco’s lifetime. But she did not stay still. In October  1518 she went to Casale again, to find out the testamentary dispositions of Marquis Guglielmo Paleologo, who had just died. He had been thinking of securing the inheritance of Monferrato for Maria, if his immediate heirs, his sickly little son and chronically ill brother, should both die without either having fathered an heir, as seemed all too likely. On her arrival at the castle in Casale she was greeted by the five-year-old marquis, and he escorted her to the chamber of his grieving mother, whose laments moved Isabella. Their conversations brought the widow some consolation, but Isabella learned that Guglielmo had not put his intentions into effect before his death.71 Going on to visit Asti and Genoa may have helped her shake off this disappointment. She also spent far more time away in Ferrara than Francesco liked. Her own secretary thought she was wrong: ‘apart from her brothers, I see no one here [in Ferrara], either Mantuan or Ferrarese, who does not disapprove’. It was Alfonso ‘making so much of her’ that ‘causes her to be so ready to stay on here’.72 In her widowhood, she no longer had to ask anyone’s permission if she felt the urge to travel. She took advantage of her liberty from constraint to make many journeys, generally returning to places she already knew  – Ferrara, of course, and Lake Garda, and Venice, Padua, Loreto and Rome. She made only one trip to Rome, but she stayed there a long time, over two years. It would turn out to be the last major journey she undertook. From the first, as she made her plans to return to Rome in late 1524, she had a lengthy stay in mind. Her official reason for going

The traveller 223 to Rome, official in the sense that it was the one given to Clement VII on her behalf by the Mantuan ambassador, was devotional, to be there during the Jubilee year of 1525. Pilgrims to Rome could gain extra indulgences by their visits to the churches during Jubilee years. Another motive, one that could not be so openly avowed to the pope, was to solicit a cardinalcy for her son Ercole. Doubtless, too, memories of the pleasures she had enjoyed during her previous visit played a part in attracting her back. And she had a reason to wish to be away from Mantua for a while. Once again, she was feeling that she had been pushed to the sidelines there. Not only was her period of regency for her son over and Federico governing for himself, but his mistress – not even his wife – was at his side at the centre of court life, taking Isabella’s place as the first lady of Mantua. Originally, she intended to leave for Rome in November, but she delayed her departure when the arrival in Italy of the French king with his army escalated the war in Lombardy. Francis’s aim was the recovery of the duchy of Milan, lost to him in 1521; Isabella’s younger nephew, Francesco Sforza, had been installed as duke under the tutelage of the troops of the young Emperor Charles V. The king also laid claim to the kingdom of Naples and sent part of his army to invade it. The pope was attempting to maintain neutrality, but there was a danger that Rome would become involved in a war in the south of Italy. As the French force heading for Naples was in the Papal States north of Rome, however, Francis and his main army met disaster in the battle of Pavia on 23 February; the king himself fell captive. Isabella had already set off for Rome, about a week before the decisive battle, reaching Pesaro on 17 February. There she was welcomed by her daughter Eleonora and grandson Guidobaldo, persuaded to stay an extra day, and entertained by an eclogue, featuring the customary amorous shepherds. Having hurried her journey to avoid the French troops, she reached Rome on 2 March. Not aware she was so close to the city, the pope sent an escort of light horse to protect her, which met her only eight miles away. In her haste, she had left her baggage wagons trailing behind. Consequently, she spent her first days in Rome, in the palace of the duke of Urbino near Santa Maria in via Lata (now, much altered, the Palazzo Doria), waiting for her luggage to arrive.

224  The traveller Once it had come, and she could be suitably attired for a papal audience, she was received by Clement on 6 March. This was just an exchange of polite generalities, not a business meeting. The pope sent her a gift of foodstuffs, worth around 300 ducats. Otherwise, Isabella seems to have been paying her own expenses. She did not have a large entourage, with just a few donzelle, a Gonzaga lady, Camilla Gonzaga di Novellara, and her favourite dwarf buffoon, Morgantino, to keep her entertained. Soon she settled into the routine of her life in Rome, touring the city to view antiquities, and receiving many visitors. If the pace of Isabella’s life in Rome was somewhat slower this time, it was for her still a city of delights. It was still a centre of new art and architecture, of music and literature, and there was plenty of the witty, urbane, literary conversation of which Isabella was so fond to be had. One frequent visitor to her was Cardinal Cibo, the only survivor of the group of cardinals and papal relations who had been her principal hosts and companions during her previous stay in Rome. Her brother Ippolito, cousin Luigi d’Aragona, Alfonso Petrucci, Bernardo Dovizi, Raffaele Riario, Giuliano and Lorenzo de’ Medici, were all dead. The atmosphere in the Vatican had changed. Clement was less gregarious, less prodigal in his hospitality, not so obsessed with the theatre or hunting as his cousin Leo had been. He was friendly enough when Isabella came to see him, willing to grant her private audiences where the talk was more a social conversation than a political discussion, but he delegated the role of host at entertainments for her to others, particularly to a member of his household, cavaliere Franceschino. Papal ceremony was not so splendid as it had been under Leo, either. Even in a Jubilee year, the procession the pope made to his episcopal church of Saint John Lateran was widely criticized as the ‘most unexciting, miserable show’ mounted by any recent pope on such an occasion, according to Isabella.73 A ritual she observed the next day, 1 May, in the church of Santi Apostoli, aroused greater enthusiasm. The church was packed to bursting, and Isabella was expecting a solemn vespers service. What she witnessed instead was the pope and cardinals throwing game birds to the crowd below, who fought to get them. It reminded her of ‘our game of the eels on Ascension Day’, of which she would not be so critical in future, she said, since she had found such a custom in Rome.74

The traveller 225 She had opportunities to become acquainted with other, more sedate, Roman customs, as a guest at private ceremonies, such as a wedding feast given by the father of the bride where the women dined at a separate table, and the Roman style of dancing to a drum, at a feast following a baptism. And there were the kind of entertainments she was used to from her first visit, the elegant, lengthy dinners given by members of the papal court. She was invited by cavaliere Franceschino to dine at the beautiful garden on Monte Mario belonging to Clement, where as a cardinal he had begun to construct a fine villa. Music was played throughout the meal, which was served on the pope’s own silver by his servants. She then had the chance to see the antiquities on display there, including a large statue of Jove, recently discovered and judged to be among the best pieces excavated in Rome for many years. Isabella was very impressed with the antiquities, thinking how much she would have liked to have them at one of her own villas. At the end, all the ladies there were presented with a casket of perfumes, and Isabella a pair of fine gloves as well.75 Settling down for a long stay, Isabella began to find the palace of the duke of Urbino, beautiful as it was, a bit stuffy in the heat of summer. In June  1525, she was invited to move to the palace of Cardinal Pompeo Colonna at Santi Apostoli. Julius II had owned this as a cardinal, and had transformed it into one of the most spacious and comfortable palaces in the city, with separate blocks on either side of the church, and a large garden behind the church. Only her donzelle moved with her; the rest of her household stayed on in Urbino’s palace. Isabella would remain at Santi Apostoli for the remainder of her stay in Rome. As for her previous visit to Rome, little is known about the political discussions in which Isabella engaged. The Imperial ambassador, the duca di Sessa, visited her often and he also sometimes escorted her through the streets, but this seems to have been more of a social than a political relationship. She had barely arrived in Rome before she received the usual plea from Alfonso to bear his interests in mind, although he knew she hardly needed prompting to do that.76 Apparently she had no specific political commissions from Federico, but she had the interests of her sons in mind, as well as those of her brother.

226  The traveller A cardinal’s hat for Ercole was top of her list; she repeatedly declared she did not want to leave Rome without procuring this for him. His chances were increased by the death of Sigismondo Gonzaga in early October. She mourned Sigismondo’s death, yet she knew it opened up a way to get her son into the College of Cardinals. As soon as she could she went to ask the pope to compensate the Gonzaga for their loss by promoting Ercole in his place. In fact, two days before she spoke to Clement, he had hinted to Federico that he would convert the family’s grief to joy, so she may well have pushed at an open door. Clement told her he wanted to make Ercole a cardinal, and would set about it. Isabella kissed his foot and left. Outside his chamber, courtiers rushed to congratulate her. On her way to Santi Apostoli, she called into the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, to pray that the pope’s promises would be put into effect quickly. For her two other sons, she was thinking of possible wives. Looking out for a suitable match for Ferrante was another reason she gave for staying on in Rome. Federico already had a wife, Maria Paleologo, who was by then old enough to join her husband in Mantua, but he had changed his mind and no longer wanted her. With Isabella’s support, he had taken up the idea of marrying a daughter of the king of Poland. She discussed the notion with Clement, who sent a brief to Federico in November 1525, encouraging him to pursue this. The saga of Federico’s marriage had a long way to run before it was concluded. Isabella’s encouragement of the Polish match at this moment was of greater significance as a sign of her concern about her son than as a stage in that saga. She felt that she did not know what he was thinking. Reports that he might be mixed up in an anti-Imperial conspiracy in Milan worried her, as did the consequences for her nephew Francesco Sforza, who she feared might be ruined. She was only informed of a fanciful idea, floated by Clement – of Federico becoming duke of Milan, while his cousin, the constable of Bourbon, took over Mantua – when it was clear the emperor would not agree. Ercole had been promised a cardinal’s hat, the Jubilee year drew to a close, yet Isabella showed no signs of preparing to leave Rome. She spent Christmas attending vespers in churches outside the city, and then returning home to pass the time in conversation, and gambling for low stakes, with one cardinal or another as

The traveller 227 her guest at dinner. She took care to keep on easy, friendly terms with the pope, taking her ladies with her for a private audience on 16 January, at which discussion of politics was limited to vague remarks about what the consequences for Italy of peace between Charles V and Francis I might be. Then Franceschino led her to another room where sweetmeats and fruit had been prepared for them, and the renowned lutenist, Francesco da Milano, with two other musicians played for her. On the way home, she paid a call on Cardinal Cibo’s sister-in-law Ricciarda, contessa di Massa, who had just given birth to a son. Two weeks later, on the feast of Candlemas, Isabella wanted to see the ceremonies and hear mass in the papal chapel. Franceschino invited her to dine in his rooms at the Vatican. A few men – including the Mantuan, Ferrarese and Imperial ambassadors – were invited too. After the meal there was singing and music played on viols and a harpsichord, and a play put on in Franceschino’s apartments. Isabella was then shown the antiquities that Lorenzo de’ Medici – Lorenzo il Magnifico, Leo’s father and Clement’s uncle – had collected. Isabella tried to make use of her good social relations with the pope to the advantage of Alfonso, with whom Clement was not pleased. Alfonso was unenthusiastic about the suggestion of Caterina de’ Medici as a bride for his heir, Ercole, and resolute in refusing to give up Reggio and Rubiera, which he had taken back when the papal throne was vacant before Clement’s election in 1523. Isabella broached the difficult subject with the pope on 11 April, offering her services as a mediator, but the dispute was beyond solution by any emollient words from her. When Federico’s contract as captain of the papal troops was nearing its end, she offered to try to find out whether Clement wanted to renew it. Negotiations for its renewal in the summer were handled by the Mantuan ambassador. Closely following their progress, Isabella offered her son advice and warnings, reminding him of the Gonzaga practice of seeking to have their state regarded as effectively neutral territory, regardless of who the marquis might be serving. Rome in the heat of summer was often an unhealthy place to be, and that year the epidemic that afflicted the city was a bad one. Rather than leave, as Federico was urging her to do, Isabella shut herself in the palace at Santi Apostoli, rarely going out in her carretta.

228  The traveller ‘Having excellent lodgings and a lovely garden’, she passed her time ‘in games and in the company of gentlemen, being careful, however, to admit only a few visitors’, she reassured him.77 While she was closeted in the Colonna palace, she had a hand in arranging the marriage of a girl from a cadet branch of the Gonzaga, Giulia Gonzaga di Sabbioneta, to the widowed Vespasiano Colonna. Ailing and considerably older than Giulia, Vespasiano was nevertheless an excellent match, for he was one of the richest of the Roman barons, with extensive lands around Rome and in the kingdom of Naples. Their marriage contract was signed in Isabella’s apartments, and she, with Giulia’s brother Pirro, promised on behalf of the girl’s father that he would fulfil its terms. In associating herself so closely with the match, Isabella might have been taking something of a political risk. At that time, the Colonna were not on good terms with the pope. Clement was a member of the League of Cognac, formed in May 1526; the Colonna were adherents of the emperor, against whom the league was directed. When the contract was signed in Isabella’s apartment on 25 July, the Colonna were already gathering their forces. But Clement himself favoured the match, fearing that otherwise the emperor’s men would find Vespasiano a bride. Vespasiano came to Rome in August to negotiate a truce between the Colonna and the pope. It did not last. On 20 September, together with Ugo de Moncada, an Imperial envoy, the Colonna brought several thousand men, some from their estates, some troops from Naples, into Rome. They looted the Borgo, the area near the Vatican where many members of the papal court lived, and they looted the Vatican itself. Clement fled to the papal fortress, the Castel Sant’ Angelo. The next day, he agreed a truce with Moncada: the Colonna were to withdraw to Naples, Clement to withdraw his troops from the war in Lombardy. The pope did bring his troops back to Rome, but then sent them against the Colonna estates. Before their incursion into Rome, the Colonna had sent to assure Isabella that she would be safe. She had not attended the wedding of Vespasiano and Giulia, which took place in Paliano at the end of August, excusing herself by saying she was unwell (although she was uncomfortable with such a pretence).78 While the papal troops attacked the estates of the Colonna and besieged

The traveller 229 their fortresses, Isabella stayed on at Cardinal Colonna’s palace at Santi Apostoli. Apparently, Clement did not suggest it would be better if she moved, and he did not send his own men to occupy it. He could not hold her part in the marriage against her, when he had encouraged it himself. And he did not withdraw the bull elevating Ercole to the College of Cardinals, that he had promised just before the Colonna raid on Rome. Ercole hurried to Rome to collect the bull, which was issued in early October, and carried it back to Mantua. His promotion to the cardinalcy was to be kept secret for the moment (so Clement could avoid the importunities of other aspirants to the dignity), but this was a crucial stage in the process. Federico was again urging his mother to come home to Mantua. Ercole had his bull, Federico himself the renewal of his captaincy, and the political situation was darkening. There was less reason to keep Isabella in Rome, and more reason for her to go. Yet she stayed on. When she fancied a change of air in early October, after closeting herself in the palace at Santi Apostoli for several months, she thought not of going home but of heading south, to Pozzuolo near Naples, for a week or so and then returning to Rome. The continuing tension between the Colonna and the pope, and the beginning of the assault on the Colonna estates in late October, made such an excursion unwise. There was another threat to the security of Rome, from the north. It was no secret that the unpaid soldiers of the Imperial army in Lombardy were promising themselves recompense by sacking Clement’s home city of Florence and then Rome. Federico pressed his mother to think of the risks she was running. ‘It would be easy for anyone to believe that a marchioness of Mantua would have silver and clothes and jewels of great value’; it was an invitation to looters, and the landsknechts in Lombardy were a formidable force. If she did not want to be in Mantua, than why not Urbino or Pesaro or Venice?79 Isabella thanked him for his filial concern for her. Recently, when the situation in Rome had been more troubled than it was at present (in early December), she had decided to leave for Mantua as soon as she saw any sign that the city would be under attack. If there had been any danger, she would have taken horse immediately, but she had heard that the pope was confident he could make terms with the emperor, and

230  The traveller she had decided not to leave. If she and her retinue set out in such bad winter weather to ride through mountains and along dire roads, she knew they would suffer and run the risk of some bad accident. But if circumstances changed and the agreement between the pope and emperor did not come about, and the landsknechts were heading toward Rome, she would make for Urbino and then Mantua.80 With Isabella refusing to move from Rome unless danger was imminent, it is not surprising that some Mantuans had come to believe she intended to live there permanently. If that was indeed her wish, it might explain why, for all Federico’s pleas and warnings, she stayed on in an increasingly apprehensive Rome. On the other hand, did Mantua look any safer at the time? The menacing Imperial army was nearer to Mantua than to Rome. Federico, nominally captain of the papal troops, was having to make arrangements with them to secure his own state. Did she share Clement’s optimism that he could extricate himself from peril by diplomacy? The Romans were not optimistic. The Carnival festivities of 1527 were muted. Only three horses competed in the main race. The major diversion on offer was watching people riding around the streets, but even then little effort was made in devising costumes – ‘Rome does not look like Rome’.81 In April, Federico renewed his pleas to his mother to leave, but the Mantuan ambassador for once had difficulty getting access to Isabella, who was concentrating on her devotions during Holy Week. Having emerged from her seclusion, Isabella again made light of his fears. ‘Being no soldier, and not particularly brave’, she assured him, she would be on her horse and away at the first alarm.82 It seems she was really relying for her personal security on the fact that her nephew, the constable of Bourbon (he was the son of Francesco’s sister Chiara), was the commander of the Imperial army, and her younger son Ferrante one of the captains. Apparently when she sent to them for advice, they warned her to put the palace at Santi Apostoli into a state of defence. If their troops entered the city, they would send detachments to guard the palace and defend her. As the army neared Rome, Isabella decided that, having left it so late, she would be safer staying where she was, trusting that

The traveller 231 Bourbon and Ferrante would protect her.83 She also set about hiring some infantry, buying gunpowder and pikes, having some doors walled up, and a defensive earthwork constructed. Desperately seeking to raise money for his own tardy preparations for defence, Clement had turned to the expedient of creating some new cardinals, who would have to pay a high price, 40,000 scudi each. Having feared he would demand this sum from the Gonzaga, Isabella was relieved when Clement exempted Ercole, but in the circumstances she could not celebrate the achievement of her long-held ambition for her son. On the day, 5 May, that Clement sent a red cardinal’s hat to Isabella for Ercole, the Imperial army arrived beneath the walls of Rome. The next day, they took the city by storm. Bourbon was killed before he had scaled the walls, but his pledge to protect Isabella was honoured. He had given orders to a Spanish captain to go to protect Santi Apostoli, and the captain fulfilled them. Camilla Gonzaga’s brother Alessandro, who was serving in the army, also came with his men. They did not behave like disinterested paladins. Over two thousand men and women had taken refuge in the palace of Santi Apostoli, and the two captains set about extorting ransoms from them. Ferrante was not allowed to enter the palace when he came in the evening until he agreed not to interfere with their dealings, except to protect his mother and her household. The refugees in the palace agreed to pay a collective ransom of 40,000 ducats, to be divided between the Spanish captain and Alessandro Gonzaga. Later, Isabella would be accused of offering refuge in the palace to so many people in order to fatten the spoils falling to Ferrante and Alessandro. Vehemently denying this charge, she claimed that the refugees were not there at her invitation; so many had flocked to the palace that she had no way of stopping them. And, indeed, she was not entitled to make free with the entire palace; she only had a few rooms in it herself. If so many people thought it a potential safe haven, it was more likely because it belonged to the Colonna, Imperial partisans, than because Isabella was there. This palace was the only one in Rome not to be sacked. From the Vatican down, no other palace, no house where anything of value might be found, no religious institution, no church, was spared pillage. Even if Isabella’s presence might have helped

232  The traveller those crowded into Santi Apostoli to escape with their lives, she should not be pictured as a calm angel of mercy, bringing comfort and reassurance. She and her donzelle were crammed into two rooms; and food soon ran very short. Isabella herself was ‘scared to death’, ‘wishing a thousand times’ that she had followed Federico’s advice, according to the Mantuan and Ferrarese ambassadors who were with her.84 The people in the palace were spared the torments and outrages inflicted on so many unfortunates in Rome by the soldiers, the rapes, tortures and murders, but although they could manage to avoid seeing what was happening, they could not escape hearing the cries and shrieks and screams. The sack of Rome went on and on; days stretched into weeks, and still the agony continued. The soldiers had already been almost out of the control of their commanders for months; Bourbon had not so much led them to Rome as been carried along with them. Isabella’s repentance at not heeding Federico’s warnings came too late, but no one could have imagined the full horror of the sack. Further protection for the palace was provided by the Colonna themselves, who came to Rome with men from their estates on 10 May. Neither they, nor the Gonzaga captains – Ferrante, Alessandro and Luigi, Giulia Gonzaga’s brother – were confident they could hold off the landsknechts if they were determined to investigate the truth of the rumours of money and goods and nobles who could pay for ransoms concentrated in the palace. They urged Isabella to leave, and this time she listened to the advice. Having organized boats to carry her and her household out of Rome on the river, they escorted her to them on 13 May. Isabella’s last journey through Rome was through a city of pain and fear and destruction. Before she set out, she made Ferrante and the others promise that the women left in the palace would not be molested. She took with her a number of people who were not members of her household, including her friend Felice Orsini (the daughter of Julius II), several Venetians, among them the ambassador disguised as a porter (Venice was a member of the league opposed to the emperor), the Mantuan ambassador, who had to be reassured Federico would not deem that he had deserted his post, and the ambassadors of Ferrara and Urbino. A guard of arquebusiers, paid for by Isabella, accompanied them on their journey downriver to Ostia.85

The traveller 233 That took longer than expected. Stormy weather held the boats back, so they made slow progress to Ostia. The storm blew for several days, and Isabella and her party had to wait at the port. Hearing his mother was stranded there, Ferrante sent what bread he could find, and some flour, precious commodities in those circumstances. On 23 May she was at last able to embark on one of the galleys of the Genoese Andrea Doria (whose fleet was at that time in the service of the pope), and sail to Civitavecchia. She decided to make the rest of her journey home by land. Taking with her only her travelling clothes, she sent her other baggage on by sea, heading for Pisa, under the care of three servants. Her decision to travel overland spared her the fate of her unfortunate servants, who were captured by pirates, with all her baggage. Unaware of this mishap, Isabella traversed Italy, passing through the territory of the duke of Urbino. By the time she arrived at Ravenna, her spirits were reviving, and she bought some objets d’art. On the boat journey to Ferrara, she whiled away the time playing primiera. Before she reached Ferrara on 10 June, she was met at Argenta by a party of Mantuan courtiers Federico had sent to greet her. Two miles from Ferrara she was met by her nephews, Ercole and Ippolito d’Este. A  great crowd of women, foremost among them her friends Alda Boiardo and Margherita Cantelmo, awaited her on the bank at Ferrara, and many carrette escorted the one belonging to Diana d’Este that carried her to the ducal palace. Her welcome at Mantua on 14 June was just as enthusiastic. Ercole was the first of her sons to greet her, some miles from the city, and then a little further on Federico was waiting for her, as Isabella had requested, at Governolo. She had with her the cardinal’s hat Clement had sent just before the sack, and she told Federico she would present it to Ercole at Governolo, so that he could enter Mantua wearing it. Ercole made a formal entry into Mantua in his cardinal’s robes, accompanied by his brother, and went to the cathedral for a service of thanksgiving for his new status. Still dressed in her riding clothes, Isabella decided to enter the city by another route. Escorted by many gentlemen who had been waiting for her on the riverbank, she went to the church of Sant’ Andrea. The jubilation at her return showed her the affection

234  The traveller her sons and the people of Mantua had for her, according to her secretary Tridapale.86 Yet he also wrote that Isabella had been so frightened in Rome, and had such terrible experiences there, that she ‘has completely lost all her pleasure in, and desire to, travel’.87 Vexations arising out of the disastrous end to her time in Rome continued for years. Apart from having to repudiate the rumours that she had invited people to take refuge in Santi Apostoli to provide ready booty for Ferrante, she also had to counter reports that she had connived with him in carrying away from Rome spoils of the sack. There were problems caused by those for whom she and Ferrante had acted as guarantors when their ransoms were being negotiated reneging on their obligations. And she had to try to track down her baggage and her captured servants. To begin with, she thought they had been taken by Genoese vessels. She accused Andrea Doria of complicity, and asked goldsmiths in Genoa to keep an eye out for articles of plate marked with her imprese. Later she learned that they had in fact been taken by corsairs from the Barbary coast. Two of the men were brought to Venice in 1528, ransomed by a Venetian gentleman. The third was still a prisoner in Tunis in 1532, with Isabella continuing her efforts for his liberation. The captain who brought the two men to Venice also had some of Isabella’s property, which she had to pay to recover – a silver vessel and some of the antique medals she had bought in Rome (the only antiquities she had purchased there). She did not bother to bargain for some of her clothes that he had: ‘if they were given to me, they would be no use to me now’.88 There would be no more long pleasure trips for Isabella. And where in Italy could she have gone if she had a mind to get away for a prolonged stay? Of the places she had enjoyed in the past, Rome, Milan and Naples all suffered terribly in the wars of the late 1520s. Venice was spared, and she did go back there several times, for short, informal visits, but she never thought of living there. She spent a few months in Bologna in the winter of 1529–30, when the pope and emperor were there. She was drawn to Bologna not just by the lure of witnessing an extraordinary occasion, the Imperial coronation of Charles by Clement, but because for those months the city became the political centre of Italy, and the interests of the Gonzaga, the Este and the Sforza were all in play. Her visit there,

The traveller 235 however, was essentially a private one. She was not called upon to represent or negotiate for Federico or Alfonso. The nearest she came to having a political role on a visit in these years was when she welcomed Renée de France as the bride of her nephew Ercole in 1528, appearing for the last time as the first lady of Ferrara. Even after Alfonso’s death, she was always welcome there, still felt at home there. Isabella had done an unusual amount of travelling for a woman of her time and status, but now she was content to revisit familiar places within relatively easy reach of Mantua. She was no longer looking for the new experiences that brought her so much enjoyment for so many years.

Notes 1 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 258: B. Castiglione to Isabella, 20 July 1525, Toledo. 2 Luzio and Renier, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga’, pp. 81–5. 3 Ibid., p. 354. 4 Ibid., pp. 354–5: Isabella to Francesco, 27 August 1492. 5 Ibid., pp. 358–9: Isabella to Francesco, 3 October 1492. 6 Ibid., p.  621: Isabella to Antonio Maria Colli, 20 February  1495; p. 622: Isabella to Giovanni Gonzaga, 11 February 1495. 7 Ibid., p. 623: Isabella to Francesco, 1 March 1495. 8 Ibid., p. 367: Isabella to Francesco, 25 April 1493. 9 Ibid., p. 368: Isabella to Francesco, 7 May 1493. 10 Ibid., p.  369: Isabella to Francesco, 14 May  1493; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 56–8. 11 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 73: Isabella to Francesco, 19 March 1494, Ravenna. 12 Ibid., p. 74: Isabella to Francesco, 30 March 1494, Gubbio. 13 Printed in ibid., pp. 307–14. 14 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 100, note 1: Isabella to Francesco, 17 March 1506. 15 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este a la corte sforzesca’, pp. 157–9. 16 Ibid., p. 159: Isabella to Elisabetta Gonzaga, 7 July 1511, Mantua. 17 Published in Pedrazzoli, ‘La marchesa Isabella d’Este Gonzaga’, pp. 868–78; some in d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 373–7. 18 Pedrazzoli, ‘La marchesa Isabella d’Este Gonzaga a diporto’, pp. 872–3: Isabella to Francesco, 19 March 1514, Sermione. 19 Ibid.: Isabella to Francesco, 21 March  1514, Sermione; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 374–5.

236  The traveller 0 Pedrazzoli, ‘La marchesa Isabella d’Este Gonzaga a diporto’, p. 873. 2 21 Ibid., p. 877. 22 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, p. 132, n. 77. 23 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp. 188–9. 24 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, p. 133. 25 Luzio, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II, pp. 201–2. 26 Ibid., p. 191. 27 Ibid., p. 212: Isabella to Francesco, 9 March 1513. 28 Ibid., p. 213. 29 See above, pp. 63–4. 30 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’primordi del papato di Leone X’, pp. 124–5: Isabella to archdeacon Gabbionetta, 23 December 1513. 31 Ibid., pp. 131–2: Isabella to Alfonso, 15 November 1513. 32 Ibid., p. 139. 33 Ibid. 34 Ibid., p. 142. 35 Cockram, Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga, p. 190: Isabella to Baldassare Castiglione, 21 July 1519 – see above, p. 67. 36 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 142. 37 Ibid., p. 145: Isabella to Federico, 5 October 1514. 38 Ibid., p. 145: Francesco to Isabella, 8 October 1514. 39 Ibid., pp.  465, 468: archdeacon Gabbioneta to Francesco, 15, 26 October 1514. 40 Ibid., p. 147. 41 Ibid., p.  471: archdeacon Gabbioneta to Francesco, 10 November 1514, Rome. 42 Ibid., p.  148: Isabella to Benedetto Capilupi, 10 November  1514, Rome. 43 Ibid., p. 150: Isabella to B. Capilupi, 23 November 1514. 44 Ibid., p. 146: Isabella to B. Capilupi, 10 November 1514. 45 Ibid., p. 470: archdeacon Gabbioneta to Francesco, 31 October 1514. 46 Ibid., p. 468. 47 Ibid., pp. 474–5. 48 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 381–3: Isabella to Francesco, 30 October 1514, Rome. 49 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 472. 50 Ibid., pp. 150–1: Leo X to Francesco, 19 November 1514. 51 Ibid., p.  474: archdeacon Gabbioneta to Francesco, 24 November 1514. 52 Ibid., p. 152: Isabella to B. Capilupi, 5 December 1514. 53 Ibid. 54 Luzio and Renier, La coltura, pp.  233–4: Isabella to Francesco, 12 December 1514, Naples.

The traveller 237 55 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’primordi del papato di Leone X’, p.  152: Isabella to B. Capilupi, 8 December  1514; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 386–7. 56 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 154. 57 Ibid., pp.  475–6: archdeacon Gabbioneta to Francesco, 30 December 1514. 58 Ibid., pp.  477–8: Gabbioneta to Francesco Gonzaga, 12 January 1515; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 389–90: Isabella to Francesco, 11 January 1515. 59 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X’, p. 480: Gabbioneta to Francesco Gonzaga, 29 January 1515. 60 Ibid., p. 169, note 1. 61 Ibid., p. 177, note 3. 62 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 215: Isabella to Card. Bernardo Dovizi, 18 March 1515; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 394–5. 63 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’primordi del papato di Leone X’, p.  179: Isabella to Guglielmo Caetani, 20 August 1515. 64 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1907), p. 26. 65 Stefano Davari, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa del Monferrato (1515–1533) (Genoa, 1891), pp. 9–10. 66 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1907), pp. 84–5. 67 Ibid., p. 85: Isabella to Rozone, 25 February 1517. 68 F. Bonati Savorgnan d’Osoppo, ‘Isabella d’Este nei rapporti dei Gonzaga con l’Estero’, Archivio storico lombardo, 95 (1968), pp. 182–6. 69 Davari, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa, p. 15: Isabella to Francesco Gonzaga, 28 April 1517, Casale; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 419–21: Isabella to Francesco, 28, 29 April 1517, Casale. 70 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este’, 147 (1896), p. 466; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 422–3: Isabella to Francesco, 16 May 1517, Marseilles. 71 Davari, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa, p. 20. 72 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, p.  750: B. Capilupi to Tolomeo Spagnoli, 22 November 1517, Ferrara. 73 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, p. 13: Isabella to Federico, 2 May 1525. 74 Ibid., p. 14: Isabella to Federico, 2 May 1525. 75 Ibid., pp. 14–15; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 496–7: Isabella to Federico, 18 May 1525, Rome (Shemek suggests a different interpretation of the gifts, but Luzio’s is more likely). 76 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, p. 17. 77 Ibid., pp. 25–6, n. 2: Isabella to Federico, 15 July 1526. 78 Ibid., p. 35. 79 Ibid., p. 49: Federico to Isabella, 25 November 1526.

238  The traveller 80 81 82 83 84 85

Ibid., pp. 49–50: Francesco Gonzaga to Federico, 5 December 1526. Ibid., p. 371: Francesco Gonzaga to Federico, 6 March 1527. Ibid., pp. 74–5: Isabella to Federico, 23 April 1527. Ibid., p. 373: Francesco Gonzaga to Federico, 3 May 1527. Ibid., p. 375. D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 503–5: Isabella to Federico, 22 May 1527, Corneto. 86 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, pp. 86–7: Tridapale to Eleonora Gonzaga, 15 June 1527. 87 Ibid. 88 Ibid., p.  389: Isabella to Felice della Rovere, 22 May  1528; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 501–15.

7 The dowager

On the evening of 29 March  1519 Francesco Gonzaga, at the age of 53, succumbed to the syphilis that had rendered this once robust and vigorous man a chronic invalid. For years before his death, he had often been confined to his palace at San Sebastiano, taking cure after hopeless cure. When he felt the battle against the disease was truly lost and his death drawing near, he made his will, received the last rites and assembled his family around. He bade farewell to them and to the principal officials and gentlemen of his court. According to Mario Equicola’s account of the deathbed scene, he turned to Isabella to speak of his appreciation of her wisdom and capabilities, and to commend their children to her care.1 His body was dressed in a Franciscan habit, as he had wished, while the effigy that surmounted the catafalque on which the marquis lay in state was dressed in armour, recalling the soldier prince he had been. A week before Francesco’s funeral, Federico, dressed in white velvet and cloth of silver, had been proclaimed as the new marquis and handed the princely sceptre in a ceremony at the cathedral on 3 April. He had then processed through the streets to the sound of drums and trumpets, and the acclamation of his subjects, the sword of state borne before him. From the first year of his reign, Federico was his own man – a very young man, maybe, but not a boy. He was certainly not a mere boy in his own eyes, and Isabella was wise not to treat him as one. Energetic and bold, intelligent enough but perhaps lacking in the finer shades of political judgement, a lover of horses and music and painting and building, in many ways Federico was his

240  The dowager father’s son. Not least in the strength of his libido, although unlike his father, Federico channelled this into a passionate attachment to one woman, his mistress, Isabella Boschetti. Unfortunately, he was like his father in the undermining of his health by venereal disease. By his mid-twenties, gonorrhoea was causing him problems, and (again like his father) providing him with an excuse to stay in Mantua rather than ride out on military campaigns. Those who want to trace a direct connection between Federico’s sexual proclivities and the flirtatious – not to say lascivious – exchanges with her donzelle that Isabella seems to have condoned (or even, some would argue, encouraged), tend to overlook the fact that for the bulk of his teenage years he was apart from his mother and her donzelle. Of the seven years from July 1510, when he left Mantua to become the pope’s hostage, to July 1517, when Isabella returned from her tour of Provence, mother and son were both in Mantua at the same time for less than two. When Federico was in Mantua as a teenager, his father was always there, while his mother was often away on her travels, long or short. In any case, it was quite usual for a boy to move from his mother’s to his father’s care and supervision as he grew older. For a prince, a future ruler, like Federico, education in the arts of warfare, practical and theoretical, would take up much of his time, and that was Francesco’s department. It is very likely that he spent more of his time with his father and his household than with his mother and her donzelle. He could learn more about sexual licence from his father and his father’s entourage than from his mother and her ladies. Another important influence on the young Federico’s behaviour and values was the years he spent at the papal court in Rome and Bologna, as the hostage of Julius II. Apart from the basic condition of being a hostage – that he had to stay where the pope determined – there was little constraint on what he did. He was free to wander around Rome, and visit the villas and hunting preserves of cardinals and courtiers outside the city. He was even permitted, while the pope was in Ravenna in February and March 1511, to visit Urbino for the Carnival season. Allowing for the flattery of servants reporting on Federico to his doting parents, it is evident that he was a charming and sociable boy, who knew how to behave in the company of adults, and that he really was, as the servants claimed, a general favourite.

The dowager 241 Certainly a favourite of the pope, he was allocated apartments in the Vatican palace, dined at the pope’s table, played card games with him in the evening (Julius would give him subventions when he lost) and was taken on the papal hunts. Julius gave orders that he should be portrayed in the frescoes that Raphael was painting in his own private apartments; Federico is believed to be one of the youths pictured in “The School of Athens”. When the pope lay dangerously ill, Federico persuaded him to take some broth, pleading with the sick man to eat for his sake, and for love of the Madonna of Loreto. Inevitably, malicious tongues said that Julius took the boy to bed with him, but there was no sign of such abuse of his hostage by the pope. Isabella had no reason to fear for her son or to complain of his treatment. But she was alert to the danger that the servants with him might take advantage of their young master, or not behave towards him with due respect. Her young prince was not to be rebuked in public, or have a hand raised against him. He should be allowed to invite guests of his own choosing to dine with him.2 Which raises the question, were the literary men that his mother was told were dining with Federico his choice, or were they imposed upon him by his tutors? Naturally, Isabella expected her son to continue his lessons while he was in Rome. She hoped he would enjoy his tuition in literature, singing ‘and every other virtuous and gentlemanly discipline’.3 She urged him to acquire a good knowledge of literature, which she thought befitting for a prince.4 Having been somewhat slow to read, and having shown a limited attention span for Latin literature, Federico was capable enough when he did focus on his studies. To encourage him to read, his tutor, Francesco Vigilio, gave him Petrarch. Federico’s own choice was Orlando. He enjoyed his singing lessons; his mother had hired a master to teach him the lute, but he may not have made much progress with that instrument while he was in Rome. He did learn to dance in the French style, and ride in the Spanish style, while he was there. Federico saw himself as destined to be a soldier. On a visit to the papal treasury, when a papal mitre was placed on his head, the boy said that he did not want to be pope but to fight for the Church, and flourished a rapier. He was dressed as a soldier when he accompanied the pope to St  John Lateran in 1512 for the

242  The dowager opening of the Lateran ecclesiastical council. Did he want to fight? Julius asked him.5 Later that year, he took part in the ceremony in Santa Maria del Popolo to publish the league between Julius and Maximilian, this time dressed in splendid clothes sent to him by his mother. These included a white velvet hat with a diamond badge bearing the initials A.C.R.V., which the pope interpreted as signifying “Amor caro ritorna vivo”, “Come back safely, darling”.6 Federico had wanted to have another badge made in gold for this hat, a relief depicting the statue of Laocoon, but Isabella could not afford to let him have this. She was pleased by the interest he took in antiquities, and touched by his wish that he could send them to her.7 For Federico, the time he spent in Rome looking at both the ancient monuments and modern masterpieces contributed greatly to his aesthetic education. In the scale and the style of the great villa he constructed, the Palazzo del Te, on the island opposite his father’s palace of San Sebastiano, in the fact that his court artist, Giulio Romano, was formed in Rome, the lasting impression on Federico of what he saw in Rome can surely be seen. He would have been familiar with the works that Michelangelo and Raphael were creating in the Vatican while he was there. When his uncle Alfonso came to Rome in 1512, hoping to make his peace with the pope, Federico arranged for him to satisfy his desire to see the Sistine Chapel ceiling. While Alfonso examined the frescoes at length with Michelangelo, Federico escorted his gentlemen to view Raphael’s frescoes (Alfonso declined to go, wishing to avoid entering the pope’s bedchamber). With the permission of the pope, Federico did entertain his uncle in the papal apartments with dinner and music and buffoons. He himself was a guest at many such entertainments during his stay in Rome, usually in the palaces, villas and pleasure-grounds of those associated with the papal court rather than of Roman nobles and citizens. Often a play, generally a comedy, was put on for the guests (as when Isabella was in Rome), such as the pastoral performed by Sienese children at a banquet given by the banker Agostino Chigi. Some of the amusements provided for the guests at other dinners Federico attended were not quite so innocent as the children’s play. At a party given by a Spanish cardinal on the feast of the Epiphany of 1513, where Federico was the guest of

The dowager 243 honour, there were more Spanish whores than Italian men present (and he was bored by the play, which was performed in Castilian). The following Sunday, his host was his uncle Sigismondo Gonzaga. As well as several cardinals, those present included the famous buffoon known as Friar Mariano and a courtesan, Albina, who sat at the head of the table. This meal turned into a food fight, started by Friar Mariano. Afterwards, ‘I leave it to Your Excellency to guess what was done’, Stazio Gadio wrote to the marquis, with Federico ‘accommodating himself courteously to the general mood’. Isabella received a less graphic account of what had gone on, with no mention of Albina.8 This was not the company nor, for all her love of practical jokes and buffoons, the behaviour that Isabella would have wanted her young son to learn from while in Rome. It was not what he would have seen at his mother’s table. Perhaps yet more influential on his ideas of how a prince should live and enjoy himself was the time he spent at the French court. He was not quite a hostage there, as he had been in Rome, but in the circumstances of 1515, after Francis’s triumph in Milan, a request from the king to have Federico at his court was difficult to gainsay. At first, Francesco thought of sending him to be with the king only while he was in Italy. Soon he and Isabella had to come to terms with their son going to France. Having hoped in vain that he could at least spend the Christmas season with his family, and then been given leave by the king to spend a few days in Mantua, Federico was ordered by his father to turn back as he headed home in early January. This he knew would please the king and help Francesco by silencing evil tongues, Federico wrote to his father.9 Perhaps those ‘evil tongues’ had insinuated that Federico would not return to the French court, that Francesco was no true friend of the king. He would have been more than welcome in Mantua, Isabella assured him, but she agreed with his father that family affections must yield to ‘reason’ in this instance, and that it was necessary for him to leave for France. He should be happy in the knowledge that ‘your going should result, at your tender age, in great reputation and glory’. Just as he had been a hostage for the liberation of his father, so that he could be compared to the ancient Romans, so now he should be ready to put his person on the line ‘for the salvation of the state’. Every time he might recall this when he

244  The dowager was older, he would feel such joy that no other magnanimous and glorious act he might perform could bring him more. Now, with her blessing, she urged him to do all he could to please the king.10 As his father was not particularly well thought of, or wellspoken of, at the French court, Federico did have a serious role to play, trying to win the favour of the king and his principal ministers. He had to look after the interests of his family and their state, including protesting about the billeting of French men-at-arms, who plundered the countryside, on Mantuan territory. Pleading that his father was a loyal servant of the king and did not deserve to be ruined, did not evoke much sympathy from the French. To them, it was a simple matter. The king could not pay his men-at-arms, Francesco would not give him the money the king was sure he had available to pay them, so the marquis had to help by providing for the troops in his territory. Appealing to the affection they professed for Federico personally, that they should not ruin the state he would one day inherit, did not work either. For Federico, this was a practical introduction to the realities of trying to negotiate with a powerful ruler from a position of weakness. He had three experienced secretaries with him, to advise and help him, but it is clear from the reports of the negotiations sent to Francesco (obviously written by the secretaries, if written in his name and signed by him) that Federico handled the business personally. Apart from these stern political lessons, Federico was not called upon to show much of the stoic endurance and valour of a hero of antiquity. He was treated with consideration and kindness by the king, whose example was followed by the courtiers. Francis ordered that he be assigned good lodgings – an important mark of favour, in a court that was often on the move – and he enjoyed the privilege of being invited to eat at the king’s table. The ethos of the court of a young, pleasure-loving, companionable king, suited Federico’s tastes. With the amused encouragement of the king, he was petted by the ladies of the court. Francis teased him, told him he would find lovers in France, that he would learn French by conversing with the ladies, that he should ‘make love’ to his beloved sister Marguerite, and joked with Marguerite’s husband that the boy would become her lover and make them both jealous.11 Enjoying the company of women himself, the king liked to see Federico passing his time with them.

The dowager 245 Such details as these were relayed in letters to Francesco, rather than to Isabella. Letters from Federico and the secretaries to Francesco about what he was doing, and the ceremonies and pleasures of the court, tended to be longer and fuller than the letters to her. In the letters to his mother there were reports on his health, how he spent his time, who he saw, but not on affairs of state. Federico did not write to her about the political discussions he or the secretaries had, but about the clothes he needed, and the gifts she should send him to distribute at court, not least perfumes and gloves for the ladies. Isabella baulked at providing expensive presents for more than a few of the ladies, wanting to restrict his gifts to those closest to the king. Playing the gallant young prince, participating in the pastimes of the court, did not come cheap. Soon after arriving in France, he cut back his retinue to 50, with 41 horses. Instructed by Isabella to reduce his household further, to 40 people and 35 horses, Federico asked his mother to tell him who he should keep and who should be sent back to Italy, because he did not want to make the choice himself.12 Naturally, he was always asking for more money, from her and from his father. She sent him cash (as did Francesco – did they know about all the money each other was sending?) including revenues from Federico’s own estates. She expected a good part of his expenses to be met by the allowance, the “pension”, granted to him by the king, although Federico justifiably warned her he could not rely on this being paid. All pension payments were suspended in September 1516, and it was a mark of favour to Federico that he had been paid even half of his. He told Isabella this in the one letter, or the only surviving letter, he wrote to her from France in which his secretary used code. This was not about discussion of Gonzaga interests, but relayed a proposal from Francis that Alfonso, who had been very ill, should make a will appointing the king as guardian of his children.13 Francis was not relying on Isabella alone to pass on this proposal; he told Federico to write to his father about it as well, and was instructing his lieutenant in Italy, Lautrec, to broach the matter, too. Whenever they were apart during his childhood, in her letters to Federico Isabella stressed how dearly she loved him, how much she missed him, how often she thought of him. Yet she absented

246  The dowager herself from Mantua for much of the time that she could have spent with him. There were only about sixteen months between Federico returning from Rome and Isabella from Milan in 1513, before she took off on her extended journey to Milan, Genoa, Rome and Naples, and during that period she had been away on other trips (and wanted to go to Milan earlier). Barely six months passed between Isabella’s return from Rome and Federico’s leaving for Milan and then France. As he was on his way home after an absence of eighteen months, Isabella was preparing to leave again, and there were only a few days in which she could spend time with her son before she was off to Monferrato and Provence. She did not take Federico with her on any of her shorter trips, even to Ferrara. His mother’s influence was only one of those that shaped his habits and ideas, and was probably of diminishing importance in the education and formation of the young prince as he grew to manhood. No especially close bond between mother and son developed, to give her a hold over him as an adult. Arguably, she was not even the most important woman in his life in his late teenage years, for he was already in thrall to Isabella Boschetti by the time he left for a short trip to France, at the king’s request, in the spring of 1518. The daughter of a Mantuan courtier and soldier, Giacomo Boschetti, and of a sister of Baldassare Castiglione, Isabella Boschetti was married off to another courtier, a member of a minor branch of the Gonzaga, Francesco, conte di Calvisano (who eventually would prove to be no compliant husband). In 1520 she bore a son, Alessandro, whom Federico acknowledged as his own. Federico took her with him to Venice in May 1520, where she was constantly at his side. His brother Ercole was with him too, as well as the duke and the two duchesses, Eleonora and Elisabetta, of Urbino. The Marchioness of Mantua was conspicuous by her absence. Isabella did not approve of her son’s lover, who revelled in her position as the adored mistress of the prince and could be insolent and high-handed. Unfortunately, no description of a direct confrontation between the two Isabellas, the mother and the mistress, has come to light. Three decades after her death, Paolo Giovio, in a treatise on imprese, described how Isabella was thrown into the shade by her

The dowager 247 son’s mistress, who rode through the streets escorted by gentlemen who had deserted the marchioness, leaving her to the company of only one or two elderly noblemen.14 Rather than risk a public showdown that would have fuelled gossip throughout Italy and beyond, Isabella may have preferred to keep her distance. Moving to her new apartments in a separate part of the palace would have helped her to avoid unwanted meetings  – and may well have helped to maintain the appearance of harmonious relations between mother and son. In any case, Federico did not appear to make his mother’s disapproval of his mistress grounds for estrangement. He had enough sense, and respect for his mother, to recognize that he had need of her experience and judgement. His succession to the marquisate came at the start of what would prove to be the most turbulent decade of the Italian Wars. The state of Mantua was as vulnerable as ever, and Francesco had left many debts. As he found his feet, Federico could appreciate the value of Isabella’s guidance. I accept with all my heart your advice and admonitions and exhortations to behave honourably, he avowed in September  1521, when he was already well accustomed to being the marquis. I am very grateful, and will never forget to follow them, for I  want nothing more than honour and glory in everything I  undertake. No one in the world loves and reveres you more than I do.15 Federico was not quite nineteen years of age, still a minor, when he became marquis. By his will, Francesco had placed his son under the tutelage of his mother and his uncles Sigismondo and Giovanni, until he was 22. With only a few years to go before Federico attained his majority, it would have been unwise for Isabella and her brothers-in-law to treat him like a child, and take on the government of Mantua themselves in his name. It is evident that, from the first, Federico was no mere figurehead, being told what to do and what to say by his elders. There was no abrupt transition from a period of tutelage to the young prince taking over the government for himself. What seems to have happened was that he gradually became less dependent on the advice and guidance of his mother and uncles, and more confident in making his own decisions. Before he reached the age of 22, he had already taken charge, and was under no one’s tutelage.

248  The dowager Isabella does seem to have taken on the routine business of governing the state, supervising matters which Federico was probably quite content to leave to her care and experience. It might be significant that she spent the first summer of her widowhood at the marquis’s villa of Marmirolo rather than her own villa at Porto. It would be better suited for the transaction of government business, with more room there for officials and secretaries and for the reception of visitors. Even before Francesco’s death, as it became obvious that his life was drawing to its close, officials began to turn to her. Not a leaf moves without her knowledge and consent, everything is referred to her, Alfonso was told a week before Francesco died.16 She looked to the welfare of their subjects, bringing the price of grain down by selling wheat from her own estates below the market price, and having a care for the administration of justice. Despite the perilous condition of the state finances, she thought discretion should be used in imposing fines. Subjects should be cherished, not harassed.17 Concern for justice might have contributed to her zeal in dealing with one of the first items on her agenda, which was to settle some personal scores with those of Francesco’s officials whom she blamed for trying to poison his mind against her. Tolomeo Spagnoli, Francesco’s confidential secretary, who had boasted of being the marquis’s ‘associate’ in government, and who had abused his position to enrich himself and his family by peculation, corruption and extortion – his own brother said that if Tolomeo’s ducats were cut in half, the blood of poor men would flow out – fled from Mantua.18 Judicial proceedings were instituted against him in his absence, and he was sentenced to death, and the confiscation of his property. Vigo da Camposampiero, an enemy of Isabella of even longer standing than Spagnoli, was banished from Mantua as a traitor and his property confiscated, too. Isabella used against him a letter he had written to Julius II, apparently implicating both her and Alfonso (perhaps the letter accusing her of obstructing the pope’s campaign against Alfonso in 1510).19 Both Vigo and Tolomeo tried to cause trouble for Isabella, spreading rumours and gossip. Vigo was thought to be the source of a story circulating in Venice in September 1519 that Federico had imprisoned his mother because she had agreed to marry the French governor of Milan, Lautrec, and give Mantua over to him.

The dowager 249 He was certainly heard to speak disparagingly of her, saying Mantua was being governed by a woman and a boy.20 Tolomeo caused problems for her in Rome, where he enjoyed the protection of Leo, who wanted to find out from him what help Isabella and Alfonso had given to Francesco Maria della Rovere during his attempt to recover Urbino in 1517. He had been the real governor of Mantua for years, Tolomeo boasted.21 Baldassare Castiglione, who was the Mantuan ambassador in Rome, was instructed by Federico to follow Isabella’s instructions concerning Tolomeo and his brother Alessandro. She told her son that she wanted to be fully informed about everything she was dealing with, so that she could see justice was properly done, and ‘for the benefit not the harm’ of his father’s servants and those serving now.22 Perhaps Federico had reservations about his mother’s vendetta against these favourites of his father. He probably had no personal grudge against them himself. There is no evidence that they had tried to drive a wedge between Federico and Francesco. A  vendetta that he was ready to pursue had been bequeathed to him by his father. On his deathbed, Francesco had enjoined his son not to forgive Enea Furlano, who had lost his favour in 1506 for assassinating a rival, and (what was probably worse in Francesco’s eyes) stealing some of the marquis’s prized horses and (worse yet) eloping with one of his illegitimate daughters, Teodora. Furlano, too, had found protection from the pope, as he had served Lorenzo de’ Medici. Respect for his father’s dying wish was the ground on which Federico and Isabella based their refusal to pardon Furlano, as Leo sent an envoy (one well known to Isabella, Pietro Bembo) to ask them to do.23 The true nature of the relations between Isabella and her eldest son at this crucial stage of his life is not easy to read. Without doubt, she was the leading figure among his ‘governors’: Sigismondo spent much time in Rome, and Giovanni may have been away much of the time, too. But she appears to have handled Federico tactfully, advising rather than instructing him, not attempting to dominate him. In appointing a new secretary to replace her old favourite, Capilupi (who had died in late 1518), she was guided by the consideration that she needed someone acceptable to her son. She suggested several names, and appointed the man preferred by Federico, Mario Equicola. Federico thanked her for

250  The dowager her guidance. ‘I am very grateful that Your Excellency always gives her opinion on all my affairs, which are yours as well, because I will always follow it, as an obedient son’, he told his mother in September 1519.24 Three months after Federico’s succession, the parameters of European politics were changed by the election of Charles, duke of Burgundy and king of Castile and Aragon, to the Imperial throne. Spanish military power gave more force to the Imperial claims to legal superiority and political supremacy over much of northern Italy. Soon, Italian powers came under increased pressure to declare allegiance to the emperor or the king of France. Historic connections of some Italian states with the Holy Roman Empire – among them Mantua, technically an Imperial fief – became more significant. This was something Federico and Isabella had to take into account. Modena and Reggio were also Imperial territories, something Alfonso (and Isabella) had to bear in mind in trying to recover them. But the Este had traditional associations with France, and Alfonso’s personal connections with the French in Italy had been what got him into trouble with the pope in the first place. He still looked to Francis I for protection. Isabella had no particular personal inclination to either side. Her reputation in some circles as a French partisan had come about largely because of her efforts on behalf of Alfonso; she had no sentimental attachment to the French king. Nor, despite the time he had spent at the French court, was Federico a French partisan. For Isabella, deeply concerned as she was with the interests of her brother as well as her son, and with those of her daughter and son-in-law, in exile in Mantua, relations with the pope were also of great importance. The death of Lorenzo de’ Medici in April 1519 had reopened the question of the duchy of Urbino. Rather than assign it to another of his relatives or restore it to Francesco Maria della Rovere, Leo had taken it under the direct government of the papacy. Castiglione was sent to Rome to lobby for Francesco Maria, but Leo was not inclined to give him the duchy back. Nor was he inclined to give Modena or Reggio back to Alfonso. Reliant on French diplomatic support to restrain Leo from trying to take Ferrara from him too, Alfonso and Isabella knew that the French were not to be relied on entirely. They were aware that Leo was trying to induce Francis to relinquish his protection of

The dowager 251 Alfonso. After the death of Lucrezia in June, Alfonso had to resist suggestions that he should take a French wife, unmoved by the argument that this would give Francis a legitimate reason to press for the restitution of his lost lands. As neighbours in Milan, the French had been troublesome to Mantua. Wrongly anticipating that his own candidacy for the Imperial election would be successful, Francis asked for military support from Mantua, and Isabella consulted Alfonso about what to do.25 Towards the end of the year, Alfonso fell seriously ill. Added to Isabella’s concern for her brother’s health, were fears of a plot to attack Ferrara. Neither Leo’s denials that he knew anything about it, nor reports that Ferrara was not the target, convinced her. She was vigilant in investigating reports of troops being embarked in boats ostensibly transporting grain on the Po, ordering measures to prevent this happening on Mantuan territory, and she sent frequent reports and warnings to Alfonso. Confident in the defences of Ferrara, and above all in his artillery, Alfonso was less alarmed than his sister. He was sure that once it became known that he was recovering, the plot would be aborted, as indeed it was. Isabella’s efforts won her praise in Ferrara, and she was pleased that her son showed himself ready and willing to help his uncle.26 Associating Federico with support for Alfonso had its dangers, however. It was rumoured in Rome that Leo had Mantua in his sights as well as Ferrara, and the pope suspected Federico of involvement in plotting with Alfonso and with Francesco Maria. Leo complained of hostility towards him at the Gonzaga court, claiming that Ferrante was being teased because he was his godson. It was said that Isabella was speaking ill of the pope, and that she consulted Alfonso too much. One matter on which her brother’s advice to her ran counter to Leo’s wishes was in dissuading her from sending Ercole to be educated in Rome. This idea had been approved by Leo, although he would have preferred Ferrante should be the one to be groomed for a career in the Church. Yet he refused permission for Sigismondo Gonzaga to resign the bishopric of Mantua to Ercole. Given Leo’s suspicions about Isabella, and his concerns that Federico was being drawn into the schemes of his enemies, why, out of the blue, did he offer to make the young and inexperienced marquis captain-general of the papal troops? To secure his services,

252  The dowager and the use of his territory (‘one of the prime gateways’ to Italy for the emperor) before he was drawn over to side with Charles V, according to the explanation sent to the papal nuncios in France. Leo thought he could bind Federico with clauses he might not agree to in a condotta with another employer.27 To attempt to detach him from Alfonso and Francesco Maria, was perhaps a more powerful motive, though one less likely to appeal to the French king. By no means certain that Federico would accept, and by no means sure whether, even if he did, he would abandon Francesco Maria, the pope may have been surprised how readily his offer was accepted in Mantua. Isabella fully supported her son’s acceptance. Nearly all the documents relating to the condotta, which was finally concluded in December  1520, were signed in her apartments. It was too good an opportunity for Federico to begin to make his mark as a soldier prince to be rejected. Justifying her approval of the condotta to Alfonso, she admitted there were doubts about what lay behind the pope’s offer of the captaincy. Nevertheless, something so honourable could not be refused. With the French showing so little favour to Mantua, it could have been ruinous to turn it down, she argued.28 Reassurances were also sent to both the French and Imperial courts, that Federico’s serving as the pope’s captain would not imply any disloyalty to them. Indeed, Leo had optimistically hoped that Francis would contribute to the cost of the condotta, without having a share in it. But the king did not approve, thinking Federico too young. Nor, apparently, did the emperor send his consent. Federico’s obligations as an Imperial fief holder were acknowledged in the terms of his contract, with a stipulation that he should not be expected to join in person in any hostilities against Charles. In any war between the pope and the emperor, he would just send his troops. Leo, however, insisted on a secret clause, with a promise by Federico to serve in person against the emperor. The marquis set his seal to this, and the document was returned to Rome, where it was not forgotten. Aware of how compromising it could be to her son, Isabella did not forget about it, either. There was another unwelcome corollary to the contract, a demand from Leo for a pardon for Enea Furlano. Federico had no desire to pardon Furlano, but his vow to his dying father was simply set aside by an adroit use of the pope’s spiritual authority and

The dowager 253 he had to comply. Formally pardoned Furlano might be, but he was not forgiven. Nor was his wife Teodora. After her husband’s death in 1521 (fighting for Alfonso), she spent her widowhood as her half-brother’s prisoner in Mantuan fortresses.29 Some reciprocal gestures of goodwill to the Gonzaga were made by Leo. He allowed Isabella to buy fine antique marble in Rome for a doorway in her new apartments, despite a general prohibition on the export of such stone, which was reserved for the construction of the new St Peter’s basilica. There were hints of a cardinalcy for Ercole in September 1520, which came to nothing. But he was given charge of the diocese of Mantua in May 1521, although he was not in holy orders, and in any case was far below the canonical age of 30 to be appointed bishop. Six months had passed from the conclusion of the condotta before it was eventually made known to the cardinals on 1 July. There were great public celebrations in Mantua, with bonfires and artillery fire, masses and orations. To Isabella and Federico, the formal announcement in Rome, so long delayed, may have come as something of a relief, rather than a triumph. He lost no time in setting off to join the papal and Imperial forces preparing to attack the French in Lombardy. Captain-general of the papal troops as he was, he had no experience of war, and his voice must have carried little weight in the counsels of the commanders. Yet he was very enthusiastic – perhaps a little too enthusiastic, taking artillery to besiege Parma that Isabella wished to keep for the defence of Mantua, and writing to the pope about how, after the conquest of Milan, he wanted to take the fight to France. These letters fell into the hands of the French and angered them, as Isabella warned him.30 She cautioned him against being so ready to please others that he risked bringing the enemy down on his own state.31 She also urged Federico not to be too complaisant in agreeing to the demands of the commissioner-general of the papal army, Francesco Guicciardini. As his mother, it was for her more than for any other person to remind him what was in his own best interests, and in her opinion Guicciardini should put the burden on Modena and Reggio, ‘not on this our poor state, which we are afraid will go to ruin’, if Federico gave into the excessive demands.32 It was hardly to be expected that the young captain would be content to leave all arrangements for the defence of Mantua to his

254  The dowager mother, and he sent orders and instructions back home as to what should be done. There was still much for Isabella to do, watching over the security of Mantua. She gathered and collated the reports from local officials, passing the information on to Federico, with the warning that some would inevitably be inaccurate, and he must sort out the true from the false.33 When an unexpected spy turned up in Mantua, she deliberately gave him false information, reckoning that would be more useful than having him executed. Careful preparations were made when a company of German mercenary infantry, the landsknechts, passed through Mantuan territory on their way to join the campaign. Isabella made sure they had lodgings and food provided, so they would not just take what they needed. Her own household had a taste of the problems these troops could cause. She gave her donzelle permission to watch the landsknechts (who often affected extravagant, colourful costumes) coming into Mantua to buy supplies and clothes. Many of the soldiers stopped beneath the windows of the palace to look back at the donzelle. One group apparently mistook Isabella’s ladies for courtesans and entered the palace. A particularly bold individual chased one of her servants, who managed to escape his clutches, while his companions searched the rooms around the courtyard. Fortunately, they did not find the donzelle, who were in the chamber overlooking the square. A German servant arrived, cleared up the confusion and escorted the soldiers out.34 Isabella’s main concern was the possibility of a French attack on Mantua. Soon, the swift collapse of French power in Milan calmed her fears. On receiving news of the entry of the papal and Imperial troops into the city of Milan in mid-November, she ordered three days of celebrations, and forbade anyone to work on the morning before a solemn procession of thanksgiving, to swell the crowds in the streets.35 Her relief was rapidly followed by consternation at further news, this time from Rome, of the unexpected death of the pope on 1 December. Isabella feared that the French troops, who were only twenty miles from Milan, might see this as an opportunity to turn against Mantua. Federico was advised, by Alfonso among others, to return to Mantua and try to mollify the French. But she was soon reassured by the duke of Urbino that she had nothing to fear from them. She told the captain Federico sent to take charge of the defence of Mantua that he and his men were

The dowager 255 not required, and she would rather not burden the people with troops unnecessarily.36 Francis tried to win Federico over to his side, and sent a message to Isabella to say that he had always considered her a good friend of the French – as the sister of Alfonso, how could she be otherwise? – and declared himself ready to forgive and forget. But Isabella thought her son would be best advised to stay on the side of the emperor, and in the service of the new pope, if he could. In any case, he should wait to see the outcome of the papal election.37 She had hopes that an ideal solution for their dilemma might come about in the election of Sigismondo Gonzaga to the papal throne – hence her gesture of offering to put all her jewellery and property at his disposal, to help him acquire the votes of his fellow cardinals. Rumours that Sigismondo had been elected caused a riot in Mantua, with an attack on the Jewish quarter of the city, which she had to repress by force. The rumours were false. On 9 January  1522, somewhat to their own surprise, the cardinals elected one who was not even at the conclave, Adrian of Utrecht, the emperor’s former tutor, who was serving him as regent in Spain. ‘Stupefied’ was how Isabella described herself, bewildered by the result of the conclave which overturned all her expectations and her hopes.38 One confidently expected consequence of the election of Adrian VI was that the new pope would be a close ally of the emperor. As it turned out, the pious, austere, rather unworldly Adrian put his duties as pontiff and the rights of the papacy before any loyalty to his former pupil. Even so, his election confirmed the wisdom of the choice Federico and Isabella had made in not responding positively to the overtures from the French. Except for one potential problem: the secret undertaking Federico had signed and sealed, that he would fight against the emperor for the pope, if need be. Orders were sent to Castiglione to try to get hold of it. Bribery secured the recovery of the compromising document from one of Leo’s secretaries, Pietro Ardinghelli. As soon as it came into Isabella’s hands, in August 1522, she tore it up and burned it. It was so dangerous that she did not think it safe to keep it, even among her own papers, she told Federico.39 If Leo’s death had been the cause of acute, albeit short-lived, anxiety to Isabella, it had been welcome to her brother and her

256  The dowager son-in-law. Alfonso was able to retake most of the territory he had lost to papal troops as the French were being pushed back in Milan. Francesco Maria did even better. Within a month of Leo’s death, he had recovered his duchy of Urbino. He also managed a reconciliation with Cardinal Giulio de’Medici, who was still powerful, especially in Florence, and he was appointed captaingeneral of Florence for a year. Before Adrian’s long-delayed arrival in Rome, Francesco Maria made an agreement with the College of Cardinals, promising not to oppose the pope, and to place his son as a hostage into the hands of Federico, in his capacity as captain-general of the papacy. When Eleonora, her years of exile in Mantua at an end, went home to Urbino, her son Guidobaldo had to stay behind, in the care of his grandmother Isabella.40 Meanwhile, Federico had continued to campaign with his papal troops in the duchy of Milan, and the emperor gave him command of 100 lances (along with investiture with the lands of Federico Gonzaga da Bozzolo, a French partisan). He had been making a reputation for himself by his defence of Pavia, and Isabella was very proud of him. But he had not been paid and was having to serve at his own expense. In May 1522 he was back in Mantua, and took no further part in the war that year. The period of Isabella’s regency was at an end. With Federico having attained his majority, his confidence enhanced by his experience of military command, and now resident in Mantua again, he was less and less reliant on his mother’s support and advice. She was less likely to be shown the despatches of the Mantuan ambassadors and envoys, and her influence in shaping Gonzaga policy diminished. The upbringing of her two other sons was probably the area over which Isabella kept most influence. At the time of their father’s death, her second son, Ercole (who stopped signing letters with some form – Loyso, Loyse, Louisius – of the name Francesco had favoured) was aged thirteen and his brother Ferrante had recently turned twelve. They were still young enough, particularly as their father had been ailing for so long, for their education to be primarily their mother’s care. Educated together throughout their childhood, first by the tutor who had schooled their father, Cristoforo de’ Franchi, and then from 1514 by Antonio Guarini, the brothers developed a close bond. This bond, nourished by regular

The dowager 257 correspondence, endured throughout their lives, as they pursued their very different careers. To Isabella’s pleasure, Ercole showed an early inclination to the study of the humanities, lettere, confirming the decision to make him rather than Ferrante, as originally planned, into the family ecclesiastic (and, Isabella hoped, a cardinal).41 In July  1522 she invited the Vicentine patrician poet Giangiorgio Trissino to come to Mantua, so that he could assess Ercole’s aptitude for lettere. Ercole, she told him, took wonderful delight in the study of lettere, and showed intelligence; she liked the way he enjoyed the conversation of literary men. She wanted Trissino to talk to him and then give her his honest opinion of the boy. If he thought Ercole showed promise, as he was studious and biddable, he could be set on the right path to achieve real proficiency.42 In fact, Isabella may just have wanted Trissino to confirm her own opinion, for in March of that year she had already told Federico of his brother’s desire to study lettere and, after consulting Sigismondo, had decided to send Ercole to Bologna. Asking what Federico thought of this was apparently a formality.43 Ercole was happy to leave for Bologna in December. One of the city’s attractions was the presence there of the respected philosopher Pietro Pomponazzi, a professor at the university, who was originally from Mantua. Pomponazzi was an excellent teacher, who enlivened his lectures with wit and references to people and events of the day. He held controversial views on the soul, arguing that its immortality could not be demonstrated by reasoning. Although he had published a retraction of the arguments that had attracted most criticism (dedicating it to Sigismondo), it was not clear that he had really changed his mind. The possible heterodoxy of his opinions did not trouble Isabella, and Ercole was entrusted to his supervision in the study of philosophy. She was pleased to receive Pomponazzi’s praises of her son’s progress and his behaviour, and to hear that he was generally liked and honoured – ‘because these are the pleasures and the fruits that every loving mother should and does desire from good children’.44 Ercole became a devoted pupil of Pomponazzi, continuing to revere his memory decades later. For his studies of Latin and Greek literature, his main tutor was Lazzaro Bonamico, who was not attached to the university and taught him privately. Ercole became attached to him, too, and

258  The dowager they corresponded throughout Bonamico’s life. But when Pomponazzi died, Ercole decided to leave Bologna, in June 1525, and return to Mantua. This seems to have been his decision, not Isabella’s, or Federico’s either. Going to Venice in January 1526, where he stayed for a year and studied Hebrew and possibly Chaldean, as well as Latin and Greek, was probably done in consultation with his brother, who funded his studies there. The loss of much of Isabella’s correspondence for this period, when she was in Rome working to obtain a cardinal’s hat for him, makes it impossible to know whether or not Ercole consulted her, too. He may well have done so, if only as a matter of courtesy. After he became a cardinal in 1527, Ercole no longer had tutors, but he continued to study, beginning to extend his interests to theology and to build up his personal collection of books. He was maturing into a dignified, serious-minded individual. His brother Ferrante was of the same stamp. Like Ercole, he took to the career his family chose for him and made a great success of it. What set him on the path to becoming one of the most powerful and influential men in Italy was his being sent, at the age of sixteen, to the Imperial court in Spain in July 1523. Generally described as on Isabella’s initiative, this might have been at her suggestion. She does seem to have had charge of sounding out (via the viceroy of Naples) whether Charles would agree to receive her son, and supervising the preparations for Ferrante’s journey and stay.45 Ultimately, however, the decision rested with Federico. The political implications of his brother being sent for a lengthy stay at the court of Charles V were too significant for the marquis not to have been involved, and if he had disapproved of the idea, Isabella could not have gone through with it. Ferrante found the emperor’s court as congenial as Federico had found the court of the French king.46 Crucially, he got on well with Charles personally. In character and interests they were quite similar: reserved, somewhat austere, preferring to expend their energy in hunting and military exercises rather than dancing and flirtations. The young emperor was far too conscious of his status, and the gap between their ages rather too large – seven years, a significant difference at that time of life – for Ferrante to become a close friend. But he did become one of the courtiers Charles

The dowager 259 liked to have about him in his leisure hours, and eventually he became one of the select few allowed to attend the emperor in the ceremonial routines of his rising in the morning and preparing for bed at night. There was a particular bond of fellow-feeling that linked them. Ferrante stammered, an affliction that might well have attracted ridicule in another court, but not in that of Charles, for his misshapen lower jaw, characteristic of the Habsburgs, gave him a speech impediment too. The major problem for Ferrante throughout his stay at the court was a shortage of money. As a younger son, he had a much smaller entourage with him than Federico had had in France – 22 servants and five horses. Isabella assured him that he would be sent what he needed to appear as befitted his rank, and maintained that Federico at the French court had been able to manage on less than he insisted that he needed.47 Yet Ferrante struggled to equip himself properly to participate in the hunts and tournaments Charles enjoyed. Sometimes the emperor helped him out, lending him horses, providing him with costumes and arms for tournaments. But it was humiliating for him. Worrying about his debts, and the shame he felt, made him ill, he claimed. His letters to Isabella are full of complaints about his lack of money. He also complained about a lack of letters. The Mantuan ambassador received far more than he did, and it must have been hurtful when a batch of letters came for the ambassador but none for him. Ercole wrote to him much more frequently than either Isabella or Federico did. He was not asked to transact any political business for the marquis; that was entrusted to the ambassador alone. The political education Ferrante picked up in Spain came not from handling Gonzaga affairs, but from the values and ideas he absorbed from Charles’s ministers and courtiers. Ferrante came to identify with the interests of Charles, more even than those of his own family. Serving him, promoting and extending the power of Charles in Italy – and consequently opening up opportunities for acquiring honour and wealth for himself – became the driving force shaping his thinking and his actions throughout his career. The month after Ferrante had been despatched to the Imperial court, Federico was confirmed as captain-general of the papacy (Adrian had dismissed him earlier that year, but Charles had objected), and he was appointed captain-general of Florence. In

260  The dowager mid-September, a new French army arrived in Lombardy, and Federico went back on campaign. He did not stay long, returning to Mantua by the end of October. Ill-health was his excuse. He was suffering from urine retention, either because of his venereal disease or because of the medicaments he used to treat it. Another reason for him to opt out of the fighting was that Adrian had died on 14 September, and Federico was not being paid. Renewed hopes that Sigismondo Gonzaga might be elected pope were again disappointed, although this time Sigismondo himself was not quite so keen, and Isabella made no offer of her jewellery to aid his cause. Claiming part of the credit for his election, Sigismondo wrote optimistically of his hopes that the new pope, Clement VII, would favour the Gonzaga. With the prospects for Ercole at the forefront of her mind, Isabella replied that she would much rather Sigismondo had been pope, because then honours for Ercole would have been certain, but she was ready to hope for the best.48 Clement did quickly confirm Federico as captain-general. He was much slower to send any payments, and with no money coming from his other employer, Florence, either, Federico stayed put in Mantua. Exaggerating the severity of his symptoms, he had samples of urine tinged with blood prepared to show his doctors. His active military career was over. There would no longer be any occasion for Isabella to act as regent for a marquis absent from Mantua for a prolonged period. Once again, Isabella felt that she was on the sidelines. She was not kept abreast of the news that came to Federico, who was absorbed in his own pleasures and his mistress. Ercole was away at Bologna, Ferrante at Valladolid. Even the project of building and altering her new apartments was losing its savour by the summer of 1524, when she declared herself weary of it.49 And so she left for Rome, for a stay that from the first she planned to be a prolonged one. Other than lobbying for the promotion of Ercole to the College of Cardinals, she had no business to transact there for Federico. Few letters passed between them. When she first said she would stay all summer, Federico did not object, merely saying he hoped she would enjoy herself, as he was doing.50 As month after month passed, and Isabella showed no signs of returning to Mantua, he

The dowager 261 made some efforts to persuade her to leave. He came to suspect she had no intention of coming home. If Mantua still felt like home to her, the disappearance of the older generation, her generation, of Gonzaga may well have lessened her sense of belonging there. Her brother-in-law Giovanni had died in September 1523. The death in early October 1525 of her other brother-in-law, Sigismondo, who she said she loved like a brother, was a greater blow, even if it cleared the way for Ercole’s promotion. Time was when the death of Elisabetta Gonzaga in late January 1526 would have been a still greater loss to Isabella. In later years, Elisabetta had probably been closer to Isabella’s daughter Eleonora, but enough remained of their old affectionate friendship for her death to be a cause of real grief. Of all the close family members Isabella had grown up with, worked with, loved and relied upon, Este as well as Gonzaga, only Alfonso was left. Ippolito had died in 1520, and her brothers Ferrante and Giulio, still in prison in Ferrara and destined to remain there for decades more, were as good as dead to the world, not just to her. Only the sack of Rome brought Isabella back to Mantua. Alfonso, who had no reason to love Pope Clement and had been won over to the Imperial side, did not oppose the Imperial troops gathering in Lombardy, as they prepared to march on Rome. Nor did Federico, despite being captain-general of the papacy. Isabella approved such a policy, but not without some qualms. As his condotta was renewed by Clement in 1526, she had warned him against making any undertaking to fight against the emperor, jeopardizing his Imperial fief. His father, she reminded him, had never taken up arms against the empire, and consequently things turned out well.51 (It was then that Clement discovered that the undertaking Federico had given to Leo had disappeared from the papal archives.) But when Clement asked him to go to defend Florence against the threat from Imperial troops in December 1526, she initially felt that he could not in honour refuse, although after several discussions with the Mantuan ambassador in Rome, she was persuaded to change her mind.52 As the Imperial army advanced on the Papal States in late April 1527, Federico did offer to go to fight the troops led by his cousin, the Constable of Bourbon – on condition that there was an effective truce between the viceroy of Naples, Lannoy, and the

262  The dowager pope, and the pope obtained Lannoy’s permission for Federico to do this. What would Isabella have thought of that piece of casuistry, if she heard of it? She had herself asked Clement whether Ferrante should accept a captaincy from Charles V. The pope had raised no objection; Ferrante, who left Spain in September 1526, was given command of 100 lances by Charles.53 Fortunately for Isabella, as it turned out, for he came to his mother’s rescue during the sack of Rome and helped her to leave. While Ferrante was taking the first steps in a military career that would within a few years bring him to the command of an army, Federico, rather than showing any impatience to be joining in the campaigns after the sack of Rome, was more interested in trying, without success, to pick up antique sculptures for his villas at bargain prices from the despoilers of the city. But however inactive he was militarily, as Marquis of Mantua he could not stand apart from the diplomatic contests, and he was constrained to join the league against the emperor. Ferrante was concerned. Signing himself ‘the youngest son of Your Excellency’, he wrote to Isabella urging her to prevent Federico going to join the French commander in Italy, Lautrec. Even if the emperor was driven out of Italy, his power was such that he could easily return, Ferrante argued.54 Showing a greater grasp of political realities and the compromises they entailed, Isabella responded that the marquis had really had little choice but to seek to be on good terms with Lautrec and the league. Federico was without troops, and lacked the protection of the pope or any other power on whom he could rely. The Imperial forces were far away and in no state to help him if he came under attack. The preservation of Mantua could only be to the advantage of the emperor. Ferrante should reassure the emperor’s men that Federico would never fail in his duty towards Charles, ‘his supreme lord’.55 Apart from the question of his allegiance to the emperor, the most difficult diplomatic problem for Federico over the next few years was the question of his own marriage.56 How far Isabella was able to influence her son’s choices in this matter is difficult to assess. She may well not have been privy to his real feelings and intentions. It came to the fore again when, in November 1527, the Marchioness of Monferrato asked Federico to set a date for her daughter Maria to go to Mantua as his bride. Maria should have

The dowager 263 gone in 1524 when she reached the age of fifteen, so this was not an unreasonable request. Federico had to evade the question, saying he was too preoccupied with Italian affairs, then promised to bring her to Mantua after Easter. Anxiety was growing in his own court that it was his mistress’s influence that was holding him back from making a final commitment to his marriage. A  plot to poison her came to light in January  1528, with her own husband, Francesco Gonzaga di Calvisano, a central figure. It would be interesting to know his motives. Was dynastic loyalty stoking disgust at the sacrifice of his personal honour for the pleasure of the duke? Francesco escaped to Modena, only to be murdered there on Federico’s orders. No hint emerged that he was falsely accused as an excuse to get rid of him. A  false accusation, that the Paleologo were behind the conspiracy, was used by Federico as a pretext for seeking a papal dissolution of his marriage to Maria. At first Clement dismissed the notion that the Paleologo were involved, but then acquiesced and gave a mandate to the suffragan bishop of Mantua to dissolve the marriage. That raised another delicate issue. The bishop of Mantua for whom the suffragan bishop was acting was Ercole, who disapproved of what Federico was doing. Federico did not want Ercole’s man handling the business. He had the mandate transferred to Alessandro Gabbioneta, who would do as Federico asked, without creating any difficulties. Ercole, who had gone to live in Rome in early 1528, was to be told that Federico was asking for the dissolution so that he would be free to look for a more advantageous match. Once the pope confirmed Gabbioneta’s sentence dissolving the marriage (no longer justified by supposed Paleologo involvement in a plot to poison, but on the grounds of non-consummation), various candidates to replace Maria were suggested: the sister of the king of Navarre, a daughter of the duke of Bavaria, or of the duke of Cleves, or the pope’s niece. The least attractive proposition, the only one that Isabella knew personally, was the daughter of Federigo II, the last king of Naples, Giulia d’Aragona, who lived in Ferrara. Giulia’s strongest recommendation was that she was a relative of the emperor. The question would come to a head during Charles V’s stay in Italy from the autumn of 1529 to the spring of 1530. On the

264  The dowager emperor’s arrival in Italy, Federico went to Genoa to pay his respects. He sent his mother a detailed account of how he had been received, welcomed by Charles. Isabella, who had been waiting anxiously, was grateful to him for sending word so quickly, and asked to be kept advised daily of how his affairs were progressing, ‘which please God shall be as you and I desire’.57 From this exchange, it appears that Federico was at least discussing his affairs with her, possibly even turning to her for advice. Was his appointment as captain-general of the Imperial troops in Italy, on 21 September 1529, one of the things they had hoped for? It was a title, rather than an effective command. There does not seem to have been any serious expectation that Federico would take part in the fighting still dragging on in Lombardy, and he never took the field in this capacity. The Imperial army in Lombardy was confronting the forces of the Venetians, who were supporting Francesco Sforza. What to do with the duchy of Milan, who should be duke, was an item high on the agenda of the negotiations between Charles and Clement in Bologna in the winter of 1529–30. Hoping it might be him, Federico went to Bologna on 20 November. He left again after only a few days, as it was becoming evident that Charles was being persuaded to pardon Sforza and reinstall him as duke. Federico stayed in Mantua, not returning to Bologna even for Charles’s coronation as emperor by the pope, because he wanted to avoid encountering Bonifacio Paleologo, and having to yield precedence to him as the holder of the senior Italian marquisate. He had another excuse, too, which was preparing for the visit to Mantua Charles planned to make as he went on his way to Germany. By contrast, Isabella was in Bologna throughout almost the whole of the time the pope and emperor were there together. This was an historic encounter, and the prospect of the papal court and Imperial court being in the same city, not to mention the extraordinary ceremony of the Imperial coronation, was irresistible. She arrived a few days before Clement at the end of October; Charles made his entry on 5 November. On the last stages of his journey, the emperor had been accompanied by Alfonso. Clement refused to receive the duke, so Alfonso did not enter Bologna. With the pope still intent on getting hold of Modena and Reggio, Alfonso’s affairs also figured on the agenda. This time he did not need to

The dowager 265 rely on Isabella’s advocacy. If he could not stay in Bologna himself (only at the beginning of March was he able to get a safeconduct from Clement), he could keep envoys there. Federico had envoys in Bologna, too. Apparently, Isabella had no political commission to fulfil for either her son or her brother. One of the major narrative sources for these months when the pope and emperor were together in Bologna was probably written by Luigi Gonzaga di Borgoforte, a cousin and councillor of Federico. The marquis figures largely in the account, although he was in the city only briefly; Isabella, who was there throughout, is not mentioned at all.58 She was there as a spectator, observing and enjoying the ceremonies and entertainments. Other ladies seem to have outshone her as a hostess on this occasion. Veronica Gambara, the widowed contessa di Correggio, a poet of repute and sister of the governor of Bologna (whose family was related to the Habsburgs), presided over gatherings bringing together men of letters, courtiers and officials from both courts. Socially, Isabella was outranked by the duchess of Savoy, the princess Beatrice of Portugal, who was the emperor’s sister-in-law. As ever, the beauty and charm of her ladies made a great impression. Unfortunately, by the end of the congress, their behaviour and the attention they attracted was the cause of some embarrassment for her. Together with Alfonso, then in Bologna, and her nephew, the duke of Milan, Isabella was a guest at a grand party given by Beatrice on 17 March for the duke and duchess of Urbino (which was organized to provide Charles with the opportunity for an informal talk with Francesco Maria, whom he wanted to be his captain-general in Italy). It ended, after the emperor left, in a brawl provoked by the insolent behaviour of some Spanish gentlemen towards the duchess’s ladies, in which three of the Spaniards were killed. This incident may account for the association that was made between the deaths of eighteen Spanish soldiers whose bodies were found around the city a few nights later, and the misbehaviour of Isabella’s donzelle. Dozens of Spaniards had been killed in nocturnal fights in Bologna throughout the congress, but eighteen was an unusually high number for one night. Rumour had it that the responsibility for these particular deaths lay not with the Bolognese, but with rivals of the Spanish for the favours of Isabella’s donzelle.

266  The dowager During the Carnival season, the palazzo Manzoli where she was staying and the piazza of San Donato by it had been the scene of jousts and masked balls, and other noisy entertainments  – perhaps normal enough in the courts of Mantua or Ferrara, but a little wearing for the neighbours in a city district, night after night. There had been quarrels and fights over the donzelle and, what was perhaps more shameful, obscene words and drawings had been scrawled with charcoal and chalk on the walls and columns.59 Supposedly because of the rumours about the deaths of the Spaniards, Isabella left Bologna the day after, on 22 March. In fact, she had already been planning to leave, going in advance of Charles to play her part in receiving him as a guest in Mantua. That part was not a conspicuous one, after she received him at the main staircase of the castle on his entry into Mantua on 25 March. Charles’s preferred relaxation was hunting, and Federico took care to deploy the Gonzaga horses and hounds to keep him entertained. The chronicle attributed to Luigi Gonzaga has a lengthy account of the emperor’s month-long stay in Mantua, dwelling on the hunting parties (which were not staged as divertissements for the ladies of the court), the ceremonies and the political aspects, rather than the social gatherings in which Isabella and her ladies would figure. There was no occasion for reports to be sent to Alfonso, which would no doubt have paid more attention to what Isabella was doing, because he was in Mantua himself. Charles’s visit to Mantua marked an important milestone in the history of the Gonzaga dynasty. While he was there, he elevated the marquisate into a duchy, so Federico became the first duke of Mantua. Isabella would be among the spectators of the ceremony on 8 April, held in the square before the palace and the cathedral. Her pride and pleasure can be imagined  – but might she have had a twinge of regret that it was her son, not her husband, to whom this honour had come? She kept her title of marchioness; her daughter-in-law would be the first duchess. Who that daughter-in-law would be was the other major piece of political business to be settled – temporarily, as it turned out – during the emperor’s stay. Federico’s elevation in status came at a price: he had to consent to marry Giulia d’Aragona. Back in September 1529 Charles had suggested he should marry the daughter of the duke of Cleves. Now he took the opportunity to procure a

The dowager 267 husband for his relative, who was still unmarried at the age of 36, and had never been a beauty. The marriage articles were signed on 6 April, two days before Federico’s investiture as duke; the betrothal was formally celebrated, in the absence of the bride, the day after it. Federico’s ring was given to him by the Imperial chancellor, Gattinara, while the ring for Giulia was given to Alfonso to take back with him to Ferrara. Federico wrote to his brothers and his sister Eleonora and Francesco Maria about his decision to agree. He had not told them of this before, although it had been discussed, because he had had no intention of going ahead with it, he said. But the presence of the emperor, and his insistence, had brought him to agree. Pleasing Charles was the major reason for accepting.60 Isabella did not approve of Federico marrying a woman who, it was believed, was unlikely to provide him with an heir. Isabella Boschetti, on the other hand, did. If he had to marry someone other than her – and Federico was not so besotted with her that he was prepared to face the scandal of marrying her, even if her husband was now out of the way – then Giulia was her preferred bride for him. But, in a clause of the Imperial diploma bestowing the dukedom on him, he did get permission, if he had no legitimate descendants, to designate an illegitimate son as his heir. This opened up the possibility of Alessandro, his son by Isabella Boschetti, succeeding him as duke. She tried to get Charles to legitimate Alessandro, possibly without Federico’s approval. Isabella and Alfonso got wind of her request and asked Charles about it; he assured Alfonso he would never agree to do it. But Isabella continued to fret about the matter, as rumours continued to reach her ears. When she and Alfonso were together in Venice that year for the feast of the Ascension, she talked it over with him again, and asked him to write to his ambassador with the emperor to make further enquiries.61 Perhaps it was a sign of Isabella’s annoyance, that a silver bowl she ordered to be made for her in Venice – where she stayed from 23 May to 21 June – was to be engraved with the Este arms, not, she specified, the Gonzaga arms.62 Federico had undertaken to marry Giulia by 29 June. Any thoughts he might have had of actually doing so were banished by the death on 6 June of Marquis Bonifacio of Monferrato in a hunting accident. Bonifacio had no sons; his heir was his ailing,

268  The dowager unmarried uncle Giangiorgio. Because it was an ancient Imperial fief, women could succeed to the marquisate in the absence of male heirs. Suddenly, Maria Paleologo, the bride that Federico had cast off, had a good prospect of becoming the heiress to Monferrato. Federico acted swiftly. In July  1530, a protest by the citizens of Mantua against his marrying Giulia was orchestrated, so Federico was able to tell Charles that in not going through with the marriage he was bowing to the just wishes of his subjects. Anne d’Alençon, Maria’s mother, was sent the same message. Although other suitors were coming forward for Maria’s hand, Anne was not averse to her at last becoming Federico’s accepted wife, after Federico sent word to her that he had broken with Isabella Boschetti (which in fact he had not). Charles’s response was not so favourable. He objected to a marriage arranged by him and a contract signed in his presence and under his auspices being set aside. Consequently, Federico came up with a new argument: that his confessor had threatened him with excommunication if he did not fulfil his obligations to Maria, so he could not, in good conscience, marry Giulia. He also procured a papal brief addressed to Anne, pronouncing his marriage to Maria had been valid after all. While this was on the way to Mantua, to be sent on to Casale, the situation changed again; news arrived of the sudden death of Maria, on 15 September. All was not lost for Federico. In place of Maria, Anne offered him the hand of her younger daughter, Margherita. Federico lost no time in accepting the offer. The marriage articles were signed on 5 October and, to reinforce them, a month later Anne had Margherita declare publicly that Federico was her favoured suitor. Charles was not pleased, but said he would not object provided the pope gave his approval. On 29 March 1531, the papal tribunal, the Rota, declared that Federico’s marriage to Giulia d’Aragona was invalid. In early July, the last obstacle was removed to the marriage of Federico and Margherita when Charles gave his consent. Anne’s concerns about Isabella Boschetti had not been entirely appeased. The Mantuan envoy in Casale told her Federico really had broken with his mistress, that she no longer came to court and was talking of retiring to a convent, and that Federico was

The dowager 269 thinking of finding her another husband. None of this was true. But this time Federico was seriously intent on taking a wife, and there was no equivocation. He set off for Casale, where he married Margherita on 3 October. His secretary reported back to Isabella that Margherita was beautiful, gracious, virtuous and wise, and he was sure she would be very satisfied with her.63 Isabella was indeed well content at how events had turned out. She kept an eye on the preparations being made to receive the bride in Mantua, inspecting the new apartments being constructed and decorated for her under the supervision of Federico’s chief court artist, Giulio Romano. These incorporated Isabella’s old apartments in the Castello, with the addition of amenities, a raised terrace and a loggia, that Isabella admired and rather envied. She spent over an hour on the terrace, enjoying the view. If she had had such a terrace in her day, she sighed, she would never have minded staying in the castle. She also liked the design of the new loggia and a garden being created for the duchess. Much as she would have liked to inspect the apartments below, she was afraid to venture down the unfinished staircase, even though the castellan had a hand rail put up. This was not the intrepid Isabella of old, who had laughed when she slipped going downstairs when inspecting the fortress at Sirmione on her trip to Lake Garda in 1514. Her ladies went down, and gave her a detailed report which pleased her very much, as did the rooms she then saw for herself. Federico’s additions to the castle could not be better, she concluded.64 A few days later she returned, to see to the arrangement of the furniture and the tapestries in the new apartments, and inspected the chambers for Margherita’s donzelle, as well as a new small courtyard built above the bridge. Again, she spoke of how much she and her donzelle would have enjoyed such a space, if it had been there in her day.65 She suggested the building of a covered jetty over the lake behind the Castello, where she and the ladies of Mantua could wait to receive the bride. Giulio Romano was not sure that would work, because of the depth of the lake at that point, and proposed a permanent, painted covered staircase. Impatient that everything should be in order for his return with Margherita in a few weeks’ time, Federico vetoed that idea and ordered a less expensive solution should be found, something temporary that could be decked out for the day.66

270  The dowager In the event, Margherita’s arrival was much less spectacular than had been planned. Heavy rains, following a period of dry weather, caused the Po to rise rapidly, from levels where it could be crossed on horseback in many places in Mantuan territory to a height where it broke its banks, flooding much farmland. Isabella was greatly troubled by the disaster and saw to it that everything possible was done to restrict the damage.67 The flood waters had retreated before the duke and his new duchess reached Mantua in mid-November, but Margherita felt ill, so the celebration of her entry to the city on the sixteenth, greeted by Isabella, was cut short. This inauspicious introduction of the duchess to her new home was soon forgotten. Isabella was delighted by her son’s bride. On the third day after Margherita’s arrival, Isabella wrote to her mother of how pleased she was with ‘our daughter’. I have waited a few days to satisfy myself fully, but I don’t want to delay any longer telling you that I  find I  have gained a daughter who, for beauty, virtue and manners is just what I wished for. I will love her as tenderly as you do, and, if in the past we have loved one another like sisters, this new bond will strengthen our mutual affection still more.68 Formal as these sentiments were, there was genuine warmth in their expression. Isabella did indeed become very fond of Margherita. It had been several years, since Elisabetta and Eleonora had returned to Urbino, since she had been able to enjoy the company of a woman of her own status in Mantua. She showed no jealousy of Margherita, no reluctance to cede to her the role of first lady there that had been hers for so long. Although he kept up his liaison with Isabella Boschetti, Federico also took to his wife. Margherita was treated with becoming respect, and was not forced to play second fiddle to her husband’s mistress in her own court. Federico had at last awoken to his dynastic responsibilities. His sense of the dignity of his own family perhaps underlay his rebuke to Giulio Romano for decorating the ‘camera delle arme’ of Margherita’s apartments with the heraldic arms of various princes. Get rid of them, Federico ordered, and replace them with the arms of my father and my mother, each flanked by two of their personal imprese, my own arms, with two of my imprese, and Margherita’s arms, flanked by two Gonzaga imprese.69 The heir that Isabella and the Mantuans

The dowager 271 had been so anxious to see came with the birth of Francesco, on 10 March 1533. Federico had to wait three more years for the prize of the marquisate of Monferrato. He and Anne succeeded in getting Charles V to order Marquis Giangiorgio not to marry without the emperor’s consent. During a second visit by Charles to Mantua in November 1532, on his way to another meeting with the pope in Bologna, between the hunting parties and the lavish entertainments (with Isabella’s own apartments being used for one theatrical performance), he and Federico agreed on a bride for Giangiorgio  – Giulia d’Aragona. Having unwillingly agreed, Giangiorgio married Giulia by proxy on 29 March 1533. The ceremony took place at Ferrara; in Monferrato, Giangiorgio was on his deathbed. Nine days after Giulia had arrived in Casale, and he formally recognized her as his wife, he died on 30 April. Giulia had little choice but to return to Ferrara. Already, on 31 December 1532, Charles had decreed that if, or rather when, the male line of the Paleologo dynasty of Monferrato was ended by the death of Giangiorgio without heirs, Margherita was to be invested with the marquisate. This would not be a straightforward matter. The people of Monferrato did not want the Gonzaga for their lords, for one thing, and there were other claimants to the marquisate, including the emperor’s brotherin-law, the duke of Savoy. Monferrato was secured by Imperial troops, and Imperial officials there argued that Charles should keep it.70 It took another personal meeting between Federico and the emperor to bring the matter to a conclusion. When Charles was at Genoa in late October  1536, Federico went to see him. I am losing no time in getting down to business, he wrote to Isabella, and I have good hopes that all the time and money will not have been spent in vain.71 And he got what he wanted: Charles’s decision, assigning Monferrato to the Gonzaga, was pronounced on 3 November. There was a little further delay before Federico could take possession of the marquisate, because French troops suddenly seized Casale. But they were driven off by Imperial forces, and Federico was able to enter Casale on 25 November. He stayed there to the end of the year, and then returned to Mantua. In the end, Monferrato arguably proved more trouble than it was worth to

272  The dowager Federico and his successors. Their subjects were hard to reconcile to the rule of the Gonzaga, and resented the Mantuans appointed to hold office there. The territory was discontinuous, much of it was contested by other lords, and it was much poorer than the fertile lands around Mantua. Holding Monferrato would involve the Gonzaga in the politics of one of the arenas of conflict between the French and Spanish monarchies, and it was expensive and difficult to defend. In the short term, however, Isabella could be proud of the success of her son in this significant addition to the Gonzaga state. She could be proud of her other sons, too. Ercole, living in Rome, was taking responsibility for handling whatever business Federico had with the papal court. A little hesitant at first, he had grown in confidence as he gained experience and knowledge of the ways of the papal curia. Still comparatively young for a cardinal, he was steadily establishing a reputation for himself, as one whose opinion would count and whose support would be worth having. He kept up a correspondence with Isabella, and looked out for antiquities to give to her. The tone of their letters, through the formality governing the exchanges between a marchioness and a cardinal, albeit mother and son, reveals the ease and affection of their relations. Your Excellency could say with truth that I  am a fine son to keep silent for so long without paying my respects to you, he wrote to her in January 1531, and if I did not have occasion now to send you some medals which I have been gathering here and there for you, knowing how much you understand and enjoy such things, a few more days might have gone by without my doing my duty. So without regard to my negligence, please accept these, which I have been told are very beautiful.72 He sent her two more a few days later. Isabella was delighted with these medals, as she was by the cast of a medal with a portrait of Aristotle that he sent her in 1536. She was pleased to have a reputed likeness of Aristotle, and to have a letter in Ercole’s own hand, which both showed that he remembered her as he should, ‘but more for the infinite love I bear you, which makes me want to see continually that you hold me in your heart’. This medal, she promised him, would be put in the place ‘where I keep my other most precious things’.73 The following year Ercole, who was not on good terms with Clement’s successor, Paul III, moved back to Mantua to take

The dowager 273 up residence there, occupying himself with the affairs of his diocese, and with building up his collection of books. For the last years of her life, Isabella had her two elder sons near at hand. Her youngest son, Ferrante, was far away. He became one of the leading ministers of Charles V in Italy. Occasionally, he grumbled that his services were not reaping the material rewards he expected, and murmured about looking elsewhere for favour. But eventually he became a more powerful and influential figure in Italian political life than his brother Federico ever was. After the death of the viceroy of Naples outside the walls of Florence in 1530 during the siege of the city by Imperial troops, Ferrante had taken command of the army. His services had already been rewarded by the grant of the duchy of Ariano in the kingdom of Naples, and in 1530 he became principe di Molfetta, on his marriage to the heiress Isabella de Capua. Permission to marry such an heiress was itself a mark of political favour; his mother had been looking for a bride for him earlier but this match was not of her arranging. (She advised him not to send his bride to stay in Mantua on her own: apart from the expense, the women in Mantua had become so loose in their behaviour, she said, that she could not approve of her being in Mantua without him – which may reveal something of Isabella’s opinion of the ethos of Federico’s court.)74 In 1535 he was appointed viceroy of Sicily, a position he would hold for over a decade, before appointment to the weightier responsibility of being governor of the duchy of Milan in 1546. During his years in the south of Italy, his sense of identity remained linked to his family, and to the region of Lombardy where he had been brought up. He purchased Guastalla, in the duchy of Milan near the border with Mantua, in 1539. Two years later, he succeeded in having it recognized as an Imperial fief, so that it became a little independent state. Among his own family, Ercole was still the one to whom he freely confided his plans and his discontents, but he corresponded with his mother as well. He adopted one of her mottoes – Nec spe nec metu – for his own. Isabella was in touch with his wife, too. She sent her a young dwarf girl as a gift, perhaps a daughter of one of her own dwarves. At this stage of her life, Isabella seems to have taken greater pleasure in contact with her children, even the once-overlooked Eleonora. What I can say of myself at present is that I am well,

274  The dowager she wrote to Ferrante in May 1537, ‘and so much the more happy than usual’ in her joy at having with her Eleonora, as well as Ercole. ‘From what she says and as far as one can judge from her appearance, she is as well as she could wish to be’.75 Eleonora suffered from gonorrhoea, contracted from her husband. Compassion for her daughter’s suffering and for the other misfortunes she had endured with dignity, stirred Isabella’s feelings for her. How the poor thing has been buffeted by fortune, she exclaimed. I am surprised her troubles have not killed her! That, at least, is what she was reported to have said, to a friar Serafino in Mantua in October 1527. It was he who wrote to Eleonora of the ‘good news’, assuring her it was true, that he felt he had seen into Isabella’s heart, that her mother loved her even more than before.76 But Isabella still does not seem to have become truly close to her daughter. Her letters to her gave less news about what she had been doing than those her secretary wrote in his own name. Eleonora came to stay in Mantua several times in these years – her youngest child, Giulio, was born there in April 1533 – but perhaps she wanted to see her brothers as much as her mother. Isabella’s grandchildren also gave her pleasure in her declining years. Paying a visit to Margherita on returning to Mantua from a stay in her villa at Belfiore, Isabella found her with her little children, Francesco, then aged five, Isabella, a year old, and Guglielmo, only seven weeks old. Francesco, ‘as beautiful as a flower’, recited thirty or forty verses of Virgil to her, amazing her with his grace and how well he pronounced the Latin. She saw Guglielmo’s plump and happy face (he was probably in swaddling clothes, so that his face might well have been all of him that Isabella could see); with ‘sweet lady Isabella’, he was ‘the picture of all the joys of the world’.77 In the last decade of her life, following her reconciliation with Federico, no longer complaining of being kept in the dark about affairs of state – apparently because she felt she was being kept sufficiently abreast of them, rather than because she had reconciled herself to being excluded  – Isabella was at last content to settle into the more retired life of a dowager. Less physically active (there were no more references to her riding swift horses, or taking lengthy walks, or dancing with her donzelle), she might have been beginning to feel her age. She had had gastric troubles from

The dowager 275 time to time since childhood, and bouts of fever, but generally she had enjoyed good health; now there were repeated references to her feeling unwell. In 1532, she went to the thermal spa of Abano south of Padua, whose hot springs had been renowned from antiquity. Before she went, she asked Alfonso to send back to her a favourite buffoon, ser Polo, who had been in Ferrara for several months, because ‘I will have great need of entertainment’ at the baths.78 If there was any foundation for Pietro Aretino’s cruel description of her, written in 1534 – ‘the monstrous marchioness of Mantua, with teeth of ebony and eyelashes of ivory, offensively ugly and most offensively made-up’ – Isabella turned to cosmetics to conceal the effects of ageing.79 She had kept her reputation among other ladies for her taste and flair in clothes, however. In 1533, as the trousseau of Caterina de’ Medici was being prepared for her marriage to Henri, duc d’Orléans, the son of Francis I, her great-aunt Caterina Cibo Varano, duchess of Camerino, who was supervising the preparations, asked Isabella to have skirts and bodices made in Mantua. Isabella was happy to oblige. I want you to know that work has already begun on the clothes, she wrote, and as she wanted ‘to see they are as beautiful as can be’, and there were embroiderers in Mantua as skilled as any in Italy, she hoped that the two Caterinas would be completely satisfied. The embroiderers would be urged on to finish their work as quickly as possible.80 She no longer had alterations and decorations in her apartments in the palace to supervise. Her last major commissions there were the frescoes by Giulio Romano and the paintings by Correggio, in the late 1520s. The main accession to her collection of paintings in the 1530s was the gift from Federico of Flemish works from among those he had bought as a job lot in 1535. He offered a substantial number of them to Isabella in 1538; she chose 22, ‘the flower of them all’, according to Giulio Romano, who displayed the paintings for her. Her choice of subjects was varied, ranging from an ‘attack on Troy’, the death of Absalom, the head of a buffoon and two heads of old men, to a ‘landscape with four figures engaged in lascivious but not indecent acts’. She also chose a number of religious paintings, including a ‘baptism’ (presumably of Christ), the Madonna in Egypt, a seated Madonna, two large pictures of Mary Magdalene, and paintings of St Paul the Hermit,

276  The dowager St Jerome and St Anthony. (Isabella Boschetti turned up while the pictures were being displayed for her, but Giulio Romano did not mention Boschetti choosing any.)81 One building project in Mantua did require her attention, the convent she completed to fulfil the terms of the bequest to her of Margherita Cantelmo’s estate. She also had some work done on at least one of her country residences, the castle of Solarolo, in the territory of Faenza. This was her last major purchase. It had belonged to Cardinal Sigismondo, and she had bought it on his death in 1525. She took to the place: ‘You would not believe how contented we are with it, for it is so delightful and is endowed with every advantage’.82 Much of her time was spent in her villa of Porto, where she loved the gardens. It was a great favour for an old friend, Giangiorgio Trissino, when she lent him her gardener from Porto to give him some advice.83 The surviving estate records from Solarolo show the care and attention to detail, and to the principles of justice, she continued to bestow on the administration of her estates.84 As ever, she sought to live within her means, avoiding incurring debts she could not repay in the short term, but she liked to spend what she had. ‘You must know that it has never been my practice to accumulate money’, she wrote to Federico, when he asked her for a loan of 3,000 scudi in 1532. If I did not think that you believe, as many others do, that I have a lot of cash from the Cantelmo inheritance, I would be even more astonished than I am at your request.85 In the early 1530s, Isabella went on something of a spending spree. Presumably her finances were back in order after the expenses of her time in Rome and the disruptions of her losses following the sack and her flight from the city, and she needed replacements for some of the goods lost to the corsairs. The shops and craftsmen of Venice remained a favourite source of supply for her purchases of luxury goods, but she also ordered goods in Mantua and Ferrara. When she bought six silver dishes in Venice in the spring of 1530, she cancelled an order she had previously given to a Mantuan goldsmith. Her order for a large silver table bowl engraved with her Este arms was not fulfilled quickly enough for her in Venice, and she tried to find a Ferrarese goldsmith who would undertake to make it ‘as quickly as possible’, ‘because all these goldsmiths in Mantua are at present busy on work for me’ and for Federico.86

The dowager 277 In the end, the bowl was made in Mantua. While in Venice in the spring of 1530 she visited Murano, and bought some glass vases there. On her return to Mantua she found a case of Murano glass waiting for her, a gift from the Venetian Cardinal Pisani. In 1534, she had six goblets made, to her own design, at Murano. She also bought wall hangings of fine leather from Venice in 1530, and was so pleased with them that she ordered some more the following year.87 A small timepiece, perhaps a pocket watch, was another Venetian purchase that year, and she also commissioned silver settings for two vases, one of crystal, one of amethyst, from a Venetian goldsmith. There were other purchases in these years, too, including a fountain, and some of the precious little boxes she liked, perhaps for some of her own perfumes. Isabella was still eager to add to her collection of antiquities, as Ercole knew when he searched out coins and medals in Rome to give to her. As with luxury goods, she had kept her eye for quality, and her sense of what constituted value for money. She had a long dispute with a Roman goldsmith, Raffaele d’Urbino, from whom she had purchased a couple of figurines as antiques. Several experts she consulted, including the sculptor Jacopo Sansovino and the antiquarian Giovan Battista Colomba, considered them modern, ‘and they are men of such expertise in this art that one can give ample credence to their judgement’.88 Demanding either a refund or the substitution of a fine large antique medal she had seen in his possession in Rome, Isabella had little patience with his lamentations about the losses he had suffered during the sack. Convinced he could give her the medal if he wanted to, she sent a message that she ‘would rather have no compensation for the figurines, than poor quality, vulgar things’.89 Perhaps an unwise outburst, because it is uncertain whether she was able to extract any satisfactory compensation from Raffaele in the end. When offered antique cameos as payment for a sum of 200 ducats she had lent to Barbara Gonzaga, contessa di Caiazzo, Isabella was determined to ensure she got her money’s worth. To begin with, the countess offered four cameos to settle the debt. It would have suited me better to have the cash, which I  had plans for, Isabella replied, but to please you I will accept as many cameos as experts we both have faith in would estimate to be worth that sum.90 The first four, she had been reliably advised, were worth

278  The dowager only 80 ducats, so she kept six other cameos the countess sent, ‘although I am not really happy with one of the satyrs’.91 She was also interested in opportunities to acquire all or part of collections after the death of their owners. Federico was one of the rival collectors who beat her to buying pieces that had been in the collection of a merchant, Pietro Giacomo Mainoldi, on his death in 1535. Informed in August 1538 of the death of Antonio Foscarini, who had some statues  – including an Apollo, a large Venus, and a complete Mars  – and some medals, she asked for more details, because if there was something choice, she would like to buy it. Once again, she looked to experts to assess their quality, and enquire of Foscarini’s brothers, who had the collection in their possession, what was the price of each piece.92 The more lighthearted pleasures she enjoyed in the company of her donzelle also still had their appeal for Isabella. Apparently she had a dozen or so ladies in the 1530s. Eight donzelle who accompanied her to Solarolo in 1535 wrote to those left behind in Mantua. I am exhausted from dancing nearly all day, wrote one of them, Barbara Soardi; I missed all three of you and wished you were with us.93 Isabella may well not have done much, if any, dancing herself, but evidently enjoyed watching her donzelle dance. On another day during that trip she went in a carretta with her ladies to a meadow, for a hunting party where the prey were trapped by nets. Four of them went with her on a trip in September of that year to Lake Garda and Cavriana. There were excursions on the lake, with her secretary Marcantonio Bendidio reading Orlando furioso aloud, a visit by torchlight to the Roman ruins known as the “Grotto of Catullus” at Sirmione, and one to the Benedictine monastery at Maguzzano (where Isabella took a nap). At Peschiera, the party was entertained with music and dancing, and the running of a race, a palio. More dancing was provided for them at Lazise, further along the shore, this time a performance by a famous (if ugly) dancer known as ‘la Caracosa’, and Isabella was shown over two Venetian galleys in the harbour.94 Generally, when she travelled outside the Mantovano in the 1530s, apart from her trips to her own estate of Solarolo, she went either to Ferrara or to Venice. She visited one or the other, or both, practically every year. In Ferrara she was as welcome a visitor to her nephew Ercole as to her brother Alfonso. Her last

The dowager 279 visit to her childhood home was for the Carnival season in 1538, when the poet Vittoria Colonna (in perpetual mourning for her husband, the marchese di Pescara) was a guest of the duke. The night before Vittoria Colonna left, Isabella gave a dinner for her, Duke Ercole and Cardinal Ravenna. After dinner, five of Vittoria’s sonnets were read aloud, and then Isabella’s donzelle danced, with her little granddaughter Anna. Isabella’s favourite dwarves, Morgantino and Delia, joined in.95 Her last visit to Venice was in the autumn of that year; Ercole lent her his palace there. She had planned to leave at the end of October, but she stayed on into November. The weather on her journey home was bad, and she fell ill, with an upset stomach. ‘Up until now’, she wrote to Eleonora in late November, ‘I have not dared to leave my room’.96 She never recovered her health. It affected her spirits. ‘I cannot find anything that appeals to my taste, and I pass the greater part of the nights without sleeping’, she complained to Ferrante in mid-January. ‘This indisposition of mine does not permit me to leave my room, and makes me so melancholy that nothing I see or hear pleases me’.97 She died in the night of 13–14 February. She was buried, as she wished, in the Franciscan church of Santa Paola, alongside Francesco. At her own request, her funeral was simple, without great pomp. Nothing remains of her last resting place. All the tombs in the church were violated and broken up by the French revolutionary troops who occupied Mantua in 1797. Her will, signed on 22 December 1535, was long and detailed. It reads like something Isabella thought through and dictated herself, not something she left to lawyers to draft.98 In it, she is called “Isabella da Este”, daughter of Ercole, duke of Ferrara, widow of Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, and Marchioness of Mantua. The first part sets out the provisions for her body, which she ordered should be interred before the high altar of the church of the monastery of Santa Paola (and should not, she specified later, be cut or opened up), and her soul, for whose welfare she left legacies to the Franciscan and Dominican churches of Mantua and to all the convents. Six thousand masses for the remission of her sins were to be said immediately after her death, and she wanted the religious communities to which she left bequests to pray for her, and hold annual services to commemorate her on the

280  The dowager anniversary of her death. Her three sons were to be responsible for the cost of the 6,000 masses, paying a third each. They were not to derive any income from the inheritances she was leaving them before these masses had been paid for, and the legacies to the religious institutions and to her household were paid. Her care and affection for her servants found expression in her legacies to the members of her household. Two thousand scudi (to be paid from the cash and crops held at the time of her death, any shortfall to be made up by her sons) was to be divided among her servants, excluding the donzelle. Duchess Margherita, with a few advisors that Isabella named, was to determine how it should be divided, according to the status of the servants and how long and how well they had served her. Separate provision was made for the donzelle. Any money owing on dowries she had promised was to be paid in full. Any donzelle who were not married at the time of her death should be given dowries reflecting the length of their service. Federico was to be responsible for paying these, and Margherita was asked to help them to find husbands. Gifts she had given to individual donzelle – Caterina, Isabella (who was to have one of her golden belts, or its worth, at the discretion of the duchess), and Paola – were confirmed. ‘Tenderly and with all her heart’, she commended all her servants to the duke, and all her donzelle, past as well as present, to the duchess, especially ‘la Brogna’ and ‘la Trotta’, to whom she wanted some of her pictures, of their choosing, to be given. None of her officials who had handled her revenues and her finances were to be held to account for any monies; she declared herself wholly satisfied with them. Three named women, Magdalena Spagnola, ‘la Gambacurta’, and Beatrice Spagnola were to be given annual pensions of 30 scudi a year, each to be paid by one of her sons. These women do not seem to have been donzelle, but were perhaps personal servants of long standing. Her two favourite dwarves, Morgantino and Delia, merited special mention, too. If they were not to stay in the service of Federico and Margherita, they were to have pensions of 50 scudi a year. Towards the end of the will, other members of her household – Filippo, who had long been a faithful servant, and two ‘foreigners’, Giorgio Moro and Anteo Moro, probably black former slaves – were commended to the duke, who was asked to give them an office each to provide

The dowager 281 them with something to live on. Federico was to pay for mourning clothes for all her household. She left legacies to all her children. Federico was her ‘universal heir’, who would inherit all the property left after specific legacies had been paid. Ercole was to have Solarolo; he was asked to keep the steward there in office for life. Elaborate stipulations were made for the succession to this estate after Ercole’s death: essentially she wanted it to go to a legitimate Gonzaga, but not the duke or his first-born son unless there was no one else appropriate living. In certain circumstances it could be passed on to Ferrante or his sons, or his daughters if he and Federico were dead and had no legitimate male descendants when Ercole died. Only if Ferrante had no daughters was Eleonora to inherit, and then only for her lifetime. On her death, it was to go not to her heirs, but to Isabella’s nephew, Francesco d’Este. Isabella defined forcefully that by ‘legitimate’ she meant the child of a legitimate marriage; in no circumstances was any illegitimate child (‘bastardo da natività’) to inherit any of her property, even if they had been legitimated by the pope or the emperor. Clearly, she had Federico’s children by Isabella Boschetti in mind. She did leave something to Francesco’s natural daughter, Margherita, a house in the borgo di San Giorgio of Mantua which Isabella had given her the use of, and which she could keep for her lifetime; it was then to go to the duchess. Ferrante was to have the estate of San Matteo, part of the inheritance Isabella had had from Margherita Cantelmo. Some jewellery that had come to her in that bequest was left to his daughter Antonia. The house in Mantua that had been Margherita Cantelmo’s was to go to Luigi, son of Gian Pietro Gonzaga, for his affectionate service to Isabella, she noted. Her legacy to Eleonora, a sixth of Isabella’s own dowry of 25,000 ducats, was a customary disposition. No mention is made of Isabella’s love for her, or of her love for Isabella, but rather of how Elisabetta Gonzaga had looked on Eleonora as her daughter, and how the money was left to her so that she should keep Isabella in her memory. Had Isabella been jealous of how close Eleonora and Elisabetta had been? Her sons were to be responsible for paying the legacy, one third each, but if Eleonora died before Isabella, it was not to go to her heirs. Isabella’s other daughters were not forgotten. Ippolita was left the revenues from a mill, which was to go after her death to her

282  The dowager convent of San Vincenzo. Rather complicated provisos had to be made to this bequest, because the mill was a cause of dispute. Livia, in religion Sister Paola, was left alms of 100 sacks of wheat a year, which was to go to her convent when she died (the Poor Clares, the order to which she belonged, could not handle a legacy of money). Mementoes from Isabella’s chapel  – an ivory Christ child for Ippolita, an ivory crucifix for her sister  – were left to them, so that they would remember her in their prayers. No personal mementoes were left to Ferrante or Eleonora, but Ercole was to have an emerald engraved with the head of Christ and some Greek letters, which had belonged to Isabella’s father, as well as some bed furnishings and vessels and furnishings for a chapel, and a painting of Moses was to be returned to him. Duchess Margherita, her ‘most beloved daughter-in-law’, was to have the villa of Porto and the properties associated with it, and was asked to keep the steward on for life. It was to be passed on to Margherita’s successor as duchess. Francesco, the heir to the duchy, was to have the estate of Castiglione Mantovano, and all her silverware, with the exception of what she bequeathed to Ercole. He was also to have the string of large pearls Isabella had brought with her to Mantua as a bride; this was to be in his mother’s keeping, and be given to Francesco’s wife when he married. The best-known clause of her will concerned the ‘antiquities, ornaments and objets d’art [gentilezze]’ in her apartments. The duchess was to have custody of them for her lifetime, ‘for her delight and pleasure’, although they were to be the property of Francesco, and if he died, of Federico’s other sons and legitimate male descendants. If Federico died without legitimate male heirs, his inheritance from Isabella was to go to Ercole and Ferrante and Ferrante’s legitimate male descendants. Isabella was spared the sadness of knowing Federico only lived another year, and that Francesco died when he had barely reached adulthood. It was Ercole, as regent of the duchy for over sixteen years, who preserved Mantua’s independence in the final decades of the Italian Wars. He and Margherita were faithful to the memory of Isabella and the wishes she expressed in her will. Her most cherished legacy was her apartments and collections. For nearly three decades after her death, Margherita had charge of them. Federico removed several prize items from her collection to

The dowager 283 add to his own, but after his death Margherita returned them; she also added several new pieces of her own selection. Ercole left the stewardship to his sister-in-law, as Isabella had wished. The collections and apartments were kept substantially intact for many years and were shown with pride to visitors. The collections were finally dispersed and the apartments altered only in the early seventeenth century, during and after the reign of Duke Ferdinando. Isabella d’Este’s life could hardly be portrayed as representative of the lives of women in Renaissance Italy. She was highly privileged and, even compared to other women of her elevated status, in some ways fortunate. She was certainly fortunate in having loving parents, who took care over their daughter’s education. She formed strong bonds with her siblings, lifelong bonds of warm affection as well as family loyalty – although this must have made the quarrels and murderous intrigues that divided her brothers still more distressing and painful. Even with the knowledge that two of her brothers were incarcerated so close to where she stayed and was entertained on her visits to Ferrara, it was evident that she always felt at home there, always welcome. Her ties to the Este, to Ferrara, helped sustain her during the periods when her relations with her husband or her son Federico were troubled. She was fortunate to grow up in an important centre of Renaissance culture. The cultural interests she formed at the Ferrarese court stayed with her throughout her life, particularly her love of music and poetry. Her connections with the major literary figures of her day came to her through that court, rather than through Mantua. She did not act as a literary patron, however, nor did she write herself, at a time when some women, such as Vittoria Colonna, enjoyed fame and esteem as poets. She showed ambition in her patronage of the visual arts, but she failed to obtain some works she wanted from major artists such as Leonardo da Vinci and Giovanni Bellini, because of her lack of understanding or sympathy for how they worked, what they were able and willing to produce. Culturally, she was arguably most influential in music, in her encouragement of the composition of frottole and other secular songs, but she was not alone in this. She was exceptional among women of her status in the amount of travelling she did for pleasure. She was privileged to have the

284  The dowager resources to pay for her journeys and, of course, the leisure to undertake them, and fortunate to have the health (for most of her life) to enjoy them and endure the discomforts of the road. She would ask Francesco’s permission to leave Mantua – he was the prince, as well as her husband – and sometimes he refused. At times he, and their children, felt that she was away from Mantua too often, for too long. Sometimes, there was a political aspect to her journey. She may well have had a greater interest in the politics of her day, and been better informed, than most women, even those of her own status, but interest should not be confused with influence. Any diplomatic efforts she made on behalf of the Gonzaga would be supplementary to the regular Gonzaga diplomacy; she was never given a leading role in diplomatic negotiations, such as that played by Francis I’s mother, Louise of Savoy, or Charles V’s aunt, Margaret of Austria. More often than not, the political interests that she would be trying to promote were those of the Este rather than the Gonzaga. Her efforts to help the Este diplomatically were not very effective; she had no cards to play. Nor did she have a role in the installation of her nephew Massimiliano Sforza as duke of Milan, and she had little or no influence over him; it was the infantry of the Swiss cantons, not the advice of Isabella or the charms of her donzelle, that underpinned his role. In Mantua, she did repeatedly act as regent, a normal role for the wife or mother of a prince when he was absent. Politically, she had as much power and influence there as her husband or son were prepared to allow. There was no indication that she had as important a role as counsellor as her own mother had had in Ferrara. When she tried to use the resources of Mantua to aid the Este, Francesco did not approve, and there were clear limits to what she could do. Recognizing the limitations of Isabella’s cultural and political influence is not to belittle her significance. There is no need to argue that she was exceptional in her talents, or intelligence, or political activity, or as a patron of the arts, to justify finding her exceptionally interesting as an individual. For what is unquestionably exceptional about Isabella d’Este is that, because so much correspondence by, to and about her has been preserved, through that wealth of documents we can know more about her than about

The dowager 285 any other woman of her day, and because of the range of her interests and activities, the study of her life can provide insights into so many aspects of Renaissance Italy. In the last analysis, that is her most abiding legacy.

Notes 1 Mario Equicola, Dell’istoria di Mantova Libri cinque scritta in commentari (Mantua: Francesco Osanna, 1607), p. 269. 2 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, pp. 522–3; d’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 347–8: Isabella to Matteo Ippolito, 22 July 1511. 3 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, p. 514, note 2: Isabella to Federico, 10 September 1510. 4 D’Este, Selected Letters, p. 346: Isabella to Federico, 9 June 1511. 5 Luzio, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio’, p. 539, note 2. 6 Ibid., p. 544: Stazio Gadio to Isabella, 25 November 1512. 7 Ibid., p. 514: Isabella to Federico, 1 September 1510. 8 Ibid., pp. 550–1: Stazio Gadio to Francesco, 11 January 1513, Rome. 9 Tamalio, Federico Gonzaga, pp. 173–4: Federico to Francesco, 3 January 1516, Milan. 10 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1907), p. 25: Isabella to Federico, 4 January 1516. 11 Tamalio, Federico Gonzaga, pp.  164–5: Federico to Francesco, 27 December 1515, Milan. 12 Ibid., pp. 241–2: Federico to Isabella, 10 May 1516, Crémieu. 13 Ibid., pp. 309–10: Federico to Isabella, 13 September 1516, Amboise. 14 Paolo Giovio, Dialogo dell’Imprese militari e amorosi, ed. M. L. Doglio (Rome: Bulzoni, 1978), pp. 37–8. 15 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1910), p. 258: Federico to Isabella, 22 September 1521. 16 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, p.  177: M. Equicola to Alfonso, 21 March 1519, Mantua. 17 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1909), pp. 73–4. 18 Ibid., pp. 76–7. 19 Ibid., p. 75. 20 Ibid., pp. 75–6. 21 Ibid., pp. 92, 102. 22 Ibid., p. 74: Isabella to Federico, 15 October 1519. 23 Ibid., pp. 77–9. 24 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, p.  179: Federico to Isabella, 3 September 1519. 25 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1909), p. 90.

286  The dowager 26 Ibid., pp. 92–100. 27 Guasti (ed.), ‘I manoscritti Torrigiani’, Archivio storico italiano, 25 (1877), pp.  390–1: Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici to papal nuncios in France, 14 September 1520. 28 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1910), pp.  245–6: Isabella to Alfonso, 8 January 1521. 29 Ibid. (1909), pp. 119–21. 30 Ibid. (1910), p. 259. 31 Kolsky, Mario Equicola, pp. 202–3, n. 92: Isabella to Federico, 4 September 1521. 32 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 207: Isabella to Federico, 13 September 1521. 33 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1910), p. 256: Isabella to Federico, 7 August 1521. 34 Ibid., p. 257. 35 Sanuto, I diarii, XXXII, col. 181. 36 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1910), p. 270. 37 Ibid., pp.  268–9; Mantova. La Storia, II, Leonardo Mazzoldi, Da Ludovico secondo marchese a Francesco secondo duca (Mantua: Istituto Carlo D’Arco per la storia di Mantova, 1961), p. 275: Isabella to B. Castiglione, 24 December  1521; d’Arco, ‘Notizie di Isabella Estense’, pp. 289–90: Isabella’s secretary to Stazio Gadio, 26 December 1521, Mantua. 38 Mantova. La Storia, II, p. 331: Isabella to Ercole, 12 January 1522. 39 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X’ (1910), pp.  273–4: Isabella to Federico, 7 August 1522. 40 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 251. 41 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp. 455–6: Isabella to Baldassare Castiglione, 21 November 1521, Mantua. 42 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 182. 43 Paul V. Murphy, Ruling Peacefully: Cardinal Ercole Gonzaga and Patrician Reform in Sixteenth-Century Italy (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2007), p. 5. 44 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 70, note 118: Isabella to Pietro Pomponazzi, 16 April 1523. 45 D’Este, Selected Letters, p.  472: Isabella to Charles de Lannoy, 4 March 1523; p. 474: Isabella to Ferrante, 26 March 1523. 46 Raffaele Tamalio, Ferrante Gonzaga alla corte spagnola di Carlo V nel carteggio privato con Mantova, 1523–1526. La formazione da cortegiano di un generale dell’Impero (Mantua: G. Arcari, 1991). 47 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp.  484–5: Isabella to Ferrante Gonzaga, 11 February 1524, Ferrara; pp. 492–3: Isabella to Jacopo Suardo, 8 October 1524, Mantua.

The dowager 287 48 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, p. 7: Isabella to Sigismondo, 2 December 1523, Mantua. 49 Brown, ‘ “Fruste et strache nel fabricare” ’, p.  296: Isabella to Fra Giovanni da Casale, 28 July 1524. 50 Mantova. La Storia, II, p. 290: Federico to Isabella, 8 May 1525. 51 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, p. 26. 52 Ibid., p. 51. 53 Marzio Dall’Acqua, ‘Il bastone di comando. Vita di Ferrante Gonzaga, generale e principe’, in Giuseppe Barbieri and Loredana Olivato (eds.), Ferrante Gonzaga. Un Principe del Rinascimento (Parma: MUP Editore, 2007), p. 33. 54 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, pp.  102–3: Ferrante to Isabella, no place, no date. 55 Ibid., p. 103: Isabella to Ferrante, 15 September 1527. 56 Davari, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa is still the authoritative study of this. 57 Mantova La Storia, II, p. 299: Isabella to Federico, 19 August 1529. 58 G. Romano (ed.), Cronaca del soggiorno di Carlo V in Italia (dal 26 luglio 1529 al 25 aprile 1530) (Milan, 1892). 59 Gaetano Giordani, Cronaca della venuta e dimora in Bologna del sommo pontefice Clemente VII per la coronazione di Carlo V Imperatore celebrata l’anno MDXXX (Bologna: Alla volpe, 1842), pp. 169, 172. 60 Mantova La Storia, II, p. 360: Federico to Ercole, Ferrante and Duke and Duchess of Urbino, 31 March 1530. 61 Davari, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa, pp. 48–50. 62 Giancarlo Malacarne, ‘Il segno di Isabella. Stemmi, motti, imprese’, in Daniele Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este. La prima donna del Rinascimento (Modena: il Bulino, 2001), p. 189: Isabella to Paolo Andreasi, 8 June 1530. 63 Davari, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa, p. 77: Stazio Gadio to Isabella, 4 October 1531, Casale. 64 Davari, ‘La palazzina’, p. 436: Ippolito Calandra to Federico, 7 October 1531, Mantua. 65 Ibid. 66 Giovanni Gaye (ed.), Carteggio inedito d’artisti dei secoli XIV, XV, XVI, 3 vols (Florence: Giuseppe Molini, 1839–40), II, pp.  236–7: Giulio Romano to Federico, 9 October 1531, Mantua; ibid., p. 238: Federico to Giulio Romano, 14 October 1531, Casale. 67 Sanuto, I diarii, LV, cols 110–11. 68 Davari, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa, p. 78: Isabella to Anne d’Alençon, 19 November 1531. 69 Gaye (ed.), Carteggio inedito d’artisti, II, p. 240: Federico to Giulio Romano, 24 October 1531.

288  The dowager 70 Blythe Alice Raviola, Il Monferrato Gonzaghesco: Istituzioni ed élites di un micro-stato (1536–1708) (Florence: Olschki, 2003), pp. 3–25. 71 Mantova La Storia, II, p. 309: Federico to Isabella, 26 October 1536. 72 Brown, “Per dare qualche splendore”, p. 307: Ercole Gonzaga to Isabella, 24 January 1531, Rome. 73 Ibid., p. 313: Isabella to Ercole, 15 August 1536, Mantua. 74 D’Este, Selected Letters, pp.  547–8: Isabella to Ferrante, 28 February 1531, Mantua; Shemek wrongly identifies Ferrante’s bride here as Isabella, the daughter of Vespasiano Colonna. 75 Luzio and Renier, Mantova e Urbino, p. 279: Isabella to Ferrante, 30 May 1537. 76 Ibid., p. 281: Fra Serafino to Eleonora, 17 October 1527. 77 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 24, note 113: Isabella to Federico, 29 May 1538. 78 Luzio and Renier, ‘Buffoni’, 119, pp. 125–6: Isabella to Alfonso, 18 April 1532. 79 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 212. 80 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso’, 147, pp. 465–6: Isabella to Caterina Cibo Varano, 19 August 1533. 81 Gaye, Carteggio inedito d’artisti, II, pp.  273–4: Giulio Romano to Federico, 16 July 1538, Mantua. 82 Brown, “Per dare qualche splendore”, p. 306: Isabella to Francesco Gonzaga, 29 September 1529, Solarolo. 83 Luzio and Renier, La Coltura, p. 183. 84 Luzio, ‘Isabella d’Este e la corte sforzesca’, p. 146. 85 Luzio and Renier, ‘Il lusso’, pp.  309–10: Isabella to Federico, 22 May 1532. 86 Ibid., pp. 270–1: Isabella to Girolamo Ziliolo, 5 September 1530. 87 Ibid., p. 283. 88 Brown, “Per dare qualche splendore”, p. 301: Isabella to Francesco Gonzaga, 31 May 1529. 89 Ibid., p. 302: Isabella to Francesco Gonzaga, 15 August 1529. 90 Ibid., p. 309: Isabella to Barbara Gonzaga, 15 April 1533. 91 Ibid., pp. 310–11: Isabella to Barbara Gonzaga, 24 April 1533. 92 Ibid., p. 315: Isabella to Alessandro Agnello, 22 August 1538. 93 Lodovico Frati, ‘Giuochi ed amori alla corte d’Isabella d’Este’, Archivio storico lombardo, 25 (1898), pp. 352–3. 94 Ibid., pp. 355–6. 95 Luzio and Renier, ‘Buffoni’, pp. 134–5.

The dowager 289 96 Vittorio Cian, ‘Pietro Bembo e Isabella d’Este Gonzaga. Note e documenti’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 9 (1887), p.  135: Isabella to Eleonora, 29 November 1538, Mantua. 97 Mantova La Storia, II, p. 368: Isabella to Ferrante, 16 January 1539. 98 The text of her will was published in full in Hickman, Women, Art and Architecture, pp. 139–50.

Bibliography

This bibliography includes only those works I  have cited, or which have proved useful in other ways, especially those which print documents. All those who write about Isabella turn to the many articles written by Alessandro Luzio, some with Rodolfo Renier, in preparation for the biography he never succeeded in producing. In any case, he struggled to bring the mass of documents he gathered, very largely from the Gonzaga archives in Mantua, into coherent form. It would be a lifetime’s work to follow in his footsteps and go through all Isabella’s correspondence and other relevant documentation. I have worked in the Gonzaga archives on some of the correspondence of Isabella, Francesco and their sons, although not specifically for this book. I  have quoted here only from the letters which have been published by other authors. Many of the most interesting and important letters have been published, in complete or partial transcription, and frequently in translation. The works of Luzio, including those he wrote with Renier, are still invaluable for the range and numbers of letters to, from and about Isabella published there. Documents relating to her patronage and collecting have been most frequently studied; the publications of Clifford Brown, and the calendars of documents he compiled, form a comprehensive guide. The edition of hundreds of Isabella’s letters published in English translation by Deanna Shemek is very useful, especially to those interested in Isabella’s relations with other women, but the translations are not always accurate. Those who can read late fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Italian documents would be

Bibliography 291 advised to check the high quality digital reproductions of Isabella’s letter-books and some of her other correspondence on the Isabella d’Este Archive website (http://idealetters.web.unc.edu), which also has a link to a full bibliography of works on Isabella. The Gonzaga correspondence is, in general, clearly written as well as being well preserved, and this website would be a good starting point for anyone wishing to learn how to read Italian documents of this period. Ames-Lewis, Francis, Isabella and Leonardo: The Relationship Between Isabella d’Este and Leonardo da Vinci (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012). Anderson, Jaynie, ‘What was Ferrarese about Isabella d’Este’s Camerino?’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga, pp. 337–52. Arcangeli, Letizia, and Susanna Peyronel (eds.), Donne di potere nel Rinascimento (Rome: Viella, 2008). Bacchelli, Riccardo, La congiura di Don Giulio d’Este, 2 vols (Milan: Fratelli Treves, 1931). Bandello, Matteo, Le novelle, ed. Delmo Maestri, 4 vols (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 1992–6). Barbero, Zaccaria, Dispacci (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato, Libreria dello Stato, 1994). Belluzzi, Amedeo, ‘Le residenze di campagna di Isabella d’Este’, in Monique Chatenet (ed.), Maisons des Champs dans l’Europe de la Renaissance (Paris: Picard, 2006), pp. 105–16. Bertoni, Giulio, La biblioteca estense e la coltura ferrarese ai tempi del Duca Ercole I (1471–1505) (Turin: Loescher, 1903). Bini, Daniele (ed.), Isabella d’Este: La prima donna del Rinascimento (Modena: Il Bulino, 2001). Bonati Savorgnan d’Osoppo, F., ‘Isabella d’Este nei rapporti dei Gonzaga con l’Estero’, Archivio storico lombardo, 95 (1968), pp. 171–92. Bonvini Mazzanti, Marinella, ‘Contesse e duchesse d’Urbino: politica e potere’, in Giallongo (ed.), Donne di palazzo, pp. 133–47. Bourne, Molly, Francesco II Gonzaga: The Soldier Prince as Patron (Rome: Bulzoni, 2008). Bourne, Molly, ‘Mail humour and male sociability: sexual innuendo in the epistolary domain of Francesco II Gonzaga’, in Sara F. MatthewsGrieco (ed.), Erotic Cultures of Renaissance Italy (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), pp. 199–221.

292  Bibliography Bregoli-Russo, Mauda, L’impresa come ritratto del Rinascimento (Naples: Loffredo, 1990). Brown, Clifford M., ‘Digest of the correspondence concerning the paintings commissioned for the Studiolo in the Castello (1496–1515)’, Appendix II of Campbell, The Cabinet of Eros, pp. 280–301. Brown, Clifford M., ‘A Ferrarese lady and a Mantuan Marchesa. The art and antiquities collections of Isabella d’Este Gonzaga (1474–1539)’, in Cynthia Lawrence (ed.), Women and Art in Early Modern Europe: Patrons, Collectors and Connoisseurs (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997), pp. 53–71. Brown, Clifford M., ‘ “Fruste et strache nel fabricare”. Isabella d’Este’s apartments in the Corte Vecchia of the ducal palace in Mantua’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga, pp. 295–336. Brown, Clifford M., Isabella d’Este in the Ducal Palace in Mantua: An Overview of Her Rooms in the Castello di San Giorgio and the Corte Vecchia (Rome: Bulzoni, 2005). Brown, Clifford M., “Per dare qualche splendore a la gloriosa cità di Mantua”: Documents for the Antiquarian Collection of Isabella d’Este (Rome: Bulzoni, 2002). Brown, Clifford M. and Anna Maria Lorenzoni, Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia: Documents for the History of Art and Culture in Renaissance Mantua (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1982). Caleffini, Ugo, Croniche, 1471–1494 (Ferrara: Deputazione provinciale ferrarese di storia patria, 2006). Campbell, Stephen, The Cabinet of Eros: Renaissance Mythological Painting and the Studiolo of Isabella d’Este (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2004). Carteggio degli oratori mantovani alla Corte Sforzesca, XI, ed. Marcello Simonetta (Rome: Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali, Direzione Generale per gli Archivi, 2001). Castagna, Rita, ‘Vita di corte e note di costume del periodo isabelliano in tempo di guerra’, in Guerre, stati e città, pp. 295–313. Castiglione, Baldassare, Le Lettere, I, ed. Guido La Rocca (Milan: Mondadori, 1978). Catalano, Michele, Vita di Ludovico Ariosto, ricostruita su nuovi documenti, 2 vols (Geneva: Leo S. Olschki, 1930). Catini, Marco and Marzio Romani, ‘Le corti parallele: per una tipologia delle corti padane dal XIII al XVI secolo’, in Sergio Bertelli (ed.), Per Federico Chabod 1901–1960), I, Lo stato e il potere nel Rinascimento (Annali della Facoltà di Scienze Politiche, 17 (1980–81), Materiali di Storia, 5), pp. 57–81.

Bibliography 293 Chambers, David S., ‘The Gonzaga Signoria, communal institutions and “the honour of the city”: mixed ideas in Quattrocento Mantua’, in Law and Paton (eds.), Communes and Despots, pp. 105–118. Chambers, David S., Patrons and Artists in the Italian Renaissance (London: Macmillan, 1970). Chiappini, Luciano, Eleonora d’Aragona, prima duchessa di Ferrara (Rovigo, no date). Chiappini, Luciano, Gli Estensi: Mille anni di storia (Ferrara: Corbo Editore, 2001). Cian, Vittorio, ‘Pietro Bembo e Isabella d’Este Gonzaga. Note e documenti’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 9 (1887), pp. 81–136. Cipolla, Costantino, and Giancarlo Malacarne, “El più soave et dolce et dilectevole et gratioso bocchone”: Amore e sesso al tempo dei Gonzaga (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2006). Cockram, Sarah D. P., Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga: Power Sharing at the Italian Renaissance Court (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013). Covini, Maria Nadia, ‘Beatrice d’Este, i figli del Moro e la Pala Sforzesca. Arte e politica dinastica’, in Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este, pp. 91–109. Covini, Maria Nadia, ‘Tra patronage e ruolo politico: Bianca Maria Visconti (1450–1468)’, in Arcangeli and Peyronel (eds.), Donne di potere, pp. 247–80. Dall’Acqua, Marzio, ‘Il bastone di comando. Vita di Ferrante Gonzaga, generale e principe’, in Giuseppe Barbieri and Loredana Olivato (eds.), Ferrante Gonzaga. Un principe del Rinascimento (Parma: MUP Editore, 2007), pp. 29–36. d’Arco, Carlo, ‘Notizie di Isabella Estense moglie a Francesco Gonzaga’, Archivio storico italiano, Appendice, 1 (1845), pp. 203–326. Davari, Stefano, Federico Gonzaga e la famiglia Paleologa del Monferrato (1515–1533) (Genoa, 1891). Davari, Stefano, ‘La palazzina annessa al Castello di Mantova e i supposti dipinti del Correggio’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 3, 3 (1895), pp. 434–9. d’Este, Isabella, Selected Letters, ed. Deanna Shemek (Toronto: Iter Press and Tempe, AZ: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2017). ‘Diario ferrarese dall’anno 1409 sino al 1502 di autori incerti’, in Giuseppe Pardi (ed.), Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, XXIV, Part 7 (Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1928–33). Dolfo, Floriano, Lettere ai Gonzaga, ed. Marzia Minutelli (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 2002).

294  Bibliography Edelstein, Bruce L., ‘Eleonora de Toledo e la gestione dei beni familiari: una strategia economica?’, in Arcangeli and Peyronel (eds.), Donne di potere, pp. 743–64. Equicola, Mario, Dell’istoria di Mantova libri cinque scritta in commentari (Mantua: Francesco Osanna, 1607). Fenlon, Iain, ‘Music and learning in Isabella d’Este’s studioli’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga, pp. 353–67. Ferrari, Alessandra, ‘Le lettere di Beatrice d’Este, I, Dal privato al ruolo pubblico’, in Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este, pp. 33–47. Ferrari, Monica, ‘Principesse in divenire nel Quattrocento italiano’, in Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este, pp. 11–31. Folin, Marco, ‘La corte della duchessa Eleonora d’Aragona a Ferrara’, in Arcangeli and Peyronel (eds), Donne di potere, pp. 481–512. Fontana, Bartolommeo, Renata di Francia Duchessa di Ferrara, 2 vols (Rome: Forzani, 1889–93). Frati, Lodovico, ‘Giuochi ed amori alla corte d’Isabella d’Este’, Archivio storico lombardo, 25 (1898), pp. 350–65. Gandini, Luigi-Alberto, Isabella, Beatrice e Alfonso d’Este infanti: Documenti inediti del secolo XV (Modena, 1896). Gaye, Giovanni (ed.), Carteggio inedito d’artisti dei secoli XIV, XV, XVI, 3 vols (Florence: Giuseppe Molini, 1839–40). Ghirardo, Diane Yvonne, ‘Lucrezia Borgia as entrepreneur’, Renaissance Quarterly, 61/1 (2008), pp. 53–91. Giallongo, Angela (ed.), Donne di palazzo nelle corti europee (Milan: Unicopli, 2005). Giordani, Gaetano, Cronaca della venuta e dimora in Bologna del sommo pontefice Clemente VII per la coronazione di Carlo V Imperatore celebrata l’anno MDXXX (Bologna: Alla volpe, 1842). Giordano, Luisa (ed.), Beatrice d’Este 1475–1497 (Pisa: ETS, 2008). Giordano, Luisa, ‘La “Ill.ma consorte” di Ludovico Sforza’, in Giordano (ed.), Beatrice d’Este, pp. 63–89. Giovio, Paolo, Dialogo dell’imprese militari e amorosi, ed. M. L. Doglio (Rome: Bulzoni, 1978). Gori, Gigliola, ‘La danza nelle corti italiani’, in Giallongo (ed.), Donne di palazzo, pp. 171–81. Gregorovius, Ferdinand, Lucrezia Borgia, ed. Angelo Romano (Rome: Salerno Editrice, no date) (original German edition, 1874). Guasti, Cesare (ed.), ‘I manoscritti Torrigiani donati al R. Archivio centrale di Stato di Firenze’, Archivio storico italiano, 19 (1874)–25 (1877). Guerre, stati e città. Mantova e l’Italia padana dal secolo XIII al XIX (Mantua: G. Arcari, 1988).

Bibliography 295 Gundersheimer, Werner L., Ferrara: The Style of a Renaissance Despotism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973). Hersey Allison, Ann, ‘Antico e Isabella d’Este’, in Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este, pp. 128–53. Hickson, Sally Anne, Women, Art and Architectural Patronage in Renaissance Mantua: Matron, Mystics and Monasteries (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012). Humfrey, Peter, Titian: The Complete Paintings (Ghent: Ludion, 2007). Iotti, Roberta, ‘Richezze ed eleganze di corte negli inventari di celebri principesse italiane’, in Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este, pp. 45–50. Iotti, Roberta and others, Commentario al codice Stivini: inventario della collezione di Isabella d’Este nello Studiolo e nella Grotta di Corte Vecchia in Palazzo Ducale a Mantova, 2 vols (Modena: Il Bulino, 1995). James, Carolyn, The Letters of Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti (1481– 1510) (Florence: Leo S. Olschki Editore, 2002). Kolsky, Stephen, ‘Images of Isabella d’Este’, Italian Studies, 39 (1984), pp. 47–62. Kolsky, Stephen, Mario Equicola: The Real Courtier (Geneva: Droz, 1991). Law, John E. and Bernadette Paton, Communes and Despots in Medieval and Renaissance Italy (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010). Lightbown, Ronald, Mantegna (Oxford: Phaidon Christie’s, 1986). Lockwood, Lewis, Music in Renaissance Ferrara 1400–1505: The Creation of a Musical Centre in the Fifteenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon 1984). Lockwood, Lewis, ‘Musica a corte e in chiesa nel XV secolo’, in Adriano Prosperi (ed.), Storia di Ferrara, Il Rinascimento, situazioni e personaggi (Ferrara: Corbo, 2000), vol. VI, pp. 313–31. Lowe, Kate, ‘Isabella d’Este and the acquisition of black Africans at the Mantuan court’, in Philippa Jackson and Guido Rebecchini (eds.), Mantova e il Rinascimento italiano: Studi in onore di David S. Chambers (Mantua: Sometti, 2011). Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Federico Gonzaga ostaggio alla corte di Giulio II’, Archivio della R. Società romana di storia patria, 9 (1886), pp. 509–82. Luzio, Alessandro, Isabella d’Este di fronte a Giulio II negli ultimi tre anni del suo pontificato (Milan: L. F. Cogliati, 1912); also in Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 4, 17 (1912), pp.  245–334; Ser. 4, 18 (1912), pp. 55–144, 393–456. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este e Francesco Gonzaga promessi sposi’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 4, 9 (1908), pp. 35–69. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este e Giulio II (1503–1505)’, Rivista d’Italia, 12 (1909), pp. 837–76. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este e i Borgia’, Archivio storico lombardo, 41 (1914), pp. 469–553, 673–753; 42 (1915), pp. 115–67, 412–64.

296  Bibliography Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este e il sacco di Roma’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 4, 10 (1908), pp. 5–107, 361–425. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este e la corte sforzesca’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 3, 15 (1901), pp. 145–76. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este e Leone X dal Congresso di Bologna alla presa di Milano (1515–1521)’, Archivio storico italiano, Ser. 5, 40 (1907), pp.  18–97; 44 (1909), pp.  72–128; 45 (1910), pp. 245–302. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este e l’“Orlando innamorato” ’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 2 (1883), pp. 163–7. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘Isabella d’Este ne’ primordi del papato di Leone X e il suo viaggio a Roma nel 1514–1515’, Archivio storico lombardo, 33 (1906), pp. 99–180, 454–89. Luzio, Alessandro, ‘La reggenza d’Isabella d’Este durante la prigionia del marito (1509–1510)’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 4, 14 (1910), pp. 5–104. Luzio, Alessandro, I precettori d’Isabella d’Este: Appunti e documenti (Ancona, 1887). Luzio, Alessandro, ‘I ritratti di Isabella d’Este. Arte retrospettiva’, Emporium, 11 (1900), pp. 344–59, 427–42. Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Buffoni, nani e schiavi dei Gonzaga ai tempi d’Isabella d’Este’, Nuova Antologia, 118 (1891), pp. 618–50; 119 (1891), pp. 112–46. Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Contributo alla storia del malfrancese ne’ costumi e nella letteratura italiana del sec. XVI’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 5 (1885), pp. 408–32. Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Delle relazioni di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga con Ludovico e Beatrice Sforza’, Archivio storico lombardo, Ser. 2, 7 (1890), pp. 74–119, 346–99, 619–74. Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Francesco Gonzaga alla Battaglia di Fornovo (1495) secondo i documenti mantovani’, Archivio storico italiano, Ser. 5, 6 (1890), pp. 205–46. Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Il lusso di Isabella d’Este, Marchesa di Mantova’, Nuova Antologia, 147 (1896), pp.  441–69; 148 (1896), pp. 294–324; 149 (1896), pp. 666–88. Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, La coltura e le relazioni letterarie di Isabella d’Este Gonzaga, ed. Simone Albonico (Milan: Sylvestre Bonnard, 2005). Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, Mantova e Urbino: Isabella d’Este ed Elisabetta Gonzaga (Turin: L. Roux, 1893; reprinted Sala Bolognese: Arnaldo Forni Editore, 1976).

Bibliography 297 Luzio, Alessandro and Rodolfo Renier, ‘Niccolò da Correggio’, Giornale storico della letteratura italiana, 21 (1893), pp.  205–64; 22 (1893), pp. 65–119. Malacarne, Giancarlo, ‘Il segno di Isabella. Stemmi, motti, imprese’, in Bini (ed.), La primadonna del Rinascimento, pp. 184–201. Mallet, J.G.V., ‘Tiled floors and court designers in Mantua and northern Italy’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga, pp. 253–72. Mantova. La Storia, II, Leonardo Mazzoldi, Da Ludovico secondo marchese a Francesco secondo duca (Mantua: Istituto Carlo d’Arco per la storia di Mantova, 1961). Mantovani, Sergio, “Ad honore del signore vostro patre et satisfactione nostra”. Ferrante d’Este condottiero di Venezia (Modena and Ferrara: Deputazione provinciale ferrarese di storia patria, 2005). Marocchi, Massimo, I Gonzaga di Castiglione delle Stiviere: Vicende pubbliche e private del casato di San Luigi (Verona?: Rotary Club, Castiglione delle Stiviere e alto Mantovano, 1990). Mozzarelli, Cesare, Robert Oresko and Leandro Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga in the Age of Mantegna, 1450–1550 (Rome: Bulzoni, 1997). Murphy, Paul V., Ruling Peacefully: Cardinal Ercole Gonzaga and Patrician Reform in Sixteenth-Century Italy (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2007). Oresko, Robert and David Parrott, ‘The sovereignty of Monferrato and the citadel of Casale as European problems in the early modern period’, in Daniela Ferrari (ed.), Stefano Guazzo e Casale tra Cinque e Seicento (Rome: Bulzoni, 1997), pp. 11–86. Pedrazzoli, A., ‘La marchesa Isabella d’Este Gonzaga a diporto sul largo di Garda colla sua corte’, Archivio storico lombardo, 17 (1890), pp. 868–78. Prizer, William F., Courtly Pastimes: The Frottole of Marchetto Cara (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1980). Prizer, William F., ‘Isabella d’Este and Lorenzo da Pavia, master instrumentmaker’, Early Music History, 2 (1982), pp. 87–127. Prizer, William F., ‘Isabella d’Este and Lucrezia Borgia as patrons of music: the frottola at Mantua and Ferrara’, Journal of the American Musicological Society, 38 (1985), pp. 1–33. “Una virtù molto conveniente a madonne”: IsaPrizer, William F., ‘  bella d’Este as a musician’, The Journal of Musiciology, 17/1 (1999), pp. 10–49. Raviola, Blythe Alice, Il Monferrato Gonzaghesco. Istituzioni ed élites di un micro-stato (1536–1708) (Florence: Olschki, 2003).

298  Bibliography Rebecchini, Guido, ‘Exchanges of works of art at the court of Federico II Gonzaga with an appendix on Flemish art’, Renaissance Studies, 16/3 (2002), pp. 381–91. Reiss, Sheryl E. and David G. Wilkins, Beyond Isabella: Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2000). Romano, G. (ed.), Cronaca del soggiorno di Carlo V in Italia (dal 26 luglio 1529 al 25 aprile 1530) (Milan, 1892). San Juan, Rose Marie, ‘The court lady’s dilemma: Isabella d’Este and art collecting in the Renaissance’, Oxford Art Journal, 14 (1991), pp. 67–78. Sanuto, Marino, I diarii, ed. R. Fulin and others, 58 vols (Venice: Visentini, 1879–1903). Syson, Luke, ‘Reading faces. Gian Cristoforo Romano’s medal of Isabella d’Este’, in Mozzarelli, Oresko and Ventura (eds.), The Court of the Gonzaga, pp. 281–94. Tamalio, Raffaele, Federico Gonzaga alla Corte di Francesco I di Francia, nel carteggio privato con Mantova (1515–1517) (Paris: H. Champion, 1994). Tamalio, Raffaele, Ferrante Gonzaga alla corte spagnola di Carlo V nel carteggio privato con Mantova, 1523–1526. La formazione da cortegiano di un generale dell’Impero (Mantua: G. Arcari, 1991). Tellini Perina, Chiara, ‘La guerra nei dipinti della tradizione gonzaghesca fra testimonianza storica e allusione letteraria’, in Guerre, stati e città, pp. 133–156. Trevisani, Filippo and Davide Gasparotto (eds.), Bonacolsi l’Antico: uno scultore nella Mantova di Andrea Mantegna e di Isabella d’Este (Milan: Electa, c. 2008). Tuohy, Thomas, Herculean Ferrara: Ercole d’Este, 1471–1505, and the Invention of a Ducal Capital (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1996). Ventura, Leandro, ‘Gli appartamenti isabelliani in palazzo ducale’, in Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este, pp. 65–83. Ventura, Leandro, ‘Isabella d’Este, committenza e collezionismo’, in Bini (ed.), Isabella d’Este, pp. 85–107. Visceglia, Maria Antonietta, ‘ “Farsi imperiale”: faide familiari e identità politiche a Roma nel primo Cinquecento’, in Francesca Cantù and Maria Antonietta Visceglia (eds.), L’Italia di Carlo V. Guerra, religione e politica nel primo Cinquecento (Rome: Viella, 2003), pp. 477–508. Welch, Evelyn, Shopping in the Renaissance: Consumer Cultures in Italy, 1400–1600 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2005; reprint 2009).

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Index

Abano 275 Acquaviva d’Aragona, Andrea Matteo, marchese di Bitonto 215 Adorno, Agostino 190 Adrian VI, Pope 96, 255, 256, 259 – 60 Albina (courtesan) 243 Alençon, Anne d’, Marchioness of Monferrato 222, 262, 268, 270, 271 Alexander VI, Pope 44, 45, 46, 48, 55, 79, 80, 146, 158, 218 Alfonso, King of Aragon and Naples 6, 14, 22 Alfonso II, King of Naples 191 Alviano, Bartolomeo d’ 51 Andreasi, Ippolito 177 Andreasi, Osanna 35, 38, 123, 132, 138, 216 Anne, Queen of France 37, 112 Anjou, Jean d’ 6 Anteo (servant) 168, 280 Antico see Bonacolsi, Pier Jacopo Alari Antonio (musician) 133 Apuleius, Lucius 130 Aragona, Alfonso d’, duca di Bisceglie 79

Aragona, Beatrice d’, Queen of Hungary 23 Aragona, Eleonora d’, Duchess of Ferrara 5 – 11, 12, 14, 16 – 22, 27, 29, 33, 66, 75, 76, 83, 105, 131, 146, 150, 160, 167, 168, 171, 185, 187, 188 Aragona, Giulia d’ 263, 266 – 8, 271 Aragona, Isabella d’, Duchess of Milan 7, 77, 161, 189, 191 Aragona, Luigi d’, Cardinal 209 – 10, 211, 213, 217, 218, 219, 220, 224 Aragona, Maria d’ 23 Ardinghelli, Pietro 255 Aretino, Pietro 129, 165, 275 Arienti, Giovanni Sabadino degli 18 Ariosto, Ludovico 13, 98, 126, 128, 129 Aristotle 130, 272 Arles 222 Asola 61 Assisi 193 Asti 222 Atri, Jacopo d’ 149 Avignon 222

Index  301 Bandello, Matteo 31 – 2, 164 Barbara of Brandenburg, Marchioness of Mantua 10, 104 Beatrice of Portugal, Duchess of Savoy 265 Bellini, Giovanni 112 – 13, 115, 116, 117, 121, 283 Bembo, Pietro 116, 133, 249 Bendidio, Marcantonio 278 Bentivoglio, Antonio Galeazzo 120 Bentivoglio, Lucrezia see Este, Lucrezia d’ Berni, Francesco 128 – 9 Boccaccio, Giovanni 126 – 7, 130 Boiardo, Alda 132, 171, 176, 233 Boiardo, Matteo Maria 13, 126, 127 – 8, 130 Bologna 59, 60, 114, 119 – 20, 194, 234 – 5, 240, 257 – 8, 260, 264 – 6, 271 Bologna, Alberto da 150 – 1 Bonacolsi, Delia 172 Bonacolsi, Pier Jacopo Alari (“Antico”) 111 – 12, 172 Bonamico, Lazzaro 257 – 8 Bonatto, Guido 111 Bonsignori, Francesco 145 Bonvicini da Bologna, Francesco 177 Bonvicino, Carlo 165 Borgia, Cesare 43, 44 – 9, 50, 55, 79, 80, 81, 91, 111, 158, 162, 170, 221 Borgia, Lucrezia, Duchess of Ferrara 1, 44 – 6, 79 – 82, 85, 89 – 91, 134, 146 – 9, 159, 160, 166, 183, 197, 251; and Francesco Gonzaga 80 – 2, 88 – 91, 148 Borgia, Luisa 44, 45, 48, 158, 221

Borgia, Rodrigo see Alexander VI, Pope Borgoforte 81 Borja, Elionora de Cabanyllas de 152 Boschetti, conte Alberto 172, 173 Boschetti, Giacomo 246 Boschetti, Giovanna 172 Boschetti, Isabella 223, 240, 246 – 7, 260, 263, 267 – 70, 276, 281 Botticelli, Sandro 116 Bourbon, Charles, duc de, Constable of France 226, 230 – 1, 232, 261 Bourbon, Gilbert de, comte de Montpensier 45 Brescia 135 – 6 Brogna, Eleonora (“Brognina”) 173 – 6, 183, 202 “la Brogna” (donzella) 280 Brognolo, Giorgio 126, 151, 167 Brown, Clifford 290 Bufalo, Angelo del 219 Caesar, Julius 126 Caetani, Guglielmo 161, 214 Cairo 107 Caleffini, Ugo 16, 22, 26 Calvin, Jean 99 Camerino 193 Camposampiero, Vigo da 30, 31, 61, 62, 173, 248 – 9 Canova da Milano, Francesco 227 Cantelmo, Margherita 123, 138 – 9, 168 – 9, 233, 276, 281 Cantelmo, Sigismondo 168 Capilupi, Benedetto 87, 92, 194, 208, 209, 215, 249 Capua, Isabella da 273

302  Index Cara, Marchetto 133 Cardona, Ramón de 63, 66 – 7, 94, 158, 173, 174 – 5, 202, 203 – 6, 207 Carpi 97 Carretto, Galeotto del 133 Casale 136, 221 – 2, 268, 269, 271 Castiglione, Baldassare 164, 171, 185, 246, 249, 250, 255 Caterina (donzella) 280 Caterina (buffoon) 166 Caterina da Ferrara (donzella) 177 Catullus, Gaius Valerius 124, 130, 201 Ceresara, Paride 117 – 19, 120 – 1 Charlemagne, Emperor 126 Charles V, Emperor 96, 97, 161, 223, 226, 227, 228, 234, 250, 252, 255, 256, 258 – 9, 261, 262, 263 – 8, 271, 273, 284 Charles VIII, King of France 41, 42, 44, 45, 83, 161, 191 Chaumont d’Amboise, Charles de 62, 92 Chiaramonte, conte di 215 Chigi, Agostino 211, 242 Chigi, Cristoforo 110 Chioggia 192, 194 Christopher, Duke of Bavaria 193 Cibo, Franceschetto 211 Cibo, Innocenzo, Cardinal 210, 213, 218, 224 Cicero, Marcus Tullius 12, 130 Claude, Queen of France 153 – 4, 155, 161, 162 Clement VII, Pope 97, 223 – 31, 234, 256, 260, 261 – 2, 263, 264 – 5, 271 Colomba, Giovan Battista 277 Colonna, Fabrizio 214 Colonna, Pompeo, Cardinal 225, 228

Colonna, Vespasiano 228, 288 Colonna, Vittoria, marchesa di Pescara 112, 279, 283 Colonna family, of Rome 228 – 9, 231, 232 Constantinople 107 Contrari, Beatrice de’ 171, 187 Corioni, Giovan Francesco dei (“il Fritella”) 165 Cornaro, Caterina, Queen of Cyprus 196 – 7 Correggio, Antonio Allegri da 108, 120, 275 Correggio, Giangaleazzo da 128 Correggio, Niccolò da 13, 18, 127 – 8, 135, 152 Costa, Lorenzo 65, 112, 113, 116, 119 – 20, 121 Costabili, Camillo 156 Cotrone, marchesa di see Orsini del Balzo, Eleonora Cremona 188 – 9 Cusatro, Beltramino 19, 10 Dante Alighieri 12, 130 Del Balzo, Antonia 215 Delia (servant) 166 – 7, 279, 280 Diambra (donzella) 173 Dolfo, Floriano 30, 35 Donati, Cleofas de 154 Doria, Andrea 233, 234 Dovizi, Bernardo, Cardinal 31, 210, 211, 219, 224 Egidio da Viterbo 215 Equicola, Mario 123 – 4, 169, 177, 210, 214, 239, 249 Este, Alberto d’ 130 Este, Alberto d’, Marquis of Ferrara 18 Este, Alfonso I d’, Duke of Ferrara 3, 4, 10, 14 – 15, 18, 21,

Index  303 63, 82, 84 – 90, 92 – 9, 105, 114, 148, 155, 160, 165, 166, 172, 187, 188, 198, 214, 222, 235, 242, 245, 249, 250 – 1, 254, 261, 264 – 7, 275; and the arts 14 – 15, 113, 128, 134, 136, 138; collaboration with brother, Cardinal Ippolito 84, 86, 92 – 4, 96; conflict with popes 3, 52, 59, 61, 92 – 8, 205, 206, 207, 212, 219, 227, 242, 248, 250 – 2, 255 – 6, 261; marriage to Lucrezia Borgia 44, 45, 79 – 82, 146 – 7; and quarrels of his brothers 84 – 9; succession to Ercole I 80, 82, 84; support from sister Isabella 19, 61 – 2, 63, 64, 92 – 6, 203 – 4, 205 – 7, 209, 219, 225, 227, 248, 250 – 1 Este, Anna d’ 279 Este, Beatrice d’ 13 Este, d’, Beatrice, Duchess of Milan 2, 10, 11, 14 – 15, 22, 29, 33, 62, 75, 77 – 8, 109, 113, 135, 160, 169, 185, 186 – 92, 197 Este, Borso d’, Marquis then Duke of Ferrara 5, 6, 9 Este, Diana d’ 233 Este, Ercole I d’, Duke of Ferrara 2, 3, 5 – 10, 12, 13 – 14, 16 – 19, 21, 22, 27, 29, 42, 45, 66, 75, 76, 77, 82 – 4, 105, 128, 129, 130, 131, 133, 150, 159, 188, 189, 190, 193 Este, Ercole II d’, Duke of Ferrara 90, 97 – 9, 227, 233, 278 – 9 Este, Ferrante d’ 3, 4, 10, 11, 83 – 9, 93, 261 Este, Francesco d’ 281 Este, Giulio d’10 – 11, 84 – 9, 93, 261

Este, Ippolito d’, Cardinal 10, 14 – 15, 60, 61, 62, 82 – 3, 84 – 7, 92 – 3, 96, 123, 128, 129, 198, 211, 212, 218, 224, 261 Este, Ippolito d’ (son of Alfonso I) 233 Este, Isabella d’, and the arts 1, 2, 3 – 4, 103 – 39, 149; antiquities and objets d’art 47 – 8, 103, 105, 107, 109 – 12, 159, 211, 214, 218, 219, 225, 233, 234, 267, 272, 276 – 8, 282 – 3; architecture 17, 106, 107 – 8, 137 – 8, 139, 201, 253, 276; literature 11 – 14, 18, 123 – 32, 139, 278, 279, 283; music 14 – 15, 65, 104, 109, 120, 132 – 7, 139, 147, 241, 283; painting and sculpture 15 – 16, 35, 48, 105, 106, 107, 108, 110, 111 – 23, 137, 138, 139, 145, 159, 161 – 2, 197, 275 – 6, 280, 282, 283; theatre 14, 79, 211, 215, 223, 271 Este, Isabella d’, and her children 185, 284; attitude to her daughters 33 – 8, 70, 71, 162; births 32, 33, 35, 38, 39, 129, 193, 194; Eleonora 33 – 5, 36, 52, 70, 135, 162, 170, 223, 256, 273 – 4, 279, 281, 282; Ercole (Alvise) 38, 67, 223, 226, 231, 233, 251, 256 – 8, 260, 272 – 3, 274, 277, 280, 281, 282; Federico 35 – 7, 38, 39, 44, 45, 46, 48, 55 – 6, 57 – 8, 59, 60, 63, 95 – 6, 106 – 7, 109, 110, 114, 115, 135, 138, 159, 166, 168, 170, 175 – 6, 209, 215, 217, 220 – 1, 225, 226, 227, 229 – 30, 232, 233, 235, 239 – 56, 260 – 1, 262 – 3,

304  Index 264, 266, 267, 269, 270, 271, 273, 274, 275, 276, 280 – 1, 282, 283; Ferrante 39, 129, 230, 232, 233, 234, 251, 256, 258 – 9, 262, 273, 274, 279, 280, 281, 282; grandchildren 256, 270 – 1, 274, 279, 281, 282; Ippolita 37 – 8, 281 – 2; Livia Giulia 38, 71; Livia Osanna 38, 282; Margherita 33 – 4, 70 Este, Isabella d’, diplomacy 43 – 4, 46 – 7, 63 – 4, 66 – 7, 147, 203 – 8, 212, 225, 227, 234 – 5, 248 – 9, 261 – 2, 264 – 5, 284; for Alfonso d’Este 3, 44, 63, 64, 92 – 5, 96, 203 – 4, 205 – 6, 227, 284; for the Gonzaga 45 – 8, 50 – 61, 64, 203, 205, 209, 212 – 13, 219, 226, 227, 228, 250 – 6, 267, 284; for Massimiliano Sforza 63, 64, 203, 205 – 6, 207, 215, 284 Este, Isabella d’, and the Este 5, 19, 44, 55, 57, 75 – 99, 185, 193, 197, 233, 235, 261, 283, 284; and her brother Alfonso 19, 38, 52, 53 – 4, 58, 60, 61 – 2, 75 – 6, 77, 85, 89, 91, 92 – 9, 114, 131, 134, 136, 138, 148, 155, 166, 172, 185 – 6, 188, 189, 203 – 4, 205 – 7, 209, 222, 225, 227, 245, 250 – 2, 255, 261, 266, 267, 275; and her brother Ippolito 60, 62, 86, 92 – 3, 94, 129, 203, 211, 212, 213, 218; childhood and education 8 – 22; and her father 2, 9, 31, 38 – 9, 42, 75, 105, 131, 133, 137, 150, 186, 189, 193, 279, 282; and her half-sister Lucrezia 11; and her mother

8 – 10, 12, 17, 20 – 2, 29, 33, 43, 75, 131, 146, 150, 185, 186, 188, 214; and her nephew Ercole 97 – 9, 233, 235, 278 – 9; and the quarrels among her brothers 82, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 197; and her sister Beatrice 11, 75, 77 – 8, 185, 186 – 92, 197; and her sister-in-law Lucrezia Borgia 79 – 80, 81, 90, 91, 134, 146 – 8, 149, 183 Este, Isabella d’, and Francesco Gonzaga 2; betrothal and marriage 5, 19 – 23, 26 – 7, 133; care and education of their children 33 – 9, 44, 176, 239, 243 – 5, 256; disputes 32, 38 – 9, 58 – 9, 62 – 4, 75, 92 – 3, 94, 171, 203, 206; marital relationship 28 – 32, 40 – 2, 43 – 4, 46, 54 – 7, 60 – 1, 62 – 8, 75, 78, 94, 105 – 6, 117, 122, 133, 135, 147, 148, 150, 158, 159 – 60, 165, 168 – 9, 170, 171, 173, 185, 188, 191, 194, 197, 199, 203 – 4, 205 – 10, 213, 216 – 17, 219, 220, 222, 239, 248, 249, 279, 283, 284; regencies for Francesco 39 – 61, 66, 67, 68, 76, 78, 92, 185, 190, 203 Este, Isabella d’, and her household 124, 159 – 61, 165 – 8, 171 – 8, 186, 187, 192, 199, 201, 202 – 3, 208, 209, 217, 224, 225, 254, 273, 280 – 1; donzelle, ladies 31, 32, 33, 65, 66, 132, 163, 171 – 8, 200, 201, 203, 204, 211, 212, 222, 224, 225, 227, 232, 240, 254, 265 – 6, 269, 274, 278, 279, 280; personal finances 78, 104, 107, 109, 110, 112, 124,

Index  305 130, 131, 134 – 6, 138, 151, 153, 155, 156 – 60, 163, 186, 192, 202, 204, 209, 214, 219, 220, 222, 224, 245, 255, 276, 277 – 8, 279 – 82, 283 – 4 Este, Isabella d’, and Mantua 21 – 2, 23, 26 – 7, 92, 153, 219 – 20, 229 – 30, 233, 261, 266, 269 – 70, 273, 275, 276 – 7, 281, 284; her government as regent 41 – 3, 50 – 1, 53 – 4, 55, 56, 57, 95 – 6, 248, 253 – 5, 284; and Mantuans 27, 32, 37, 42 – 3, 57 – 8, 59, 61, 63, 66, 67, 151, 161, 171, 172, 230, 233 – 4, 248, 273 Este, Isabella d’, personal characteristics 1; appearance 27, 114, 149, 156, 161 – 2, 275; character 1, 3 – 4, 5, 20, 27, 30 – 2, 40 – 1, 46, 50 – 1, 63 – 5, 67, 78, 94, 105, 109 – 10, 124, 132, 146 – 8, 151, 159, 162, 185, 199, 200 – 1; death and will 279 – 82; friendships 28, 44, 47 – 8, 123, 138 – 9, 148 – 9, 153, 162, 168 – 71, 185, 193 – 7, 198 – 9, 232, 261, 276, 281; health 20 – 1, 274 – 5, 279, 284; historians’ judgements of 1, 43 – 4, 70, 105, 115, 121 – 2, 173; pastimes 15, 67, 124, 126, 132, 133, 147, 154 – 5, 162 – 6, 176, 224, 226, 233, 274, 275, 277, 278, 279; religious practices and devotions 34, 35, 37 – 8, 41, 42, 43, 112 – 13, 131 – 2, 193, 194, 197, 201, 202, 211, 215, 216, 220, 222, 223, 226, 228, 257, 275 – 6, 279 – 80, 282; reputation 4, 20, 53, 62, 63, 67, 103, 105, 122,

139, 147 – 9, 151 – 4, 161, 162, 177, 210 – 11, 250, 265 – 6, 275; wardrobe and jewellery 4, 21, 26, 67, 146, 147, 149 – 59, 220, 222, 234, 275 Este, Isabella d’, residences 1; apartments in Castello 1, 65, 67, 103 – 6, 107, 108, 111 – 12, 115, 116 – 23, 137, 139, 269; apartments in Corte Vecchia 1, 4, 103 – 4, 106 – 9, 120, 122 – 3, 137, 139, 260, 275, 283 – 4; in Ferrara 16 – 17; Sacchetta 88, 160, 162; Solarolo 276, 278, 281; villas 31 – 2, 137 – 8, 160, 219 – 20, 248, 274, 276, 282 Este, Isabella d’, travels 67 – 8, 185 – 235, 246, 283 – 4; to Bologna 234 – 5, 264 – 6; to Ferrara 28, 35, 68, 75, 76, 79, 80, 97, 98 – 9, 105, 127, 128, 129, 130, 133, 146 – 8, 185 – 6, 188, 192, 193, 197, 222, 233, 235, 246, 278 – 9, 283; to Florence 197; Genoa 40, 187, 189, 190, 208, 222, 246; to Lake Garda 28, 34, 170, 185, 199 – 203, 222, 269, 278; to Loreto 34, 193, 222; to Mantua, as child and bride 23, 26, 150; to Milan 40, 63 – 4, 75 – 6, 77 – 8, 173 – 4, 185, 186 – 91, 197 – 8, 203 – 8, 220, 246; to Monferrato 220, 221 – 2, 246; to Naples 176, 208, 213 – 15, 219, 229, 246; to Provence 220, 222, 246; to Rome 67, 95, 176, 208 – 13, 215 – 19, 222 – 32, 246, 258, 260 – 2; to Urbino 193; to Venice 36, 78, 96, 114, 170, 191 – 3, 222, 234, 267, 277, 278 – 9

306  Index Este, Leonello d’, Marquis of Ferrara 5, 6, 11, 18, 23 Este, Lucrezia d’ 10 – 11, 37 – 8, 113, 120, 147 Este, Lucrezia d’, Duchess of Urbino 66 Este, Niccolò d’ (son of Leonello) 3, 17, 18 – 19 Este, Niccolò III d’, Marquis of Ferrara 5 – 6, 13 Este, Rinaldo d’ 18 – 19 Este, Sigismondo d’ (brother of Ercole I) 7, 18 – 19, 147 Este, Sigismondo d’ (son of Ercole I) 10, 14 – 15, 83, 87 Federigo, King of Naples 191 Ferdinand, King of Aragon 66, 80, 81, 94, 205, 215 Ferrante, King of Naples 5, 6 – 7, 10, 127 Ferrara 3, 5, 7 – 8, 10 – 11, 15, 16 – 19, 21, 23, 45, 53, 61, 62, 76, 78 – 99, 107, 127, 146 – 8, 188, 197, 205, 206, 222, 233, 246, 250, 251, 263, 271, 276, 278 – 9, 283; court 2, 8, 9 – 18, 21 – 3, 76 – 7, 79, 98 – 9, 128, 129, 130, 133 – 4, 146 – 8, 165 – 6, 168, 186, 197, 214 Flanders 125 Florence 13, 83, 116, 119, 197, 199, 229, 256, 259, 261, 273 Foix, Odet de, vicomte de Lautrec 245, 248, 262 Foscarini, Antonio 278 Foschi, Tommaso 124 France 2, 37, 48, 57, 83, 97, 99, 112, 128, 153 – 4, 220, 221, 240, 243 – 5 Franceschino, cavaliere 224, 225, 227

Franchi, Cristoforo de’ 256 Francia, Francesco 113, 114, 161 Francis I, King of France 97, 152, 161 – 2, 175, 220, 221, 223, 227, 243 – 5, 246, 250 – 1, 252, 255, 284 Frassina (midwife) 32 Furlano, Enea 249, 252 – 3 Gabbioneta, Alessandro, archdeacon 31 – 2, 210, 211, 212, 216 – 17, 219, 263 Gadio, Stazio 243 Gallerani, Cecilia 78 Gallino, Jacopo 11 “la Gambacurta” (servant) 280 Gambara, Veronica 265 Gattinara, Mercurino da 267 Genoa 40, 187, 189, 190, 198, 199, 208, 222, 234, 246, 264, 271 Giorgio Moro (servant) 168, 280 Giovanna (donzella) 177 Giovanna (“Giovanna matta”, buffoon) 165 – 6 Giovio, Paolo 246 Giulio (servant) 52 Gonzaga, Alessandro 246, 267 Gonzaga, Antonia 281 Gonzaga, Barbara 277 – 8 Gonzaga, Caterina 173 Gonzaga, Cesare 174 Gonzaga, Chiara 45, 230 Gonzaga, Eleonora, Duchess of Urbino 2, 32, 33 – 5, 36, 37, 38, 52, 55, 161, 162, 166 – 7, 170, 175, 246, 250, 256, 261, 264, 267, 270, 273 – 4, 279, 281, 282 Gonzaga, Elisabetta, Duchess of Urbino 2, 22, 28, 30, 44, 46, 47 – 8, 54, 55, 147,

Index  307 148 – 9, 162, 169 – 70, 171, 185, 193 – 7, 198 – 9, 209, 246, 261, 270, 281 Gonzaga, Ercole, Cardinal 38 – 9, 67, 223, 226, 229, 231, 233, 246, 251, 253, 256 – 8, 260, 261, 272 – 3, 274, 280, 281, 282, 283 Gonzaga, Federico I, Marquis of Mantua 19 – 22 Gonzaga, Federico II, Marquis, then Duke of Mantua 239 – 40; and the arts 65, 107, 114, 115, 125, 129, 131, 241, 242, 262, 269, 270, 275, 276, 282 – 3; as a child 31, 32, 35 – 7, 135, 170, 175, 175 – 6, 209, 210, 215, 240 – 6; as condottiere 3, 4, 95 – 6, 227, 229, 230, 251 – 6, 259 – 60, 261 – 2, 264; diplomacy 225, 226, 227, 230, 244, 250, 255, 258, 261 – 4, 265 – 9, 271, 272; elevation to duke 266 – 7; at French court 154, 221, 243 – 5, 258, 259; hostage in papal court 55 – 6, 57 – 8, 59, 60, 63, 110, 114, 221, 240 – 3; negotiations for marriage 44, 45, 48, 158, 220 – 1, 262 – 3, 266 – 9; regency of Isabella for 68, 95 – 6, 109, 247 – 56, 260; relations with Isabella after succession 95 – 6, 99, 106 – 7, 159, 168, 177, 223, 225, 226, 227, 229 – 30, 232, 233, 235, 239 – 40, 246 – 56, 257, 258, 260 – 1, 262 – 3, 264, 266, 267, 269, 271, 274, 275, 276, 280 – 1, 283; succession 68, 106, 239 Gonzaga, Ferdinando, Duke of Mantua 283

Gonzaga, Ferrante 3, 4, 32, 39, 230 – 1, 232, 233, 234, 251, 256 – 7, 258 – 9, 260, 262, 263, 273, 274, 277, 279, 280, 281, 282 Gonzaga, Francesco (son of Federico II) 271, 274, 282 Gonzaga, Francesco, conte di Calvisano 246, 263 Gonzaga, Francesco, Marquis of Mantua 3, 67, 165, 175, 176, 188, 191, 198, 199, 200, 201, 205 – 10, 213, 216, 219, 220, 248, 284; appearance and characteristics 28 – 31, 35; and the arts 28, 30, 34, 41, 65, 66, 104, 105 – 6, 113, 114, 122, 129, 130, 133, 134, 135, 137, 138; betrothal and marriage to Isabella 14, 19 – 23; and his children 30, 33 – 9, 44, 45, 48, 52, 55 – 6, 57, 63, 70, 220 – 1, 239 – 40, 243 – 5, 249, 256; as condottiere 3, 29, 34, 36, 40 – 1, 44 – 5, 49 – 50, 51, 55 – 6, 57, 59, 60, 62, 65, 92, 93, 188, 206; death and will 68, 239, 247; diplomacy 44 – 50, 55 – 6, 58 – 60, 62 – 3, 66 – 7, 170, 203 – 4, 209, 210, 221, 243 – 4; and the Este 14, 19 – 22, 26 – 7, 33, 45, 60 – 2, 75, 76, 80 – 2, 85, 86, 87 – 8, 89 – 93, 94, 203; and Isabella as his regent 40 – 61; prisoner of the Venetians 50 – 60, 91, 92; sexuality 29 – 32, 65 – 6, 80 – 2, 91, 121, 122; succession 22; see also Borgia, Lucrezia, Duchess of Ferrara; Este, Isabella d’, and Francesco Gonzaga Gonzaga, Gianfrancesco 21, 40

308  Index Gonzaga, Giovanni 3, 4, 40, 41, 45, 48, 53, 61, 68, 74, 190, 207, 247, 249, 261 Gonzaga, Guglielmo 274 Gonzaga, Ippolita 32, 37 – 8, 145, 281 Gonzaga, Isabella 274 Gonzaga, Livia Giulia 32, 38, 71 Gonzaga, Livia Osanna 32, 38, 282 Gonzaga, Ludovico, Marquis of Mantua 19, 104 – 5, 168 Gonzaga, Ludovico, protonotary 22 – 3, 40, 111 – 12 Gonzaga, Luigi 281 Gonzaga, Maddalena 46 Gonzaga, Margherita (illegitimate daughter of Federico II) 281 Gonzaga, Margherita (illegitimate daughter of Francesco) 30 Gonzaga, Margherita (daughter of Francesco and Isabella) 32, 33 – 4, 70 Gonzaga, Orfeo 30 Gonzaga, Rodolfo 40, 41 Gonzaga, Sigismondo, Cardinal 34, 40, 41, 50, 51, 54, 58, 59, 68, 70, 74, 111, 158, 190, 194, 195, 226, 243, 247, 249, 251, 255, 257, 260, 261, 276 Gonzaga, Susanna 152 Gonzaga, Teodora 30, 249 Gonzaga, Vincenzo I, Duke of Mantua 283 Gonzaga di Borgoforte, Luigi 265, 266 Gonzaga di Bozzolo, Federico 256 Gonzaga di Novellara, Alessandro 231, 232 Gonzaga di Novellara, Camilla 224

Gonzaga di Sabbioneta, Giulia 228 Gonzaga di Sabbioneta, Luigi 232 Gonzaga di Sabbioneta, Pirro 228 Guarini, Alessandro 124 Guarini, Antonio 256 Guarini, Battista 11, 124, 172 Guarini, Elisabetta 172 Guarini, Guarino 11, 12 Guastalla 273 Gubbio 105, 193 Guicciardini, Francesco 253 Gurk, Bishop of see Lang, Matthaeus, Cardinal Henri, duc d’Orléans (Henri II, King of France) 275 Henry VIII, King of England 97, 162 – 3 Herodotus 130 Homer 106, 111 Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) 106, 130 Innocentia (donzella) 176 Ippolita (donzella) 177 Isabella del Balzo, Queen of Naples 129 Isabella (donzella) 280 Isabetta (donzella) 176 Juana, Queen of Naples (consort of Ferrandino) 213 – 15, 220 Juana, Queen of Naples (consort of Ferrante I) 213 – 15, 220 Julius II, Pope 49, 50, 51 – 2, 54, 55, 58 – 60, 61, 62, 63, 66, 91, 92 – 4, 114, 205, 206, 207, 211, 225, 232, 240 – 2, 248 Justinus, Marcus Junianus 126 Juvenal (Decimus Junius Juvenalis) 130

Index  309 Lang, Matthaeus, Cardinal 66 – 7, 94, 173 – 4, 175, 203 – 5, 207 Lannoy, Charles de 261 – 2 Lautrec, vicomte de see Foix, Odet de, vicomte de Lautrec Lavagnola, Isabella 177 Lazise 278 Legnago 50 Leonardo da Vinci 113, 116, 117, 121, 283 Leonbruno, Lorenzo 108 Leo X, Pope 95 – 6, 110, 158, 170, 206 – 7, 210, 212 – 13, 215, 216 – 17, 218, 219, 221, 224, 249, 250 – 3, 254, 261 Livia (donzella) 200, 201 Lombardo, Tullio 108 Lonato 199 – 200, 201 Loredan, Andrea 115 Loreto 34, 193, 222 Louis XII, King of France 38, 40, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 53, 54, 57 – 8, 60, 61, 66, 162, 197 – 8, 201, 216 Louise of Savoy 284 Lucan (Marcus Annaeus Lucanus) 130 Luzio, Alessandro 1, 43 – 4, 237, 290 Lyons 222 Mainoldi, Pietro Giacomo 278 Malaspina, Ricciarda, contessa di Massa 227 Maloselli, Bartolomeo 168 Malvezzi, Lucio 50 Manfredi, Lelio 131 Mantegna, Andrea 30, 41, 65, 106, 111, 116, 117, 119, 121, 122 Mantua 1, 2, 3, 19, 26 – 7, 32, 35, 37, 41, 45, 46, 50 – 1, 57,

59, 61, 62, 65, 66, 86, 87 – 8, 103 – 9, 130, 137 – 9, 148, 153, 170, 173, 206, 233, 234, 239, 242, 246, 248, 253 – 5, 264, 266, 268 – 70, 271, 272 – 3, 276 – 7, 279 Manuel, Juan 161 Manuzio, Aldo 124 – 5, 130 Marcello, Alvise 196 Margaret of Austria 284 Margherita of Bavaria 104 Marguerite de France 244 Mariano (buffoon) 218, 243 Marseilles 221, 222 Martini, Johannes 55, 133 Martorell, Juonot 131 Mattello (buffoon) 165 Maximilian I, Emperor-elect 49, 50, 51, 54, 57, 58, 61, 66, 93, 94, 95, 173, 201, 203, 209, 212, 221, 242 Medici, Caterina de’ 227, 275 Medici, Cosimo I, Duke of Florence 159 Medici, Giovanni de’, Cardinal see Leo X, Pope Medici, Giuliano de’ 95, 154, 207, 210, 211, 219, 221, 224 Medici, Giulio de’ see Clement VII, Pope Medici, Lorenzo de’ 13, 227, 250 Medici, Lorenzo de’, Duke of Urbino 211, 213, 218, 224, 249 Medici, Pierfrancesco de’ 197 Michelangelo Buonarroti 111, 242 Migliorotti, Atalante 135 Milan, city and duchy 2, 3, 22, 45, 57, 63, 64, 66, 75 – 6, 77 – 8, 82, 94, 96, 152 – 3, 186 – 91, 197 – 8, 199, 203 – 8, 220, 223, 226, 254, 273

310  Index Modena 19, 93, 95, 96, 97, 99, 135, 212, 219, 250, 253, 263, 264 Mola, Antonio 106 Mola, Paolo 106 Moncada, Ugo de 228 Monferrato 220, 221 – 2, 246, 267 – 8, 271 – 2 Montefeltro, Antonio da 171 Montefeltro, Federico da, Duke of Urbino 10, 105 Montefeltro, Guidobaldo da, Duke of Urbino 3, 22, 23, 26, 44, 46, 47 – 8, 52, 111, 170, 171, 193 – 4 Montpensier, comte de see Bourbon, Gilbert de, comte de Montpensier Morgantino (buffoon) 166, 224, 279, 280 Nanina (servant) 166, 177 Nanino (buffoon) 166 Naples, city and kingdom of 5, 6, 7, 11, 14, 17, 36, 41, 42, 45, 83, 191, 208, 213 – 15, 219, 223, 228, 229, 234, 246, 273 Navagero, Andrea 112 Nocencia (donzella) 175 – 6 Orsini, Felice 232 Orsini, Niccolò, conte di Pitigliano 55 Orsini del Balzo, Eleonora, marchesa di Cotrone 111, 148, 152, 153, 156, 194 Osanna (holy woman) see Andreasi, Osanna Ostia 218, 232 – 3 Ostuni, Serafino de’ 216, 217 Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso) 125, 130

Padua 194, 197, 222 Paleologo, Bonifacio, Marquis of Monferrato 222, 264, 267 Paleologo, Costantino 136 Paleologo, Giangiorgio, Marquis of Monferrato 267 – 8, 271 Paleologo, Guglielmo II, Marquis of Monferrato 220 – 2 Paleologo, Margherita, Duchess of Mantua 107, 129, 166, 268 – 71, 274, 280, 282 – 3 Paleologo, Maria 220, 221 – 2, 226, 262 – 3, 268 Paola (donzella) 280 Parentino, Bernardino 106 Parma 63, 206, 207, 253 Paul III, Pope 272 Pavia 187, 188, 189, 256 Pavia, Lorenzo da 109, 110, 117, 135, 136 – 7 Persius 130 Perugino (Pietro Vannucci) 116, 117 – 19, 120, 121 Peruzzi, Baldassare 211 Pesaro 46, 223, 229 Peschiera 201, 278 Petrarch, Francesco 12, 125, 126, 129, 133, 241 Petrucci, Alfonso, Cardinal 213, 218, 224 Phalaris of Agrigento 126 Philostratus 130 – 1 Pia, Emilia 148, 156, 170 – 1, 194 Piacenza 63, 206, 207 Piccinino, Jacopo 127 Pio da Carpi, Alberto 166 Pisa 83, 208, 209 Pisani, Francesco, Cardinal 277 Plautus 13 – 14, 130 Pliny 130 Plutarch 130 Polo (buffoon) 275

Index  311 Pomponazzi, Pietro 257 – 8 Praxiteles 111 Preti, Donato de’ 168 Prez, Josquin des 14 Propertius 130 Prosperi, Eleonora 175 Provence 220, 222, 246 Ptolemy 106 Raphael (Raffaelo Sanzio) 114, 241, 242 Ravenna 233 Razonatto, Rodolfo 202 – 3 Reggio 93, 95, 96, 97, 206, 207, 227, 250, 253, 264 Renée de France, Duchess of Ferrara 97, 98, 99, 235 Riario, Raffaele, Cardinal 209, 211 – 12, 224 Romano, Gian Cristoforo 106, 111, 113, 138 Romano, Giulio 107, 109 – 10, 242, 269, 270, 275, 276 Rome 50, 59, 93, 97, 108, 110, 146, 194, 199, 201, 208 – 13, 215 – 19, 222 – 32, 234, 240 – 3, 246, 260, 261 – 2, 272, 277 Rossetti, Biagio 16, 138 Rovere, Francesco Maria I della, Duke of Urbino 3, 4, 37, 46, 52, 55, 59, 92, 94, 162 – 3, 170, 246, 249, 250, 251, 252, 254, 256, 265, 267, 274 Rovere, Francesco Maria II della, Duke of Urbino 66 Rovere, Giulio della 274 Rovere, Guidobaldo della 223, 256 Rubens, Peter Paul 113 Rubiera 227 Rusca, Eleonora 152 – 3

Sacchetta 88 Salò 202 Sannazaro, Jacopo 128 San Pedro, Diego de 131 Sanseverino, Gaspare 165 Sansovino, Jacopo 277 Sassuolo, Rainaldo da 84 – 5 Savonarola, Girolamo 132 Scalona, Battista 88, 89 Schinner, Mattias, Cardinal 203, 204, 205 Secco, Francesco 21, 39 – 40 Seneca 130 Serafino (friar) 274 Sermide 61, 62, 88 Sestola, Girolamo da 134, 148 Sforza, Anna 75 – 6, 78 – 9, 185, 188 Sforza, Bona, Queen of Poland 152 Sforza, Caterina 43 Sforza, Ercole see Sforza, Massimiliano, Duke of Milan Sforza, Francesco 189 Sforza, Francesco I, Duke of Milan 6 Sforza, Francesco II, Duke of Milan 3, 78, 156, 191, 198, 223, 226, 264 Sforza, Galeazzo Maria, Duke of Milan 6 – 7 Sforza, Giangaleazzo, Duke of Milan 7, 189, 191 Sforza, Ludovico, Duke of Milan 3, 22, 29, 45, 57, 75, 77 – 8, 83, 128, 185, 187 – 91, 197 – 8, 204 Sforza, Massimiliano, Duke of Milan 3, 62 – 3, 64, 78, 94, 174, 191, 198, 203 – 6, 207, 215, 220, 284 Sforza, Sforza Maria 6 – 7 Sforza di Pesaro, Giovanni 46, 79

312  Index Shemek, Deanna 70, 100, 101, 144, 237, 290 Sicily 273 Silvestri, Francesco 123 Sirmione 199, 200 – 1, 202, 269, 278 Soardi, Barbara 278 Soardino, Jacopo 57 Spagnola, Beatrice 280 Spagnola, Magdalena 280 Spagnoli, Alessandro 249 Spagnoli, Battista 132, 248 Spagnoli, Tolomeo 30 – 1, 67, 248, 249 Spain 81, 86, 91, 152, 153, 220, 255, 258 – 9, 260 Strozzi, Agostino 119 Strozzi, Ercole 89 – 90 Strozzi, Lorenzo 90 – 1 Swiss in Italy 203, 205, 207, 284 Tebaldeo, Antonio 132 Terence (Publius Terentius Afer) 12, 130 Testagrossa, Giovanni Angelo 133, 134 Tibullus, Albius 130 Titian (Tiziano Vecellio) 112, 113 – 14 Toledo, Eleonora de, Duchess of Florence 159 Torelli, Barbara 90 Tosabezzi, Elisabetta 32, 173, 177 Tridapale, Giovanni Francesco 234 Trissino, Giangiorgio 257, 276

Trivulzio, Giangiacomo 198 Trocio, Francesco 47 Tromboncino, Bartolomeo 133, 136, 144 Trotta (donzella) 280 Tunis 234 Tura, Cosimo 15, 20 Urbino, city and duchy 2, 3, 30, 44, 46, 48, 105, 111, 148, 170, 171, 193 – 4, 229, 230, 233, 240, 249, 250, 256 Valladolid 260 van Eyck, Jan 114 – 15, 135, 159 Varano, Caterina Cibo, Duchess of Camerino 275 Venice 3, 19, 36, 41, 44, 45, 47, 49 – 50, 52 – 61, 62, 78, 83, 84, 91, 94, 96, 107, 114, 124, 126, 151, 155, 167, 185, 191 – 3, 194 – 7, 209, 212, 222, 229, 232, 234, 246, 248, 258, 264, 267, 276, 277, 278 – 9 Verona 49 – 50 Vianello, Michele 114, 135, 159 Vieze, Cesare de la 125, 129, 131 Vigilio, Francesco 241 Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro) 11 – 12, 124 – 5, 130, 138 Visconti, Bianca Maria, Duchess of Milan 160 Visconti, Galeazzo 57, 187 Visconti, Gaspare 127 Vitale, Hondedio de 8, 24 Vitruvius, Pollio 106