The Tigress of Forli (4 page)

The wealth of Florence was displayed in its streets. The mighty cupola of the cathedral of Florence, Brunelleschi's astonishing architectural feat, dominated the city. The guild building of Orsanmichele, a few steps from the cathedral, was a proud showcase of sculpture commissioned by the Florentines. Donatello's
Saint Mark
was carved with a gravitas alien to the gothic-style sculptures of Milan, and
Saint John the Baptist
by Ghiberti was the first bronze life-size sculpture to be cast in a single piece since antiquity. Newly unveiled and the pride of the city were Ghiberti's doors to the Baptistery of Florence, with ten gilt-bronze panels in relief, which an admiring Michelangelo would later dub "the gates of Paradise."

The greatest Florentine riches, however, lay in the ingenuity and the creativity of its free citizens. The Florentines tried to outdo one another in inventiveness and novelty, not lavish display. For example, the Sforza family arrived in time for the Feast of the Annunciation. This holiday, celebrated on March 25, recalls the day the angel Gabriel told the Virgin Mary that she would bear a child, the Son of God, and it marked the first day of the New Year in Florence. Their Medici hosts took the duke and his family to see miracle plays at the churches of Florence, including the most beloved production of the year, the "Ascension of Christ" at the Church of Santa Maria del Carmine. This breathtaking spectacle included arrays of flying angels played by local children, who descended from the skies to welcome Jesus as he rose on clouds into Paradise. Engineers had built machines to lift and move people, props, and scenery. The Florentines likewise excelled in games, from boxing to tennis, but always favored strategy over force. Even in jousts, they prided themselves on overcoming brute strength through intellectual superiority.

The Sforzas, expecting to overwhelm their Tuscan neighbors with their obvious military might and dazzling demonstration of wealth, found themselves gently rebuked by these practical, hardworking people. What the Milanesi had perceived as glamorous the Florentines derided as gaudy. And although not a single person in Florence—not even Lorenzo the Magnificent—vaguely approached Galeazzo Maria in rank and stature, it seemed that the people of this proud republic, ennobled by their intellectual achievements, were looking down on him and his entourage. The Milanese party returned home, sober but enlightened.

A
S CATERINA'S TRAVELS
came to a close, her childhood too was drawing to an end. The wide-eyed ten-year-old was about to become a pawn in political maneuvers that lay beyond her ken.

At the end of October, shortly after his return to Milan, Duke Galeazzo Maria fell deathly ill with smallpox, plunging the ducal household into panic. The fatalism with which the duke viewed his illness alarmed his dependents, and an emergency alert spread throughout the court. No situation was trickier than the death of a sovereign while his heirs were still too young to rule. Galeazzo himself, who was an adult at the time of his father's death, had been first ambushed and then besieged as he tried to reach Milan—despite having disguised himself as a Frenchman's servant in a vain effort to avoid detection. Raised amid court intrigue in France, Caterina's stepmother, Bona, knew well what was at stake. Paradoxically, widowhood could be a woman's path to power in the Renaissance, through regency for an underage heir. While women could not gain the rule of a city by inheritance, with enough support a widow with a very young son could assume the position of regent until he came of age. Because this was a frequent occurrence, especially in turbulent states, a wise woman learned the art of statecraft early. Like riding an unruly animal, controlling a realm, whether large or small, was a difficult and complicated challenge, especially for a woman. Threats external and internal abounded. Widows were commonly obliged to remarry in the interests of peacekeeping. Noble mothers of infant sons often had to fight off usurping relatives or foreign claimants to protect their filial inheritance. The demise of many a young widow and child heir had followed hard upon the death of a ruler. The risks were particularly high in Milan, where popular uprisings were still a part of living memory, and several adult brothers of Galeazzo were hungry for the ducal throne.

As powerless doctors hovered over her father's bedside and a steady stream of notaries, couriers, and confessors flowed in and out of the castle, young Caterina learned much about the transfer of power. Bona took action immediately to protect the dukedom for her son, Gian Galeazzo, an infant of just two years. She wrote to her brother-in-law, Louis IX, king of France, requesting that the powerful monarch support her child's claim. For more immediate military support, in case it proved necessary, she contacted the Gonzaga family of Mantua, allies with a strong army a few hours' march away.

The tense atmosphere in the castle dissipated, however, when to everyone's surprise Galeazzo Maria regained his strength. His recovery from a brush with death seemed to infuse him with renewed vigor, for he proceeded to set Milan on a course of transformation that would enable it to compete with the great courts of Italy. Art, architecture, and especially music flourished over the following years. Milan's crude warrior princes acquired a patina of Renaissance humanism. Caterina herself reaped many benefits from these stimulating developments: she learned to compose and recite Latin verse and to appreciate fine art. She also saw how a realm could be enriched through intelligent, far-sighted building programs. Galeazzo fostered a printing industry, and in short order Milan emerged as an energetic rival to intellectual Florence. Galeazzo Maria had been deeply impressed with the Gonzaga castle in Mantua, which demonstrated that a well-fortified defensive structure could also make a magnificent residence. The duke had been especially taken with Andrea Mantegna's monumental Camera Picta, the lavishly painted chamber that Galeazzo dubbed "the most beautiful room in the world." The four walls presented the family, friends, and allies of the Gonzagas in colorful procession against a richly detailed landscape. One aspect of that work, however, was highly displeasing to Galeazzo Maria: his own portrait had been left out of the array of political notables.

In 1472, the duke commenced work on his own cycle of decorative paintings in the Porta Giovia castle. One-upping the single chamber of the Gonzaga palace, Galeazzo's program would cover two halls. For this ambitious undertaking, he commandeered the services of the best Lombard painters, Bonifacio Bembo and Vincenzo Foppa. The project was never completed, perhaps because the duke fretted excessively over its planning, demanding endless modifications as his family grew and his political affiliations changed.

The great hall was to boast a hunting scene featuring the duke, his brothers, and court intimates, including a spoof of the poor riding skills of one of the duke's favorites, a certain Alessio Piccinino from Albania, who was depicted in an embarrassing position after "a stag has thrown him from his horse and he is raising his legs to the sky in as attractive a manner as possible."
¹
The purpose of the decoration was to underscore the rightful succession from Visconti to Sforza rule. In an unusual yet poignant touch, the two-year-old heir, Gian Galeazzo Sforza, was represented holding the hand of his father. Galeazzo Maria also intended to use the fresco cycle as a retort to the perceived insult from the Gonzagas. The marquis of Mantua—of the Gonzaga family—would be included, but he was placed next to the marquis of Monserrat, a tiny, insignificant state.

Galeazzo also planned an even grander project during this period, an equestrian monument to his father, Francesco Sforza. If the Gonzagas could adapt the Pantheon to their Camera Picta, the Sforzas could commission a statue to rival that of Emperor Marcus Aurelius in Rome, the sole surviving bronze equestrian monument from antiquity. This ambitious commission would eventually draw Leonardo da Vinci to Milan in 1482.

Closer to Galeazzo Maria's heart than any statue or painting, however, was the dream of amassing the grandest choir in Europe, for music delighted him more than any other art. To this end, the duke sent agents to many different Italian states, often upsetting diplomatic relations as he hired away the best singers and other musicians. An especially awkward situation arose when Galeazzo lured several performers away from King Ferdinand of Naples shortly after they had negotiated a long-awaited and precarious alliance. Peace was maintained, but King Ferdinand was left
cum la bocca molto amara
—"with a very bitter taste in his mouth." The duke's extraordinary choir soon achieved the preeminence Galeazzo had sought. The forty musicians, from both Italy and abroad, transformed Milan into the most exciting city in Europe for choral music.

 

A
LONGSIDE THESE CULTURAL
endeavors, intended to lend magnificence to his rule, Galeazzo Maria also embarked upon several political maneuvers that would irrevocably shape the course of Caterina's life. In Romagna, a region bordering Milanese territory, the little fiefdom of Imola had been in a state of political unrest due to revolts against the ruling family of Taddeo Manfredi. A constantly shifting pawn on the political landscape, Imola had been ruled by both Milan and the pope, as part of the Papal States; both Venice and Florence were eager to acquire it. Imola had fertile soil for growing wheat as well as other crops and held a strategic position between northern and southern Italy. It was well placed on the roads to the Adriatic coast, the launching point for the rich commercial trade with the East.

Using the unstable Manfredi rule as a pretext, Galeazzo Maria took Imola by force in 1471, adding it to his own territories. Many neighboring rulers were enraged by this bold and undiplomatic maneuver, none more so than Lorenzo the Magnificent. To placate the powerful Florentine, the duke promised to sell him the town, but as subsequent events revealed, Galeazzo had other ideas in mind.

Another upheaval occurred that same year, with the death of Pope Paul II Barbo. After the funeral ceremonies for the Venetian pope, the College of Cardinals entered into conclave and on August 9 elected Francesco della Rovere from Savona as Pope Sixtus IV. The new pope was well aware that the principal promoter of his election had been the duke of Milan, and Sixtus IV wasted no time in making overtures to his new friend and ally, with a view to cementing their relationship. The currents set in motion by the ascension of a della Rovere to the papacy and the conquest of Imola by Galeazzo would soon converge on the young Caterina.

The Milanese Christmas celebration in 1472 was the most lavish Caterina had ever witnessed. An array of noble guests attended court festivities that were hailed as the finest in Christendom. The preparations began as early as October, as guest lists were drawn up and lodgings found for visiting heads of state. Along with everyone at court, Caterina was given a splendid new wardrobe. Hundreds of yards of red and black velvet were procured and trimmed with silver and gold brocade. A widespread search was undertaken for material the "color of lion skin" to dress the thirty-two singers of the choir. Stores were laid up for the two hundred people expected at the ducal celebration.

At last the much-anticipated holiday arrived. At sunset on December 24, Caterina and her three brothers and sisters gathered in a large hall of the castle while a kind of yule log known as the
ciocco,
a piece of pinewood adorned with juniper and laurel, was burned in the fireplace amid much merriment. Intimates of the family at this private celebration included Ludovico Gonzaga, marquis of Mantua; Pino Ordelaffi, lord of Forlì Giovanni Bentivoglio of Bologna; and a new guest to the court, Girolamo Riario, a dissolute nephew of Pope Sixtus IV who had recently been made the count of Bosco.

As Caterina sang along with her family, enjoying the spicy fragrance of the smoldering
ciocco
like everyone else, she may have been dreaming of a new year of health and happiness. Her father and Girolamo Riario, however, were interested in another portent of the yule log: prosperity. Thirty-year-old Girolamo Riario was the son of the pope's sister Bianca and a shoemaker; several contemporaries sneered at his lineage. Having received a cursory education, Girolamo had been pursuing a lowly career as a customs official in Savona when his uncle was elected pope. This turn of events had brought about his promotion to captain of the papal armies. Machiavelli would later refer to Girolamo as springing from a "very base and vile condition,"
²
an opinion shared by many in the Milanese court.

Melozzo da Forlì's idealized portrait of Girolamo in the Vatican Museums shows a trim, handsome man with large gray eyes and golden-brown hair falling in fashionable tresses above his shoulders. This popular hairstyle among Renaissance men framed the face with fair curls, like a luminous halo. Although he was portrayed with regular, even noble features, contemporaries described him quite differently. His detractors saw him as fat, with a heavy peasantlike appearance, pale skin, and a sickly disposition. Neither innately bright nor well read, Girolamo clearly owed his title and position to his illustrious uncle.

Duke Galeazzo celebrated the Feast of the Nativity with great pomp for reasons that were not entirely driven by personal piety. Cloaked in a long robe of crimson damask, the duke dutifully attended three Christmas Masses with his family and court. But he was also exploiting the holiday gathering to consolidate his rule, mend feuds, ennoble faithful retainers, and grant pardons.

Galeazzo was also planning a marriage. His hope during the Christmas season of 1472 was to unite the papal family to the Duchy of Milan, thus enlisting papal support to reinforce the legitimacy of Sforza rule. The question of legitimate rule had been a thorn in his side from the beginning of his reign. While the Milanese population accepted him as their de facto ruler, the Holy Roman Emperor refused to recognize him as the duke of Milan and had even avoided passing through Milanese territory during his last visit to Italy. Over the preceding three centuries, numerous claimants had fought their way onto the thrones of many Italian territories, but the larger, more powerful states often did not deign to recognize their authority. During the long years of war between the Guelphs (papal factions) and Ghibellines (supporters of the Holy Roman Empire), the Holy Roman Emperor, as successor to Charlemagne, claimed feudal rights over the northern Italian territories, particularly Milan. Therefore only Emperor Frederick III could officially confer the sovereign title of duke on Galeazzo, but he appeared to have no intention of doing so. Sforza agents at the emperor's court were authorized to pay virtually any price to obtain the title, but the emperor preferred to keep the Sforzas on a tight leash. Pope Sixtus, on the other hand, was interested in securing the protection of the strongest state in Italy, for he himself was of humble origins and lacked a powerful family to back him. Accordingly, Girolamo's visit was part of a plan to formally establish the betrothal of a member of the Sforza clan to the pope's nephew. The girl selected was eleven-year-old Costanza Fogliani, daughter of Duke Galeazzo's uncle Corrado Fogliani and Gabriella Gonzaga, the natural daughter of Ludovico Gonzaga of Mantua.