AS 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.
ALONGSIDE 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.
By the time the holiday festivities were underway, however, the engagement plans had soured. While Gabriella originally had agreed to the written terms of her daughter's marriage contract, the prospective groom arrived in Milan with one additional, and unacceptable, demand—to have sexual relations with the future bride upon formalizing the engagement.
Gabriella Gonzaga flatly refused to allow the debauched Riario —of inferior rank, to boot—to deflower her daughter, insisting that he await the legal of age of consummation, fourteen. Infuriated at this roadblock, Galeazzo railed and threatened, but the mother held out staunchly.
On January 6, 1473, the marquis of Mantua wrote to propose a compromise that would be satisfactory to his daughter Gabriella and (he hoped) the count of Bosco. To consider the marriage legally and bindingly consummated, Gabriella would allow her child to be "put to bed" with Riario, with herself and several noblewomen present, as well as any other witnesses the groom might choose to include.3 This ceremony alone would be considered equivalent to consummation, though no actual carnal intercourse would take place. Girolamo refused and threatened to leave Milan. Galeazzo, watching his plans unravel, needed to placate Girolamo immediately.
As Caterina sat at her father's table, enjoying the lavish holiday fare, she would have heard melodious singing and the clatter of dishes, but not the hurried and desperate negotiations in which her fate was being settled by her father, the marquis of Mantua, and the count of Bosco. Finally, Galeazzo offered to substitute his own ten-year-old Caterina as bride in Costanza's stead. Girolamo accepted and on January 17, 1473, the wedding contract was stipulated in a tiny ceremony, with only the duke, the duchess, and the court doctor present.
In the Renaissance world of arranged marriages, there were no romantic proposals on bended knee—only notaries and contracts. The process consisted of three stages. The first was the negotiation between the parents of both parties regarding dowry and any arrangement of alliances or transfer of lands. The second was the betrothal ceremony, at which the bride and groom would be presented to each other, often for the first time. Before a series of witnesses, a notary asked if they wished to be married, and the couple responded "Volo," "I do." The contract would be signed and the agreement sealed with a ring and a kiss. If the new husband and wife were of age, meaning about fourteen, the marriage could then be consummated, but this was not usually done until the third stage, the actual transfer of the bride to her new husband's house. Consummation, or carnal intercourse, was the point of no return in a Renaissance marriage. After having been "possessed" by her husband, the young woman could no longer back out of the marriage without grave scandal accruing to herself and to her family. Reaching this last stage could take up to a year for most families; with nobles, it could take much longer.4
Caterina's voice was never heard or solicited during this period, nor would she have expected anyone to ask her opinion. Like all noble girls of her age in this era, she expected to be married in a year or two and to be producing children soon after. Although the sudden marriage and premature intercourse would indeed have been traumatic for ten-year-old Caterina, she had been raised to do her part to maintain the family fortunes. A lucky child like Costanza might have a determined parent with enough connections to impose her will, but in Caterina's household, her father's word was law. Children in the Sforza clan would have understood that they existed to be bartered for the greater good of the Sforza name and Sforza claims. Raised in a worldly court, where mistresses were the norm and bawdy humor preempted erudite conversation, Caterina probably knew what awaited her on the wedding night.5 Although her first sexual experience was probably painful and unpleasant, Caterina got over her psychological and physical wounds quickly. She never wavered in her affection for her father, even after his death, and later in life she would be known as a woman who enjoyed sex to an "unseemly" degree.
That Caterina's father was satisfied with the arrangement is well documented in the proud missives he sent to Pope Sixtus IV, recounting the successful outcome of the negotiations, as well as in the retaliatory letters the duke sent to Gabriella Gonzaga. Pondering her last-minute refusal, the duke professed himself mystified. "To tell the truth, Lady Gabriella seems strange and wild to us," he wrote to his ambassador in Rome on the day of Caterina's wedding. "We have been considerate of her because she is a woman and, this being the nature of women, we don't want to argue with them."6
A week later, the duke reported that "Count Girolamo leaves this morning from here to return to his Holiness the Pope and to His Eminent brother. We welcomed him gladly and affectionately while he was here, because we liked him a great deal. And he slept with his wife another time and he is very happy and content. Please relate this to His above-mentioned Holiness and His Eminent brother, adding that we accepted him wholeheartedly not just as a son-in-law, but as a son, and thus we want to keep and consider him."7
The hasty consummation did not please the pope, however, who was obliged to issue a papal bull within a matter of weeks to clear up the irregularities in the marriage. The document, signed on February 26, 1473, declared the last-minute switch in bride valid and absolved all parties involved in the illegal intercourse.8 And so Caterina, the child who had watched the yule log crackle on Christmas, was a wife by the time the ashes had cooled.
Once the two families were united through marriage, it was time to get down to business. Caterina brought with her a hefty dowry of ten thousand ducats, while Girolamo presented expensive gifts of jewels, dresses embroidered with pearls, and silk and brocade capes, meant for whichever wife he obtained.9 But the real objective was Imola. On September 12, 1473, Girolamo's brother Cardinal Pietro Riario arrived in Milan to close the deal. Though two years younger than Girolamo, Pietro was the smarter of the two and served the pope as his most trustworthy delegate. Handsome, witty, and well educated, he had been appointed cardinal at the age of twenty-six and oversaw international affairs for his uncle.
Rumors of Pietro's far-from-ascetic tastes reached Milan long before he did, and the duke went out of his way to welcome the cardinal in grand style. Dozens of trumpets greeted the churchman and his retinue of 220 (Girolamo had, by contrast, traveled with an entourage of 60). Rooms were enlarged and repainted, and the vaulted ceiling of one reception room was lined with expensive red velvet. Sumptuous parties followed upon lavish hunts, and the honored guest did not shy away from these worldly entertainments. Smiling, charming, and notoriously successful with women, Pietro Riario delighted the Sforza court, especially his new sister-in-law Caterina. Upon his arrival, Caterina recited verses of welcome in Latin, and the cardinal flattered her profusely, admiring both her beauty and her education. But as easily distracted by games, feasts, and local beauties as he may have been, Pietro never forgot why he was there. By October 23, Pietro Riario had completed the purchase of Imola from Milan for the steep price of forty thousand ducats. Although the pope reeled from sticker shock, he soon recovered and set about procuring loans from Florentine banks. As part of the deal, he nominated Girolamo—"for his noble blood, wealth of merits, and distinctive valor"—as count of Imola, a title to be passed on to his heirs.
With the negotiations concluded and the festivities over, Pietro Riario left Milan, only to die three short months later at the age of twenty-seven. Contemporary chronicles relate that the "whole world wept" at the passing of this worldly and luxury-loving cardinal, and that the pope especially was heartbroken. Girolamo wasted no time laying claim to his brother's vast fortune as well as his high position at the papal court. Meanwhile, Caterina, the eleven-year-old countess of Imola, waited quietly in Milan for word from her husband.