The Poisoner Who Wasn’t
History called Lucrezia Borgia a poisoner. Her contemporaries — the ones who actually knew her — called her sweet, charming, and musically voiced. Pietro Bembo, the great humanist poet, wrote her love letters that survive to this day, suggesting she was a compelling conversationalist as well as a capable administrator. She was a pawn of the Borgia family who became a Duchess in her own right.
Her speech was refined and courtly — the measured cadence of a Renaissance noblewoman trained to navigate courts where a wrong word meant poison (ironic, given her reputation). She spoke Roman Italian with Spanish Borgia undertones and, after her third marriage, adopted the dialect of Ferrara. When discussing art, poetry, and her children, the voice warmed. When navigating the lethal politics of her family, it cooled.
Roman, Spanish, Ferrarese
Roman Italian with Spanish heritage. Born in Rome to a Spanish-origin papal family. Her father was Pope Alexander VI. Her brother was Cesare Borgia. The accent would have been cosmopolitan — Vatican-raised, Spanish-flavored, later adapted to the court of Ferrara.
What the Enemies Wrote, and What She Said
“History writes what the victors wish — and I was neither victor nor vanquished, merely useful.” Attributed. Whether she said it or not, it perfectly captures the position of a woman whose reputation was written by her family’s enemies.
“In Ferrara I found what Rome denied me — the freedom to be judged by my governance, not my name.” As Duchess of Ferrara, she governed the city-state, patronized artists, and built a life that had nothing to do with the Borgia mythology.
Ferrara, Finally Free
It is 1505. Lucrezia is Duchess of Ferrara. Her father Pope Alexander VI is dead — possibly poisoned, which would be appropriately Borgia. Her brother Cesare has fallen. And for the first time in her life, Lucrezia is free. Free from arranged marriages — three, all orchestrated by her father and brother for political advantage. Free from accusations of incest and murder — almost certainly propaganda from the Borgia family’s enemies. In Ferrara, she governs. She patronizes artists. She corresponds with Pietro Bembo in letters that reveal an intellectual life hidden beneath decades of scandal. The voice is her own now. Musical, warm, discussing poetry and governance in a Ferrarese dialect that has replaced the Roman accent of her youth. She doesn’t know history will remember her as a poisoner rather than a patron. She doesn’t know she’ll die in childbirth at 39. She is finally her own person. And the voice, freed from the Borgia machine, sounds like it always should have.
Letters and Histories
- Bembo, Pietro. Letters to Lucrezia Borgia. Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan.
- Bradford, Sarah. Lucrezia Borgia: Life, Love, and Death in Renaissance Italy. Viking, 2004.
- Gregorovius, Ferdinand. Lucrezia Borgia. 1874.
- Erlanger, Rachel. Lucrezia Borgia. Hawthorn Books, 1978.