[1] The whole question of Lucrezia’s guilt has been ably investigated by Gregorovius (Lucrezia Borgia, pp. 101, 159-64).  Charity suggests that the dreadful tradition of her relation to her father and brothers is founded less upon fact than upon the scandals current after her divorce.  What Giovanni Sforza said was this:  ’anzi haverla conosciuta infinite volte, ma chel Papa non gelha tolta per altro se non per usare con lei.’  This confession of the injured husband went the round of all the Courts of Italy, was repeated by Malipiero and Paolo Capello, formed the substance of the satires of Sannazaro and Pontano, crept into the chronicle of Matarazzo, and survived in the histories of Machiavelli and Guicciardini.  There was nothing in his words to astonish men who were cognizant of the acts of Gianpaolo Baglioni and Sigismondo Malatesta; while the frantic passion of Alexander for his children, closely allied as this feeling was in him to excessive sensuality, gave them confirmation.  Were they, however, true; or were they a malevolent lie?  That is the real point at issue.  Psychological speculation will help but little here.  It is true that Lucrezia in after-life showed all the signs of a clear conscience.  But so also did Alexander, whose buoyancy of spirits lasted till the very day of his death.  Yet he was stained with crimes foul enough to darken the conscience of any man, at any period of life, and in any position.

    [2] See Burchard, ed.  Leibnitz, pp. 77 and 78.

Yet even at Ferrara tragedies which might remind her of the Vatican continued to surround her path.  Alfonso, rude in manners and devoted to gun-foundry, interfered but little with the life she led among the wits and scholars who surrounded her.  One day, however, in 1508, the poet Ercole Strozzi, who had sung her praises, was found dead, wrapped in his mantle, and pierced with two-and-twenty wounds.  No judicial inquiry into this murder was made.  Rumor credited both Alfonso and Lucrezia with the deed—­Alfonso, because he might be jealous of his wife—­Lucrezia, because her poet had recently married Barbara Torelli.  Two years earlier another dark crime at Ferrara brought the name of Borgia before the public.  One of Lucrezia’s ladies, Angela Borgia, was courted by both Giulio d’ Este and the Cardinal Ippolito.  The girl praised the eyes of Giulio in the hearing of the Cardinal, who forthwith hired assassins to mutilate his brother’s face.  Giulio escaped from their hands with the loss of one of his eyes, and sought justice from the Duke against the Cardinal in vain.  Thereupon he vowed to be revenged on both Ippolito and Alfonso.  His plot was to murder them, and to place Ferdinand of Este on the throne.  The treason was discovered; the conspirators appeared before Alfonso:  he rushed upon Ferdinand, and with his dagger stabbed him in the face.  Both Giulio and Ferdinand were thrown into the dungeons of the palace at Ferrara, where they languished for