Maggie O’Farrell’s last two novels have been works of historical fiction that deal with heavy topics. In Hamnet, it was the death of William Shakespeare’s young son from the plague, and in The Marriage Portrait it is the death of the 15-year-old Duchess of Ferrara, Lucrezia de’Medici, thought to have been murdered by her own husband. O’Farrell is a master of foreboding, keeping the reader on the edge of their seat while waiting for the horrid event to occur. And yet, despite the fact that we know what is coming, we find ourselves not ready, hoping it won’t turn out the way we know it must. O’Farrell has an amazing talent for writing from the point of view of characters who find themselves confronted with fear, powerlessness, death and grief. As desperate and sad as the characters’ fates are, O’Farrell also shows the reader how a person might face these impossible situations. While I would not say that O’Farrell gives her readers happy endings, she does somehow give us hopeful endings.
Lucrezia de’Medici was a real person, daughter Florence’s Grand Duke Cosimo and Eleanor. Not much is known about her brief life (1545-1561). She apparently did some painting, was married to Duke Alfonso d’Este of Ferrara, and died shortly thereafter. The official cause of death was listed as “putrid fever,” but apparently not long after her death, rumors arose that the Duke had had her killed. Robert Browning’s “My Last Duchess” was inspired by this take on events, and Browning’s poem in turn inspired O’Farrell. In her Author’s Note at the end of the novel, O’Farrell discusses historical facts and her fictionalizations. Since there is very little factual information available about Lucrezia, O’Farrell was able to come up with her own vivid and fascinating backstory for this girl. In The Marriage Portrait, Lucrezia is the black sheep of her large family. From infancy she was difficult and farmed out to the household servants for care. As Lucrezia grew, she picked up important skills: how to move silently and secretly through the palace, how to listen at doors and through walls, how to gather information. Lucrezia also was a better and more perceptive student than her siblings and a very talented artist, the one thing that seems to have gotten her positive attention from her parents. Lucrezia is fascinated by light, textures, and all forms of wildlife. She has sympathy for the wild creatures that her father collects and keeps chained below the palace, and she will increasingly feel herself to be likewise chained, unfree and potentially ferocious.
Lucrezia’s betrothal to Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, occurs after her older sister María, the Duke’s original fiancée, died (this is based on historical fact). Lucrezia does not want to marry this man who, at 24, is twice her age, but of course she has no say in the matter. She has reason to believe that he might be kind, and that perhaps her marriage will be a happy marriage as her parents’ is. At first, Alfonso is kind and solicitous, treating her with more respect than her family ever did, but some odd things happen where he disappears without explanation. He refuses to discuss anything about his family or court life, and clearly will not consult Lucrezia for advice the way Cosimo consulted Eleanor. Alfonso’s right hand man Baldassarre is another matter for concern; he seems to resent and dislike Lucrezia immediately and his violent brutish behavior will alienate Lucrezia.
The first months of the marriage are more or less pleasant for Lucrezia. Instead of going to Ferrara, the newlyweds move to a villa in the countryside where Lucrezia experiences real freedom for the first time in her life. She can walk as she pleases and spend the day painting. She does not care for intercourse with Alfonso, but she knows that her role is to produce an heir asap. What she gradually comes to realize is that court politics and the desperate need for an heir will put her in grave danger. There is an actual marriage portrait of Lucrezia that Alfonso had done, and the arrival of the painter and his assistants becomes an opportunity to observe her husband, his court, and the work of professional artists. O’Farrell ties the painting of this portrait to Lucrezia’s fate in a most creative and satisfying manner.
This novel was difficult to put down once I started. Lucrezia is a well drawn character whose fate mattered to me. O’Farrell’s descriptive passages — of nature, of Lucrezia’s thoughts and of her husband’s behavior, of court life and intrigue — are filled with stunning detail and emotion. The resolution to the drama took me by surprise in the best possible way. I didn’t want it to end but of course it had to. I recommend this novel for those who like suspense and for those whose interest in historical fiction skews toward the Renaissance.
