The World Is Full of Untold Stories Nobody Knows Are There
Jane Stevenson explores Renaissance power, Federico da Montefeltro’s carefully constructed legacy, overlooked women, Siena’s curated past, and the research, curiosity and storytelling that bring forgotten history vividly to life again.
J ane Stevenson is a distinguished historian, biographer and novelist whose writing brings the hidden worlds of the past vividly into view. A Senior Research Fellow at Campion Hall, University of Oxford, she combines formidable scholarship with the instincts of a natural storyteller, transforming letters, artworks, architecture and material remains into richly human narratives.
Her remarkable body of work ranges from the pioneering Women Latin Poets and the acclaimed biography of Edward Burra, Twentieth-Century Eye, to Baroque Between the Wars, Siena: The Life and Afterlife of a Medieval City and her compelling study of Federico da Montefeltro, The Light of Italy. Across fiction and non-fiction alike, Stevenson writes with elegance, intellectual curiosity and a discerning eye for those whom conventional history has overlooked—particularly the accomplished women whose lives and influence deserve far greater recognition.
What makes Stevenson’s books so rewarding is her ability to look beyond the polished image that history presents. She reveals how rulers shaped their own legends, how cities curated their pasts and how patient research can uncover extraordinary lives hidden in archives. Her work reminds us that history is never merely a collection of facts, but a contest of stories—some celebrated, others suppressed and many still waiting to be discovered.
In this conversation, Jane Stevenson discusses the carefully constructed legacy of Federico da Montefeltro, the cultural splendour of Urbino and Siena, the relationship between scholarship and storytelling, and the enduring fascination of Renaissance Italy. She also reflects upon the lessons of an exceptional writing career, offering aspiring authors wise counsel on research, originality and the importance of remaining faithful to one’s deepest interests.
Jane Stevenson is a historian whose elegant scholarship, fearless curiosity and vivid storytelling illuminate lives too long overlooked by history.
What first drew you to Federico da Montefeltro, and what convinced you that his story deserved to be told in The Light of Italy: The Life and Times of Federico da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino?
I started out being interested in his second wife, Battista Sforza. I came across her when I was researching an academic book about Renaissance women, and discovered that she was extremely well educated, and that Federico was prepared to leave her in charge at Urbino for months if not years, while he was fighting as a condottiere. That suggested that he was interesting too. I visited Urbino and saw the hauntingly beautiful palace he had built, and of course, he was a familiar face, since he has probably the most recognisable profile in the whole of renaissance Italy. I started to wonder what was behind it.
London Bridges: ‘An exhilarating read . . . refreshingly lighthearted, urbanely witty, And evocative of place’
– Sunday Telegraph
While researching Renaissance Italy, was there a discovery that completely changed your understanding of Federico or the court of Urbino?
Yes. Everything you see at Urbino – the great palace, with ‘F.D.’ all over it (for Federico, Duke), the Piero della Francesca portrait of Federico and Battista, the histories he commissioned – tells us of the great duke Federico ruling harmoniously with Battista by his side. Actually, it’s a sort of lie. Battista had one daughter after another, probably eight in all, and finally produced a son and heir, and died shortly after the birth. That same year, he was made a Duke, so she was never a duchess. During their married life they lived in about a quarter of the palace as it is now. The whole great edifice, the building, the wonderful library, ‘F.D.’, the artworks, is designed to convince posterity that he’d always been the Duke of Urbino, and was almost certainly undertaken because he finally had a son to make it worthwhile. He was actually a bastard, and almost certainly behind the murder of his legitimate half-brother, so this is a massive great fiction designed to strengthen his son’s position. It worked, too.
‘London Bridges is White Teeth as it might have been written by Agatha Christie or A. S. Byatt or Evelyn Waugh’
– Los Angeles Times
Urbino has often been described as one of the jewels of the Renaissance. What do you think modern readers can still learn from its remarkable cultural legacy?
Urbino is one of the places in Italy which is the result of one man’s vision, so it’s very coherent. As a visitor, you are stepping into a story, which has been very carefully curated- as I’ve indicated, it’s not entirely true, but everything you see is working together to convince you that it is. Of course, Federico had at his disposal some of the greatest talents in Italy, particularly Piero della Francesca, but also his amazing architect, Francesco di Giorgio, and some superbly talented craftsmen
Your books combine meticulous historical scholarship with engaging storytelling. How do you strike the balance between academic rigour and an accessible narrative?
The scholarship bit is trying to find out what was actually going on, reading letters and chronicles, and in the case of Federico, what his enemies had to say about him, looking at archaeological reports, pictures, material remains of all kinds. But it’s important never to forget that you are telling a story about a person, or a place. Facts go in if they help you flesh out the story. It can be tempting to bang on about something just because it took you three weeks to find the fact in question, but it’s your duty as a writer to be interesting.
In writing Siena: The Life and Afterlife of a Medieval City, what surprised you most about Siena’s history beyond its famous art and architecture?
I hadn’t realised that after Siena’s fall as an independent republic in the sixteenth century, the Sienese spent much of their collective life curating their glorious past. Like Urbino, the city is trying to tell you a story. The actual Siena of the fourteenth and fifteenth century looked very different from the ‘beautifully preserved medieval city’ of today.
Italy has inspired generations of historians and writers. What is it about the country’s history that continues to fascinate you?
The Renaissance really is extraordinary; one of the points in history, like the Industrial Revolution, where a small group of wildly talented people set the world on a different course.
Having written both historical non-fiction and fiction, including London Bridges, how does your creative process differ between the two?
The two aren’t all that different. Fiction also requires a great deal of research, unless you are writing about people who are really versions of yourself. You need to fill out the character’s back stories, even if they aren’t included. If they have professional lives, you have to discover what they actually do, and what they know. Turning this the other way up, if you’re writing a biography, you start with uncovering the facts, but fundamentally you have to use the facts you have found to realize a character.
Do you think historical cities such as Siena and Urbino are sometimes misunderstood by visitors who only experience their beauty without knowing their stories?
Probably, but I don’t think that’s necessarily wrong. When you visit any place, you bring along your own knowledge and experience. To my mind, you get more out of looking at a place if you know about the history and culture behind it, but the really important thing is to know that it has one. I’m sure I would be moved by visiting the Taj Mahal, though I don’t know anything about the thought that lies behind it except that someone loved his wife very much.
Were there any historical figures you encountered during your research whom you felt deserved far greater recognition than history has given them?
It’s tempting just to answer, ‘all the women’. In Federico’s case, because he was a bastard and his father’s wife didn’t want him around, he was brought up at another little court in the mountains. He was actually educated by his foster mother, Giovanna degli Alidosi. He always claimed to be the pupil of the famous educator Vittorino da Feltre, but actually, he was only at school in Mantua for three years, and a lot of his time was spent learning military skills, not Greek. Another person short changed by history is Francesco di Giorgio, Federico’s architect. He was as multi-talented as Leonardo da Vinci but hardly anyone has heard of him.
Looking back across your career, which project challenged you the most, and what did it teach you as a writer and historian?
I wrote a book called Women Latin Poets. You can guess what it was about. It took me ten years. When I started, everyone I mentioned it to said, ‘there aren’t any’, and I said, ‘has anyone been to look?’ Working out how and where to find evidence was extremely difficult and complicated, but I dug up about three hundred women Latin poets, and discovered some very interesting characters. What it taught me above all is that the world is full of untold stories nobody knows are there.
What writing habits or techniques would you recommend to aspiring authors hoping to write compelling historical books or novels?
Do your research. Find your characters’ voices – if you are writing about history, read their letters and other writings, if there are any. If you’re making up a character, read things by people from the right background. What music did they listen to? Listen to some of it. What clothes did they wear – were they tightly enclosed, or could they move freely? When I was researching Federico I spent days trying to find out what it was really like to wear armour, for instance.
What advice would you give to aspiring authors who want to build a lasting writing career while staying true to their own interests and passions?
If you don’t stay true to your own interests, you’ll become boring, so stick to your guns. But it does help to develop a brand, to the extent that if a reader sees a book by you and thinks ‘oh, I enjoyed the last one’, they won’t be disappointed by it. I wasn’t very good at that.
If you could spend one day in Renaissance Italy, where would you go first, and who would you most like to have dinner with?
I think I’d go to Milan and dine with Bianca Maria Sforza. From the look of her, she kept a good table, and she’d certainly be interesting to talk to.
If Federico da Montefeltro could read your book today, what do you think he would say about it?
He would approve of having a biography because in the Renaissance, biographies were stories about great men. However, he would be livid about some of the things I found out, and especially, he would be furious that he wasn’t able to control my narrative. The authors who worked for him wrote the stories he wanted told.
Which historical figure would be the most entertaining travelling companion on a modern city break?
I think I’d take John Aubrey; a charming seventeenth century loser. He lost his family estates after a lawsuit and spent the rest of his life living off his friends, noticing things, and writing them down. He had to be a good companion because he was pretty much a professional guest, he noticed quirky details in the world around him, and he enjoyed life.
If your study suddenly turned into a Renaissance library overnight, which book would you pick up first and why?
Virgil. It’s the bedrock text of renaissance humanism. I’d hope for a beautiful Aldine edition from Venice; I don’t think my library would run to a Florentine manuscript, even a plain one.
