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BEFORE YOU EVEN GET TO THIS GARDEN, you hear rushing water. Then you stand above majestic terraces filled with countless sculpted fountains, ponds, and grottoes. Water shoots up in grand columns, arcs out of a hundred animal heads, tumbles like a curtain over caves, pumps through a stone organ that plays a classical tune. On and on and on, it’s High Renaissance Aqua-Theater.

Villa d’Este was Cardinal Ippolito d’Este’s spectacular reaction to getting a booby prize. In the mid-sixteenth century, he lost out on becoming Pope. The powers that were in Rome shooed him away to suburban Tivoli and gave him the job of governor. Instead of living a life of luxury in the papal apartments, he was exiled to government housing: a plain ol’ former Benedictine convent.

Being the rich Renaissance guy that he was, Ippolito embraced the “Man Controls Nature” philosophy of his day. Reaching back to the glory of ancient Rome, he built a massive aqueduct, diverting the plentiful waters of the Aniene River to his backyard. He pillaged the nearby Villa of Hadrian, using the former Emperor’s marble and statues to make his home magnificent. He threw elaborate banquets, stocking his ponds with fish for his guests to catch and then hand over to servants to cook up. Folks came and marveled over the waterworks, calling it d’Este’s “Garden of Miracles.” Living Well Is the Best Revenge became his mantra.

Ippolito could have sulked and blamed his late mamma, Lucrezia Borgia, for his dreary Tivoli assignment. Lucrezia’s father, Pope Alexander VI, had headed up a family of notorious Borgia villains who’d run the Vatican’s reputation into the dirt. Lucrezia was the beauty of the clan, rumored to have worn a hollow ring filled with poison that she’d drip into cups of those the family found undesirable. Her first two husbands were gotten rid of by the Borgia men when they didn’t cooperate with the family’s evil plans.

The Duke of Ferrara (Alfonso d’Este) became Lucrezia’s third husband, and father to Ippolito. Their marriage had glimmers of respectability. Sure, Lucrezia had her affairs—with the popular poet Bembo and, most naughtily, with the husband of that paragon of virtue, Isabella d’Este. But the Duke played around too and pretty much let Lucrezia’s dalliances slide. To the outside world, the couple put on a classy royalty show. Lucrezia bore seven children and became zealously religious in her later years, until she died in childbirth at thirty-nine. Still, her femme fatale legacy would never disappear, which mucked up Ippolito’s chance at becoming Pope.

Which is why at Tivoli he pumped up the fact that he was a d’Este. His whole paternal line had glorified themselves by wackily tracing their roots back to Hercules, so Ippolito filled his home and garden with allusions to the hero.

He had a villa room frescoed with a triumphant scene of Hercules in the Garden of Hesperides. According to legend, the strong man was challenged to go to this garden and pick an immortality-inducing golden apple that grew on a tree guarded by three “nymphs of the night,” called Hesperides. All over Villa d’Este there are frescos including lemons, and lush pots of them in the garden, symbolizing those golden apples.

You’d hardly know this place was owned by a cardinal, or that it was even a former convent, as it has a smorgasbord of pagan images. Goddesses make their appearances in Ippolito’s bedroom—there’s a wall fresco of the gadabout Venus, and to balance things out, a chaste Diana on the ceiling. Ippolito put another version of Diana, as nature goddess of Ephesus, spouting water from what appears to be multiple breasts (actually they symbolized sacrificial bull’s testicles), smack in front of the water organ. But conservative types that came in 1611 moved that Diana to the more discreet corner you’ll find it in today.

Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom and Rome, crowns the Rometta fountain, a mini-model of the Eternal City. It’s at the top of the terraces, facing Rome. You can imagine Ippolito standing right there, amidst his happy guests—from cardinals to courtesans—as they romped about his playground. No doubt he’d take in the whole scene, look past Minerva towards the city that rejected him, and smile.

Golden Day: Visit the Villa d’Este and the nearby Hadrian’s Villa. It’s best to go to the latter with a tour group, because like the Roman Forum, it’s a huge, sprawling place and practically none of the ruins are marked. Have lunch at Antico Ristorante Sibilla (Via della Sibilla 50, 077 4335281, closed Monday), an elegant restaurant from 1730, set overlooking the river beside the Roman Temple of Vesta and Sanctuary of the Sibyl.