The Renaissance had begun in Florence in the middle of the preceding century; this transformation of art, architecture and thought had now evolved and was beginning to spread north from Italy across the Alps into Germany and France. A spectacular unforeseen transformation of the western world had begun. The Renaissance may have been, in part at least, a rebirth of classical ideas, but it would also grow to include its own unique elements. Western Europe was developing a new, recognizably modern culture. Who could predict how this might evolve?
At the same time other events, of profound but unrealized significance, were already taking place. Again, with hindsight, we can see that the ascent of a ruthless Borgia to the papal throne in 1492 was but one of these events. In Spain, the last of the Muslim rulers surrendered to King Ferdinand of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castile in January 1492. By October of the same year, Columbus had made landfall in the New World. Europe appeared poised to enter a new age where anything was possible. And Alexander VI was determined that the Borgias should play a leading role in any such historical development.
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* Twenty-four years later Cardinal Giovanni de’ Medici would become Pope Leo X.
* At the time, an artisan would have been lucky to earn twenty-five ducats in a year. An adolescent female Caucasian slave could be bought for six ducats.
* Cardinal del Milà had attended his first conclave as early as 1458, but had found the Roman climate intolerable. The prospect of such discomfort would cause him to decline invitations to attend the six ensuing conclaves which took place during his lifetime.
† Sisto is a variant on the Italian sesto for ‘sixth’.
* Cardinal d’Estouteville, Bishop of Rouen, became a byword for vast wealth after he survived a serious outbreak of the Black Death in France, consequently declaring himself the possessor of the many bishoprics and benefices which had fallen vacant following the death of their incumbents.
* The consistory was the formal committee of cardinals which regularly met to advise the Pope. The Vice-Chancellor was its senior member. The consistory was made up of the limited amount of cardinals resident in Rome at the time, as distinct from the College of Cardinals, which included all cardinals, many of whom were resident in France, Spain, the German states or other more distant territories of Christendom.
* Upon assuming office, a pope was required to divest himself of all his bishoprics, benefices and other appointments.
CHAPTER 1
ORIGINS OF A DYNASTY
THE BORJA FAMILY (as they were known in Spain) originated from the remote hill town of Borja, some 150 miles west of Barcelona in the Kingdom of Aragon. This occupied the large wedge of eastern Spain south of the Pyrenees, including Catalonia. As we have seen, the first Borgia pope was Callixtus III, of whom it has been said: ‘The election to the papacy of Alonso de Borja as Callixtus III was little more than an accident, yet without it, there might never have been such a phenomenon as the Borgia Age.’
Alonso de Borja was born in 1378 near Valencia. During the early life of Alonso the fortunes of the Kingdom of Aragon would wax and wane. Even during its lesser periods it would be an important regional kingdom. In its glory days it would be the major power of the western Mediterranean, its territory extending to Corsica and Sardinia, as well as Sicily and the Kingdom of Naples. The latter occupied almost the entire southern half of Italy, while its ancient capital city – Naples – would become the third largest city in Europe and an important centre of the Renaissance. The population of Naples was at this time around 100,000, just below that of Venice and Milan.
According to long-standing family tradition, the Borjas had royal blood, being descended from eleventh-century King Ramiro I of Aragon. Although there is little evidence to support this, it is impossible to over-emphasize its importance in the self-conception of those members of the Borgia family who will play the leading roles in this history. In their eyes, the Borgias were the descendants of kings and were destined to become kings once more. Ironically, an exception to this driving psychological myth was Alonso de Borja. In some histories of the popes he is regarded as a nonentity before he ascended to the papal throne in his mid-seventies, and little better afterwards during his brief four-year reign. Such belittlement is not born out by the facts.
Alonso de Borja was the only son of an estate-owner outside Valencia. He evidently exhibited an early gift for learning, and was sent to the nearby University of Lerida, the third oldest such institution in the country, having been founded in 1300.* Here Alonso studied law, which he later went on to teach at Lerida, at the same time taking minor holy orders to become canon of the local cathedral. Entering the Church was unusual for an only son, who would have been expected to inherit and run the family estate. However, it must have become evident to his father that Alonso was neither suited, nor equipped for such a task. Alonso exhibited spiritual qualities which matched his intellectual abilities. He led an ascetic life and devoted himself to his studies. His academic distinction eventually brought him to the notice of the charismatic and ambitious twenty-one-year-old King Alfonso of Aragon, one of the first humanist leaders in Spain. King Alfonso is credited with the saying: ‘Old wood to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, old books to read’; although this admirable contemporary attitude does not appear to have been reflected in his somewhat archaic attitude towards women: ‘Happy marriage requires that the wife be blind and the husband deaf.’ Despite this attitude, King Alfonso would so charm the ageing and childless Queen Joanna II of Naples that he she would later adopt him as her heir, much to the annoyance of the French claimant to the throne. The fulfilment of Queen Joanna II’s promise would involve great diplomatic tact, and it was here that Alonso de Borja’s clear-headed advice would prove invaluable.
At the age of thirty-eight Alonso de Borja was appointed to the influential and trusted post of secretary to the king. Apart from overseeing His Majesty’s affairs and duties, he was also required to undertake diplomatic missions involving considerable skill. At the time, western Christendom was split between two popes. The so-called Avignon line, with its stronghold in southern France, was represented by the ‘anti-pope’ Clement VIII; while the ‘true’ pope, elected by conclave in Italy, was Martin V. King Alfonso of Aragon had initially supported Clement VIII, but in order to strengthen his claim to the Kingdom of Naples, in 1428 he decided to switch sides. The tricky diplomatic task of leading the diplomatic mission to persuade Clement VIII to resign in favour of Martin V fell to Alonso de Borja. By now Borja was fifty years old, but neither the travelling involved, nor the authority of his opposition appeared to daunt him, and within a year Clement VIII had been persuaded to resign. This put an end to the schism which had divided the Church since the previous century. Martin V was so filled with gratitude that he made Alonso de Borja Bishop of Valencia. By 1442 King Alfonso had also become King of Naples, which title included King of Sicily and Jerusalem (this last being a purely nominal title, a hangover from the time of the crusades). King Alfonso now moved, along with his court, to southern Italy.
This displeased the new Pope Eugenius IV, who as pope remained officially – though in title alone – liege lord of the Kingdom of Naples, receiving an annual small symbolic payment of dues. Protocol dictated that King Alfonso should at least have ‘consulted’ the Pope on taking up residence in Naples. King Alfonso once again despatched Borja to effect a reconciliation, acknowledging the Pope as his liege lord. The success of these negotiations so delighted Pope Eugenius IV that he made Bishop Alonso Borja a cardinal.
Some sources claim that both of these negotiations were something of a foregone conclusion, requiring little expertise on behalf of the new Cardinal Alonso de Borja, Bishop of Valencia, yet there is no denying the importance of their outcomes. It was some time during this period that Alonso de Borja was despatched back to Spain on another important mission. He was instructed to educate King Alfonso’s adolescent illegitimate son Ferrante, schooling him in the Cla
ssics, courtly manners, and a smattering of the new humanist learning. King Alfonso then married off Ferrante to Isabelle of Clermont, the daughter of a high-ranking French aristocrat, whose family had links with the Orsini in Rome and large estates in southern Italy, as well as being a distant descendant of an earlier Queen of Naples. The illegitimate Ferrante was then declared to be King Alfonso’s legitimate heir.
Shortly after returning to Naples from his mission to educate Ferrante, Cardinal de Borja retired from the court of King Alfonso. His wish was to take up residence in Rome and spend his final years in the Holy City; but this was no simple matter, even for a cardinal. By this time, Rome was a shadow of its former glory. One and a half millennia previously, at the height of the Roman Empire, the city had supported a population of more than a million, its great buildings, triumphal arches and monuments the envy of Europe. With the decline and fall of the Empire, accompanied by various sackings by Vandals, Visigoths and similar barbarian tribes, its population had become seriously depleted, and so it had remained during the ensuing centuries. By the fifteenth century the population had sunk to less than 20,000, living amongst the crumbling ruins of the eternal city. Such was the lawlessness of this diminished citizenry that during the Avignon schism the so-called ‘Roman pope’, mindful of his safety, had frequently chosen to live elsewhere. Pilgrims were liable to be robbed, or worse, by the thieves and cutpurses who frequented the low taverns and bordellos. Officially the city was ruled by a governor, but in practice virtual anarchy prevailed. The aristocratic families lived in their fortress-palaces, guarded by their own liveried soldiers. These escorted their masters through the streets when they left for their more hospitable castles in the countryside during the hot summer months. The impoverished Roman population lived in makeshift shacks, often constructed with stones pillaged from the ancient ruins.
Cattle grazed in the once-sacred Forum and wandered at will down the triumphal avenues; pigs rooted for sustenance where they would; the beautiful gardens became small, inefficient farms, while street after street of empty houses decayed, forming breeding grounds for plague and lairs for bandits.
With the ending of the Avignon Schism, Pope Martin V attempted to take up residence in Rome, but this proved too insecure and he spent much of his papacy in Florence. It was not until after Eugenius IV was elected pope in 1431 that the situation changed. The turning point came after Eugenius IV was forced to flee down the Tiber in a boat, being pelted with stones and refuse by citizens lining either bank. Thereupon he appointed Bishop Ludovico Trevisano as Captain-General of the Papal Forces. A bullish, hard-faced aggressive character, Trevisano quickly gained the nickname ‘Scarampo’ (the Scrapper). After restoring order to the streets of Rome with punitive thoroughness, Bishop Trevisano led the Papal Forces north to subdue the Papal States. In theory at least, the Papal States stretched north across the Apennine Mountains to the Adriatic Coast, then further north across the badlands of the Romagna as far as Bologna. In practice, Bishop Trevisano’s campaign was little more than an incursion into this territory, inflicting damage and acting as a warning to the local tyrants and warlords. During the course of his campaign, Bishop Trevisano made a point of seizing as much booty as he could. This not only prevented his defeated enemies from hiring mercenaries to regain their territory, but also meant that he returned to Rome one of the richest bishops of his time. In gratitude, Eugenius IV made him a cardinal, whose benefices added further to his riches.
Yet these military exercises served their purpose by enabling Eugenius IV to take up permanent residence in the crumbling quarters of St Peter’s, which would be linked to the nearby impregnable Castel Sant’Angelo by a discreet passage for use in case of emergency. From this time on, the city of Rome would gradually return to the fold of civilized Italy. In practice, this meant that pilgrims were now fleeced, rather than mugged or murdered. But it also meant that the locals – from aristocrats and cardinals to the common people – were able to live a semblance of normal life. Riots were limited to occasions when the authorities incurred popular displeasure. Such was the new Rome to which Cardinal Alonso de Borja retired in 1445, after leaving the service of King Alfonso of Naples.
By the time Eugenius IV died in 1447 the influence of the Florentine Renaissance had begun to spread to Rome. At the accession of the next pope, Nicholas V, a number of new churches were under construction, though the Pope himself often appeared more interested in his own fortune than that of the Church. During his eight-year reign, Nicholas V built up an extensive collection of ancient books, manuscripts and paintings. The aristocratic families, too, began to flourish, adorning their palazzi with treasures and works of art. Despite this cultural reawakening, Cardinal Alonso de Borja continued to live a modest, reclusive life, regularly attending the Church of Santi Quattro Coronati, which had been entrusted to him along with his cardinal’s hat. And it was during this period that Cardinal de Borja became known as Cardinal Borgia, the Latinized form of his name.
In March 1455 Nicholas V died, necessitating a conclave of all available cardinals. ‘By the time of the conclave of April 1455 [Cardinal Alonso de Borgia] was living in Rome, an austere, modest and increasingly gouty old man in his late seventies.’ On this occasion fifteen cardinals assembled for the conclave. The obvious choice for pope was Cardinal Basilios Bessarion, ‘by far the most intelligent and cultivated churchman in Rome’. Added to this was the fact that he had once been a metropolitan bishop of the Orthodox Church in Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul). This had been the capital of the eastern realm of Christendom, which some 400 years previously had split from the western realm, thus accounting for the latter being known as the Roman Catholic Church. Prior to the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks in 1453, Bessarion and a stream of Orthodox monks had fled west, bringing with them much treasure and many ancient classical works (especially by Plato), which had long since vanished from western Europe. In time, these works would be translated from the Ancient Greek (which remained barely understood in Western Christendom) and have a transformative effect on Christian doctrine, giving its faith a basic intellectual underpinning in Platonism. As a Metropolitan Bishop, Cardinal Bessarion also retained some authority and respect in the realms of the Orthodox Church, which was still holding out against the Ottomans in Serbia, northern Anatolia (modern-day Turkey) and the Greek Peloponnese (where a new Byzantine capital had been established at Mystras).* Bessarion was the obvious man to bring about the ultimate reconciliation between the Roman Catholic Church and its Orthodox counterpart during its time of need, indeed when the latter was fighting for its very survival.
Common sense may have dictated that the conclave should vote in Cardinal Bessarion as the next pope, but this was not to be. Bessarion remained deeply resented for his superior learning, but most of all because he was Greek, and even continued to dress like an Orthodox priest, growing a long beard, beneath which he wore an Orthodox cross.† Many thought his election might even suggest that the Catholic cardinals considered the Orthodox Church to be in some way superior. Even so, there was no denying that he was the best equipped candidate for the job. So in order to teach him a lesson in humility, it was decided that Bessarion should be made to wait. Instead, the conclave chose to vote in the obscure and ailing Cardinal Alonso de Borgia, who was ‘in such poor health that it was doubted that he would survive the arduous ceremonies of his coronation’. These were undoubtedly something of an endurance test – involving days of slow, lengthy processions past the crowds lining the sweltering streets of Rome, punctuated by the even more arduous task of having to conduct a series of lengthy services in churches throughout the city. A distinctly gruelling induction, which had so exhausted several previous (younger) candidates that they had been forced to retire to their bed for several days afterwards.
As it happened, the people of Rome were outraged that a ‘Catalan’ had been elected pope, and Callixtus III’s triumphal processions through the streets of Rome were roughed up several times by
gangs of Orsini and Colonna thugs. On one occasion they even broke through the protective line of papal soldiers, almost dislodging Callixtus III from his horse.
The main part of the celebrations involved the new pope and his entourage of cardinals, dignitaries and protective soldiers making their way in procession down the long route through the centre of Rome. This started from the papal residence at St Peter’s, crossed the Tiber, proceeded past the dwarfing ruins of the Colosseum and the church of San Clemente, ending up three miles later at the Lateran (Basilica of San Giovanni in Laterano) close to the western city wall. Here at the Lateran, the ceremony of the Pope’s official enthronement would take place, in the church he inherited as Bishop of Rome. This church was at the time arguably the most sacred site in Rome, being the repository of a large number of ancient holy relics, including no less than ‘the wooden table where Christ ate with his Apostles, about three braccia square’.*
At a certain point in the Pope’s enthronement procession it was customary for him either to avert his eyes, dismount or make a detour to avoid encountering a particularly notorious statue just past San Clemente. Numerous pilgrims (including Luther himself) record that this statue portrayed the notorious female Pope Joan, who is said to have reigned for two years until 1099, when she died giving birth to a child. Despite the fact that most historians now discount ‘Pope Joan’ as a purely legendary figure, the statue itself was certainly real and was said to have been erected at the very spot where she died in childbirth. It is known to have been destroyed in 1600.
Possibly as a consequence of Pope Joan, legendary or otherwise, each new pope, during the course of his enthronement at the Lateran would be required to take part in an intimate ceremony. During this, he ‘is seated in a chair of porphyry, which is pierced for this purpose, that one of the younger cardinals may make proof of his sex’. The young cardinal would reach up through the hole in order to establish that the new pope had testicles, before proclaiming: ‘Duos habet et bene pedentes’ (‘He has two and they dangle well’).
The Borgias Page 3
