The Borgias

by Paul Strathern

  During the reign of Alexander VI’s predecessors, when he had played an integral role in the handling of papal finances, the papacy had too often lacked any real influence on the larger Italian stage, to say nothing of the wider European stage, over which it retained little more than theological jurisdiction. Both political and military power had been sorely lacking. This had usually been the result of papal weakness, self-indulgence, financial mismanagement or ‘heritage’ (the erecting of monuments or buildings, such as the Sistine Chapel, would bestow immortality on their benefactor). There had been little emphasis on building up any real power, apart from more or less unsuccessful attempts to create a Holy League against the Ottomans. Indicatively, a Holy League with real power had only come into being under Alexander VI, when instead of the potential threat of full-scale Ottoman invasion, the Italian peninsula had suffered the very real ravages of Charles VIII’s invasion. But Alexander VI had learned from his long vice-chancellorship, as well as from more recent humiliating events during his own papacy. Such mistakes were not to be repeated. The only way for the papacy to gain any real power was for it to form a reliable and lasting alliance with the most commanding European monarchy. And to appear to do so on more or less equal terms. This could be achieved by marriage, but it would also have to be reinforced by a suitable show of affluence. Money served to demonstrate power – even if, in this particular case, such power remained questionable.

  Where money was concerned Alexander VI’s behaviour had seldom shown any constraints. From his earliest years as vice-chancellor to his present time on the papal throne, the acquisition of wealth had been an integral part of his policy. Benefices were bought and sold, upgraded where necessary, or simply acquired – all in the name of income. Money could not only demonstrate power, it could also buy it. Money was the vital factor. The present case involving his son Cesare’s visit to France to marry into royalty was to be no exception. For Cesare to demonstrate sufficient extravagance and largesse, at least 200,000 ducats would have to be raised immediately. Yet this was no easy task, especially when the annual papal income of 300,000 ducats had almost all been spent already. The building and decorating of the Torre Borgia was proving a large drain. On top of this there had been Juan’s inept campaign against the Orsini. Little wonder that Alexander VI had taken the unprecedented step of not paying for Guidobaldo da Montefeltro’s ransom, regardless of the fact that he had been in papal employ at the time. In Alexander VI’s opinion, the Montefeltro family had sufficient funds of their own to organize this matter themselves. And with Cesare now setting off for France, the papal coffers were all but empty. What was he to do? Somehow drastic fundraising measures would have to be put into practice – in the quickest possible time, causing the least possible disruption or antagonism. There was just one target which fitted these requirements. Namely, the Jews.

  ________________

  *After her divorce, Joan of France would go on to found an enclosed religious order of nuns, and would be canonized as St Joan in 1950 by Pope Pius XII.

  *The janissaries were the elite soldiers who formed the Ottoman sultan’s personal guard, and as such were a byword for military valour.

  *In the late medieval period the Venetian gold ducat contained 3.15 grams of gold. At the same time, the French gold franc contained 4.15 grams. According to such figures, the new Duke of Valentinois had renounced his cardinal’s income of 35,000 ducats for a total secular income equivalent to over 52,000 Venetian ducats. France was the richest nation in Europe, and Alexander VI was a very determined negotiator.

  CHAPTER 9

  A ROYAL CONNECTION

  DURING THE CENTURIES WHILE the Moors were gradually being driven from the Spanish mainland, the Jews had fallen under suspicion for their cooperation with Moors. Many Jews had been forced to convert to Christianity, and these were known as conversos. In the years following Innocent VIII’s confirmation of the sadistic Torquemada as Grand Inquisitor of the Spanish Inquisition in 1487, a reign of terror had ensued.*Any suspected of deviating from the strictest Christian orthodoxy were tortured on the rack. Many conversos had been suspected of secretly maintaining the customs and rituals of the Judaic religion, whilst posing as Christians. These had become known as Marranos. During the final expulsion of the Moors from the Spanish mainland in 1492, a large number of Jews, including many conversos and Marranos, had fled the country, particularly to Italy. Sources estimate that as many as 9,000 arrived at the borders of the Papal States. Alexander VI initially welcomed these new arrivals, decreeing that they were to be ‘permitted to lead their life, free from interference from Christians, to continue in their own rites, to gain wealth, and to enjoy many other privileges’. Large numbers of these new immigrants were skilled as merchants, as well as in such fields as currency exchange, money-lending, and medicine. In a city such as Rome, which relied so heavily upon the seasonal pilgrimage trade, currency exchange and money-lending proved a boon to local businesses.

  Even so, the influx of so many immigrants inevitably began to lead to difficulties with the populace at large. The new population of non-Christians in the Holy City not only looked different, but even the ones who professed to be converted Christians had ‘foreign’ (i.e. Spanish) cultural habits. The result was increasing friction between the immigrants and the local inhabitants who had not benefitted from the skills of these new arrivals. And while the common populace remained as poor as ever, the immigrants began making money by exchanging currency for pilgrims, engaging in trade and earning fees as physicians.

  Consequently, by the time Alexander VI decided upon his opportunistic strike against the Jews, this was seen as a popular move. In order to raise the 200,000 ducats for Cesare’s visit to France, Alexander VI ordered that all the goods and property owned by Jews in Rome should be confiscated. But even this did not raise sufficient funds. So Alexander VI found himself casting about for further victims. And it was now that his eye alighted on Pedro Aranda, his Spanish major-domo, who as a reward for his services had been created Bishop of Calahorra, a Spanish appointment which provided lucrative benefices. Pedro Aranda had been born a Jew, but had converted to Christianity during the persecution in Spain some years previously. It was thus comparatively easy for Alexander VI to have him accused of being a Marrano and of carrying out heretical practices within the Vatican. Pedro Aranda was immediately stripped of his bishopric, along with all his possessions and benefices, and confined to the dungeons of the Castel Sant’Angelo. Yet Alexander VI’s setback to the Jewish community and its trade would soon be felt amongst the larger populace. Besides being greedy and perfidious, his action was also commercially short-sighted.

  On the other hand, there was no denying that Alexander VI had his own far-sighted agenda here. In the early days of the Borja arrival in Italy, when the new Cardinal Alonso de Borja (the future Callixtus III) had taken up residence in Rome, there had been whisperings that the family were in fact Marranos. Such whisperings had over the years grown into common gossip and thence transmogrified into ‘the truth’. Alexander VI’s initial welcoming of the exiled Jews to Rome, and granting them rights, had only served to revive and confirm the widespread conviction of the Borgias’ Jewish ancestry. This ‘truth’ had long been confirmed by many of the Borgia’s Spanish cultural habits, which they had retained, making little attempt to acclimatize themselves to the mores of their adopted country. Most evident was the family habit of conversing amongst themselves in Catalan. Such familiarity confirmed the closeness of the family, as well as its secretiveness – at the same time excluding all those who could not speak this tongue. Spanish and Italian had sufficient similarities for an Italian to understand the gist of a conversation being carried out in classical (Castilian) Spanish. But Catalan was another matter altogether. This was not even a dialect of Spanish, it was a separate language exclusive to north-eastern Spain, which derived from the dog Latin used by the Ancient Roman soldiery who had occupied this region, and came from all over the Empire. It was this
which led to one of the major misconceptions concerning the Borgias. From cardinals to courtiers, many who heard the Borgia conversing amongst themselves imagined that they were speaking Hebrew.

  Hence Alexander VI’s confiscation of all Jewish property, followed by his imprisonment of the ‘Marrano’ Pedro Aranda, Bishop of Calahorra, in the Castel Sant’Angelo, went some way, at least in some quarters, towards allaying anti-Semitic suspicions concerning the Borgia ancestry. Though by now so many had heard tell of the Borgias’ devious and outrageous behaviour that it was difficult to allay any suspicions concerning the family, regardless of race. If Alexander VI could have his daughter Lucrezia Borgia publicly declared to be a virgin, then it was perhaps inevitable that all manner of exaggerated rumours should proliferate. It is this which makes for such difficulties where describing the Borgias is concerned. All one can state – dispassionately – is that they were often better than they appeared. And, as we have seen (and shall certainly see), on occasion they could be far worse.

  Many may have been rightly suspicious of Alexander VI and his family, but the Pope for his part had every reason to be equally suspicious of those who encouraged him to trust them. Sending his favourite son Cesare Borgia abroad to marry into the French royal family was just such an occasion. It was only four years since Charles VIII had taken the then Cardinal Cesare Borgia, along with a mule train of papal treasures, as a hostage on his march towards Naples. Borgia père et fils may have managed to outwit the gullible Charles VIII on that occasion, but such a feat was unlikely to be repeated – especially in French territory. If instead of allowing Cesare Borgia to marry his royal cousin Carlotta, Louis XII decided instead to detain him in France as a hostage, this would give the king a profound influence over papal policy. Alexander VI knew the risks he was taking, as did his flamboyant but secretly uncertain son.

  Despite such covert worries, Cesare Borgia had been very much his characteristic self when he got wind of his father’s plans to subsidize his trip. According to Burchard, he immediately began ordering

  jewels, stuffs, cloth-of-gold and cloth-of-silver, silks and other luxurious goods, much of them imported at considerable expense from Venice.

  He also ordered a bespoke commode to take with him; this consisted of a chamber ‘covered with gold brocade outside and scarlet inside, with silver tassels within the silver urinals’.

  Alexander VI well understood that if Louis XII decided to hold his son hostage, no one would be able to dissuade him from this project. However, a newly created Cardinal d’Amboise might prove a useful ally in case of other difficulties. Alexander VI was becoming increasingly aware of his son’s erratic conduct, and he had warned Cesare that there should be no repeat of the diplomatic blunder in Naples involving the Count d’Aliffe’s daughter. This time the prospective bridegroom was to be on his best behaviour. Also secreted amongst Cesare Borgia’s luggage was the Pope’s signed and sealed dispensation for Louis XII to marry Charles VIII’s former wife Anne of Brittany. Unfortunately, Alexander VI had not yet been able to persuade the consistory to grant an official annulment of Louis XII’s marriage to Joan of France. Such a royal divorce was considered a very serious matter by the College of Cardinals, who insisted upon adhering to the strictures of canon law – which, of course, forbad divorce, even amongst royalty. What was more, Louis XII’s prior attempt to divorce his malformed but intelligent wife had already proved more than inept, resulting in ‘one of the seamiest lawsuits of the age’. Louis XII had been married to Joan when he was just fourteen, and on the morning after the ceremony the proud adolescent had boasted of ‘mounting his wife three or four times during the night’. However, during the divorce suit he had claimed that throughout his marriage ‘his sexual prowess had been inhibited by witchcraft’. Whereupon, Joan had demanded how he had managed to make love to her so many times on their marriage night, as he had naively boasted in front of any witness who would listen. All this had inevitably come to the attention of the consistory, leading Alexander VI to conclude that if he was to satisfy Louis XII’s wishes for a divorce he would have to try a less orthodox approach. He thus decided to remove consideration of this matter from the jurisdiction of the consistory, and place it in the hands of a specially convened Papal Divorce Committee. So that it could devote closer attention to the matter at hand, this would be convened in France with a number of specially selected local cardinals. Even so, he realized that all this was going to take time.

  Temporarily setting aside such worries, the Pope had watched with beaming, paternal pride from the balcony of the Vatican as his son Cesare rode in splendour out across the piazza below, his glorious procession trailing behind him between the lines of awed spectators. In Alexander VI’s letter of recommendation to the French King, he had described his son in the most glowing terms: ‘We send Your Majesty our heart, that is to say our beloved son, Duke Valentino, who to us is the dearest of all.’ There was no doubting this heartfelt paternal emotion, yet at the same time Alexander VI remained well aware of what he was doing. He had already used his beloved daughter Lucrezia to further his political aims. Indeed, he had initially made the mistake of sacrificing her to the wrong cause. Now he was taking the calculated risk of sacrificing his son and heir. On the other hand, if Cesare’s mission proved to be a success, the foundations of Alexander VI’s ambitious future scheme were laid. It is probable that even Cesare Borgia was only aware of the first half of this scheme; the Pope alone knew the full enormity of what he had in mind.

  From Rome Cesare Borgia travelled west to the port of Civitavecchia, where he and his procession boarded a flotilla of French galleys. They sailed the 500 miles to Marseille, where they arrived at the end of October, greeted by a celebratory cannonade, followed by a week of festivities and banquets. Louis XII’s court was at the time in residence at Chinon, another 500 miles north-east in the Loire Valley. This journey required Cesare to travel north through Avignon. In an unsettling déjà vu, Cesare’s host in Avignon was Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere. Alexander VI’s bitter rival was obliged to give Cesare the warmest of welcomes. Cardinal della Rovere could ill afford to deny hospitality in France to a guest of Louis XII. The Pope had also decided that amicable overtures were in order. In fact, Cardinal della Rovere and Alexander VI both required each other’s assistance at this particular point. Alexander VI was more than eager that Cardinal della Rovere should use his influence with Louis XII to smooth Cesare’s reception at the French royal court. In return, Alexander VI had granted Cardinal della Rovere the honour of being Papal Legate to the French court, where he would preside over the ceremony of bestowing upon Georges d’Amboise his cardinal’s hat. The Pope had also assured Cardinal della Rovere that he would be welcome to return to Italy, where his castle at Ostia, his residence in Rome and his estates outside the city would all be returned to him. On top of this, his arrival back in Italy meant he would be able to attend consistories.

  As Cesare approached Avignon, Cardinal della Rovere rode out to greet him personally, and accompanied the Duke of Valentinois into the city. An eyewitness recorded: ‘Avignon never witnessed such an enthusiastic welcome. Nor in the city had there ever been a more splendid procession.’ A festival was held where fountains flowed with wine, and the visitor was

  fêted by ladies and beautiful girls in whom the said Cesare takes much pleasure, knowing well how to dance and entertain them, the dances being morrisses, mummeries and other frivolities.

  Yet not all was quite as it seemed – either for the twenty-three-year-old Cesare Borgia or for the fifty-five-year-old Cardinal della Rovere. Both men had syphilis and suffered from the recurrent symptoms of this disease. In the words of a secret informant working for Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan, who simply signed his reports ‘B’:

  Della Rovere has fallen sick of that disease of his: now the flowers are beginning to bloom again [the syphilitic rash]. If God does not help him he will never be quite healthy. They say publicly of Cesare that he has the malady of San Lazza
ro on his face, and moreover he is not in a contented frame of mind.

  In fact, syphilis was such a novel phenomenon that not even an expert such as Cesare Borgia’s personal physician Gaspar Torella would yet have understood the precise manifestations of the disease or the course it would take. By this stage Cesare Borgia would have been suffering from the secondary effects, which manifest themselves in the form of rashes and ‘flowering’ of dry skin, visible on the face. This was what the Marquesa of Mantua’s informant had noted when Borgia had returned from Naples. However, such symptoms usually clear up of their own accord after a few weeks, when the disease enters a lengthy period of latency. This accounts for why the spy ‘B’ only reports ‘they say . . . he has the malady of San Lazzaro’. By this stage Cesare Borgia probably exhibited no syphilitic symptoms and was in the latency period. On top of this, ‘the malady of San Lazzaro’ usually referred to leprosy, a disease with which Cesare Borgia was certainly not infected.

  As Cesare’s procession continued north across France, passing through Valence, the capital city of the dukedom of Valentinois, he began to experience an increasing inner feeling of his own inadequacy. Quite simply, the young man who had been a cardinal in a Rome ruled by his father felt out of his depth. He was used to behaving as he pleased, his status – as a cardinal, as the Pope’s son – guaranteed without question. Yet in France it was different. He could not avoid sensing that the elitist French nobility regarded him as nothing more than a young upstart: a bastard, devoid of royal, let alone noble blood. While his imposing stature and striking good looks meant that he was frequently misunderstood. On occasions when he felt cowed by his reception, his hesitant reserve was mistaken for aloof superiority; yet when he attempted to assert himself, he was made to feel arrogant and gauche. During a reception held in his honour at Valence, Louis XII’s royal representative approached him bearing the elaborate gold collar of the Order of St Michael, the highest chivalric award the French king could bestow. Cesare flared up. He pushed aside the king’s representative as he was about to place the gold collar around his neck. Cesare was adamant that it was for the king personally to bestow such an honour: he refused to accept this from a mere underling.