The Borgias

by Paul Strathern

  On 4 September the Mantuan ambassador reported home that Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia was ‘in high standing’ with the newly elected pope. By now, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had been a cardinal for eight years, and on the elevation of Barbo to the papal chair he became the senior member of the College of Cardinals. He was still only thirty-three years old. As such, he should have received the honour of crowning the new pope with his papal tiara. But by the time of the ceremony, which took place on 16 September, Borgia was once again too ill to stir from his bed. The effort to attend the conclave had evidently drained him, but this effort was certainly appreciated by his friend Paul II. The new pope not only confirmed his friend in the important position of vice-chancellor, but also went one step further by abolishing the College of Abbreviators which had curbed his power. This heartening news had its effect on the gratified vice-chancellor, who gradually began to recover from his illness. By 9 October the ever-vigilant Mantuan ambassador was reporting, ‘Yesterday [Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia] was seen out, even though the scar left by the plague is not yet healed.’

  Prior to the conclave at which Cardinal Barbo became Pope Paul II, the College of Cardinals (without Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia in attendance) decided to impose a series of restrictions upon papal power. Pius II’s obsession with personally leading the crusade had worried many: apart from the several dangers of such a move, it would leave a power vacuum in Rome, with the Church exposed to political power throughout Europe. So the College of Cardinals decided that from now on whoever was elected pope would be forbidden to leave Rome without their majority consent. And if he wished to leave Italy, he would need the unanimous consent of the college. It was also decided that from now on the College of Cardinals should not exceed twenty-four members, while at the same time a pope would only be permitted to appoint one ‘nephew-cardinal’ (or, in Latin, cardinalis nepos, from which the word nepotism is derived).

  Paul II’s love of finery and extravagant dressing up had long been evident to those close to him, who were also aware of his homosexual inclinations. His extravagance, if not his homosexuality, quickly became evident to all when he appeared at the 1465 Easter Mass wearing a new papal tiara. This he had designed himself, ensuring that it was encrusted with jewels. The ambassador for Milan estimated this new papal tiara to be worth 60,000 ducats. (Other contemporary estimates went as high as double this price.) But this was just the beginning. Since the late 1450s, the young Cardinal Barbo had begun building himself a lavish palace overlooking the Piazza San Marco in central Rome. And in 1466, just two years into his office, he took the unprecedented step of making this his official papal residence, abandoning the papal quarters in the Vatican. The Palazzo San Marco* was sumptuously furnished with his accumulated treasures, including:

  his extensive collections of Flemish tapestries, Byzantine icons, paintings, statues, bronzes, mosaics, coins, medals and innumerable antiques.

  Paul II particularly enjoyed dressing up in all his finery, and watching the processions pass below his grand balcony. However, despite Paul II’s passion for collecting antiquities, he was no Renaissance man and certainly not a humanist. Indeed, one of his main reasons for dissolving the College of Abbreviators was that it had become filled with humanist scholars, quickly multiplying to a membership of seventy. After Paul II’s dissolution of the college, their aggrieved leader Bartolomeo Platina led the abbreviators and a large crowd of their supporters to besiege the papal residence. After this ‘republican insurrection’ was quickly put down, Platina was flung into the notorious dungeons of the Castel Sant’Angelo, which were ‘dark and damp, and infested with spiders, snakes and rats’. From then on, Paul II forbade all teaching of humanism and the ancient classics, condemning them as heretical. However, Platina would have the last word, when, many years later, he wrote his Lives of the Popes, in which Paul II is described as ‘a monster of cruelty and sexual depravity’.

  There is more than an element of truth in this characterization, though in the words of papal historian John Julius Norwich, Paul II was best known for ‘his two weaknesses – for good-looking young men, and for melons’. Indeed he devoted so much of his daily life to such pastimes that he often took little interest in his papal duties, leaving these to be dealt with by his loyal vice-chancellor. Paul II was also renowned for his obsessive vanity. He usually had a mirror carried by an attendant, into which he would frequently gaze. On occasion he even wore lipstick, which was particularly conspicuous on his pale-skinned, podgy face. His original choice for a papal name had been Formosus II (‘handsome’), but he was dissuaded from this by his fellow cardinals after the conclave.*

  Under Pius II, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had gained knowledge of how the papacy was run, now he was gaining actual experience of the job itself. Meanwhile, despite the insurrection, Paul II did his best to encourage his popularity amongst the citizenry. He indulged to the full his love of displays and public occasions. The traditional carnival season, which took place before Lent, was extended. During this period, Paul II particularly enjoyed watching the traditional horse races. These ran from the Arch of Domitian to the Church of San Marco, finishing under his balcony. As Platina himself described it: ‘After the boys’ race he gave a coin to each entrant, even though they were all covered in mud.’

  In 1467 Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia would father a second illegitimate child, this time a daughter, who was named Isabella after her grandmother. A third child, a daughter named Girolama, would be born two years later. There are indications that all three of these children had the same mother, whose name remains uncertain. What is certain is that these children were either born in Spain or were quickly despatched there, where they were entrusted to the Borja family in Xàtiva.

  In a further effort to bolster his popularity with the citizens of Rome, Paul II announced that from now on the Jubilee (of the birth of Christ) would be celebrated every twenty-five years, rather than every fifty years as was previously the custom. The people of Rome rejoiced, as this would bring more pilgrims to the Holy City; the income of the citizenry was almost entirely dependent upon such visitors. Meanwhile, Paul II anticipated with pleasure presiding over the great round of festivities which would be held to mark the Jubilee of 1475. But this was not to be. On the morning of 26 July 1471 Paul II attended an unusually long and exhausting consistory. After this, he dined in the Vatican Gardens, where, at the age of just fifty-four, he died of an ‘apoplexy’. This vague medical term was frequently used as a euphemism, and this is no exception. The unpalatable truth was that ‘after an immoderate feasting on melons, he expired from the excessive effect of being sodomized by one of his favourite boys’.

  Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia now found himself faced with his third conclave. This was attended by eighteen cardinals, fifteen of whom were Italian. Only Borgia, d’Estouteville and the ageing Bessarion were foreigners. Once again, Borgia well understood that he had no chance of gaining the two-thirds majority he would need to be elected pope. However, he did attract one backer, the twenty-seven-year-old Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga, a well-educated and serious young aristocrat who had been appointed a cardinal at the age of just seventeen. Francesco was a member of the influential and well-connected House of Gonzaga, the rulers of Mantua. Pius II had appointed him a cardinal in gratitude for the hospitality he had received in the city during the ill-fated Congress of Mantua. Cardinal Gonzaga had been impressed by the effective and experienced way in which Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had used his vice-chancellorship to maintain the papacy during Paul II’s negligence. But Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia persuaded Cardinal Gonzaga that he should join him in voting for Cardinal Francesco della Rovere.* This apparently selfless gesture had helped swing the Italian votes in favour of della Rovere, who thus became the next pope, taking the name Sixtus IV. The grateful Sixtus IV confirmed Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia as vice-chancellor, a post he had now held under no less than four papacies.

  Sixtus IV had been born the son of a Genoese fisherman some fifty-seven years previously. At
an early age he had joined the Franciscan order, where he had shown such intellectual quality that he had quickly risen through the ranks, becoming head of the order at the age of fifty. Three years later he had been created a cardinal by Paul II. His pious reputation, along with his exceptional intellectual powers, had played a large part in attracting the votes of the Italian cardinals, once Borgia’s move had indicated that he was a likely candidate for the papacy. However, Sixtus IV’s unexpected election had left him feeling insecure in such high office. So, in order to bolster his position, he embarked upon an unprecedented bout of nepotism. The ‘only one nephew-cardinal’ decree was simply ignored as he appointed a stream of nephews and cousins to bishoprics and the College of Cardinals, until the della Rovere family emerged as a leading power within the hierarchy. But Sixtus IV was also a man of some discernment, who would reverse the anti-humanist policy of his predecessor. It was Sixtus IV who first imported early Renaissance artists and architects from Florence to Rome, and his name would forever be immortalized in the building of the Sistine Chapel,* where he employed Botticelli to paint murals. Sixtus IV would also create the Vatican Library, appointing the humanist Francesco Platina as first librarian. It was now that Platina would write his Lives of the Popes, which so castigated Paul II and in which Sixtus IV would play an exemplary role. Platina had arrived in Rome as a tutor in the retinue of the young Cardinal Gonzaga, and would also be renowned for writing the first printed cookbook, ‘a monument of medieval cuisine in humanist trappings’, which also contained the first recorded use of cannabis in a recipe.

  In the year following the election of Sixtus IV, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia travelled to Spain, officially in his capacity as Archbishop of Valencia. The city laid on a rapturous reception for their compatriot, who had risen so high in Rome. He also found time to visit his family, and see his three children. His oldest son Pedro Luis was now ten years old, though Borgia’s mother Isabella had died four years previously. However, the real reason behind the cardinal’s visit was not self-aggrandizement or even paternal love. Sixtus IV had entrusted Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia with a mission of considerable importance. He was to visit the court of King Juan of Aragon, who was known to be a difficult character. King Juan was the younger brother of King Alfonso of Aragon and Naples, who had fallen out so disastrously with Callixtus III and was thus no friend of the Borgias. Despite this, Cardinal Borgia had been chosen by Sixtus IV because of his long experience as vice-chancellor, and because he was Spanish.

  Three years earlier King Juan had taken the astute decision to marry his seventeen-year-old son and heir Ferdinand to the King of Castile’s eighteen-year-old half-sister and heir, Isabella. In this way, when the young couple each came into their separate inheritances, their marriage would unite the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile to form the beginnings of a larger Spain. The couple were in fact cousins, several times over, owing to the persistent tradition of marriage between members of the royal families of Aragon and Castile – even so, it was not certain that Isabella would inherit the throne of Castile. On top of this, King Juan had assured the world that the marriage was legitimate by producing a forged papal bull to this effect. Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had been entrusted with the tricky task of assessing whether a genuine papal dispensation should be granted for the marriage. In return, Sixtus IV would insist that King Juan should commit himself to support the Pope in his attempt to raise forces for a crusade against the ever-increasing threat of the Ottomans. Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia quickly understood that such support was unlikely as long as King Juan continued to face internal problems. Three years previously, the Catalan capital of Barcelona had risen against Aragonese rule. King Juan had immediately laid siege to the city, but this had resulted in a stalemate. If Borgia could overcome this difficulty to the satisfaction of King Juan, then the king would back Sixtus IV’s efforts to launch a crusade – efforts which had involved the Pope sending envoys all over Europe, not just Borgia to Spain.

  In a bold move, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia asked the king for permission to visit Barcelona and attempt to negotiate a resolution of this problem. Permission was granted and the cardinal travelled to Barcelona, where he held talks with the Catalan leaders. But the Catalans remained obdurate and the cardinal was forced leave empty-handed. However, on further consideration of what the cardinal had told them, the Catalan leaders sent word that they were willing to negotiate with King Juan. As a result, a peace was agreed, with honour on both sides – a direct result of Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia’s intervention. As Meyer remarks:

  No account of how he accomplished this exists, but the engaging frankness he brought to all his relationships . . . must surely have been a factor . . . As we shall see, his life story is studded with instances in which his ability to connect even with adversaries affected the course of history.

  This was perhaps the first major instance in which Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia would charm his way into achieving such a feat. As an encouragement to King Juan, the cardinal now handed him the signed papal dispensation which had been given to him by Sixtus IV: the marriage between Ferdinand and Isabella was legitimized. But Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia still had one more important obstacle to overcome: the problem of whether Isabella would in fact be recognized as the heir to the throne of Castile.

  In an attempt to resolve this issue, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia travelled to Madrid, to the court of King Enrique IV of Castile. Here he found the nobility split between those who favoured Isabella as the rightful heir, and those who backed the king’s putative daughter Joana, whom the opposition believed had in fact been fathered by the Duke of Albuquerque. (King Enrique was widely known as ‘Enrique the Impotent’, but may well have been homosexual.) Without any resolution, this squabble was liable to erupt into civil war on the death of the weak and ailing King Enrique IV, and any hope of a united Spain would be out of the question.

  Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia began a series of negotiations with King Enrique IV, and soon understood that the king would be willing to recognize Isabella as his heir if his favourite bishop, Pedro González de Mendoza, Bishop of Sigüenza, was given a cardinal’s hat by Sixtus IV. Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia agreed to this request, on behalf of Sixtus IV.

  By sheer talent and force of character, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had achieved a near miracle of diplomacy, which would have a lasting effect over the coming decades, when a united Spain would emerge as the richest country in Europe. He had also used his charm to make a number of influential friends. Not least of these was the young Ferdinand of Aragon, the man set to become king of the united kingdoms of Castile and Aragon, who had been won over by the magnetic cardinal’s avuncular charms and enjoyment of life.

  Yet we now come to an example of the ‘Virtù e Fortuna’ prescription which the perceptive Machiavelli would use to characterize the events that govern humanity. Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia had certainly demonstrated his Virtù – his strength, his ability – to the utmost. Yet he still remained at the mercy of ‘Fortuna’. In late September 1473 Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia, accompanied by his large papal retinue – swelled by many Spanish clerics (including three bishops) wishing to seek favour from the Pope in Rome – gathered at Valencia. Here they boarded two large Venetian galleys and set off – by oar and by sail – on the 600-mile voyage across the Mediterranean to Ostia. On 10 October, as they approached the coast of Tuscany:

  A fearful storm arose at sea and chased the vessels towards land. The one that carried [Borgia] early veered from the rockbound coast and remained afloat, although tossed about, with a shattered stern and constantly in danger of submersion. The other galley, less prudent, was repeatedly hurled against the rocks, during a whole night and part of the day, till at last it broke up and sank.

  Fortuna had been kind to Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia, who was lucky to escape with his life. The captain of his galley eventually managed to run his badly damaged vessel aground on the sandy beach near Livorno. An idea of the scale of this tragedy can be seen from the fact that almost 200 lives were lost
, including the three bishops, as well as property and gold in the region of 30,000 ducats.

  After recovering in nearby Pisa, a chastened Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia travelled to Rome, where he received a genuinely heartfelt welcome from Sixtus IV. Here Borgia learned that of all the missions which Sixtus IV had sent out to win support for his crusade against the Ottomans, his alone had been successful. The ageing Cardinal Bessarion had been sent to France. Here he had been flatly turned down and even subjected to insults by the French king Louis XI, a public humiliation which is said to have contributed to the Greek cardinal’s death on the return journey. Cardinal Angelo Capranica (the younger brother of Callixtus III’s faithful friend) had been equally unsuccessful on his round of the Italian courts, the exhaustion of his travels and negotiations causing him to retire to his bed on his return to Rome. At the same time, Cardinal Marco Barbo (one of the many cousins promoted by Paul II) had been rebuffed by one eastern European monarch after another. Despite such setbacks, Sixtus IV had managed to despatch a combined Neapolitan–Venetian fleet under the Neapolitan Cardinal Oliviero Carafa into the eastern Mediterranean. Here they had inflicted defeats on several Ottoman squadrons, before capturing and burning to the ground the Anatolian port of Smyrna (modern Izmir). However, relations between the Venetians and the Neapolitans had then ruptured to such an extant that the fleet split in two, with its separate parties sailing home in opposite directions.