Madonna of the Seven Hills

ALEXANDER VI

During the following year Lucrezia really did grow up, and afterward it seemed to her that before Giulia had come into her life bringing enlightenment she had indeed been an innocent child.

Giulia was her dearest friend. Together they made many journeys to the Cardinal’s palace where Roderigo petted them both, delighting that it was Lucrezia who brought him Giulia and Giulia who brought him Lucrezia.

And why should Lucrezia question the rightness of such conduct? She, Giulia and Adriana were all guests at the wedding of Franceschetto Cibo, a grand occasion when the whole of Rome had rejoiced and there were bonfires on all of the seven hills; Franceschetto was openly acknowledged as the son of Innocent VIII, and the Holy Father made no secret of this, for he was present at the banquet and caused the fountains to run with wine; moreover Franceschetto’s bride was the daughter of the great Lorenzo de’ Medici; so that it was not only Romans who honored the Pope’s bastard.

So naturally it did not occur to Lucrezia to do anything but accept the conditions in which she lived.

Goffredo had now come to live at Monte Giordano, and she was happy to have her young brother with her. He wept a little to leave his mother, but Vannozza, while missing him sadly, was very glad to let him go for she saw in the arrangement an admission by Roderigo that he accepted Goffredo as his son.

It was during that year that Roderigo decided that Don Cherubino Juan de Centelles was not a satisfactory match for his daughter. It may have been the brilliant marriage of Franceschetto Cibo which decided him. It was true Franceschetto was the son of a Pope, but Innocent was ageing fast and who knew what the next months might bring forth? No! He would find a better match for his daughter.

He blithely dissolved the previous contract and made another more suited to his ambitious plans, choosing Don Gasparo di Procida, the count of Aversa, for Lucrezia’s betrothed. This was because Don Gasparo was a connection of the House of Aragon which now ruled in Naples.

Lucrezia accepted the change placidly. As she had seen neither of her prospective bridegrooms she had no feelings in the matter. She had Roderigo’s happy nature which made her believe that everything would come out well for her.

And then, in that August of the year 1492 when Lucrezia was twelve years old, there occurred that event which was to prove so important to the rest of her life.

Innocent was dying and there was tumult throughout Rome. The question on every lip was: Who shall succeed Innocent?

There was one man who was determined to do so. Roderigo was sixty. If he were going to achieve his life-long ambition he must do so soon. When he heard the news that Innocent was on his death-bed he determined, as he never had before, that he would be the next Pope.

Roderigo, gentle, courteous, seeming malleable, was a man of iron beneath the gentle exterior. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Unfortunately there must be a Conclave, and the Pope must be elected. Those days were days of real stress for Roderigo. He did not visit his mistress or his daughter during that period of decision, but the thoughts of everyone in the Orsini palace were with him at that time. They all prayed that the next Pope would be Roderigo.

Lucrezia was in a state of turmoil. Her father seemed to her godlike; tall, powerful; she could not understand why there should be any anxiety. Why did not everyone understand that there was only one thing they could do, and that was elect Cardinal Roderigo Borgia as their Pope?

She talked to Giulia, who was as tense and anxious as herself, for although it was exciting to be the mistress of the richest Cardinal in Rome, how much more so to be the mistress of the Pope. So Giulia shared Lucrezia’s excitement, her enthusiasm and her fears. Little Goffredo sought to understand, and added his prayers to theirs; and Adriana saw a glittering future wherein she might cast aside her mourning and accompany her daughter-in-law to the Vatican; there she might live in state … if only Roderigo were elected Pope.

The heat was fierce in Rome during that fateful August. Each in his separate cell, the great Cardinals went into Conclave. Crowds were gathered in the streets, clustering about the Vatican, and there was continued and heated speculation as to the results.

In the beginning no one thought very highly of Roderigo’s chances.

There were great rivalries, for Italy was at this time a country divided into small states and dukedoms, with the result that there were continual differences between them. Innocent had been weak but he had enjoyed the advice of his great ally, Lorenzo de’ Medici, and it was largely due to this that the peninsula had been enjoying a period of peace. But Lorenzo had died and trouble was looming.

Ludovico Sforza, Regent of Milan, and Ferrante of Aragon, King of Naples, were the great rivals who threatened to plunge Italy into a state of war. The reason for this was that Ludovico’s nephew, Gian Galeazzo, was the true heir of Milan; but Ludovico held this young man a prisoner and made himself Regent. His excuse was that the young Duke was not fit to rule; he, Ludovico, had brought about this unhappy state of affairs by arranging that the boy should be demoralized both mentally and physically with debaucheries which were arranged at Ludovico’s instigation. Gian however had married an energetic princess of Naples, Isabella of Aragon, who was granddaughter of Ferrante. This was the cause of the trouble between Naples and Milan which threatened at this time to flare up into a war which could have involved all Italy.

Both Naples and Milan were afraid that the French would seek to invade their territory, for the French declared that they had a claim both to Naples and Milan—to Naples through the House of Anjou, and to Milan through the house of Orléans.

This meant that it would be very important for Ludovico and Ferrante to have a Pope at the Vatican who would favor them.

Rivalry was intense. Ascanio Sforza, brother of Ludovico, was the hope of Milan. Ferrante supported Giuliano della Rovere.

Roderigo, like a sly fox, waited.

He knew he had little to fear from Ascanio, as he was only thirty-eight and if he became Pope it would be the death-knell to the hopes of almost every living Cardinal. With such a young man elected, unless he died very young, there would be little hope of another Conclave for years. Moreover it was hardly likely that Ludovico’s party would have much support. The Regency of Milan was known throughout the length and breadth of Italy as a usurper.

This was not the case with della Rovere, but although he was eligible, he had a bitter tongue which offended people. He might have supporters, but he also had many enemies.

The favorite was perhaps the Portuguese Cardinal Costa, who was eighty years of age. At such a time it was often felt to be advisable to elect a very old man, to give a short breathing space before there was another Conclave. If Cardinal Costa were elected, it would not be such a tragedy as the election of della Rovere or—the saints forbid it—Ascanio Sforza.

But Roderigo was determined that none should be elected but himself.

There was also among the several candidates Cardinal Oliviero Carafa whom Ascanio—feeling that on account of his youth he himself had a poor chance—was supporting because Carafa was an enemy of Ferrante.

Another candidate—Roderigo Borgia—did not seem to be in the running; but Roderigo was standing quietly, slyly waiting.

Roderigo was the richest of the Cardinals, and he knew what an important factor wealth was at such times. A little bribe here, a fat one there, a promise of gold and silver, a hint of what a man of his wealth could pay for votes—and who knew, the Papal throne might well be his while the others were wrangling amongst themselves.

The Cardinals were walled-up and the Conclave began. It was a period of intense strain for Roderigo yet he managed to conceal his feelings. As he attended morning Mass and Communion he was considering how he could win the votes he needed. At this time it seemed a hopeless task which lay before him, yet as he made his way to the Sistine Chapel lighted in readiness with candles on the altar and on the desk before each of the thrones, he seemed perfectly calm. He looked about him at his fellow Cardinals in their rustling violet robes and white rochets, and he knew that within none of them did the fire of ambition burn as fiercely as it did in him. He must succeed.

It seemed to him that the procedure was slower than it had ever been, but eventually the Cardinal-Scrutators were elected and he was sitting at his desk. There was no sound in the chapel but the scratching of many pens as each Cardinal wrote: “I, Cardinal … elect to the Supreme Pontificate the Most Reverend Lord my Lord Cardinal …”

Oh why, fumed Roderigo, could one not vote for oneself!

He rose with the rest and joined in the ceremonial walk to the altar. He knelt and murmured: “I attest before Christ who is to be my judge, that I chose him whom I think fittest to be chosen if it is according to God’s will.”

They placed their ballot papers on the shallow dish which covered the chalice, and tipped the paten until the paper slid into the chalice; then slowly and solemnly, each purple-clad figure returned to his throne.

At the first counting of votes Roderigo had seven, but Carafa had nine, Costa and Michiel, the Cardinal of Venice, also had seven, and della Rovere five. As for Ascanio Sforza he had none, and it was clear from the beginning that none of the Cardinals was ready to see a man so young on the Papal throne.

This was deadlock, for there must be a majority of two-thirds for one candidate before he was elected.

A fire was made and the papers burned; and all those waiting in St. Peter’s Square to hear the result of the election, seeing the smoke, excitedly called each other’s attention to it and knew that the first scrutiny had been ineffectual.

Roderigo now decided that he must act quickly. In his own cell he laid his plans and when he mingled with his fellow Cardinals, he lost no time in getting to work.

He began with Ascanio Sforza, begging him to walk with him in the galleries after the siesta. Ascanio, realizing he had no chance of being elected, hinted that he was ready to gain what he could. Roderigo could offer him bigger bribes than any.

“If I were elected Pope,” Roderigo promised, “I would not forget you. Yours should be the Vice-Chancellorship and I would also give you the Bishopric of Nepi.” It was a good consolation prize, and Ascanio wavered only a little before he agreed. And as with Ascanio, so with others who quickly realized that they were out of the running yet could come out of the Conclave richer men than when they went into it.

So while Rome sweated and waited for the results, that sly fox Roderigo worked quietly, stealthily and with the utmost speed within the Conclave. He had to. He had made up his mind that this time he must succeed, for how could he tell when there would be another chance.

It was August 11th, five days after the Conclave had begun. In the Piazza San Pietro people who had been waiting all through the night watched, their eyes on the walled-up window.

As the dawn lightened their eager faces there was a sudden shout and excitement was at fever-pitch for the bricks had begun to fall from the walled-in window.

The election was over. After the fourth scrutiny there had been an unanimous choice.

Roderigo Borgia had been elected Pope, and from now on he would be known as Alexander VI.

Roderigo stood on the balcony listening to the acclaim of the people. This was the greatest moment of his life. The crown, for which he had fought ever since his uncle, Calixtus III, had adopted him and his brother, was now his. He felt powerful as he stood there, capable of anything. Who would have believed five days ago that he would be the chosen one? Even his old enemy, della Rovere, had given him his vote. It was wonderful what a little persuasion could do, and who could resist persuasion such as a rich abbacy, the legation of Avignon and the fortress of Ronciglione? Not della Rovere. A great deal to pay for a vote? Not at all. He had bought power with the wealth he had accumulated over the years, and he was going to make sure that it became unlimited power.

He held out his hands and for a few seconds there was complete silence among the multitude.

Then he cried: “I am the Pope and Vicar of Christ on Earth.”

There was loud acclamation. It was of no importance how he had reached this eminence. All that mattered was that it was his.

The Coronation of Alexander VI was the most magnificent Rome had ever seen. Lucrezia, watching from a balcony of a Cardinal’s palace, was overwhelmed with pride and joy in this man who—apart from Cesare, whom she had not seen for so long—she loved best in the world.

This was her father, this handsome man, in his rich robes, sitting so straight on his white horse, blessing the multitudes who crowded about him, the center of all the pageantry, this man was her father.

Alexander was fully aware that there was nothing the people enjoyed more than pageantry, and the more brilliant, the better they liked it; and the more splendid it was, the greater would be the respect they had for him. Therefore he was determined to outdo all previous coronations. No expense must be spared, he had commanded; nor was it. The people of Rome were going to rejoice that day because Alexander VI was their Pope.

His Papal guards were so splendidly attired that even great Princes looked drab beside them; their long lances and shields glittered in the sunshine, and they looked like gods. Cardinals and high dignitaries who took part in the procession with their retinues, were all determined to outdo each other in their splendor, and so long was the procession that it took two hours for it to pass from St. Peter’s to St. John Lateran. And in the center of it all was the Pope on his snow-white horse, the sixty-year-old Pope who seemed to have the vigor of a man of twenty. It was small wonder that the people—even as Lucrezia did—believed the new Pope to be more than human.

The procession was stopped here and there that Alexander’s admirers and supporters—who now comprised the whole of Rome, it seemed—might pay their homage.

“Vive diu bos, vive diu celebrande per annos,

Inter Pontificum gloria prima choros,” chanted one handsome boy on behalf of his noble family who wished to show they were wholeheartedly in support of the new Pope.

Others strewed flowers before him and cried: “Rome raised Caesar to greatness—and now here is Alexander; but one was merely a man, the other is a god.”

Alexander received all this homage with a charm and courtesy which won the hearts of all who saw him.

What a moment of triumph! Everywhere was the emblem of the grazing bull. Alexander lifting his eyes saw it; he also noticed the golden-haired girl on the balcony, the only one of his children to witness this triumph. There was Giovanni in Spain, Cesare in his university of Pisa, and little Goffredo (whom he accepted partly because he loved the boy, partly because sons were so necessary to him) was too young to make an appearance. His children! They would all have their parts to play in his dream of power. Little Lucrezia standing there, eyes wide with awe and wonder, accepting him, as did these people in the streets this day, as a god among them, was the representative of his children.

The homage of the people, the shouts of acclamation, the intoxicating sense of power, they were the narcotic which lulled a man to sleep in which he dreamed of greatness; and all greatness must first take its shape in dreams.

“Blessings on the Holy Father!” cried the crowd.

Aye! thought Alexander. Let the blessings of the saints fall upon me, that I may realize my dreams and unite all Italy under one ruler; and let that ruler be a Borgia Pope.