In the Pillory: The Tale of the Borgia Pope

preface

There is more than one Chamber of Horrors in the Museum of History, but none like that of the Borgia. The central figure is that of Roderigo Borgia, who as Alexander VI sat on the papal throne for upward of eleven years; around him are grouped his mistresses; a brood of bastard children; a retinue of henchman and an endless procession of victims. It was the darkest period in the life of Christianity, just before the dawn of the Reformation. Rome had become a sink of unspeakable corruption where, in the words of Dante, "Christ was sold every day."

The defenders of the Roman system in seeking to explain and palliate the "criminal age of the Papacy," declare that the career of Alexander VI, monstrous though it was, in no way "affected the holiness of his exalted office." They repeat the assertion that "one bad man in the chair of St. Peter is no argument against the Papacy itself."

It is right here that we must join issue with the apologists for Popery. First of all, Alexander VI was by no means the only degraded and monstrous specimen of humanity that wore the lying crown with the three circles. If there is any difference between him and most of his predecessors and successors it is purely a difference in degree but not in kind. The explanation of the constant recurrence of men of the Borgia type in the papal chair must be found in the thoroughly fraudulent, unChristian and wholly political character of the Papacy as an institution. Examine the Papacy in the light of historic evidence—to use no finer or higher test—and you are bound to discover that it was conceived in fraud and forgery beginning with the fabled donation of Constantine to the bishops of Rome; that every step in its growth was a plain defiance of the Scriptures and the Apostolic traditions, and that its aims were wholly worldly and wholly political. A vicious and fraudulent institution cannot produce good men. Of course, I do not mean to say that all popes have been common criminals, such as could have been prosecuted under the provisions of the penal code, but I do mean to say that the taint of fraud was upon every one of them and that wittingly or unwittingly they were instruments for the debasement of Christian ideals. The pursuit of money and worldly power, simony in one form or another, enrichment of their progeny or their relatives, the perpetuation of fraudulent practices can be proven against almost every pope who really existed and whose name is more than a myth. It has never been pretended that there is, or ever can be, the slightest warrant for such an institution as the Papacy in the revealed Word of God.

The Protestant Reformation dealt the first great blow to the blasphemous claims of the popes. The loss of their temporal power checked but did by no means destroy the political ambitions and projects of the Vatican. The nature of the Papacy has not changed—it cannot change. The blighting influence is still a tremendous and fearful reality. In His own time God will blot all its works from the face of this afflicted world and consign it to infamy first and to oblivion afterwards. In the meantime the greatest weapon against this enemy of mankind is the light of publicity. Romanism is a growth that cannot bear the rays of the sun. The plain, unvarnished truth will put it down every time. There can be no peace no truce and no compromise with the forces of the Vatican. The fight of the Reformation is still the good fight but nowhere more so than in our own beloved Republic. The Papacy is reaching out or control of the schools in this country. It is encouraged by what it believes to be the indifference and the lukewarmness of Protestants who have forgotten or perhaps unlearned the art of protesting

Nor can it be claimed that Romanism with its destructive aims and tenets has changed since the days of the Borgia. Rome has never officially or otherwise condemned the Borgia, annulled their election to the "throne" of St. Peter, repudiated their records, or obliterated their memory. Quite the contrary. Within the present generation the Romanist church has erected a striking monument to the Borgia popes in one of the most prominent churches of Rome, Santa Maria in Monserrato, while less than thirty years ago Leo XIII restored the Borgia apartments in the Vatican. A monumental sarcophagus supposed to contain the remains of Alexander VI reposes among some of the canonized popes in the grottoes of the Vatican below the aisles of St. Peter.

Under the leadership of an Italian historian, an orthodox Romanist, a movement has recently been started to set aside the election of Alexander VI as a nullity and to blot his name and record from the Book of the Pontiffs. The Vatican frowned on this campaign set on foot by its own co-religionists, and Borgia is still "Alexander VI, the Sovereign Pontiff of Blessed Memory."

In conclusion let me say that all through the ages there have been great and good men within the church protesting against Popery as a malignant excrescence on the body of the Christian religion. The great poet Dante, a thoroughly orthodox Catholic, a believer in the spiritual primacy of the bishops of Rome and in the "power of the keys," consistently fought against the political aggressions and against the wild claims of the Papacy. He was driven into perpetual exile and condemned to "be burnt until dead" in case of capture. His famous book exposing the falsity of the Papal pretences in the forum of reason and history was ordered burned by the public hangman. A Roman cardinal of that day issued an order to open Dante's tomb and have the body tied to the stake and given to the flames as that of a heretic. The order was never executed because the friends of the great poet interfered. Even in modern days a respectable number of Catholics seceded from Popery and, as so-called Old Catholics, have their own churches in Germany, Switzerland, France, Holland, Belgium, Austria and other states of Europe.

Quite recently no small percentage of the Czechoslovakian people, the most intelligent among the Slav races, have rejected Popery and established a national church in the face of great legal and economic difficulties. They followed their martyred countryman, John Hus, who was burned at the stake as a heretic for daring to repudiate the absurd claims of the Papacy to universal dominion. They, too, recognize the distinction between Catholicism as a religious creed and Popery as a fraudulent and un-Christian institution. Our warfare is directed not against Catholics, whether they are of the Roman or the Greek or any other persuasion-it is directed solely and wholly against the Neo-Caesarism of the popes. Our quarrel is not with the profession of any religious faith but with a political system invented and kept alive to enslave the minds of mankind and to destroy the freedom of conscience.

The Borgias are dead and gone but they are still brewing poison in the Vatican.

JOHN BOND.

Rome, December, 1926.

Chapter 1

A ROMAN MOB, A ROMAN NIGHT AND A PAPAL ELECTION. RODERIGO BORGIA, THE WORST MAN OF HIS AGE, BUYS THE TRIPLE CROWN—HIS OHARACTER AND RECORD. COWARDLY PRINCES OF THE CHURCH—"THE JAWS OF THE WOLF."

A wild-eyed shouting mob surged about old St. Peter's, gesticulating with heads, hands and arms. The eager thousands pressed on toward the Sistine Chapel. All eyes were turned in the direction of the dimly lighted windows. Nothing could be seen there but a shadowy figure now and then moving about in deepest silence. What a curious contrast with the animation of the scenes below. Every corner of the square was black with humanity. The "pilgrim" stairs in front of the old basilica were covered with men and women who sought a little rest on its well-worn steps. The crowd had been there all day and all night. The heat of the day-it was mid-August-had given way to the delicious coolness of the Roman summer night, but the multitude cared little for the gentle breezes from the river. Their impatience bordered on frenzy. Now and then the murmurs grew into angry roars. The men had come in running groups all during the night. New arrivals could be seen advancing every minute through the street of the Borgo (the papal district) anxious to take advantage of the early dawn when the sun was still friendly.

Before the clock struck six it seemed that all Rome was in attendance as if expecting some great event that promised them plenty of that "bread and sport" for which their ancestors had often shouted before the palaces of emperors. To feed well, to see a show and to get money without working have ever been the ideals of the Roman populace. Some ragged-looking beggars on the fringes of the mob set up the cry: "Give us a pope," and quickly it echoed all through the square until the word "papa" shouted by a thousand angry throats was carried up to the windows above. The word sounded soft and foolish in the mouths of the dirty, unkempt mob. The shouts continued to rise in irregular waves always breaking against the walls of the great historic chapel.

Up in that abode of so much rare beauty the cardinals were voting for a new pope. There had been eight ballots but not one of them decisive. A majority of two thirds was required, but the suffrages of the "princes of the church" were divided among many candidates. After every poll the ballots, pieces of paper that seemed more like parchment, were burnt in the open chimney. A thin wreath of smoke curled up to the opening on the roof and in an instant spent itself against the clear blue sky. It was the signal telling the waiting crowds that the papal chair was still vacant. There were demonstrations of anger and impatience, but in the end the disappointed throng made the best of it and again settled down to waiting. Presently as if by magic a great hush fell upon them all. The robed figure of a priest appeared at the window which all day and all night had been the cynosure of tens of thousands of eyes. The man stepped close to the ledge of the window, held up his hand to command silence, and then shouted something to the mob.

"Habemus papam," he cried with all the power of his lungs. "We have a pope."

The crowds had been waiting for these words for eight and forty hours and now abandoned themselves to a perfect frenzy of joy. Their self-control was gone in an instant. As crowds will on such occasions, they acted like very foolish human beings. They had come early and late and had excited themselves to the verge of hysteria, but now when the real news they had been so eagerly expecting was about to be proclaimed they were too delirious to wait for the final announcement of the successful candidate's name. It was all the stranger because they had come not to witness a manifestation of the Holy Ghost but because they were eager to plunder the residence of the new pope. To ransack and pillage the palace of the cardinal on whom should fall the choice of his colleagues was a very old if self-conferred privilege of the Roman mob, and the mob was now on hand ready to exercise it. The man at the window, though it was clear he had more to say, gave up all further attempts to calm the mob and make himself understood. For a minute he disappeared while the pandemonium in the square rose to its height. Presently he returned with his hands full of great white strips of paper which with a great effort he flung far away into the crowd. On each one of these slips was written the name of the successful candidate: RODERIGO BORGIA. The name was shouted by the first man lucky enough to catch the fluttering message. The cry was taken up by the mob with transports of delight. No name could have been more welcome to the motley bands, for Borgia was by far the richest man in the College of Cardinals. With a rush like that of the whirlwind the crowds sped toward the Borgian palace and seized every movable thing to be found within its chambers. The cardinal, sure of his victory at the conclave, had removed every thing of great value but there was enough left to satisfy the savage plunderers.

In all the history of popedom there had never been an election like this which placed Roderigo Borgia on the so-called throne of St. Peter. Simony and nepotism had run riot in Rome for centuries but never until now had the triple crown been sold quite so brazenly. Twice before had Roderigo Borgia tried to buy the tiara but each time he had been outbid and outmaneuvered. He was now past sixty. His career as a cardinal had been the scandal of Christendom for more than a generation. He had lived in open concubinage with many mistresses and was the father of at least a dozen children, many of whom he had acknowledged proudly and publicly, laughing at the flagrant violation of his vows.

It was known that he was tainted with a revolting touch of perversity beside which the mere indulgence of sensuality was a harmless diversion. For four and thirty years he had held the office of Vice Chancellor of the Holy Roman Apostolic Church, to which his uncle, Pope Calixtus III (Alfonso Borgia), had appointed him. He had built up his vast fortune by the sale of lying privileges and dispensations and absolutions for the most odious of crimes. Nor had he been content with mere fraud but had even hired criminal violence in his lust for gain. Insensible alike to honor and to shame he had disdained to play the hypocrite and had paraded his wickedness before the eyes of the world. None knew him better than his fellow cardinals and the people of Rome. Now as to the bribery which had secured his election, let me quote from a Romanist historian, himself a priest, whose recent "History of the Popes" had the special approval and benediction of the present Pope. The name of the author is Ludwig von Pastor. I am quoting from pages 255 to 258, Volume III.

"Cardinal Ascanio Sforza (one of the other candidates for the Papal Chair) seeing that he had no chance of election lent a willing ear to the tempting offers of Borgia. The latter offered him the office of Vice Chancellor of the Church and his own palace beside the castle of Nepi and the bishopric of Erlau, yielding an annual revenue of 10,000 ducats as well as other benefices; to Cardinal Orsini, Borgia promised the two important fortified towns of Monticelli and Soriano; to Cardinal Colonna he promised the abbey of Subiaco with all its surrounding fortifications; to Cardinal Savelli he promised the city of Civita Castellana; to Cardinal Pallavicini, the bishopric of Pamplona; to Cardinal Michiel, the bishopric of Porto; to Cardinals Sclafenati, Sanseverino, Riario, and della Rovere, great abbeys and rich benefices. Counting his own vote and that of two friends of Sforza, fourteen votes had been obtained by this simoniacal proceeding. There was still one vote lacking toward the required two-thirds majority. . . . There remained an aged cardinal, one Gherardo, who was ninety years old. He was almost an imbecile. His friends and relatives were approached and they won him over for Borgia. Thus the election of Borgia was insured by his vote. The result was obtained by an unheard of practice of simony. The supreme dignity was bestowed upon a man whom the ancient church by reason of his immoral life would not have admitted to the lowest ranks of her clergy. The days of infamy and scandal for the Roman Catholic Church had begun."

In the Sistine Chapel in the mean time the great ceremony of proclaiming the new "Vicar of Christ" was continued. Borgia was formally notified of the result of the election. His ambition of so many years at last realized, he yielded for a moment to the intoxication of triumphal victory. Gazing on the assembled cardinals, two-thirds of whom he had bought as one buys merchandise over a counter, he exclaimed: "Am I really Pope and Vicar of Christ"? As he uttered these drunken words was there none to speak for Christ and the Christian people and answer the query of the Borgia with a firm and honest "No." Among "these princes of the church" there were some who had abstained from voting or had even voted against him, though sure enough they were in a most pitiable minority. Was there not even a spark of Christian manhood among these cardinals? Did not one of them open his mouth and tell their criminal colleague that he was not the Vicar of Christ but the Anti-Christ? Was there not even enough courage in that "sacred college" to have at least one man seek to shelter his self-respect behind the protest of silence. The answer is an emphatic "No." The institution of the Papacy had eaten too deeply into the vitals of the Christian faith and practice. The voice of the Christian people had been hushed amid the thunders of papal excommunications. Alexander VI only echoed what Boniface VIII had so boastingly asserted: "I am Caesar and Pope." Paganism and the devil triumphed with. the triumph of Popery. If Borgia was a criminal every one of the purpled dignitaries that were present when he ascended the papal throne was his fellow criminals.

The cardinals showered their congratulations on him and Sforza, the man whose vote had fetched the highest price, solemnly declared amid the murmured approval of his colleagues in the purple that the election had manifestly been "the work of God, who had chosen the worthiest among the cardinals to represent Him and to guide His Church." For once in his life Borgia played the hypocrite. Almost tearfully he spoke of his hope that the Lord would strengthen and comfort him. With a depraved sense of humor of which till then even his enemies had never accused him, he promised "to send his sons out of Rome immediately, to reform the papal court, to restore the religious orders to their pristine purity and to infuse new life into the Catholic world."

"Quod vis vocari," he was asked according to the ritual prescribed for the occasion. "By what name do you wish to be known" ?

He flashed a look of pride into the eyes of his questioner and then answered:

"We desire to be known by the name of the invincible Alexander.'"

The mob having returned from its raid on the palace of the new pope now came back to get his apostolic benediction. Again the ancient square was filled with human beings. There were cries for the new sovereign pontiff as the mob massed itself against the balcony. In response to the demand expressed with growing insistence there appeared upon the balcony a man apparently somewhat under sixty years of age, stocky in build, with a face that had traces of strength but still stronger signs of sensuality. His head was round, marked by an exaggerated tonsure. He was a type of the cold-hearted, self-indulgent friar such as you may see on many a painter's canvas or meet in the street of any Romanist city in less than an hour's walk. The man was Pope Alexander VI. The populace dropped on their knees and with a strong resonant voice "invincible Alexander" pronounced the Latin words of the apostolic benediction. It was the consummation of a great blasphemy worthy of the new "Holy Father" and worthy of his abject followers. The date is worth remembering, August 12, 1492.

Even the cardinals that had voted for him were fearful about their future, not without reason, as the sequel showed. The others who had cast their votes against him dreaded his vengeance, for they knew he was unscrupulous and vindictive. Cardinal Medici, a rather stout youth, even then fond of the pleasures of the table, paled as Borgia glared at him in passing. Young Medici later became the Pope Leo X, who excommunicated Luther. He was now terrified at Borgia's triumph. Turning to his fellow Cardinal Cybo he whispered in his ear: "Let us get away, we are in the jaws of a wolf that will devour us all."

Chapter 2

THE SILENT PRIEST WHO PAINTED A PERFECT PICTURE—WHY WE HAVE SUCH MINUTE AND AUTHENTIC RECORDS OF ALEXANDER'S LIFE—THE MASTER OF CEREMONIES WITH THE CAMERA EYE.

Pope ALEXANDER VI was unfortunate in having for his biographer a man with a camera eye and unusual facilities for observation. This man was the papal master of ceremonies, a German priest named Burckard who had left his native land for Rome in search of preferment. By virtue of his office, Burckard was at the pope's side almost constantly. Alexander was far from familiar with the ritual of his own church, having other things to think about of a far more congenial character. When he found himself elected he gladly retained Burckard in office. He had no suspicion that this dry and quiet man had watched him with unremitting attention during all the years of his pontificate. Still less did Alexander surmise that his master of ceremonies set down all he saw and heard in a diary as reliable as a dictograph and as fatal as a most circumstantial confession. Every day the pope unwittingly sat for his portrait until Burckard had produced the most intimate and faithful likeness ever drawn by quill or pen. Burckard's "Book of Notes," as he called it, has been the great stumbling block to the papists who have tried to rehabilitate the Borgia reputation. The big volume bears the unmistakable stamp of truth. Burckard never wrote in anger or passion. If he had any feeling in the matter at all it was one of annoyance rather than holy wrath or even simple indignation. He was a somewhat narrow minded person but extremely conscientious in all he said or did. To look in the Rome of the Borgias for a practical and ardent follower of Jesus was like looking for pure water in a cesspool. Burckard had no high ideals of religion. To him the whole duty of a Christian consisted in the due observance of formalities. In his own way he was quite sincere and his private life was irreproachable. These facts alone place him far above his daily environment. He was shocked by the immoralities that obtruded themselves upon his sight almost every hour of the day and night, but he stuck to his post because it paid him well and kept him in the line of promotion. When the stench some times became unbearable he held his nose but that was the full extent of his spiritual protest against the sin and vice of the papal court.

There is one great blank in his "Diarium" or Diary. It is silent on the mysterious murder of the pope's favorite son, the young Duke of Gandia. There are other gaps, but they are of no moment. There is evidence that the book has been tampered with. Thus the description of the banquet where fifty naked courtesans performed the notorious "Dance of the Chestnuts" for the pope and his daughter Lucrezia has been crossed out in heavy strokes of ink. In spite of this, however, the passage has been deciphered with sufficient clearness. No modern reader will care to wade through the huge volumes of indifferent Latin, in which the observations of Burckard are so minutely recorded. As a monument of biographical literature the diary of the papal master of ceremonies will always occupy a place of high distinction. Its most precious quality is its authentic character which enables the reader to get as good a picture of Alexander VI as if "His Holiness" had been filmed with the utmost care by an expert with the moving picture camera

Chapter 3

THE BORGIA POPE IMMORTALIZES HIS CONCUBINES AS MADONNAS IN PAINTING AND IN SCULPTURE—PORTRAITS OF HIS CHILDREN STILL ON THE WALLS OF THE VATICAN—THE FAIR JULIA FARNESE, THE VENUS OF THE VATICAN, AND MISTRESS OF ALEXANDER, NEAR THE HIGH ALTAR OF ST. PETER'S.

The Churches of Rome, small and big, are full of statues and pictures on walls, and canvas portraying popes and their mistresses and their progeny, not to speak of nephews and a great variety of other relatives. Of course these statues and pictures are not so labeled. By the faithful they are supposed to represent the Madonna and child, some angel or an apostle or one of the popular saints. The desire for fame beyond the tomb appears strangely powerful in the Eternal City, where human life seems so pitiably short in the face of the ages.

Alexander VI shared this essentially pagan longing for the perpetuation of his memory and that of his kith and kin. So strange and monstrous was this pope that he gloried in his shame and yearned to leave imperishable monuments to his own infamy. He thus sought to immortalize his first favorite mistress, the much married Rosa Vannozza, or as Burckard calls her, the "domina Rosa"—"the Lady Rosa." Rosa brought much ill and woe into this world when she presented her lover with Valentino, later called Cesare Borgia, an inhuman monster like his father; Lucretia Borgia, deft mixer of poisons in her youth and a shining example of Romanist piety in her declining years, and Juan Borgia, a victim of his own brother's perverted jealousy. The house in which she first lived with Borgia still stands on the corner of Via dei Cappellari and Vicolo del Gallo, facing the Campo de Fiori. Heretofore we have known very little indeed about the antecedents of this woman and not much more of her life outside of her adulteries with Borgia.

We know that soon after or perhaps even a little before Alexander's elevation to the papacy she passed out of his life, though her children always continued to visit her and she remained a well known personage in Rome. Until recently her tombstone could be seen on the floor of Santa Maria del Popolo, a church rich in historic names and memories. The epitaph recited a rather imposing list of personal virtues such as piety and a generous disposition to the poor. For some reason the inscription has been removed, but her resting place is known to the Augustinian monks who have charge of the church. Until the beginning of last century masses were still being said in this church for the repose of her soul and that of her ill-starred son Juan Borgia, buried with her under one tombstone.

I may remark in passing that tradition by word of mouth lives long in the Eternal City, almost as long as in the countries of the East. Much of it may be gossip but there is always a vein of truth. The men who deal in books and pictures, following in the footsteps of remote ancestors, preserve many a curious and interesting fact which is not found in formal chronicles. Traditions especially attach themselves to certain persons and institutions or localities and live on vigorously from generation to generation. The story of the demons that in the guise of ravens haunted the tomb of Nero until the evil spell was broken by the building of a Christian temple is told o the wondering tourist by cabmen who are unable to read or write.

Now in the case of "Lady Rosa" I have supplied many reliable data by tapping the oral traditions. I was led to an acquaintance with the site of a very old church which had been known as San Salvatore in Termis. The church was torn down some twenty years ago and no trace remains of its existence. Nothing in the neighborhood (Piazza Madama) even refers to it except the very short street still known as Via del Salvatore. This church was a favorite place of worship of Rosa Vannozza, who before and after her association with Borgia lived not far away. Shortly after the birth of Cesare Borgia she posed for an artist in the part of the Madonna with Cesare as the "bambino." The interesting group was first set up in the church but later was taken out of the place and attached to the facade. There it stayed, protected like so many other statues and pictures in the open, by an iron grating. When it was decided to demolish the church the little bas-relief was removed and transferred to the curious monumental morgue connected with the Church of St. Louis, the national French Church of Rome. In this strange reliquary of old disused or dismantled churches the statue was buried for many years.

The origin of the little work was well known. To strangers and tourists of course the most discreet silence was observed, but to persons who were seen to be familiar with the real facts the sacristan became quite garrulous and made no secret of who the models had been. The exquisite beauty of the group at last attracted so much attention and caused so many questions that it was removed and placed in the Church of St. Louis, where it is to this hour. When you enter the church walk up the left aisle to the last chapel near the high altar and there you will find chiseled out of the finest marble a bas-relief of the Madonna and the Child. The photograph in the text, a great rarity by the way, gives but a faint idea of its exquisite workmanship. One look at the little statue is enough to convince the beholder that the woman who posed for the Madonna was not a professional model. The pose is stiff and forced, a labored imitation of popular models. As a piece of sculpture it obviously belongs to the latter half of the 15th century.