painted in the pope’s apartment in the Vatican—including a stupendous portrait of Alexander VI himself (figs. 24, 26)—and those he executed ten years later in the Piccolomini library in Siena, showing scenes from the life of Enea Silvio Piccolomini, who became Pope Pius II in 1458 (figs. 25, 27). All these paintings are bustling with people, many of them portraits of well-known contemporaries, shown against backgrounds that are often topographically recognizable. Areas that might have seemed too empty are filled with entertaining details, such as people walking and chatting and birds chasing each other. Pintoricchio used bright colors and added details in gilt relief. Especially during special occasions, when candles were burning and the gilt details reflected their light, these paintings must have made a rich and joyful impression. The abundant compositions ensure that, even after staring for hours, one still discovers details not noticed before. It is easy to see why Pintoricchio’s work was so much in vogue.
This general reconstruction of Pintoricchio’s paintings in Castel Sant’Angelo can be filled in with some remarks from the notebook of Lorenz Behaim, one the pope’s officials. He began his service around 1480, when Alexander VI was still a cardinal, and stayed with him as his steward for more than twenty years. Behaim was a learned man and a friend of many well-known scholars. He filled his notebook with all kinds of observations and inscriptions from monuments that seemed interesting to him. Among them are the captions of Pintoricchio’s paintings.7 Thanks to these, it is possible to reconstruct what the loggia looked like and what exactly its paintings represented.
The loggia was decorated with six narrative paintings and eight maxims that Behaim ascribed to various emperors, whom he did not specify. How exactly these paintings were situated in the three arches of the loggia is hard to determine (fig. 23). Nor is it clear if the maxims were paired with painted busts of the emperors. The paintings were probably surrounded with grotesques, ornamental motifs deriving from ancient Roman wall paintings, which were a specialty of Pintoricchio. The six narrative frescoes depicted the visit of the French King Charles VIII to Pope Alexander VI during the winter of 1494–95. (The name Charles seems to have caused some confusion, as Fichard erroneously identified him as Charles IV, while Lorenz Behaim mentioned him as Charles VI!) The first picture showed, according to its caption, how Charles VIII, with a large army on his way to conquer Naples, met with Pope Alexander VI, who was on his way back from Castel Sant’Angelo, and “piously kissed his blessed feet.” The next picture showed how Charles then, in the presence of the College of Cardinals, proclaimed obedience to the pope “in matters human and divine” (fig. 27). The third painting depicted Pope Alexander promoting two “eminent men” to the status of cardinal before the king and all the other cardinals (fig. 25). The fourth painting showed the pope, surrounded by all the cardinals, celebrating Mass in Saint Peter’s, and the king “respectfully” presenting him with water to wash his hands. The next picture showed the pope, preparing to leave for “the most venerable church of Saint Paul’s [Outside the Walls],” being assisted by Charles to mount his horse. The last painting depicted the departure of Cardinal Cesare Borgia, “who was very dear to the pope,” and the Turkish Prince Djem (fig. 26), a brother of the reigning sultan of the Ottoman Empire who was being held in Rome as a hostage, to join Charles’s expedition to conquer Naples.
These paintings may not have totally surprised Fichard when he entered the loggia. A long inscription alluding to their theme on the castle’s entrance tower may have prepared him. The inscription stated that Pope Alexander VI had reinforced and fortified the stronghold for the safety of the Holy Church and the Roman people “in the year of our redemption 1495, the third year of his pontificate, in which time Charles VIII, king of the French, publicly promised faithfulness and obedience.”8 There is, however, something strange about the combination of this inscription and the paintings. Both present the king as a respectful monarch who is showing piety and reverence by coming to demonstrate his obedience to the pope. Why, then, did the pope need to stress so explicitly that he had Castel Sant’Angelo fortified and expanded immediately after Charles’s visit?
II
The goal of Charles’s expedition through Italy with an army of forty thousand men was not Rome but Naples, as is explained in the caption to the first painting.9 Already in 1435, when the Neapolitan Queen Johanna II died without issue, a related branch of the house of Anjou from France had laid claim to this kingdom south of Rome. After a struggle that lasted several years, however, Naples fell into the hands of Alfonso V of the Spanish house of Aragon, who then became King Alfonso I of Naples (1442–58). The death of Alfonso’s son and successor King Ferrante I on January 25, 1494, was the immediate cause for Charles VIII to challenge the new Neapolitan King Alfonso II and revive the French claim to Naples by bringing up his Angevin inheritance. Officially, however, Naples was a papal fiefdom, and consequently the pope’s position in this dispute was of great importance. Initially Alexander tried to stay out of this conflict, but after a period of hesitation he chose the side of the house of Aragon. An important reason for this choice was his fear of French dominance over Italian and consequently papal affairs. In a papal bull of March 22, 1494, he tactfully stated that his predecessor, Pope Innocent VIII, had already committed himself to granting Naples as a fief to Alfonso II and that he, Alexander, was not authorized to undo this.10
In response, Charles threatened to convoke a church council that would put Alexander’s deposition on its agenda, under the pretext that Alexander had not been elected legally but through simony. When Charles learned that on May 8 Cardinal Juan Borgia, in the name of the pope, had crowned Alfonso II king of Naples and Sicily, he decided to invade Italy, and in September 1494 French troops, led by their king, crossed the Alps.
The invading army advanced rapidly. A treaty with the Duke of Milan and the neutrality of the Venetians secured the French a fast passage through northern Italy. They passed by Florence, which was struggling with internal political problems, without much delay, and in December were already on their way to the eternal city. Diplomatic missions and proposals to negotiate had no effect. Charles stuck to his decision to spend Christmas in Rome, where he could personally urge the pope to support his claims to the Neapolitan throne.
In Rome, meanwhile, tension rose to desperation.11 The pope did not have enough troops to defend the city and started to inquire about taking refuge in Naples. Those cardinals who from the start had endorsed the French claims now began to receive increasing support from their colleagues. The population grew frantic, and representatives of the people threatened to open the city gates if the pope did not come to an agreement with the French king within two days. On December 18, everything in the Vatican except beds and tableware was packed and prepared for a flight. Valuables had been moved to Castel Sant’Angelo, and the cardinals’ horses were harnessed. Finally, on Christmas Eve, the pope decided to resist the king no longer, and three days later the first French troops marched into the city. On December 31, the king himself entered Rome, followed in his retinue by a number of cardinals. He received the keys of the city from the authorities and took up residence in the Palazzo di San Marco, the present Palazzo Venezia, in the very center of Rome. There all but two of the cardinals came to pay him homage.
Yet the fear and nervousness in the city kept growing. The French troops were hard to control and committed vandalism, creating much commotion. On January 7, 1495, Pope Alexander, together with a small number of loyal cardinals, decided to seek refuge in Castel Sant’Angelo. To add to his sense of safety, he had “the Most Sacred Body of Christ” (that is, a consecrated host), the holy sweat cloth, the heads of Saints Peter and Paul, and other relics placed on the walls of the castle, hoping that King Charles would live up to his title of “most
