(in this order) of the pope, and that the president of the Parisian Parliament would give a little speech in the name of the king. In it, he would acknowledge Alexander as “the true pope and the representative and successor of Saint Peter,” and proclaim obedience to him. The next day, however, the king did not appear at the appointed hour. Burckard was dispatched to inquire and came back with the message that the king first wanted to hear Mass in Saint Peter’s and have lunch. Accompanied by a number of cardinals and officials, Burckard was sent to the king for the second time, but was left waiting for yet another hour. Only then he could instruct the king on the details of the ceremony, and at long last they proceeded to the papal audience hall.
On entering the hall, the king made the required three genuflections, kissed the pope on his foot, hands, and mouth, and took a stand on the left side of his throne. This was contrary to the rules of the protocol, according to which the king had to sit between the cardinals, in a position subservient to the pope. Nor were the circumstances under which the ceremony took place as solemn as required. The many French courtiers in the room pushed the cardinals around, causing confusion and irritation with their “insolence and presumption.” At the appointed moment, Burckard whispered to the king that he should now proclaim his obedience to the pope, but instead the president of the Parisian Parliament stepped forward, knelt, and brought up three demands, one of which was support for the king’s claims to Naples. Pope Alexander answered in diplomatic, elusive words. Then the king declared, with extreme economy of words and in a mixture of French and Italian: “Tre sant per [Très Saint Père] gie son venuto per far obedientia et reverentia a vostra Santità como son soliti a fare li mei precesorri re de Franza.” The president stood up and repeated this statement at more length. Meanwhile the pope, sitting on his throne, held the hand of the king standing next to him, and after the ceremony led him by the hand to the adjoining room.
Pintoricchio’s next painting shows the creation of two cardinals, “with the common approval of the Senate” (that is, the College of Cardinals) (fig. 25). This scene seems to have been a combination of two events that took place on separate days. The first occurred on January 16, during the first meeting of the pope and the king in the secret garden. After the fumbling with the hats, the king took advantage of the pope’s efforts not to make him feel humiliated and requested that Guillaume Briçonnet be created a cardinal. Briçonnet was bishop of Saint Malo and an advisor to the king; he would later become one of the leaders of the reform movement within the Catholic Church.23 The king’s request was granted without delay. Cardinal Cesare Borgia lent his red hat, and Burckard grabbed a cloak from the room of Cardinal Antoniotto Pallavicini. On Burckard’s advice, the actual creation did not take place in the garden but in one of the papal rooms, where the pope solemnly declared that he had consulted all the cardinals about raising Briçonnet to the status of cardinal and had received their common consent. To this, all the cardinals applauded, “so as to honor and oblige the king.” Then, with some improvisation, the appropriate ceremony was enacted. Five days later, during a secret consistory, the pope slid the cardinal’s ring onto Briçonnet’s finger and made him titular of the Church of Santa Pudenziana. During the same ceremony, again at the king’s instigation, the pope created another French cardinal, Philippe de Luxembourg, a relative of Charles who was bishop of Le Mans.24 Most probably, Pintoricchio’s painting illustrated this secret consistory of January 21.
On January 20, at Charles’s request, Pope Alexander celebrated Mass in Saint Peter’s. Pintoricchio depicts how, during that ceremony, the king “respectfully” ministered water to the pope to wash his hands, illustrating quite accurately what really happened. Before the ceremony started, Burckard asked the king in which order his three assisting courtiers should walk up to the pope and present the various objects that were needed for the handwashing. As it was his job to direct the ceremony, he did not want to upset the French by disturbing their sense of hierarchy. He also inquired if the king was willing to offer the water himself, to which Charles replied that, if it befitted a king, he would gladly do so. Hence, preceded by his three courtiers, the king walked up to the altar, where Burckard handed him the silver basin and poured the water into it. Then the king climbed the altar steps and ministered the water to the pope. “The pope himself—according to Burckard—had not wanted the king to perform this act.” Before and during the service the king kept asking Burckard questions on all kinds of details of the service: what they exactly meant and why they were performed in that particular way. Burckard did his best to answer them all, but after each explanation the king would sigh, “Pur que?” This questioning distracted Burckard so much that at several points he could not prevent the pope from neglecting the proper rules of the protocol.
Pintoricchio’s fifth scene depicts how the king assisted the pope to mount his horse when they set out to attend Mass at Saint Paul’s Outside the Walls. This happened on Sunday, January 25, when the conversion of Saint Paul is traditionally commemorated. Although it may seem gallant and polite of the young Charles to help the elderly pope get on his horse, this act, just like the kissing of the foot, fitted into a long tradition. Called the strator ritual, it was supposedly instituted in the fourth century by Emperor Constantine the Great when he led Pope Sylvester on his papal horse through Rome. Subsequently, emperors and kings who came to Rome were expected to help the pope mount his horse and lead him around, to demonstrate their respect to the successor of Saint Peter.25 Pintoricchio’s painting shows Charles acting accordingly, but Burckard’s diary relates a different story. The pope and his cardinals rode to Saint Peter’s Square, where the king let them wait for his arrival. When he finally showed up, he stayed on his horse and just took off his headdress, after which the hat-fumbling act of their first meeting was performed again. When first Charles and then Alexander had finally both covered their heads, they left for Saint Paul’s, followed by a retinue of French noblemen and cardinals.
The last scene of Pintoricchio’s cycle shows King Charles leaving for Naples, taking Cardinal Cesare Borgia and Prince Djem with him. This happened on January 28. The day before, according to Burckard, Djem had been taken from Castel Sant’Angelo to the Palazzo di San Marco, where the king was residing. Even though the prince had been a hostage at the papal court for six years, he lived in grand style. His portrait is included in one of the paintings that Pintoricchio made for Alexander VI (fig. 26). Accompanied by guards, the prince left Rome before the king and was conducted to the town of Marino, where Charles and his retinue would later also arrive. On the morning of the twenty-eighth, the king first rode to the pope to take leave. The two men conversed together for a while and were subsequently joined by Cardinal Cesare Borgia. Then the moment of parting came. The king knelt and the pope kissed him, but again kept him from kissing his foot. Next the king mounted his horse and waited for Borgia to come. When he finally appeared, dressed in his cardinal’s robes and mounted on a mule, he first donated six bridled horses to the king. Only then did the caravan ride off to Marino, with Borgia on the left side of King Charles.
Comparing Burckard’s account to Pintoricchio’s painting, it becomes clear that Pintoricchio made a sort of compressed illustration of the departure. King Charles, Prince Djem, and Cardinal Cesare Borgia did not in fact travel together, but just as in his depiction of the creation of two cardinals, Pintoricchio, as was common around 1500, squeezed several events into one picture. More interesting, however, is what the caption of the painting tells. It explains that on his departure for Naples, Charles took with him (or abducted; the Latin word abducere in the caption can mean both) Cesare Borgia, “cardinal-deacon, denominated as cardinal of Valencia, and very dear to Pope Alexander VI.” This last statement is certainly true, as Cesare was not just a cardinal but also the pope’s son. (Although contrary to the rules of celibacy, it was far from uncommon for clergymen—bishops, cardinals, and popes included—to have children.) Djem, according to the caption, was abducted “as a captive.” The Latin word captum is used in the singular form, so that it can refer only to the prince and not to the cardinal. In other words, the impression created by the painting’s caption is that the pope bestowed a special favor on the king by making Cesare Borgia accompany him, as this cardinal was very dear to him, while Prince Djem, although an important Ottoman, was abducted as a hostage.
IV
When
