With Charles relatively far away, the pope regained courage, and on March 31 he concluded the so-called Holy League with Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, Milan, and Venice. Fear of excessive French influence on Italian affairs was what suddenly united these states. Pope Alexander now also had enough nerve to denounce openly the French claims to Naples. However, when in May Charles decided to return to France via Rome, the pope deemed it better to move temporarily to Orvieto. As the French troops neared that city on their way north, Alexander sidestepped to Perugia. On August 5, he was back in Rome and officially demanding that the king justify his behavior. Meanwhile Charles was having great difficulty getting back to France. After a number of humiliating defeats in northern Italy, he finally arrived by October, only to learn that Naples was already back in the hands of the house of Aragon. Two and a half years later, on April 7, 1498, while leaving the Château d’Amboise with plans for a new expedition on his mind, he hit his head against the gate. Nine hours later he was dead. He was twenty-eight years old.
III
It is hard to assess the results of Charles’s expedition and, in particular, his stay in Rome. The outcome was rather equivocal, and, given the circumstances, it may have been more of a success for the pope than for the king. Nevertheless, at the time the situation was quite embarrassing, if not humiliating, for the supreme pontiff. In spite of the agreements they reached, the pope did not trust King Charles, and with the Holy League in mind he had every reason to fear a French return. This makes it understandable why Alexander decided to restore and reinforce Castel Sant’Angelo as soon as the king had left Rome (fig. 28). The sudden collapse of a wall on January 10 might indeed have been a divine omen, but human negligence had certainly contributed to it.19 The embarrassing situation the pope was in may raise suspicions about Pintoricchio’s paintings, which depict the French king as a respectful, courteous, and obedient ruler. Do they give a “correct” and trustworthy impression of what had happened? How exactly did the events that he depicts take place?
The details of the suspenseful weeks around Christmas 1494 were minutely recorded by the papal master of ceremonies, Johannes Burckard of Strasbourg. Burckard had carried out this important position with zeal and accuracy since 1481.20 In his diary he meticulously noted down anything ceremonial that happened, so that he or his successors, should the occasion arise, could use his notes as a kind of guide. His obsession with his job went so far that when Charles was nearing Rome and everyone was fearing for his life and possessions, Burckard was mainly worried that the French would not observe the proper protocol. He does not come off as a particularly nice man himself, and does not seem to have liked or respected Pope Alexander very much. Still, his account of what happened is considered to be fairly accurate, and it is revealing to compare it with Pintoricchio’s depictions.21
Pintoricchio’s cycle passes over all that preceded the first personal encounter between the pope and the king. It starts with their meeting on January 16, when their delegates had concluded the negotiations and the pope returned from Castel Sant’Angelo to the Vatican. “In a garden,” according to the painting’s caption, “the king piously kissed his [Alexander’s] blessed feet” (fig. 27). Burckard’s report relates more precisely that the meeting took place in “the second private garden” of the Vatican, when the pope was being carried in his litter over the walkway from Castel Sant’Angelo to the Vatican. The king’s foot kiss was the conventional way of greeting the supreme pontiff. It stemmed from a long tradition according to which it was given only to the highest-ranking officials, such as the emperors of classical antiquity. In the course of time, however, this mark of honor had been transferred to the pope, who claimed it as successor of Saint Peter.22 Still, even though it was traditional and proper, the act of kneeling for the supreme pontiff and kissing his foot may have felt humiliating for the king of France, especially at a time when he in fact held both Rome and the pope in his grip. Alexander must have sensed this and acted accordingly. Burckard’s eyewitness account relates that Alexander pretended not to notice when the king, as soon as he caught sight of the pope, still at a distance of some six meters, twice genuflected. However, when Charles came closer, the pope took off his biretta (cap) and embraced and kissed the king, thus preventing him from genuflecting for the third time and kissing his foot. “They now both had their heads uncovered, and hence the king did kiss neither the foot nor the hand of the pope. The pope did not want to put his biretta back on again before the king would have covered his head, and finally they covered their heads at the same moment, the pope putting his hand on the headgear of the king, so that he would not be exposed.”
On January 19, the king publicly proclaimed his obedience to the pope. This, too, was a ritual that kings and emperors traditionally performed. It was a sign of their subservience and loyalty to Christ and his vicar on Earth, rather than to the particular person of the reigning pope. In Pintoricchio’s painting Charles proclaims his obedience “after kissing the holy feet” in the presence of the College of Cardinals (fig. 27). According to Burckard’s report, however, the course of events was different. On the preceding day, Burckard had gone over all the details of the protocol with the pope. It was decided that the king would kiss the foot, hands, and mouth (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