Rome in the time of the Borgias: has anything really changed?

Jeremy Irons as Pope Alexander VI

One of my favorite things about April, besides the glorious boughs of cascading wisteria to be seen (and smelt) all over Rome, is that it heralds the start of one of my favorite guilty pleasures, television drama, The Borgias. Following the life of the most notorious pope in history, The Borgias chronicles the intrigues, scandal, and corruption of the 15th-century Vatican court, featuring plenty of greed, violence and impermissible sex.

Jeremy Irons stars as Rodrigo Borgia, aka Pope Alexander VI, the epitome of corruption, hypocrisy and debauchery, a part he plays with obvious relish. Yet he is somehow able to turn the papa cattivo (evil pope, as he is remembered) into a lovable bad boy, whom we can’t help rooting for. Although the gaunt and ruggedly handsome Irons may be physically contradictory to the actual historic figure (fat and ugly), he does capture the inner qualities the Borgia pope possessed in abundance: magnetism, sensuality, and undeniable charisma. While critics have claimed that The Borgias dulls in comparison to the (even racier, if possible!) German version, Borgia, I can’t imagine a better cast, or one with more titillating chemistry.

The cast of Showtime's The Borgias

Now, I know April is still two months away, but, for some strange reason, I’ve got that family of miscreants on the mind right now, and I just can’t wait for Season Three to begin! Last night I went back and watched the first episode of Season One, which features the conclave of 1492 and the election of Rodrigo Borgia as pope. I couldn’t help comparing the climate of tension, suspicion and political intrigue depicted in that episode to what is going on right across town, in this, the 21st century.

Scandal! Rumors! (Almost) unprecedented occurrences!

No pope has willingly given up his position since 1294 when Celestine V, who had not even participated in his own election, and who had very reluctantly accepted the tiara, resigned after only five months to return to his life as a hermit. Despite a few hints that Benedict XVI may have dropped over the past few years, everyone was shocked when he announced on 11 February that he would be resigning, effective 28 February. While I won’t comment on my suppositions as to why the pope has chosen to resign (I prefer not to get too political on this blog), from the church’s official line to the most disparaging journalists, and everywhere in between, everyone has an opinion. Rumors are swirling and many of them are not pretty.

The headline in this morning’s La Repubblica read, “Sesso e carriera, i ricatti in Vaticano dietro la rinuncia di Benedetto XVI” (Sex and career: the Vatican extortion behind the resignation of Benedict XVI). With the “Vatileaks” debacle early last year that saw the pope’s butler thrown into a medieval prison, the on-going sex abuse scandals, accusations of money-laundering, and now this, who needs the hi-jinks of Alexander VI, Lucrezia Borgia and Giulia Farnese? We’ve got enough disrepute to rival the Borgia pope himself.

Jeremy Irons as Pope Alexander VI and Lotte Verbeek as Giulia Farnese

Over 500 years have passed from the time of the Borgia pope, but has life in Italy really changed that much? This is a question I have asked myself many times since I moved here and began studying Renaissance Rome and papal history. With the secrecy and intrigue within the Vatican, the rampant corruption on every level of society, a political system that still gives credence to buffoons  like Berlusconi, and a class divide that is turning into an impassable chasm, sometimes I feel it hasn’t changed at all.

Case in point: When a young priest secured the undivided attentions of his delicious teenage sister, Giulia Farnese, for the newly crowned Alexander VI, the grateful pontiff thanked him with a coveted cardinal’s hat (the key to wealth and power in Renaissance Italy). Not surprisingly, Cardinal Farnese became pope himself in his time, although he could never shake the ridiculous circumstances of his rise to power, and was laughingly referred to as Cardinal Petticoat.

This could be likened to the case of the 25-year-old showgirl with (surprise surprise) no political experience, who was nevertheless elected to Italian parliament thanks to her inclusion on the ticket of the president of the region of Lombardia. How did she end up on that ticket? It seems it was “wanted at any cost” by then-premier Berlusconi. Don’t worry, she didn’t serve long; she was eventually indicted for her part in providing him with an underage prostitute.

This is just one example, but parallels between Renaissance Rome and today’s Rome can be drawn with sickening ease. With the parliamentary elections this weekend, it’s looking more and more like nothing is going to be changing in the near future. So I suggest you grab a bowl of popcorn and find a good seat. The new season of The Borgias may not start until April, but with the pope’s resignation and the upcoming conclave, we are about to witness a piece of history, and Showtime’s got nothing on it.

Stay tuned for more posts as I follow the Pope's (nearly) unprecedented resignation and the exciting conclave that will follow!

Image sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

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The story of Cupid and Psyche continues in Villa Farnesina

Yesterday I posted about the new exhibit at Castel Sant’Angelo that brings together dozens of works of art illustrating the fable of Cupid and Psyche. This show, as I wrote yesterday, particularly interested me because I love the idea of an exhibit that tells a story. And what a story, with jealousy, diversity, courage, trust, abandonment, forgiveness and true love conquering all odds, well, Disney couldn’t have topped it.

Cupid and Psyche, Antonio Canova, 1786-93, Musée du Louvre, Paris

In fact I have so much to write about it that I am continuing the subject today. If you are not familiar with the story of Cupid and Psyche, you can read it here. What I find especially inspiring about it is that Psyche, the female character, is clearly the hero of the story. Cupid may be her “prince Charming” but it is her story, and it is she who succeeds at Venus’ impossible tasks, risking her life to be with the man she loves. 

This 2^nd-century story became popular in during the Renaissance and it was often the subject of artwork in bedrooms because if its romantic theme, and because it ends with a wedding banquet. The perfect subject for the art decorating the bedroom of a newlywed couple.

Loggia of Cupid and Psyche, Villa Farnesina, Rome

One of the most famous sites to utilize this subject is Villa Farnesina, the exquisite and rarely visited Renaissance palace in Trastevere. The villa was designed by Baldassare Perluzzi and built between 1508 and 1512 for the rich Sienese banker, Agostino Chigi. One of the richest men of his day, Chigi financed the caprices of many popes and their greedy relations. He was genuinely in love with his long-time mistress Francesca Ordeaschi, but because of his high social status, it wasn’t suitable for them to marry. Not being able to find a highborn woman whom he could bear to spend the rest of his life with, he moved Francesca into the villa and lived openly with her there. In an unprecedented and bold social step, they finally married in 1519, a veritable fairy tale not at all unlike the story of our Cupid and Psyche. Even more unheard of is the fact that the pope, Leo X De' Medici officiated the ceremony.

Portrait of Francesca Ordeaschi as Dorotea, Sebastiano del Piombo

No surprise then that on occasion of his long-awaited nuptials he had the ceiling of the villa’s loggia frescoed with scenes from the popular story. Like the mere mortal Psyche, Francesca was being welcomed into the social stratosphere of the super-elite, despite being not much more than a courtesan. Apparently Chigi’s ego didn’t have a problem with him representing himself as a god in this scenario. 

The walls the loggia are frescoed by several noted artists, most importantly Raphael, but it’s the ceiling that illustrates our story. Although Raphel may have been involved in the ceiling’s design, it is almost entirely the work of his greatest pupils, Giulio Romano, Giovan Francesco Penni, Raffaellino del Colle and Giovanni da Udine. The ceiling is gorgeous enough to be satisfying on its own, but when you know the story it makes it that much more rewarding.

Each spandrel illustrates a different scene from the fable, each one lovelier than the last, and the story in this case begins with Venus pointing out Psyche to Cupid. The frescoes are glorious, a celebration of the high Renaissance style that Raphael inspired. This is one of those places I could spend hours in, just feeding my eyes with the lush details and graceful figures.

Venus shows Cupid Psiche, Raffaellino del Colle

Cupid and the three graces, Giulio Romano

Venus, Ceres and Juno, Giulio Romano

The spandrel above is one of my favorites. I love mythological art because you can always find the symbols of each character somewhere. Juno's symbol is the peacock which you can easily to the right of Venus' legs. Ceres, in the center, is the goddess of grain and harvest and she wears blades of wheat in her hair.

Venus in her carriage, Giulio Romano

Venus and Jupiter, Giovan Francesco Penni

Psyche carried by amorini, Giulio Romano

Psyche and Venus, Giulio Romano

Venus clearly was not expecting Psyche to be able to pull this one off.

Cupid and Jupiter, Giulio Romano

Mercury, Giulio Romano

Mercury and Psiche, Giovan Francesco Penni

It's hard to tear your eyes away from the beautiful figures, but the festoons are every bit as worthy of praise, and were the work of Giovanni da Udine. It's not unusual for subtle sexual messages to be hidden in festoons bursting with fruit and vegetation like these ones. Sometimes it is obvious, even explicit, such as in the fresco of Mercury, right above his hand.

If you think I have an over-active imagination, take a look at the fruit just to the left of the oddly shaped cucumber (?). It is difficult to see here, but it is clearly a fig. If you speak a bit of Italian, you will know I'm not seeing things.

Council of the Gods

 In the center of the ceiling, these two large magnificent frescoes crown one of the most splendid, and least-known, wonders of Rome.

Nuptial banquet

This marvelous loggia, along with the other beautifully decorated rooms of the Villa Farnesina, can be visited Monday through Saturday, from 9am to 1pm for only €5. More information here.

Photo sources: 1, 3, all others

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Lux in Arcana: The Vatican Secret Archives reveal 100 priceless documents

Those of you who know me well, know that I like to post about a new exhibit if not the day it opens, then at least that same week. As Lux in Arcana: The Vatican Secret Archives revealed at the Capitoline Museums was the most highly anticipated exhibition of the year (century?) for me, it might be surprising that I have waited so long to write about it.

Photo by Daniele Fregonese

I have been preparing an article on the exhibit for the Traveller, the Sunday travel magazine of both the Sydney Morning Herald and the Melbourne Age and it has been published this weekend! Here's an excerpt:

Michelangelo's smudged signature, a secret papal messaging code, a 1200-year-old book and myriad blood-red papal seals, excommunication bulls, death warrants of heretics and letters written in desperation by condemned queens - these are some of the most precious documents in the world, kept for the past four centuries in impenetrable vaults in the Vatican. For the first - and perhaps only - time in history, 100 original documents have left the Vatican Secret Archives and been shifted across town for an exhibition that opened a fortnight ago in the Capitoline Museums in central Rome...
read the full article.

I hope you enjoy it! The online version of the article unfortunately has only one photo, so below are some of the best images of the exhibit.

Photo by Daniele Fregonese

These red penant seals (tied with red ribbon or "red tape", the origin of that expression) belonged to 81 separate members of the House of Lords. They are attached to a letter from King Henry VIII requesting Pope Clement VII to grant him an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon to enable him to marry his mistress Anne Boleyn.

Photo by Daniele Fregonese

Galileo's signature! These are the court proceedings of his trial for heresy following his vocal support for Copernicus' heliocentric theory.

Photo by Daniele Fregonese

 A letter from Michelangelo begs the Bishop of Cesena to resume payment of the workers of St. Peter's after the death of Pope Paul III. The builders had remained on site to protect the precious building materials from theivery despite the fact that they were not being paid to do so.

Photo by Daniele Fregonese

A letter to the future Pope Celestine V informing him that he had been elected pope after 27 months of conclave at which he wasn't even present. The hermit priest reluctantly accepted, only to abdicate five years later. (During his papacy, he declared it the right of any pope to abdicate.) The letter is dated 11 July 1294.

Photo by Daniele Fregonese

This was one of the most exciting and bone-chilling exhibits: a 60 meter scroll of parchment with the depositions of 231 French Templar knights. During the Council of Vienne in 1311 they were forced to betray the order or face execution.

Photo by Giovanni Ciarlo

What I found so thrilling about this exhibit was that many of the documents on display pertain to events that we have all learned about, events that changed history and changed the world. Seeing the documents up close and personal brings history alive in a whole new way. In my eternal quest to travel in time, this was pretty close.


Visit my Exhibits on Now page for all pertinent information and enjoy! This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime event!

All images are provided courtesy of Zètema Press Office and may not be reproduced.

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Caravaggio, you devil!

If Rome can't get enough of Caravaggio, you certainly can't expect me to. In fact, there's a disgraceful lack of Caravaggio in the contents of this blog. I'm going to start remedying that right now.

Love victorious, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

The Rome in the time of Caravaggio exhibit was set to end last weekend, but as I happily announced last week, it has been extended through mid-March! If you want to go to a Caravaggio exhibit, let me warn you right now, it isn't one! But it's still full of wonderful works of art, and beautifully curated, so I recommend it nonetheless. 

One of my favorite aspects of this exhibit was that most of the works, instead of simply hanging on the wall at eye level, have been inserted into replica altars, with faux marble and porphyry, because almost all of them are part of altarpieces. There has been some criticism that the works are displayed too high off the ground, but they were meant to be seen this way in the churches they were painted for, so in my opinion it works.

One of over 100 paintings on display is Giovanni Baglione's Sacred love conquering profane love. Actually, it's not this one below. This is his first version of the same subject. Baglione was one of the most enthusiastic followers of Caravaggio's innovative new style of naturalism plus chiaroscuro, a style that was bursting onto the Roman scene in the first years of the 1600s. Problem was, Caravaggio didn't like people copying his style. Apparently he didn't agree with the adage that the greatest form of admiration is imitation.

According to Peter Robb (whose book M: The man who became Caravaggio I am currently absorbed in), this painting was greatly inspired by, even a challenge to, Caravaggio's most celebrated and notorious work of the moment, Love victorious (pictured above), albeit a completely different take on the subject of love. In fact, Baglione's divine love was seen as a kind of antithesis to Caravaggio's shocking earthly love.

Here you see sacred love in full armour, breaking up what appears to be a tryst between profane love and the devil himself. Robb describes it as "a sanctimonious courtier's appeal to the counter reformation properties," adding that "on this level at least, it worked brilliantly." When the work was enthusiastically received by the cardinal who had commissioned it --and Baglione generously rewarded for his work-- Caravaggio was understandably miffed. According to Robb, Caravaggio considered Baglione's painting "at once cheaply derivative and smugly critical of his own most daring work." The fact that Caravaggio was having his paintings rejected right and left because he refused to censor his own art to pander to the church couldn't have helped matters.

Sacred love conquers profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602, Staatliche Museen, Berlin

But as frustrated as Caravaggio must have been, Baglione's next painting was even more insulting. Baglione had been criticized for depicting sacred love in full armour, so he reworked the painting with two major differences: he changed the angel's outfit to what Robb describes as "a hideously fancy and fussy girdle" but more provocatively, the devil is no longer turning his head in defeat, but looking straight out at the viewer with the unmistakable features of Caravaggio himself. (The second version is the one that appears in this exhibit.)

Considering the conspicuous position of these two would-be lovers, and the fact that Caravaggio's recent Love victorious had been modelled by his well-known boy-toy Cecco Boneri, with this work Baglione was attempting to smear Caravaggio's already fragile reputation with the stain of sodomy.

Sacred love conquering profane love, Giovanni Baglione, 1602-3, Palazzo Barberini, Rome

Below you can see the clear resemblance of Caravaggio's most famous self-portrait, painted ten years prior, with Baglione's devil version of Caravaggioabove.

Detail from Sick Bacchus (self-portrait), Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1593, Galleria Borghese, Rome

If you think Caravaggio took this insult lying down, you don't know art history's favorite bad boy very well. Caravaggio and a couple of his friends retaliated by writing a couple of virulent and vulgar poems that offended Giovanni Baglione so gravely that he took them all to court for slander. Caravaggio ended up serving a few weeks in the Tor di Nona prison followed by a lengthy house arrest. Only his high connections saved him from being sent to the galleys.

Peter Robb recounts this and many more of Caravaggio's exploits in his engrossing book (along with vivid descriptions of all his works) so I highly recommend you pick it up. (It has recently be rereleased with the new title M: The Caravaggio enigma.) You will also find both of the comic and insulting poems, which I would love to post here, but I'm waiting until I can find the original Italian versions. Let me just say that the first one is called Gian Coglione.

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3, 4

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A Borgia orgy tonight!

Just in case my recent post on the nefarious Borgias has whet your appetite for a little lust, violence and treachery, Italian Renaissance-style, check out this trailer for Season Two of Showtime's The Borgias. It is premiering this April for those of you in the states. If you are in Italy, you'll have to hold out at least a few more decades (we are just now getting Cheers! after all) or, a much more practical solution, just buy the DVD set online (although I believe the entire season has to air before it will be available--the world of modern television is a mystery to me). In case you missed it, Season One was highly entertaining as well and is available at Amazon UK for those of you with European DVD players.

Now, for those of you die-hard Roman history buffs, don't write it off when you see the pan of the 17th century St. Peter's Square--built nearly two centuries after the drama takes place--in one of the trailers. Evidently the same level of attention to historical accuracy wasn't paid to the making of the trailer, but rest assured, no images of the kind are used in the actual series, at least not in the first season.

In my opinion, when watching historical dramas, be they series or films, it's important not to be too much of a stickler. It grates on my nerves when unavoidable mistakes and anachronisms are made, but I do understand that for the purposes of plot development, sometimes facts need to be stretched and the order of events needs to be shaken up a bit. It's not a documentary, after all, and its first aim is to be entertaining. All in all, I found The Borgias to be fascinating and engrossing, particularly due to the brilliant portrayal of Rodrigo Borgia by Jeremy Irons.

Here is another interesting video which expands on the subtitle of the series "The Original Crime Family" with historians discussing how the Borgia family inspired Mario Puzo's epic Godfather trilogy.

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The Borgia Pope, Pinturicchio and La Bella Farnese

In my mind, there's nothing better then some fabulous art, especially when a bit of mystery and scandal are thrown in.That's why I was practically giddy yesterday to be able to see a long-lost work of art with a shocking past.

Portrait of Pope Alexander VI, detail from The Ascension, Pinturicchio

Back in the 1490s, just around the time a pair of Spanish monarchs sent Christopher Columbus off in search of a new route to India, another famous Spaniard was stepping into the most important shoes in Christendom. Most people are at least somewhat familiar with the notorious Borgia family, and their patriarch Rodrigo, Pope Alexander VI, especially thanks to the Showtime series, but just in case you need a refresher, Alexander VI went down in history as the Papa Cattivo (naughty pope) due to his unprecedented unpriestly lifestyle that included mistresses, many children, nepotism, greed, corruption, orgies, murder, and according to some, incest.

His living quarters in the Vatican Palace, the now-called Borgia Apartment, are decorated with frescoes by the great Renaissance painter Pinturicchio (who also painted some of the wall frescoes in the nearby Sistine Chapel).The most famous is probably The Disputation of St. Catherine that features his famously beautiful young daughter Lucrezia posing as the saint and The Ascension, which features the Pope himself.

Disputation of St. Catherine, Pinturicchio, Borgia Apartments, Vatican Museums

But these were not the only portraits the Pope had Pinturicchio slip into his paintings. According to Vasari, the father of art history, "In the palace he also portrayed over the door of one of the living rooms Signora Giulia Farnese in the features of Our Lady and in the same picture the face of Pope Alexander, who is adoring the Madonna," (Giorgio Vasari, Lives of the Artists, Penguin Classics, vol. II, translation by George Bull, pg 83).

This might not have been so scandalous if the Giulia Farnese in question hadn't been the Pope's teenage mistress at the time. It was a well-documented fact that the already married Farnese, called La Bella Farnese and known as being the most beautiful woman in Rome at the time, was not only the Pope's official mistress, but had also borne him child. (Some even supposed that their baby daughter Laura, born in 1492--the very year that Borgia became pope--modelled for the Baby Jesus!)

Scandalous indeed. Only one problem: the fresco doesn't exist. At least not in the Borgia Apartments. In fact, in my copy of The Lives of the Artist, in the notes at the back, the editor states that Vasari was clearly mistaken in what he wrote because the work does not exist. Well, as it turns out, it did exist, but was destroyed. 

Nearly 200 years later, during the reign of Pope Alexander VII Chigi (1655-1667) that moralizing pontiff decided a fresco of the "Naughty Pope" adoring his teenage mistress dressed as the Virgin (and possibly their female lovechild) was not only inappropriate for the Vatican, but blasphemous as well. So the fresco was hacked right off the wall. However, it seems that at least a few pieces of the errant work were salvaged by either the Pope himself, or someone in his family, because a small fragment of a fresco depicting an unusually beautiful Christ child held by pair of graceful hands with another hand caressing his foot (eventually dubbed The Baby Jesus of the Hands) was listed as part of the collection of Flavio Chigi, relative of the late Alexander VII Chigi, in 1693, as well as a half-figure fresco of the Madonna. Both works were at the time attributed to Perugino.

Baby Jesus of the Hands, Pinturicchio, Fondazione Guglielmo Giordano

The two fragments were passed down through the Chigi family, on display at the Palazzo Chigi on Via del Corso, by this time correctly attributed to Pinturicchio, until 1912, when Eleonora Chigi married Enrico Incisa della Rochetta and brought the fragments with her, eventually passing them down to their descendant Marchese Giovanni Incisa della Rochetta, who was also an art historian. 

Copy of Pinturicchio's Baby Jesus blessing Pope Alexander VI, Pietro Facchetti, Mantova

In 1940, Marchese Giovanni, travelling in Mantova, happened to see a painting on canvas that looked very familiar to him. It was the work of a 17th century copyist Pietro Facchetti, who had been commissioned by Francesco IV Gonzaga in 1612 to recreate this scandalous work. The Gonzagas were apparently looking for a way to make fun of their rivals, the Farnese. Contemporary chronicler Stefano Infessura reports that Facchetti managed to gain access to the Borgia Apartment in the Vatican by bribing a guard. Even during the papacy of Paul V, the work was considered inappropriate and therefore had been covered by a veil of fabric. Facchetti convinced the guards to uncover the work and eventually painted a copy. When Marchese Giovanni saw Facchetti's work, and carried out some more research of his own, he concluded that his two fragments were part of the long ago destroyed fresco that had once decorated Rodrigo Borgia's own bedroom. Even if the exact likeness of the Christ figure (and possibly the Madonna figure as well, although we do not have the possibility of knowing) wasn't enough to convince him, the portrait of Alexander VI is almost identical to that in the Ascension.

In 2004, the fragment of Baby Jesus of the Hands resurfaced on the antique market and was purchased by the Guglielmo Giordano Foundation. It is on temporary display in the Palazzo Nuovo of the Capitoline Museums free of charge until 5 February, and I urge you to go see it if you have the chance. Besides the exceptional beauty of the work, the story behind it is truly unique. But a question remains: where is the second fragment, that of the face of the Virgin, i.e. Giulia Farnese? It belongs to a private collector who prefers not to be named.

A hypothesized sketch of Pinturicchio's original work with the two fragments indicated.

Below is another Madonna and Child, not long ago attributed to Pinturicchio, on display along side the fresco fragment in this mini-mostra. It is tempera on a wood panel and has nothing to do with the other work, but definitely worth seeing. For more practical information, see my Exhibits on Now page.

Madonna and Child, Pinturicchio, Fondazione Sorgente Group

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

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