The Price of a Cardinal’s Hat: Money, Murder and the Papal Court, 1500–1506
The papal court in its own records: ecclesiastical offices exchanged for money, political murders, sexual scandal, negotiated papal elections, hereditary privileges and the extraordinary claim that the Holy Spirit governed it all.
“And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you.” — 2 Peter 2:3, KJV
When the men who claimed to represent Christ began making merchandise of His Church
There is something particularly revealing about corruption when it is exposed, not by the denunciations of an enemy, but by the records of the institution itself. Men may dismiss the accusations of their opponents as exaggerations, religious prejudice or political propaganda. It is considerably more difficult to explain away their own appointments, financial arrangements, political agreements and ceremonial proceedings when these were recorded by an official who served at the very centre of their government.
Such is the importance of Johann Burchard's extraordinary Diarium sive Rerum Urbanarum Commentarii, a Latin diary covering the affairs of Rome and the papal court between 1483 and 1506.
Burchard, born around the middle of the fifteenth century near Strasbourg, was appointed master of ceremonies at the papal court in 1483. He served under five popes: Sixtus IV, Innocent VIII, Alexander VI, Pius III and Julius II. His responsibilities extended far beyond arranging religious processions. He supervised papal ceremonies, the reception of ambassadors, the precedence of cardinals, coronations, official audiences and the proceedings surrounding papal conclaves.
He was not a Protestant reformer writing retrospectively against Rome. He was not a foreign propagandist inventing stories to discredit a rival state. He was an ecclesiastical official whose career depended upon the papal institution, and who ultimately received a bishopric from Julius II.
Our principal source is the third volume of his diary, covering 1500–1506, published in Paris in 1885 by Ernest Leroux and edited by the French historian Louis Thuasne. The edition was compiled from manuscript witnesses preserved in Paris, Rome and Florence and includes explanatory notes, contemporary diplomatic correspondence and a biographical introduction.
A distinction must be maintained between Burchard's own Latin narrative, the information he reports hearing from others, and the historical commentary supplied by Thuasne nearly four centuries later. Some incidents were witnessed or directly handled by Burchard; others were rumours circulating in Rome. We shall not need to disguise those differences, because the authenticated administrative and political records are disturbing enough without the invention of further accusations.
The question throughout this investigation is not merely whether individual popes committed sins. Scripture already tells us that all men have sinned. Nor is it sufficient to discover that Renaissance Rome was a centre of wealth and political conflict, facts hardly surprising in their historical context.
The question is far more fundamental.
How did men who claimed to govern the Church of Jesus Christ come to distribute spiritual offices through money and family connections, wield military power, bargain for votes, confiscate the possessions of their enemies, and claim divine authority over the resulting institution?
And upon what evidence could anyone declare that the Holy Spirit had personally selected the men who emerged victorious from such proceedings?
Peter warned that false teachers would make merchandise of believers. The word is especially appropriate here, because the documentary record repeatedly brings us into contact with payments, assessments, exemptions, purchased appointments, valuable benefices and negotiated privileges.
Christ instructed His disciples:
“Freely ye have received, freely give.” — Matthew 10:8.
Peter told Simon, who attempted to purchase spiritual authority:
“Thy money perish with thee, because thou hast thought that the gift of God may be purchased with money.” — Acts 8:20.
Peter did not congratulate Simon on recognising the monetary value of ecclesiastical power. He did not direct him to an authorised treasury, establish a schedule of payments or offer to negotiate the fee. He condemned the proposal itself.
We should remember that apostolic response as we examine what happened in Rome.
The machinery of money: benefices, dispensations and the financial administration of religion
Before reaching the notorious cardinal appointments of September 1500, we must understand the environment in which they occurred.
Even Burchard had participated in the financial arrangements associated with acquiring ecclesiastical office. Thuasne records in his biographical introduction that Burchard paid his predecessor, Agostino Patrizzi, 450 gold ducats in connection with his appointment as master of ceremonies in 1483.
Not every administrative payment automatically constitutes simony. The nature of the office and the legal reason for the fee matter. Nevertheless, the transaction demonstrates that entry into a prestigious position within the papal administration could involve substantial sums of money.
And the financial connection did not end with appointment. Ecclesiastical benefices carried revenues; offices brought status, influence and opportunities for further advancement; and the papal government claimed extensive powers over grants, dispensations, taxation and the distribution of privileges.
The Jubilee arrangements of 1500 provide an illuminating example.
On printed pages 7–9 of volume III, Burchard reproduces provisions allowing pilgrims to abbreviate prescribed visits to churches under certain conditions. The Latin states:
“peregrini et forenses quartam, Romani vero et in dicta Urbe commorantes et residentes octavam partem ejus, quod pro eorum victu diebus, que eis abbreviabuntur, exponerent, in capsa penitentiariorum predictorum pro eorum eleemosyna ponant”
Translation: “Pilgrims and visitors are to place one quarter, and Romans and those residing in the city one eighth, of what they would have spent on their maintenance during the days removed from the requirement, into the aforesaid penitentiaries' collection box as their alms.”
The stated purpose was the repair and restoration of St Peter's Basilica. Those unable to contribute were expressly exempted, an important qualification which prevents us from claiming that the poor were universally compelled to pay.
Yet consider what the arrangement actually meant. A religious obligation could be shortened in connection with a financial contribution. Its value was not measured solely by prayer, repentance or devotion, but partly by an assessment of what the pilgrim would otherwise have spent on accommodation and food.
If the required observance was spiritually indispensable, why could it be abbreviated through a payment? If it was not indispensable, by what authority had it been imposed as a condition in the first place? And where did Christ instruct His apostles to calculate financial contributions in return for relief from religious obligations?
The matter becomes still more revealing when the document turns to simony itself.
On printed page 9, the provisions include the following:
“ac cum symoniacis qui beneficia symoniace acquisiverunt similiter dispensandi, et eos a symonie labe ac excommunicationis, aliisque censuris ecclesiasticis absolvendi”
Translation: “And likewise to dispense with those guilty of simony who had obtained benefices simoniacally, and to absolve them from the stain of simony and from excommunication and other ecclesiastical censures.”
The regulations contemplated allowing beneficiaries of simoniacal appointments to retain their benefices under specified conditions. They also permitted financial compositions involving officials who had received money above authorised rates.
The provision includes:
“ut ad minus tertiam partem ejus quod receperunt in dicta capsa ponant”
Translation: “That they place at least a third of what they received into the said collection box.”
The document allowed relief for poorer offenders and described these measures within an ecclesiastical framework of dispensation and restitution. A defender of the regulations might argue that the financial composition addressed wrongful profits rather than purchasing forgiveness.
But that explanation does not resolve the central biblical problem.
A man had acquired a church benefice through simony. The authorities possessed the power to dispense with the irregularity, adjust his financial obligations and potentially permit him to retain the position. Where, then, was the apostolic requirement that spiritual leadership should rest upon character, fidelity and freedom from greed?
Peter did not tell Simon to pay a portion of his money into the church's collection box and continue exercising the spiritual power he had attempted to purchase. He said:
“Repent therefore of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if perhaps the thought of thine heart may be forgiven thee.” — Acts 8:22.
Repentance is directed towards God. Spiritual forgiveness is not manufactured through an administrative agreement. Nor does payment into an ecclesiastical treasury automatically make an unsuitable man suitable for religious leadership.
If simony was a corruption of ecclesiastical office, what does it reveal about the institution when that very corruption became the subject of negotiated dispensations?
The distinction between restitution and purchased forgiveness is real, but so is the danger of a system in which financial settlement and continued enjoyment of office become closely associated.
The apostles condemned the buying of spiritual power. The Renaissance papal administration developed procedures for financially resolving cases in which church benefices had been obtained through simony. The contrast requires no exaggeration.
And the system of ecclesiastical finance reached far beyond individual dispensations.
If Christ taught that true worship is in spirit and in truth, God dwelleth not in temples made with hands, and the Holy Spirit distributes His gifts as He wills, then by what authority do men demand money to maintain their magnificent temples, as though God Himself depended upon buildings, wealth and human institutions to be worshipped?
The taxation of the Church: immense revenues under papal command
In May 1500, Alexander VI ordered a three-year levy of a tenth upon a vast range of ecclesiastical income, ostensibly to support military action against the Ottoman Turks.
The document speaks of:
“unam veram et integram decimam omnium et singulorum fructuum et proventuum secundum verum valorem annuum ecclesiarum, monasteriorum et aliorum beneficiorum”
Translation: “One true and entire tenth of all fruits and revenues, according to the actual annual value, of churches, monasteries and other benefices.”
The measure covered churches, monasteries, ecclesiastical offices, benefices and numerous religious institutions. It extended even to the incomes of cardinals.
The document explicitly directed that the proceeds should be used against the Ottoman threat and not diverted to other purposes. That fact must be preserved. The bull proves the imposition of the tax; it does not establish that the collected money was secretly diverted to Cesare Borgia's campaigns.
Nevertheless, the resulting financial schedule reveals something extraordinary about the wealth administered through the papal system.
Burchard's volume gives assessed annual incomes and the corresponding tenth payable. Among the figures appear Ascanio Sforza, assessed at 30,000 ducats and charged 3,000; the Cardinal of San Giorgio, assessed at 18,000 and charged 1,800; the Cardinal of San Severino, assessed at 13,000 and charged 1,300; Cardinal d'Este, assessed at 14,000 and charged 1,400; the Borgia cardinal, assessed at 10,000 and charged 1,000; Cardinal de' Medici, assessed at 6,000 and charged 600; and Cardinal Farnese, assessed at 2,000 and charged 200. Cardinal Cornaro was recorded in this particular schedule as having no revenues and therefore nothing payable.
These figures are assessments of income and taxation, not sums paid to obtain office. They must not be confused with the cardinal-appointment payments discussed below.
But even as income assessments, they reveal the material scale of the institution. Men described as successors of the apostles occupied positions associated with revenues worth thousands, sometimes tens of thousands, of ducats.
Paul's qualifications for an overseer included:
“Not greedy of filthy lucre; but patient, not a brawler, not covetous.” — 1 Timothy 3:3.
And to Titus he wrote that a bishop must be:
“Not selfwilled, not soon angry, not given to wine, no striker, not given to filthy lucre.” — Titus 1:7.
A large income does not, by itself, prove personal greed. But when these offices were subsequently connected with recorded financial contributions for promotion, the moral question became unavoidable.
Were men being chosen because they were qualified shepherds, or was ecclesiastical office increasingly an instrument for concentrating wealth and power?
The same May 1500 legislation imposed another financial burden, this time upon Jewish communities living in Christian territories. The text demanded:
“ab universis et singulis Judeis in universo Christianorum orbe ubilibet constitutis, vigesimam partem omnium bonorum suorum, fructuum quoque, reddituum et proventuum”
Translation: “From all and each of the Jews established anywhere throughout the Christian world, a twentieth part of all their goods, and also of their fruits, rents and revenues.”
The twentieth amounted to five percent, with further penalties threatened for evasion.
Thus a religious institution claimed extensive taxing power over communities who did not even profess its faith.
Whatever the political justification advanced for these measures, they raise a fundamental question about the nature of Christ's kingdom. Did Jesus instruct His disciples to govern the property of entire populations, including people who did not believe in Him, by means of ecclesiastical taxation and threats of punishment?
Christ said:
“My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight.” — John 18:36.
The papal court, however, operated as a territorial government, a financial administration and a military power. The issue was not merely that clergy possessed money. It was that men claiming spiritual authority exercised extensive powers characteristic of earthly princes.
Deuteronomy 10:18–19 teaches justice towards the stranger, and Leviticus 19:33–34 requires fair treatment of those living among God's people. Any claim that unequal religious taxation was an expression of divine justice must be examined against those instructions.
And this was only the beginning of the financial evidence.
Twenty-five thousand ducats for a marriage judgement
In April 1500, the papal court dealt with the marriage of King Vladislaus II of Hungary and Beatrice of Aragon, widow of Matthias Corvinus.
The marriage was declared invalid, and Burchard recorded an enormous assessment of legal expenses or fees.
His Latin states:
“et eam condemnavit in expensis sportule sive propine que fuit viginti quinque millium ducatorum, ut dictum fuit, et ex pacte.”
Translation: “And he condemned her in the expenses of the fees or gratuity, which amounted to twenty-five thousand ducats, as was said, and by agreement.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 32.
Burchard uses ut dictum fuit, meaning “as was said,” rather than claiming personally to have handled the money. The precise meaning and distribution of the fees therefore require further examination.
But Thuasne also reproduces a contemporary dispatch from the Florentine representative Antonio Malegonnelle, dated 4 April 1500, alleging a further financial arrangement:
“Inlendo che per propina di decta causa l'Unghero a depositati XXXm ducati pel Pontefice et 2,000 per dua Cardinali auditori délia causa, et ducati 100 per ciascuno delli auditori sua.”
Translation: “I understand that, for the fee in the said case, the Hungarian has deposited thirty thousand ducats for the pontiff, two thousand for two cardinal auditors of the case, and one hundred ducats for each of the other auditors.”
This is contemporary Italian diplomatic reporting, not Burchard's Latin diary, and the reported deposit must not automatically be treated as a proven payment or added to the twenty-five thousand as if the two sources necessarily describe separate transactions.
Nevertheless, the allegation is remarkable. The marriage ruling concerned dynastic power, rival royal interests and international diplomacy, while a diplomatic observer was reporting very large sums associated with the case.
Can anyone seriously maintain that the spiritual validity of a marriage is improved by placing thirty thousand ducats within the financial machinery surrounding its judgement? What possible connection exists between the will of God concerning a marriage and the wealth of those seeking to influence or administer its legal determination?
The transaction may have had a recognised legal explanation. But recognition by ecclesiastical law does not resolve the separate question of whether the practice reflected the principles taught by Christ.
James warned:
“But if ye have respect to persons, ye commit sin, and are convinced of the law as transgressors.” — James 2:9.
The historical evidence does not yet prove that the judges deliberately sold an unjust decision. It does, however, expose a system in which extremely large sums were associated with ecclesiastical justice.
That is precisely the sort of system in which the appearance, opportunity and temptation of corruption become exceptionally difficult to separate.
September 1500: twelve cardinal hats and 150,000 ducats
We now reach the most direct financial evidence in the investigation.
On 18 September 1500, Pope Alexander VI proposed the creation of new cardinals in a secret consistory.
Burchard writes:
“Feria sexta, 18 ejusdem mensis septembris, SS. D. noster in secreto consistorio proposuit creationem novorum cardinalium, et conclusum est quod vocarentur ad hoc cardinales absentes, quod factum est.”
Translation: “On Friday, 18 September, our Most Holy Lord proposed the creation of new cardinals in a secret consistory, and it was decided that the absent cardinals should be summoned for this purpose, which was done.”
The matter was discussed again on 25 September:
“Feria sexta, 25 dicti mensis, iterum dictum est in secreto consistorio de hujusmodi creatione et nihil conclusum.”
Translation: “On Friday, the 25th of the said month, the matter of this creation was discussed again in the secret consistory, and nothing was decided.”
On 28 September, Burchard records the announcement:
“Creati et pronunciati fuerunt duodecim novi cardinales videlicet:”
Translation: “Twelve new cardinals were created and proclaimed, namely:”
Beside their names appear financial figures interpreted as thousands of ducats.
Cardinal | Recorded amount |
Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, Archbishop of Seville | 25,000 ducats |
Jaime Serra, Archbishop of Oristano | 5,000 ducats |
Tamás Bakócz, Archbishop of Esztergom | 20,000 ducats |
Pietro Isvalies, Archbishop of Reggio | 7,000 ducats |
Francisco de Borja, papal treasurer | 12,000 ducats |
Juan de Vera, Archbishop of Salerno | 4,000 ducats |
Ludovico Podocathor, papal secretary | 5,000 ducats |
Antonio Trivulzio, Bishop of Como | 20,000 ducats |
Giovanni Battista Ferrari, papal datary | 22,000 ducats |
Amanieu d'Albret, Cesare Borgia's brother-in-law | 10,000 ducats |
Marco Cornaro, Venetian nobleman | 20,000 ducats |
Pedro Luis de Borja, Borgia relative | No sum recorded |
Total of the eleven recorded figures | 150,000 ducats |
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 77.
Here we must distinguish three matters. First, the amounts are printed in Burchard's Latin list. Second, Thuasne interprets them as payments required for promotion to the cardinalate. Third, the surviving list is not a complete series of payment receipts, and it does not establish that every recorded amount was collected in full or deposited in one particular treasury.
The total of 150,000 ducats follows from the figures printed in this edition. Other historical accounts give different totals, including 120,000 and 160,000 ducats. Those discrepancies require comparison of manuscripts and contemporary financial records.
But what matters most is the association of substantial sums with appointments to the highest ecclesiastical rank beneath the pope.
Look at the men involved. Burchard identifies Francisco de Borja as:
“Franciscus Borgia, archiepiscopus Cusentinus, thesaurarius generalis.”
Translation: “Francisco Borgia, Archbishop of Cosenza, treasurer-general.”
Ludovico Podocathor appears as:
“Ludovicus, episcopus Caputaquensis, secretarius Pape.”
Translation: “Ludovico, Bishop of Capaccio, secretary of the pope.”
Others already held important administrative responsibilities or possessed political and family connections. These were men at the centre of papal government, and their elevation further concentrated ecclesiastical influence.
Thuasne's note on page 77 alleges that Cesare Borgia needed money for his war in Romagna and had determined the prices attached to the appointments. He directs the reader to Marino Sanudo's Diarii, volume III, for additional contemporary evidence.
We must not present the editor's allegation as Burchard's own first-person declaration. Nor should we claim the precise destination of the money without establishing the financial trail.
Nevertheless, the question is devastating enough without that additional conclusion.
By what authority could a man become a cardinal through a process associated with a contribution of twenty or twenty-five thousand ducats, when Peter had expressly condemned the notion that spiritual power could be purchased?
Where does Christ instruct His apostles to assess candidates according to their ability to meet a financial demand? Where does Paul say that a wealthy patron, papal treasurer, secretary or politically connected relative is thereby qualified to exercise spiritual leadership?
Paul's instructions in 1 Timothy 3 concern character, sobriety, hospitality, self-control, moral integrity and competence to teach. They do not contain a price list.
The contrast is not between ancient simplicity and modern administration. It is between the qualifications of spiritual leadership given in Scripture and a political institution in which enormous sums appear beside the names of men receiving high religious office.
Thuasne further notes that Pedro Luis de Borja was apparently exempted from payment because of his Borgia relationship and membership of the Order of St John. He also observes that this man's name occurs only in the Chigi manuscript witness used for the edition.
That manuscript difficulty must be resolved before the list is treated as absolutely uniform across the textual tradition. Yet the larger financial evidence remains.
And there is another detail.
Six of the appointed cardinals were present in Rome, while six were absent. After their reception, those present were entertained by Cesare Borgia.
Burchard writes:
“Novi adstatim receperunt bireta rubea et fecerunt prandium cum duce Valentino in aula predicta.”
Translation: “The new cardinals immediately received red birettas and dined with the Duke of Valentinois in the aforesaid hall.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 78.
The ceremony of their elevation was followed by hospitality from the pope's son, a military and political prince whose interests were bound to the Borgia family's territorial ambitions.
That meal does not itself prove a sale. It does, however, demonstrate the intimate relationship between newly created ecclesiastical dignitaries and the household of the pope's powerful son.
What sort of spiritual appointment was this? Men were elevated to the cardinalate through a process associated with substantial monetary contributions, then entertained by the son of the pope whose military interests were central to the politics of the hour.
Yet the title attached to their office was supposed to signify sacred service.
Calling an appointment sacred does not sanctify the means by which it was obtained.
The Holy Spirit cannot be bought with twenty thousand ducats. Nor can His choice be inferred from the colour of a hat or the decree of a consistory.
Three hundred gold ducats upon the altar — and nothing for the beggars
Before proceeding to the more notorious events, we should pause over one episode that may reveal the moral priorities of the papal court more powerfully than any banquet.
On 25 July 1500, Alexander VI travelled ceremonially to Santa Maria del Popolo in Rome.
Burchard records the elaborate procession, including the pope, cardinals, mounted officials and armed attendants.
During the ceremony, a magnificent gilded chalice containing approximately three hundred gold ducats was presented at the altar.
The Latin states:
“obtulit b. Marie virgini unum calicem inauratum, satis magnum et pulchrum, in quo erant ducati trecenti vel circa in auro, quos Rmus. D. cardinalis Senensis de calice versit super altare, ut ab omnibus viderentur”
Translation: “He offered to the Blessed Virgin Mary a gilded chalice, quite large and beautiful, in which were about three hundred gold ducats, which the Most Reverend Cardinal of Siena poured from the chalice onto the altar so that all might see them.”
Burchard then adds:
“quod credo Pape non displicuisse.”
Translation: “Which I believe did not displease the pope.”
And immediately afterwards comes a sentence that deserves to be remembered:
“Nihil datum pauperibus per viam eleemosynam petentibus.”
Translation: “Nothing was given to the poor begging for alms along the road.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 70.
Read those passages together.
Three hundred gold ducats were publicly displayed upon an altar. The money was made visible to the assembled people. The ceremony proceeded with musicians, attendants, clergy and armed men.
Yet Burchard records that nothing was given to the poor who begged along the procession route.
We cannot establish from this passage alone that every beggar was starving or that nobody in Rome received charitable support from another institution. We do not need to make either claim.
What Burchard actually records is sufficient.
The poor were there. They were asking for alms. Gold was being displayed as part of a religious ceremony. And nothing was given to them along the way.
How is that reconciled with the words of Jesus Christ?
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink.” — Matthew 25:35.
And again:
“Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.” — Matthew 25:45.
The contrast is almost unbearable. A public display of gold at a religious altar, while the poor appealing for assistance received nothing.
Would Christ have measured the success of that procession by the quality of the chalice, the magnificence of the vestments or the number of cardinals in attendance? Or would He have looked at those who stood beside the road asking for bread?
James asks:
“If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit?” — James 2:15–16.
There is no biblical virtue in a splendid religious display that neglects the human need immediately before it.
It becomes difficult to read Burchard's sentence without recalling Christ's rebuke in Matthew 23:23:
“Ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith.”
Gold on an altar. Elaborate ceremonial observance. Beggars receiving nothing.
If such priorities represented the fruits of the Holy Spirit, why do they look so much like the very religious hypocrisy Christ condemned?
The Borgia family: when ecclesiastical privilege became a family inheritance
On printed page 167, Burchard records an extraordinary arrangement concerning the Abbey of Subiaco.
His Latin states:
“Eadem die fuit consistorium secretum in quo SS. D. noster constituit gentem Borgiam patronam abbatie Sublacensis, et decrevit jus patronatus et presentandi ad eosdem Borgias perpetuis futuris temporibus spectare et pertinere, si vera mihi sunt relata.”
Translation: “On the same day there was a secret consistory in which our Most Holy Lord appointed the Borgia family patrons of the Abbey of Subiaco and decreed that the right of patronage and presentation should belong to the said Borgias for all future time, if what was reported to me is true.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 167.
We must emphasise Burchard's final qualification:
“si vera mihi sunt relata.”
Translation: “If what was reported to me is true.”
He was reporting information received from others. The grant requires corroboration from official ecclesiastical or monastic records.
But consider the nature of what was alleged.
The right of patronage and presentation, jus patronatus et presentandi, was not merely an honorary compliment. It involved recognised influence over appointments to an ecclesiastical institution.
Nor is it the same thing as outright ownership of all the abbey's land or revenues. A patronage right has a distinct legal character. Yet the significance remains: an ecclesiastical institution was reportedly placed under the continuing patronage of the pope's family.
The wording is explicit:
“perpetuis futuris temporibus.”
Translation: “For all future time.”
Not merely for Alexander's pontificate. Not as a temporary administrative arrangement. For all future time.
The papal court claimed the authority to make enduring arrangements favouring a ruling family in matters of ecclesiastical appointment.
Where did Christ establish hereditary rights over His Church?
Peter called believers God's heritage, and instructed the elders not to behave as lords over them. Paul described the church as the household of God. Neither apostle described the congregation of Christ as a dynastic possession to be administered through permanent family privilege.
Ephesians 2:19 says:
“Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.”
And 1 Peter 2:5 calls believers:
“Lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood.”
The spiritual house belongs to God. Its foundation is Christ. Its members are not inherited through bloodline, transferred as political assets or made subordinate to a "noble" family's continuing right of patronage by divine command.
A historian may explain the medieval legal institution of patronage through endowments, foundations and inherited rights. That is a historical explanation of its existence, not a demonstration that Jesus instituted such a system.
The power to issue an ecclesiastical decree is not the power to turn the Church of Christ into family property.
The Vatican banquet: fifty courtesans in the apostolic palace
We now turn to the notorious account on printed page 167 of Burchard's diary.
The episode is conventionally called the Banquet of Chestnuts. Burchard places the entry under the last Sunday of October 1501, the eve of All Saints, corresponding to 31 October in the calendar then used in Rome, although some later accounts give 30 October.
The scene is the Apostolic Palace itself.
Burchard writes:
“In sero fecerunt cenam cum duce Valentinense in camera sua, in palatio apostolico, quinquaginta meretrices honeste, cortegiane nuncupate, que post cenam coreaverunt cum servitoribus et aliis ibidem existentibus, primo in vestibus suis; deinde nude.”
Translation: “In the evening, fifty respectable prostitutes, called courtesans, took supper with the Duke of Valentinois in his chamber in the Apostolic Palace. After supper they danced with the servants and others who were present, first wearing their clothes and afterwards naked.”
The expression meretrices honeste refers to the social category of courtesans; it should not be mistaken for a declaration that their activities were morally honourable.
The account continues:
“Post cenam posita fuerunt candelabra communia mense in candelis ardentibus per terram, et projecta ante candelabra per terram castanee quas meretrices ipse super manibus et pedibus, nude, candelabra pertranseuntes, colligebant, Papa, duce et D. Lucretia sorore sua presentibus et aspicientibus.”
Translation: “After supper, ordinary table candlesticks with burning candles were placed on the floor, and chestnuts were scattered on the ground before the candlesticks. The courtesans, naked and moving on their hands and feet between the candlesticks, gathered the chestnuts while the pope, the duke and Lady Lucrezia, his sister, were present and watching.”
Finally, Burchard describes prizes offered for sexual activity:
“Tandem exposita dona ultima, diploides de serico, paria caligarum, bireta et alia pro illis qui pluries dictas meretrices carnaliter agnoscerent; que fuerunt ibidem in aula publice carnaliter tractate arbitrio presentium, dona distributa victoribus.”
Translation: “Finally, prizes were displayed — silk doublets, pairs of stockings, caps and other things — for those who would have carnal intercourse with the said courtesans the greatest number of times. They were treated carnally there in the hall, openly and at the discretion of those present, and prizes were distributed to the victors.”
— Diarium, vol. III, pp. 167–168.
The language is explicit. The account is not a modern invention attributed to an obscure medieval text. It appears in the published diary of a papal master of ceremonies.
But historical accuracy requires us to separate the existence of the account from the degree to which all its details can be independently established.
Burchard does not expressly declare that he personally attended the banquet. Thuasne cites contemporary corroborating material, including reports associated with Matarazzo, Silvio Savelli and the Florentine representative Francesco Pepi. Pepi's dispatch of 4 November 1501 supports the occurrence of a gathering involving courtesans, dancing and late-night revelry in the papal palace.
It does not independently verify every detail of Burchard's account, particularly the chestnut episode and the alleged sexual competition. Nor should the most sensational accusations against Lucrezia Borgia, including allegations of incest circulating in hostile writings, be treated as established facts merely because later authors repeated them.
Yet even the independently supported portion of the episode poses an extraordinary moral question.
Why was the papal palace being used to entertain courtesans in the company of Cesare Borgia and Alexander VI? How does such conduct correspond with the example demanded of Christian overseers?
Paul instructed the Ephesians:
“But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints.” — Ephesians 5:3.
And he instructed Timothy:
“A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behaviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach.” — 1 Timothy 3:2.
One cannot resolve the moral contradiction by appealing to the pope's ceremonial title. If the reported conduct occurred, a title cannot sanctify it. Ecclesiastical rank does not transform behaviour condemned by Scripture into a privilege of office.
It is precisely because the details are serious that we should preserve the distinction between corroborated revelry and additional disputed allegations. A polemic founded upon truth has no need to make an allegation stronger than its evidence.
But imagine the contrast already before us.
In July 1500, Burchard recorded poor people begging along the road while three hundred gold ducats were displayed upon an altar.
In October 1501, the papal palace was the setting for a gathering involving courtesans, with Burchard recording an episode of extravagant sexual entertainment.
This is not the picture of the church in Acts, where believers distributed their possessions to those who had need. It is the picture of an aristocratic court surrounded by religious ceremony.
If a religious palace could entertain courtesans in luxury while the streets of Rome contained poor people asking for alms, on what grounds should that palace be confused with the spiritual household of Christ?
Acts 4:34–35 describes resources being distributed according to need. It does not describe the apostles treating the wealth of the faithful as a source of courtly pleasures.
The contrast concerns the institution's visible conduct, not every individual believer who lived under its jurisdiction. The existence of sincere Christians, charitable foundations and genuine religious devotion in Rome would not excuse misconduct by those governing the papal court.
Christ's Church is identified by its relation to Him, not by the splendour of the buildings occupied by those claiming to rule it.
Blood in the papal palace: the death of Alfonso of Aragon
The financial arrangements and scandalous festivities are not the only matters recorded in Burchard's diary. The court was also surrounded by political violence.
Alfonso of Aragon, Duke of Bisceglie and husband of Lucrezia Borgia, was attacked in July 1500. He survived the initial assault but died the following month.
Burchard records the subsequent death in uncompromising language:
“cum non vellet ex hujusmodi vulneribus sibi datis mori, in lecto suo fuit strangulatus circa horam nonam decimam”
Translation: “Since he would not die from the wounds inflicted upon him, he was strangled in his bed at about the nineteenth hour.”
— Diarium, vol. III, pp. 72–73.
The words describe strangulation following an earlier attack. They do not identify the actual killer or establish that Burchard personally witnessed the death.
The diplomatic correspondence preserved by Thuasne supplies further information. Francesco Capello, reporting to Florence in August 1500, described confusion surrounding the death and allegations concerning armed men associated with Cesare Borgia.
Capello acknowledged the difficulty of establishing precisely what happened:
“Di questa cosa si parla tanto variamente, che meglo si puo farne coniectura che intenderne apunto la verità.”
Translation: “This matter is spoken of in so many different ways that one may more easily form conjectures about it than understand the precise truth.”
In a confidential addition reproduced on printed page 439 of Thuasne's appendix, Capello writes:
“non manca chi dica ch'e' fu strozato”
Translation: “There is no lack of people who say that he was strangled.”
He also reports an alternative allegation:
“chi dice li fu tocco la piaga et messo le letaste (sic) insino nel cervello”
Translation: “Others say that his wound was interfered with and that dressings were inserted as far as the brain.”
The irregular transmitted word marked sic by the editor prevents absolute certainty over the precise medical detail.
The confidential correspondence also indicates a climate of fear. Capello warned against disclosing sensitive information, explaining that those involved had spies and could inflict retaliation upon others.
The historical conclusion must be measured. The available contemporary evidence strongly supports the conclusion that Alfonso's death was regarded as deliberate and violent. Suspicion fell heavily upon Cesare Borgia, but the surviving material presented here does not provide an eyewitness identification of the man who strangled Alfonso or a judicial finding proving exactly who ordered the act.
Yet consider the institutional setting.
A member of the papal family by marriage had been attacked, subsequently died under circumstances described as murder, and the resulting reports implicated the political interests of those closest to the pope.
What kind of religious court had the papal household become?
Christ told Peter:
“Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.” — Matthew 26:52.
And He declared:
“My kingdom is not of this world.” — John 18:36.
The contrast between Christ's teaching and the violence surrounding a territorial papal dynasty is not difficult to recognise.
It is not enough to reply that fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Europe was violent. Christ's instructions were not limited to periods of political tranquillity. The very purpose of Christian leadership was to provide an example different from that of worldly domination.
If a religious institution adopted the methods of competing princes, armed factions and territorial dynasties, why should its adoption of Christian titles make its conduct spiritually legitimate?
January 1503: arrests, executions and the seizure of property
The violence intensified as Cesare Borgia sought to consolidate his position.
In January 1503, Burchard records the seizure of Cardinal Giovanni Battista Orsini after the cardinal entered the papal palace.
The Latin states:
“cum cardinalis esset in camera Papagalli, vidit se gentibus armatis circumdatum et expavit.”
Translation: “When the cardinal was in the Chamber of the Parrot, he saw himself surrounded by armed men and was terrified.”
The cardinal was detained. The episode was accompanied by further arrests and the seizure of possessions.
Burchard records:
“fecit exportari omnia bona cardinalis Ursini et archiepiscopi predictorum in eorum [carrucis] et aliis multis ad palatium Pape et domum suam”
Translation: “He caused all the goods of Cardinal Orsini and the aforesaid archbishop to be carried away in their carts and many others to the pope's palace and his own house.”
The passage continues by saying that soldiers and others removed further property.
— Diarium, vol. III, pp. 230–231.
Here political imprisonment and the movement of wealth appear together. Confiscation could be a recognised punitive act of temporal government, but its legal status and its potential for abuse must be assessed separately in each case.
The diary also describes executions following Cesare's seizure of political opponents.
On 18 January 1503, Burchard writes:
“necati fuerunt et strangulati in Castro Plebis dominii Senensium, de mandato ducis Valentinensis, per Michelettum et Marcum Romanum”
Translation: “They were killed and strangled at Città della Pieve, in Sienese territory, by order of the Duke of Valentinois, through Micheletto and Marco Romano.”
The passage names prominent members of the Orsini faction among the victims. Thuasne notes that Burchard was mistaken concerning one man whom he included in the account of the executions; other contemporary evidence indicates that the man survived until August 1504.
That correction matters. We should not present the erroneous identification as fact. But one mistaken identification does not erase the independently documented political arrests and executions associated with Cesare's campaign.
Nor did the diary's reports end with the killing of prominent rivals.
On printed page 234, Burchard records a report circulating in Rome concerning the conduct of Cesare's soldiers in conquered towns. He introduces the account with:
“dictum fuit per Urbem”
Translation: “It was said throughout Rome.”
The account alleges that elderly inhabitants, including women, were suspended by their arms and tortured with fire beneath their feet in an attempt to reveal the location of concealed valuables.
One passage reads:
“per brachia suspenderunt gentes ducis predicti, igne sub earum pedibus posito, ut tortura hujusmodi faterentur ubi essent absconsa bona”
Translation: “The men of the said duke suspended them by their arms, placing fire beneath their feet, so that through such torture they would disclose where goods had been hidden.”
The diary further reports deaths resulting from the torture and destruction of property.
Because Burchard identifies this as news circulating in the city, we cannot declare every detail independently verified. Further comparison with the surviving diplomatic and local records is necessary.
But it is still significant that such allegations formed part of the contemporary information surrounding Cesare's military operations.
Christ's instruction to His followers was not to conquer towns in order to acquire their goods. John the Baptist told soldiers:
“Do violence to no man, neither accuse any falsely; and be content with your wages.” — Luke 3:14.
And Jesus told His disciples:
“But whosoever will be great among you, shall be your minister.” — Mark 10:43.
Whatever the political explanations for warfare in Renaissance Italy, they cannot turn coercion, exploitation or the killing of captives into fruits of the Holy Spirit.
The Roman Church claimed that its political government possessed sacred authority. Yet sacred authority does not absolve its agents from the moral commands of the One whose name they invoke.
Indeed, the higher the spiritual claim, the greater the contradiction when coercion and material ambition become instruments of government.
Cardinal Orsini: money, a pearl and a prisoner's death
The imprisonment of Cardinal Orsini produced another extraordinary financial sequence.
In February 1503, Alexander VI reportedly informed the Sacred College that the cardinal had offered 25,000 ducats for his release.
Burchard records the pope's statement:
“quod cardinalis Ursinus obtulit Sanctitati sue viginti quinque millium ducatorum solvere pro liberatione sua”
Translation: “That Cardinal Orsini had offered to pay His Holiness twenty-five thousand ducats for his release.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 237.
This is evidence that the alleged offer was discussed by the pope before the cardinals. It is not evidence that the full sum was actually paid.
Other payments, however, are described more specifically.
Burchard reports that the men who ordinarily brought Orsini food and drink were denied access to him. According to information circulating at the time, this was connected with the pope's demand for two thousand ducats and a valuable pearl.
The cardinal's mother attempted to help him.
The diary states:
“Mater cardinalis, hec intelligens, ut filio subveniret, solvit duo millia ducatorum Pape”
Translation: “The cardinal's mother, learning this and wishing to help her son, paid two thousand ducats to the pope.”
Burchard continues:
“et concubina cardinalis que dictam margaritam habebat, induta habito viri, accessit ad Papam et donavit ei margaritam supradictam.”
Translation: “And the cardinal's concubine, who possessed the aforesaid pearl, dressed in men's clothing, approached the pope and gave him the said pearl.”
After these transfers, the pope ordered that the men bringing the imprisoned cardinal food and drink should once again be admitted.
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 236.
The sequence is extraordinary: a prisoner, restricted access, a payment from his mother, a valuable pearl surrendered to the pope, and then restored access.
The reported reason for the restriction is not presented as Burchard's direct knowledge. We must not pretend to know the pope's private thoughts. Nevertheless, the record places money, jewels and an imprisoned ecclesiastical dignitary within the same account.
Orsini subsequently died on 22 February 1503.
Burchard records an allegation that he had drunk a cup prepared by order of the pope:
“ut a vulgo affirmabatur, biberat calicem, ordinatione et jussu Pape sibi paratum.”
Translation: “As was asserted by the common people, he had drunk a cup prepared for him by the pope's direction and order.”
This is explicitly a popular allegation. It does not establish that Orsini was poisoned. His detention and death are historical facts; the poisoning accusation requires corroboration.
But the financial sequence demands attention independently of the poisoning story.
What was the spiritual purpose of obtaining two thousand ducats and a valuable pearl from the family of an imprisoned cardinal? If the explanation was lawful confiscation or restitution, where are the supporting accounts and legal proceedings? If it was coercion, how could it be reconciled with the duties of a Christian shepherd?
And what becomes of the claim that the pope was the spiritual father of the faithful when the mother of a prisoner is recorded surrendering a substantial payment in an effort to help her son?
The New Testament warns against religious leaders who exploit others through covetousness. Here the question is no longer an abstract one about the compatibility of wealth and religion. It concerns the possible use of power over a prisoner to obtain money and valuables.
Whether an individual transaction constituted extortion must be established historically. But neither imprisonment nor ecclesiastical rank could create biblical permission to enrich oneself through the suffering of others.
Alexander VI's death: precious stones worth 25,000 ducats
Pope Alexander VI died on 18 August 1503.
In the aftermath, Burchard recorded the handling of valuables and documents within the papal palace.
Among the items described was a container holding precious stones and rings:
“lapides et anuli pretiosi valoris viginti quinque millium ducatorum vel circa”
Translation: “Precious stones and rings worth twenty-five thousand ducats or thereabouts.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 242.
This was substantial portable wealth, preserved within the papal household.
The presence of precious objects does not establish that they were obtained through corruption. Rulers and religious institutions received gifts, inherited valuables and held property for official purposes.
Yet placed beside the earlier records of financial appointments, assessed revenues, gifts, political confiscations and disputes over money, the inventory becomes part of a much larger picture of accumulated wealth.
One particularly bitter accusation against Alexander VI appears in a hostile Latin verse reproduced in the volume:
“Vendit Alexander cruces, altaria, Christum;
Emerat ille prius, vendere jure potest.”
Translation:
“Alexander sells crosses, altars and Christ himself; he had bought them first, so he can claim the right to sell them.”
— Diarium, vol. III, pp. 243–244.
The verse is satire. It is not a treasury receipt proving that Alexander purchased the papacy, and it should never be cited as if it were an eyewitness confession.
But its accusation is revealing. The writer portrayed the pope not as a spiritual shepherd, but as a merchant who first bought ecclesiastical power and then sold its privileges to others.
Revelation 18:23 (KJV)
“And the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee; and the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride shall be heard no more at all in thee: for thy merchants were the great men of the earth; for by thy sorceries were all nations deceived.”
We have now encountered a financial system in which benefices, appointments, dispensations, taxation, judicial fees and material privileges were repeatedly associated with money.
It is understandable why an observer hostile to Alexander might reduce the accusation to two bitter lines.
Yet Scripture had already supplied the stronger condemnation.
“And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you.” — 2 Peter 2:3.
Peter did not describe false teachers merely as people with incorrect interpretations. He warned that some would exploit believers for material gain, using religious language as their instrument.
The test is therefore not whether the merchant calls his transaction sacred. It is whether he is treating what belongs to God as something from which he may extract private advantage.
The two papal elections of 1503: was the Holy Spirit choosing, or were men bargaining?
The events following Alexander's death bring us directly to the question of papal election.
There were two papal elections in 1503. Pius III was elected in September and died the following month. Giuliano della Rovere was then elected on 1 November, taking the name Julius II.
The diary is particularly valuable here because Burchard personally participated in the ceremonial administration of both elections.
It records the invocation of the Holy Spirit the formal proceedings, the promises made by candidates and the political arrangements surrounding the outcome.
The contrast between religious ceremony and political bargaining is impossible to ignore.
During the short pontificate of Pius III, Burchard himself became the subject of a dispute concerning an episcopal appointment.
On printed page 281, he records a conversation involving the vice-chancellor, Ascanio Sforza, and the pope:
“replicavit vicecancellarius Pape sibi promisisse in conclavi, respondit Papa se bene memorem esse”
Translation: “The vice-chancellor replied that the pope had promised him during the conclave; the pope answered that he remembered it well.”
The conversation concerned the proposed bishopric of Nepi and the alternative of Orte. Pius stated that Nepi had been promised elsewhere and intended to give Burchard Orte instead.
This is a remarkable record of ecclesiastical promotion connected with commitments made during a conclave.
It does not show that Burchard paid for the bishopric or sold an electoral vote. He was a ceremonial official, not one of the cardinal electors.
But why was the allocation of an episcopal see being discussed in terms of promises made during a papal election?
What does such a negotiation reveal about the distribution of church offices?
During Pius III's brief reign, the diary also records the ceremonial stages by which the newly elected pope was ordained priest and then consecrated bishop on 30 September and 1 October 1503.
The chronology is illuminating. The institutional choice of a pope and the subsequent conferral of ecclesiastical orders were distinct events. None of these ceremonial acts, however solemn, is evidence that the Holy Spirit had personally approved the political bargains surrounding the election.
And it is precisely those bargains that appear with extraordinary clarity in the election of Julius II.
29 October 1503: the bargain over votes, military command and territory
On printed page 293, Burchard records negotiations involving Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, Cesare Borgia and the Spanish cardinals.
His Latin reads:
“Eadem die, 29 octobris, Rmus. D. s. Petri ad Vincula venit in palatio apostolico cum duce Valentino et cardinalibus suis Hispanis et concluserunt capitula eorum per que, inter alia, cardinalis s. Petri ad Vincula, postquam esset papa, crearet confalonierium Ecclesie generalem ducem ac [ei] faveret et in statibus suis [relinqueret] et vice versa dux pape; et promiserunt omnes cardinales Hispani dare votum pro cardinale s. Petri ad Vincula ad papatum.”
Translation: “On the same day, 29 October, the Most Reverend Cardinal of St Peter in Chains came to the Apostolic Palace with the Duke of Valentinois and his Spanish cardinals, and they concluded their articles of agreement. Among other things, the Cardinal of St Peter in Chains, once he became pope, would make the duke gonfalonier-general of the Church, favour him and leave him in possession of his territories; and the duke, in return, would support the pope. All the Spanish cardinals promised to give their votes to the Cardinal of St Peter in Chains for the papacy.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 293. The square brackets preserve editorially supplied wording in
Thuasne's Latin text.
Read that carefully.
There is no need to speculate about a secret bag of gold, because the bargain recorded is already explicit.
The cardinal seeking election promised Cesare Borgia military office, political favour and protection of his territories. In return, Cesare and the Spanish cardinals were to support his elevation to the papacy.
That is a negotiated exchange of political advantages for electoral support.
It is not evidence of a simple cash bribe, and whether it satisfied the precise canonical definition of simony requires separate legal analysis. But the political character of the arrangement is undeniable in Burchard's account.
Where is the Holy Spirit in the stated terms of this agreement?
Does the Holy Spirit require a candidate to promise a military command to the pope's son before cardinals will support him? Does God's choice depend upon the security of conquered territories? Is the Spirit's will established by negotiations between ecclesiastical electors and a territorial prince?
Those are not irreverent questions. They are the questions that arise when an institution claims divine guidance for a procedure documented in such human terms.
Christ said:
“Ye know that they which are accounted to rule over the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and their great ones exercise authority upon them. But so shall it not be among you.” — Mark 10:42–43.
But so shall it not be among you.
Could the distinction be clearer?
Christ contrasted the governing methods of worldly rulers with the behaviour required of His disciples. Yet the papal election of 1503 was accompanied by precisely the kind of worldly negotiation that secular princes employed: offices, territories, alliances and reciprocal guarantees.
We can acknowledge that historians distinguish religious office from the temporal power of the Papal States. But that distinction does not explain why the selection of the supposed chief spiritual shepherd was entangled with commitments concerning military and territorial interests.
The claim that the election had been divinely guided is not proved by the fact that the cardinals later completed the required religious ceremonies.
A ceremony invoking the Holy Spirit does not transform a political bargain into a revelation from God.
The conclave and its oaths: promises before the Gospel book
The cardinals also drew up formal public and private agreements, commonly called capitulations, concerning the responsibilities of the future pope.
Burchard records:
“ubi conclusa fuerunt capitula et ordinatum quod unum de publicis et unum de privatis in carta alba que tantum scripta fuerunt subscriberentur per omnes cardinales et futurum papam”
Translation: “There the articles were settled, and it was ordered that one copy of the public articles and one of the private articles, written on white paper, should be signed by all the cardinals and by the future pope.”
The cardinals took oaths associated with these provisions, and Burchard supervised parts of the procedure.
The edition includes a longer Latin version of the capitulations in its notes, drawn from material published by Rinaldi. That documentary text must be distinguished from Burchard's shorter account.
Not every conclave capitulation was inherently corrupt. Some were presented as measures to restrain papal government and protect ecclesiastical interests. The existence of such provisions should not be equated automatically with the bargaining recorded between Cesare and Giuliano della Rovere.
Nevertheless, the juxtaposition is extraordinary.
On the one hand, cardinals were invoking the Holy Spirit and swearing formal obligations upon Scripture. On the other, the election had been preceded by negotiations offering military and territorial privileges in return for political support.
What exactly was the role of the Holy Spirit supposed to be?
If the Spirit selected the pope independently of human bargaining, why should the candidate need to obtain promises of votes through such agreements? If the outcome depended upon the votes secured through negotiations, on what grounds could the outcome subsequently be presented as proof of the Spirit's personal choice?
A Christian may believe that God can work providentially through imperfect human circumstances. Scripture certainly does not imply that every person occupying an official position is morally perfect.
But providence must not be confused with divine endorsement. The fact that God permits a man to obtain power does not establish that God approves the methods by which he obtained it.
The biblical question is whether the conduct attributed to the Holy Spirit corresponds with the Spirit's revealed character.
Paul describes the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22–23:
“Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance.”
In the same chapter, among the works of the flesh, he identifies hatred, strife, jealousy, wrath, divisions and envy.
If a political bargain is driven by ambition, coercion or selfish advantage, those motives cannot be made fruits of the Spirit merely by attaching a religious oath to the transaction.
The men may have elected a pope. What they did not establish by their vote was that the Holy Spirit had chosen him.
The election effectively settled — and Burchard receives a promise
Burchard records that the agreement over Giuliano della Rovere's election had been reached before the formal voting concluded.
He writes:
“conclusum fuit inter cardinales quod s. Petri ad Vincula esset papa”
Translation: “It was agreed among the cardinals that the Cardinal of St Peter in Chains should be pope.”
He then records something highly personal:
“et ego simul veni, et promisit mihi ecclesiam Ortanam et mulam fornitam, cappam et rochettum.”
Translation: “And I came with them, and he promised me the church of Orte, a furnished mule, a cope and a rochet.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 294.
Here is Burchard, the man responsible for regulating sacred ceremonies, describing the promise of an episcopal appointment and material gifts during the proceedings surrounding the election.
He is not confessing that he bought the office. Nor was he an elector selling a vote.
Nevertheless, the evidence is unmistakable that ecclesiastical promotion and personal rewards formed part of the environment in which the new pope assumed power.
Would the apostles have recognised this as the selection of a spiritual shepherd?
Paul instructed Titus to appoint elders in the churches and immediately described the character required of a bishop. His qualifications did not include securing the patronage of a powerful cardinal, obtaining promises during an election or receiving ceremonial privileges from a political ally.
This is the central problem. The recorded reasons and circumstances of appointment were political and institutional. The alleged divine selection was a theological claim layered over those circumstances.
There is nothing wrong with asking those making the claim to demonstrate it from Scripture.
Julius II elected — and the promised articles scarcely signed
On 1 November 1503, Giuliano della Rovere was elected Pope Julius II.
Burchard records that the new pope began signing the capitulations:
“et incepit subscribere capitula; et subscripsit solum tria et vix illa, cardinalibus tantum accelerantibus”
Translation: “And he began to sign the articles; and he signed only three, and scarcely those, because the cardinals were hurrying him so much.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 304.
This does not prove that Julius later repudiated every undertaking or deliberately deceived the cardinals. It shows the incomplete signing at that stage and the haste surrounding the proceedings.
But the account contains another revealing detail. Burchard reports that a fisherman's ring bearing Julius's identity had already been prepared, and that papal arms had appeared in parts of the city, because his election had been expected for several days.
The diary thus presents an election whose political outcome was anticipated, whose major supporters had been negotiated with, and whose formal confirmation followed an agreement already reached among the cardinals.
The public proclamation came afterwards.
Burchard then records a renewed promise concerning his own bishopric:
“et in eodem altari promisit mihi ecclesiam Hortanam, Ascanio pro me petente.”
Translation: “And at that same altar he promised me the church of Orte, Ascanio having asked him on my behalf.”
The detail Ascanio pro me petente matters. Ascanio Sforza, a powerful cardinal, acted as intermediary on Burchard's behalf.
This was the mechanism of patronage. A leading ecclesiastical figure requested advancement for a favoured official, and the newly elected pope confirmed the promise.
Was Burchard qualified for episcopal responsibilities? His professional experience was considerable, but the diary does not present a pastoral assessment explaining why he was the most appropriate candidate.
It records the promise.
The apostles commanded that bishops be blameless, hospitable, sober, faithful and able to teach. They did not describe episcopal advancement as the honouring of promises made through influential political patrons.
That is the difference between spiritual fitness and access to institutional favour.
The bishopric delivered: retained benefices, a furnished mule and financial exemptions
The promise was fulfilled.
On 29 November 1503, Julius II appointed Burchard bishop of Orte and Cività Castellana.
Burchard writes:
“et me prefecit ecclesiis Hortane et civitati Castellane, cum reservatione officii et beneficiorum.”
Translation: “And he appointed me to the churches of Orte and Cività Castellana, with retention of my office and benefices.”
The final phrase deserves emphasis:
“cum reservatione officii et beneficiorum.”
Translation: “With retention of my office and benefices.”
Burchard gained a bishopric while retaining his existing appointment and ecclesiastical benefits.
Nor did the gifts stop there.
The pope gave him valuable clothing and ordered that he receive a mule and equipment:
“qui donavit mihi unam cappam de zambelotto violaceo pulcherrimam et unum rochettum et commisit quod daretur mihi una mula cum cooperta et fornimento”
Translation: “Who gave me a most beautiful cope of violet camlet and a rochet, and ordered that I should be given a mule with its covering and equipment.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 309.
On 3 December, Burchard received further privileges, including remission of the financial charges associated with his appointment.
His diary states:
“et remisit mihi annatam et quod signaret mandatum de expediendo litteras gratis ecclesiarum et reservationis.”
Translation: “And he remitted my annate and ordered that the instruction be signed for issuing the letters concerning the churches and reservation free of charge.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 310.
An annate was a payment linked to ecclesiastical provision or income, often associated with the first year's revenues, though its precise assessment varied.
In this case the pope waived the obligation.
This must not be misrepresented as proof that Burchard purchased his bishopric. The record demonstrates a privilege in the opposite direction: a financial charge was remitted.
Yet the resulting picture is still profoundly revealing. A favoured official was promised a bishopric during a papal election, received the appointment, retained other offices and benefices, acquired ceremonial gifts, and obtained exemptions from charges which might otherwise have accompanied his promotion.
What does that tell us about the relationship between church leadership and personal access to the pope?
In the early church, qualifications for an overseer were matters of character, teaching and care for believers. In the papal court described by Burchard, the recorded mechanisms of advancement included favour, intercession, appointment, retained income and fiscal privilege.
It is possible that a man might receive an office through patronage and still perform useful religious work. The issue is not whether that possibility exists.
The issue is why such a system should be represented as the direct selection of spiritual shepherds by the Holy Spirit when its documented procedures were unmistakably human, political and financial.
Thuasne's biography adds another episode concerning Burchard's influence under Julius II. According to the editor, Burchard intervened in a dispute over a benefice at Strasbourg, supporting Leonard Bellendin against the humanist Jakob Wimpheling. Bellendin's birth as the son of a priest raised questions under the ecclesiastical eligibility rules of the period.
This evidence comes from the nineteenth-century editor's historical discussion and must be checked against the original documents he cites. Nevertheless, it fits the larger theme of appointments and benefices becoming subjects of powerful patrons' intervention.
The governing principle was often not simply who could best serve the flock, but who possessed sufficient influence to secure the desired office.
A new pope, the same family patronage
If Alexander VI's use of ecclesiastical office for dynastic interests were thought to be unique to the Borgias, the events under Julius II deserve attention.
At the same secret consistory on 29 November 1503, Julius created four cardinals. Two of them were his own nephews.
Burchard identifies:
“Clementem Mimatensem et Galeotium Lucensem episcopos, nepotes suos”
Translation: “Clément, Bishop of Mende, and Galeotto, Bishop of Lucca, his nephews.”
— Diarium, vol. III, p. 309.
The pope's relatives were elevated within the first month of his pontificate.
Their relationship alone does not prove that they were incompetent, corrupt or canonically unqualified. Nevertheless, it demonstrates that family promotion continued under the pope who succeeded the brief reign of Pius III.
One ruling family had lost control of the papacy. Another pope's relatives now received influential ecclesiastical positions.
Christ declared:
“Whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.” — Matthew 23:12.
Where, in the New Testament, do we find the apostles promoting their nephews into a ruling ecclesiastical aristocracy merely because those men belonged to their households?
The New Testament does not forbid every appointment of a qualified relative. It does, however, provide no basis for treating family connection as an entitlement to spiritual authority.
And once family advancement becomes an established feature of government, the institution risks becoming precisely what Christ distinguished His kingdom from: an earthly structure of inherited influence and power.
The Holy Spirit did not sign these bargains
We must now address the defence that so often appears whenever corruption in the papal court is exposed.
A person may argue that popes were sinful men but that the office itself remained sacred, or that the Holy Spirit continued to guide the Church despite the failures of its leaders.
Those are theological claims, and they should be examined theologically.
Christian Scripture certainly records flawed leaders. Peter himself denied Christ. David committed grave sins. Even Judas occupied a position among the twelve disciples, having been chosen by Christ, yet betrayed Him.
Therefore, one cannot logically establish that God never permits a sinful person to occupy a position of religious importance. Nor can a historian determine the invisible purposes of God simply by examining administrative documents.
But that is not what the records of 1500–1506 require us to conclude.
They require us to reject the assumption that the institutional outcome of a papal election is, in itself, proof that the Holy Spirit selected the successful candidate.
This distinction is decisive.
The Holy Spirit is not identified in Scripture as the author of covetousness, political deceit, sexual immorality, cruelty or exploitation.
Galatians 5 distinguishes the fruit of the Spirit from the works of the flesh. James 3:16 warns that envy and strife produce confusion and evil work. Peter commands elders not to seek financial gain or dominate the flock.
When men engage in bargaining over offices, military power and territorial protection, those negotiations are evidence of what the men did. They cannot simply be renamed the work of the Holy Spirit because they occurred inside a building called apostolic.
Likewise, the authority to appoint a bishop is not the power to impart the Holy Spirit.
Acts 8:18–20 directly contradicts the notion that spiritual gifts can be secured through financial exchange. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 12:11 that the Spirit distributes gifts according to His own will.
No papal decree can compel Him to select a candidate.
No conclave can bind Him to a vote.
No cardinal can purchase His consent.
No ecclesiastical election can demonstrate divine approval merely by declaring that approval.
And no man acquires the right to govern another person's soul simply because an institution has given him a sacred title.
Christ said:
“For one is your Master, even Christ; and all ye are brethren.” — Matthew 23:8.
And:
“For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” — 1 Timothy 2:5.
The mediator is Christ, not the pope who has emerged from political negotiations. Access to God is not dependent upon submission to an ecclesiastical ruler whose appointment rests upon the decisions of other men.
One may distinguish the institution's theological claim of divine assistance from the moral conduct of its individual officers. Yet that distinction cannot be used to declare every election spiritually legitimate regardless of the proceedings, or to exempt the institution's leaders from Christ's commands.
If the Holy Spirit chooses whom He will, by what authority does a conclave claim that the Spirit's decision necessarily corresponds with the outcome of its bargains?
The cardinals chose the pope. The documentary record describes their agreements. Calling the result the work of the Holy Spirit does not erase the means by which they reached it.
They made merchandise of the things of God
When the separate incidents are brought together, the pattern becomes difficult to dismiss.
In 1500, church office and financial contributions were closely associated in the cardinal appointments. Jubilee provisions allowed religious obligations to be modified through financial compositions. Simoniacal beneficiaries could receive dispensations under regulated conditions. Enormous ecclesiastical incomes were assessed for taxation. A royal matrimonial judgement was associated with reported fees amounting to tens of thousands of ducats.
In the same year, poor people begging along a papal procession route received nothing while hundreds of gold ducats were displayed publicly at an altar.
In 1501, Burchard recorded a reported perpetual patronage grant favouring the Borgia family at Subiaco, while the apostolic palace became the setting of the notorious gathering involving courtesans.
In 1500–1503, the diary and accompanying contemporary dispatches recorded political murder, imprisonment, executions, confiscations, military campaigns, financial demands and accusations of coercion.
In 1503, the election of Julius II was preceded by an explicit political bargain involving the Spanish cardinals and Cesare Borgia. The new pope subsequently fulfilled the promise of an episcopal appointment to Burchard, retained his other benefices and granted him financial exemptions.
And within the first month of his government, Julius elevated two nephews to the cardinalate.
Not every allegation is equally secure. Not every financial transaction was a bribe. Not every ecclesiastical appointment was bought, and not every person mentioned in the record committed wrongdoing.
But the documented pattern is real, and its implications demand examination.
Peter's warning deserves to be read in context:
“But there were false prophets also among the people, even as there shall be false teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable heresies, even denying the Lord that bought them, and bring upon themselves swift destruction.” — 2 Peter 2:1.
He continues:
“And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you: whose judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth not.” — 2 Peter 2:3.
It would be irresponsible to claim that Peter was naming Alexander VI or Julius II centuries before their births. His warning was addressed to Christians concerning false teachers generally.
But that does not diminish its relevance as a moral and spiritual test.
When religious leaders turn spiritual authority into a means of obtaining money, power or advantage, their conduct falls within the danger Peter warned against.
When the faithful are told that access to God depends upon obedience to such leaders, the potential exploitation becomes even greater.
When men claim divine authority while using ecclesiastical appointments as instruments of political exchange, the question is not whether their clothing is sufficiently sacred. It is whether their conduct resembles that of the apostles or the false teachers against whom the apostles warned.
Peter's warning is not a blank permission to condemn every Roman Catholic believer, nor does it establish the personal eternal fate of every man named in this investigation. It is an instruction to examine claims to spiritual authority against truth and conduct.
By that standard, the records of the papal court are deeply troubling.
Christ's Church cannot be manufactured by a conclave
There is a final distinction that must not be overlooked.
A papal institution can appoint officers, hold property, create ceremonies, acquire territory, enforce regulations and claim jurisdiction. These are acts of human government.
The Church described in the New Testament is something different.
Paul writes:
“Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular.” — 1 Corinthians 12:27.
Peter describes believers as:
“Lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.” — 1 Peter 2:5.
And Ephesians 2:20 describes that household as:
“Built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone.”
The foundation is Christ. The spiritual house is composed of those who belong to Him. Its existence does not depend upon a pope acquiring a temporal principality, a cardinal receiving a costly hat, or a bishop obtaining a valuable benefice through an influential patron.
Christ told the Samaritan woman:
“The hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father.” — John 4:21.
And He explained:
“God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” — John 4:24.
If true worship is in spirit and in truth, how can it be confined to a palace, a particular political dynasty or the decisions of an institution claiming ownership of ecclesiastical privileges?
We must also remember that the existence of corruption within a religious institution does not prove that every believer associated with it was corrupt, or that no faithful Christian lived under its authority. The Church of Christ is not identical with the failures of men who claimed to administer it.
But neither should those failures be hidden beneath an assertion that the institution was necessarily acting under the Holy Spirit.
A ruler may possess an office without possessing the qualities Scripture demands of a spiritual shepherd. A council may issue a decree without expressing God's will. A conclave may elect a pope without demonstrating that God selected him.
And a religious empire may call itself the Church without thereby becoming identical to the spiritual body of Christ.
The authority of Christ is not created by a vote. The Holy Spirit is not transferred by an appointment. And salvation is not the property of an ecclesiastical corporation.
The final question: whose kingdom were they building?
We should now return to the two sentences with which this investigation began.
Peter warned that false teachers would make merchandise of believers through covetousness.
Christ declared that His kingdom was not of this world.
Yet Burchard's diary reveals a papal government heavily involved in the administration of wealth, dynastic interests, territorial power and ecclesiastical appointments. It documents arrangements associated with enormous sums of money. It records political bargains surrounding papal elections. It preserves accounts of violence and allegations of misconduct at the very heart of the papal court.
The record is not an excuse to invent crimes or declare every accusation proved. On the contrary, each charge must be measured against its source. Thuasne's editorial judgements are not Burchard's eyewitness observations; popular rumours are not signed confessions; and allegations of poisoning or sexual misconduct require evidence beyond repetition.
But once those distinctions have been made, the fundamental challenge remains.
Why were men claiming to serve the Prince of Peace so deeply involved in struggles for territory, wealth and political supremacy?
Why did the appointment of spiritual leaders appear alongside figures of twenty and twenty-five thousand ducats?
Why did a pope's family reportedly receive rights of ecclesiastical patronage extending into the future?
Why were episcopal appointments promised in the course of papal elections?
Why were votes negotiated in connection with military offices and territorial guarantees?
Why was ecclesiastical favour capable of waiving substantial financial obligations for those close to the papal court?
And why, when gold was displayed so conspicuously during a religious procession, did Burchard record that nothing was given to the poor begging along the route?
These questions cannot be answered simply by invoking apostolic succession. Succession to an office is not evidence of succession in character. The possession of authority does not establish the righteous use of authority. And the repetition of ceremonies does not prove the presence of the Spirit whose name those ceremonies invoke.
Jesus told His disciples:
“Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them, and they that are great exercise authority upon them. But it shall not be so among you.” — Matthew 20:25–26.
It shall not be so among you.
Those words should stand beside every financial agreement, every contested ecclesiastical appointment and every political bargain examined in this investigation.
Christ did not say that His disciples should imitate the princes of the world once they possessed enough influence to do so. He expressly forbade that model of leadership.
The historical papal court plainly exercised many of the powers of earthly princes. Its officials negotiated, taxed, appointed, dismissed, rewarded, confiscated, armed and governed.
The theological question is whether those powers, and particularly their documented uses, can be reconciled with Christ's instruction to His own followers.
To answer that they must be holy because a pope exercised them is to assume the very authority that needs to be demonstrated.
And to declare that the Holy Spirit must have chosen the pope because a conclave elected him is to confuse a human result with proof of divine endorsement.
The cardinals could choose a ruler. They could not command the Holy Spirit to approve their choice.
They could create a cardinal, but they could not purchase spiritual gifts.
They could grant an abbey's patronage to a family, but they could not make that family the owner of Christ's spiritual household.
They could appoint a bishop and waive his financial charges, but they could not establish his divine calling through those privileges.
They could display gold before an altar, but gold could not replace mercy towards the poor.
They could occupy magnificent rooms, dress in costly garments and proclaim their authority before the world. None of those things made the corruption recorded within their institution a fruit of the Spirit.
The New Testament does not direct believers to judge the truth of religious claims by grandeur, titles, political recognition or inherited privilege.
It directs them to Christ.
And Christ said:
“Ye shall know them by their fruits.” — Matthew 7:16.
That is the test the papal court must face. Not whether its men possessed the power to appoint one another, but whether the conduct of those claiming to represent Christ corresponded with His commandments.
If the men governing a religious institution made merchandise of offices, attached spiritual advancement to enormous financial contributions, negotiated power in return for political support, and exercised authority through coercion or dynastic advantage, they cannot answer the resulting biblical criticism merely by asserting that their institution was holy.
Holiness is not conferred upon misconduct by a title.
And a crown placed upon a man's head cannot turn the works of the flesh into the fruits of the Holy Spirit.
The men of the papal court could elect their own rulers. They could create their own offices, dispense their own privileges and preserve their own power.
But they could not, by those acts alone, establish that they were building the Church of Jesus Christ.
For the Church belongs to Christ, not to the men who claim possession of it.
And Christ did not say that His people would be recognised by the price of their cardinal's hats.
He said:
“By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” — John 13:35.
That is the standard. Not riches. Not political dominion. Not a conclave. Not a papal decree.
And it is against that standard that the claims of the papal court, preserved so revealingly in Johann Burchard's own diary, must be judged.
References and primary sources
Johann Burchard, Diarium sive Rerum Urbanarum Commentarii (1483–1506), edited by L. Thuasne, volume III (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1885). Principal passages: pp. 7–9 (Jubilee dispensations and simony), p. 32 (Hungarian marriage proceedings), pp. 47–58 (fiscal levies and financial assessments), p. 70 (gold displayed at the altar and the poor receiving nothing), pp. 72–73 (Alfonso of Aragon), pp. 76–79 (cardinal appointments), pp. 167–168 (Subiaco patronage and Vatican banquet), pp. 230–237 (political violence, Orsini imprisonment and financial demands), pp. 242–244 (Alexander VI's death and valuables), p. 281 (Pius III and Burchard's promised bishopric), pp. 293–304 (election of Julius II), and pp. 309–310 (Burchard's episcopal appointment and privileges). The supplied PDF includes these pages with an 82-page offset: for example, printed p. 167 appears on PDF p. 249.
Louis Thuasne, biographical introduction and editorial notes to Burchard's Diarium, volume III (1885). Particularly important for the payment associated with Burchard's appointment in 1483, manuscript variations, the editor's interpretation of the September 1500 contributions, the Subiaco and banquet notes, and Burchard's subsequent patronage activity.
Francesco Capello, diplomatic dispatches from Rome to the Florentine government, July–October 1500, reproduced and discussed in Thuasne's appendix. Particularly the letters concerning Alfonso of Aragon's death, including the confidential discussion on printed pp. 438–439.
Antonio Malegonnelle, Florentine diplomatic dispatch of 4 April 1500, quoted in Thuasne's note to Burchard, volume III, p. 32, concerning the financial arrangements reported around the Hungarian royal marriage judgement.
Francesco Pepi, dispatch to Florence dated 4 November 1501, reproduced in Thuasne's commentary on the Vatican banquet, volume III, pp. 167–168.
Marino Sanudo, I Diarii, especially volume III for the events of 1500 and the Borgia campaigns, with subsequent volumes for the events and elections of 1503.
Antonio Giustinian, Venetian diplomatic dispatches from Rome, 1503–1504, relevant to the political conflicts, imprisonment and executions involving the Orsini, and the election of Julius II.
Niccolò Machiavelli, diplomatic correspondence from the papal election of 1503, particularly the Roman dispatches of late October and early November.
Richard Matarazzo, contemporary Perugian chronicle, discussed by Thuasne in connection with the banquet account. Its wording must be compared directly with Burchard's account rather than treated as confirmation of every detail.
Biblical references: King James Version: Exodus 20:13; Leviticus 19:33–34; Deuteronomy 10:18–19; Matthew 7:16; 10:8; 20:25–26; 23:8–12, 23; 25:35–45; Mark 10:42–45; Luke 3:14; John 4:21–24; 13:35; 18:36; Acts 4:34–35; 8:18–22; 20:28; 1 Corinthians 12:11, 27; Galatians 5:19–23; Ephesians 2:19–22; 5:3; 1 Timothy 2:5; 3:2–3; Titus 1:7; James 2:1–16; 3:16; 1 Peter 2:5; 5:2–3; 2 Peter 2:1–3.
For further reading See Burchard's work below.
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