The rest of the week sped by and was interminable at the same time. With exams in almost every class prior to the break, there was little time for anything except prepping and completing rough drafts of term papers. Most instructors provided the opportunity to have one’s paper reviewed at this time, although it was not graded, and was not part of the final grade for the course. It did give valuable insight into whether one were on the right track or impossibly off in left field. Over the next few days, Bryce handed in his drafts of papers in English, the Renaissance, Medieval England, and Art History. He was ashamed to admit that his work on Jean Racine was so little advanced that he had little more than notes and an outline, but decided to bite the bullet and hand that in to Dr. Anjot as well.
An unexpected turn of events came when Damon reminded him that he had volunteered to edit his work on Plato. In all that had happened since the beginning of the semester, Bryce had forgotten, although he knew Damon was hard at work on this specific project. He did not seem worried about anything else, but this class in political theory seemed to set off warning bells for Damon from the outset. For some reason, Damon seemed to doubt his own ability when it came to this more theoretical study, and was constantly worried about it. Consequently, when Bryce sat down to go over his partner’s rough draft, he did not know what to expect.
Damon divided his paper into two parts, a summary of Plato’s political theory, and his own evaluation of that theory. He noted that the most well known of Plato’s works, The Republic had to be balanced by his later work, The Laws, and perhaps by some other writings. Plato was unique, in that his were the oldest complete philosophical and political writings which have come down to us. What we know of earlier thinkers is based on partial bits and pieces, quotations in the works of others, and what later writers say about them. That justifies Plato’s position as the first political theorist whose views can be known with reasonable accuracy.
The Republic is essentially a dialogue concerning the idea of justice. After first considering several common sense, but inadequate,
definitions, the reader is faced with the Sophist Thrasymacchus. The Sophists were a group of teachers before and during the time of Plato who claimed to be able to prepare young men for success in public life. In general, they rejected religion and traditional morality, and advocated what might be called a utilitarian approach. It was in this spirit that Thrasymacchus proposed his definition of justice: “Justice is nothing else than the interest of the strongest.”
In refuting this definition, Plato, speaking as usual through the persona of Socrates in his dialogues, objects to several aspects of this approach, but primarily on the basis that it leads to civil strife, which is the greatest evil in society. The triumph of one party, one faction, in society only leads to further conflict. The forms of government could be monarchy, aristocracy, plutocracy, or democracy, that is, rule by one, by the best, by the rich, or by the mob. In this way, Plato argues that democracy, or the rule of the many, is one of the least desirable of conditions, as it almost inevitably leads to strife and the triumph of a demagogue, and thus to tyranny. Justice, Socrates eventually decides, is rendering to each what is his due. This is not an arithmetic equality, with each citizen obtaining the same as every other citizen, but rather is a form of equity, in that some contribute more to society, and are therefore due a greater voice in society’s decisions.
Society, as described by Plato, consists of three major groups: the workers, called the appetite of society; the warriors, called the spirit of society, and the rulers, called the reason of society. In his own approach to what constitutes the ideal society, Plato argues for a clear distinction among the three constituent parts of society, with each doing its part, and providing a balance of conflicting interests which results in harmony. If either of the first two groups dominates, it leads to the other being dissatisfied, and thus to civic strife. He argues for a type of aristocracy, that is, the rule of a class of individuals trained for the role from childhood. These are the rulers who are also philosophers, identified by him as the reason of society. Only they truly understand the concepts of justice and the common good, so only they should be in the dominant position. The other classes, he says, tend to do what they like, especially in a democracy, which only leads to anarchy and constant strife.
After this analysis of Plato’s ideas, Damon undertook a critique of them. He found many things to admire in Plato’s ideas, including the concept of justice as rendering to each what is his due, and avoiding civic strife. He likewise praised the concept of balancing conflicting interests as a way of maintaining justice and harmony. Where Damon parted ways with Plato, however, was Plato’s solution to the issues raised. The idea of entrusting rule to a class of individuals earmarked for this role from childhood was a formula for failure, Damon insisted. It was based on the premise that if they were taught reason, and had the common good pointed out to them, they would naturally prefer the common good over self-interest. That, Damon felt, was naive, not taking into account the weaknesses of human nature. Moreover, one person’s idea of the common good might differ from that of another. What this approach would lead to, Damon concluded, was rule by a class of bureaucrats who were no more likely to take into account the interests of the larger public than those bureaucrats who actually rule our society today. Damon said that Plato in effect set up the very situation he criticized by establishing the rule of the philosopher/bureaucrats, because he did not take into account the weakness found in every human. To balance that, Damon proposed taking a good look at the constitutional arrangements set up by our Founding Fathers, with checks and balances, which are intended to prevent any one person or faction from having a free hand. Only when the voice of all is heard, and then conflicting interests balanced, can one expect true justice.
Damon was nervously awaiting Bryce’s comments on his paper. He was actually pacing back and forth, and had downed a generous glass of Old Forrester. When Bryce emerged from the library, he had a severe look on his face. He gave a great sigh.
“Damon, I’m afraid I discovered a serious problem here,” he began.
“Oh, shit! I knew it! I screwed up! What’s the problem?” Damon lamented.
“Well, if you keep this up, I will become entirely useless,” Bryce said, allowing a grin to escape.
“What! What are you talking about?” Damon exclaimed, not understanding what Bryce was telling him.
Taking pity on his partner, Bryce became explicit. “Damon, the paper is brilliant. You did a bang-up job. I could not have done any better. You don’t need me to hold your hand. I told you all along you had nothing to worry about.”
At that, Damon launched himself at Bryce. “You devil! You made me sweat and worry.” They were quickly rolling about on the floor of the common room, with Bryce unable to adequately defend himself because he was laughing so much. That, of course, resulted in Bryce flat on his back, and Damon sitting triumphantly on his chest.
“You really are evil,” Damon accused his lover.
“Guilty. No contest. Nolo contendere, Counselor,” Bryce surrendered. “But I was right all along. You, my friend, are absolutely brilliant. I’m no expert on Plato, but I seriously doubt that anyone could do a better job of explaining what he proposed, and then critiquing it.”
Although he tried to look severe, Damon was so pleased with this assessment of his efforts that he failed completely. He leaned in and kissed Bryce. Then he looked him in the eye and said, “If you do that to me again, I’ll beat the shit out of you, even if I do love you.”
Bryce laughed. “Now, about your grammar and style …,” he began.
“Nope. I won’t hear anything more this evening. Let’s celebrate,” Damon insisted.
“Pat’s?” Bryce asked.
“Let’s go,” Damon replied.
It was already past ten o’clock, so they did not get home until after midnight.
Over beer, Damon revealed that he had read Bryce’s paper on Dryden. He asked about Dryden’s critique of the Deists, summarized in the lines:
Thus Man by his own strength to Heaven would soar,
And would not be obliged to God for more.
“You seem to really agree with Dryden on this. Is this what you have to say about those who have no religion?” Damon asked.
“Damon, I will not discuss this in the midst of mid terms. My brain will get overloaded and it’ll explode. But I promise, we can talk about it on the way to Chicago,” Bryce finally agreed to discuss his ideas.
They had agreed that one of the first things they would do during the break was to return to Chicago to visit Damon’s sister and her children. During the second break, at Thanksgiving, they would visit Bryce’s family in Lincoln.
One of the actions of Bryce on Thursday was turning in to Dr. Belzi his rough draft of a paper on the Borgias. He began with a summary of the standard assessment of the family over three generations. First came the Spanish prelate Alfonso de Borja (1378-1458), who became Pope Calixtus III in 1455. He was thus an old man of 77 when elected, and reigned only three years. During this time, his leading vice was nepotism, i.e., he appointed his relatives to every open office, and settled on them every source of income which became available. It was this which allowed the next generation to play a significant role in Renaissance affairs.
The next generation was represented by a nephew of Calixtus, called Rodrigo (1431-1503), who usually used the Italianate form of his name, Borgia, rather than the original Spanish/Catalan Borja. Rodrigo was a very successful canon lawyer, a graduate of the University of Bologna, and thanks to his uncle, a cardinal and quite wealthy. He played a major role in the papal elections of 1458, 1464, 1471, and 1484, leading to his own election in 1492. As pope, Rodrigo is known as Alexander VI.
The third generation is represented by a series of eight siblings, including Pier Luigi, Cesare, Giovanni, and Lucrezia. These siblings have been attributed to Rodrigo since the Renaissance itself, but in his book, G. J. Meyer argues that they are the grandchildren of his sister, Juana, and her husband, Pedro Guillen Lanzol.
With this background, Bryce analyzed the traditional approach, as exemplified in the work The Borgias, by Clemente Fusero and published in 1966, supplemented with a few other sources, including the Catholic Encyclopedia, and compared that to the approach presented by Meyer in his work of 2010 entitled, The Borgias: the Hidden History. Perhaps the first and best known aspect of the reputation of Alexander was his paternity of eight children, including six by his mistress, Vanozza dei Catanei. It was generally accepted that he was the father. Pope Pius II actually wrote to Rodrigo admonishing him about his life in 1460, and when Innocent VIII issued a papal dispensation in favor of Cesare in 1480, allowing him to be ordained to minor orders and accept clerical prebends, he specifically dispensed him from the impediment of illegitimacy as a son of episcopo cardinali et conjugata, which can only be translated as “the cardinal-bishop [meaning Rodrigo, the only Borgia available at the time] and a concubine.” And yet, Meyer denies that Alexander, or Rodrigo as he then was, was the father. He indulges in some arcane mental gymnastics to explain away the clear words of the pope and the dispensation. In order to do this, Meyer accepts only those documents which favor his interpretation of events, and consistently disparages those which are critical of the Borgias, primarily because they are critical of the Borgias. This, Bryce pointed out, was bad history.
But there was more. Meyer consistently defends Alexander not only from the accusation of having sired a brood of children, but from other crimes and sins generally attributed to him. He dismisses the accusation that he used bribery to obtain his election in 1492 by saying that everyone was doing it. He dismisses the accusations that he or his son Cesare were guilty of several murders, including that of his son-in-law, Alfonso of Bisceglie, when he had ceased being a political asset, by claiming that Alexander knew nothing of these events until after the fact. To support his position, Meyer cites statements by Alexander, and again dismisses those of his critics as unworthy of consideration. Fusero, and the traditional approach, on the other hand, leave open the question, but indicate the probability that Alexander was involved in the planning of these political murders from the outset.
There is no question but that Alexander was a successful Renaissance prince. He presided over the compromise between the competing claims of Portugal and Castile as they expanded their explorations into the Atlantic, leading to the demarcation line of 1494. He was a fairly successful administrator, but continued his uncle’s practice of nepotism, turning over to his family every source of income available. Of nine new Spanish cardinals created during his pontificate, six were members of his family. His son Cesare, once released from his father’s plan for a career in the Church, was a successful condottiero, conquering the petty tyrants of the Romagna, who were no better than he, and establishing papal rule in the area. That this area was intended by Alexander and Cesare as a principality for Cesare did not change the result. Alexander was a supremely successful diplomat in handling the difficult situation created by the French invasion of Italy in 1494, and sparing the Papal States the ravages inflicted on other parts of the peninsula by the French.
But that was essentially irrelevant as far as Bryce was concerned. Whether a pope was a successful politician and diplomat was not the basis on which his pontificate was to be judged. After all, Alexander VI, Rodrigo Borgia, was supposed to be Bishop of Rome, Patriarch of the West, Supreme Pontiff, successor to St. Peter, the Vicar of Christ on Earth. He was supposed to be a religious leader, and in this Alexander signally failed. His uncle had at least attempted to mobilize Europe against the pressing threat of Moslem conquest by the Turks, but Alexander did nothing significant along those lines, and created or continued the corruption which led to the widespread dissatisfaction leading to the loss of half of Europe to the Faith in the next generation.
The thing which really ticked off Bryce was Meyer acting as though the religious aspect of the reign of Alexander was irrelevant to his reputation as a Renaissance figure. While it is true that the Renaissance was more worldly than the Middle Ages, even in Renaissance Italy the activities of the Borgias was cause for scandal. While Alexander might have been a successful Renaissance prince, he was not a good man, and he was definitely not even a passable prelate.
Cesare Borgia (1475-1507) was the second son of Alexander according to the traditional accounts. As such, he was destined for a career in the Church, but after the death of his older brother, Pier Luigi or Pedro Luis, first Duke of Gandia, in 1488, and then of his brother Juan, second Duke, in 1497, Cesare campaigned for permission to resign his dignity as cardinal and enter the secular estate, the first known person to do so. He was appointed as Captain General of the papal army and appointed by his father to assert papal control over the unsettled region known as the Romagna, located south of the Po river and east of the Apennines, in the northern part of what were called the Papal States. Between 1499 and 1503 Cesare successfully carried out a series of campaigns which brought much of that territory under his control. Although he acted as papal governor, it is fairly certain that it was intended that this form the core of an hereditary principality for the Borgia family. However, Cesare had terrible luck. In 1503, at a time when he was ill and unable to deal with affairs, his father died. After the reign of a compromise candidate, Pius III, lasting less than a month, Giuliano della Rovere was elected pope, taking the name Julius II. He was a bitter enemy of the Borgias, and so Cesare was dismissed from all his offices.
During the time of his father’s reign, Cesare had married a French princess, Charlotte d’Albret, and had been granted a French title, Duc de Valentinois. After several adventures, in 1507 Cesare was killed in northern Spain, fighting against King Ferdinand. It is sufficient to relate that Cesare was the hero of Niccolo Machiavelli’s work of 1513, Il Principe, or, in English, The Prince, the quintessential handbook of amoral, or Machiavellian, politics.
The other member of the family most cited by others was Lucrezia (1480-1519), daughter of Alexander VI and Vanozza. Although she was accused by some writers of being involved in the death of her second husband, Alfonso of Aragon, Duke of Bisceglie, the evidence does not support that interpretation. After considering the accounts given by Fusero and others, Bryce concluded that Lucrezia was a victim, not the poisoner of infamy. She was used by her father and brother to further their political ambitions, and only came into her own after marrying Alfonso d’Este, Duke of Ferrara, in 1502. Once she was out of Rome, and free of the direct influence of Alexander and Cesare, she was an admirable wife, mother, and patroness of culture, especially of the poets Pietro Bembo and Ercole Strozzi.
A younger son of Alexander, Giovanni, or Juan (1476-97), succeeded his brother Pedro Luis as Duke of Gandia, and married an illegitimate granddaughter of King Ferdinand of Aragon. He lived most of his life in Spain, inheriting the family estates near Valencia. Although it was beyond the time frame set by Dr. Belzi for the course, Bryce could not refrain from pointing out that Juan was the grandfather of Francisco Borja (1510-72), 4th Duke of Gandia. After a career as a member of the court of the Emperor Charles V and his son, the later King Philip II, and success as advisor and administrator, Francisco changed course, so to speak. When his eldest son, Carlos, reached the age of 21, Francisco resigned his worldly dignities and entered the Society of Jesus (Jesuits). In 1565 he became third Superior General of the Jesuits. He was instrumental in founding educational institutions including the Gregorianum in Rome, and sending missionaries to the New World. He was later canonized as St. Francis Borgia. Again, Bryce insisted, we are not determined by our DNA.
Although Dr. Belzi was not pleased with the insertion of the account of St. Francis Borgia in Bryce’s paper, he admitted that it was a well-balanced treatment of the Renaissance Borgias, including Pope Alexander, Cesare, and Lucrezia. Despite a few critical comments, then, Bryce felt justified in carrying on with the rough draft he had submitted.