a woman with an agreeable body and face could resolve to fall in love with the ugliest and most deformed man that was ever born, for such was her brother-in-law. . . . From this one can judge the grand ambitions that rule women. . . . And she, who wanted only to command, loved him all the more because he allowed her to govern.” 11
We have no record of Pamphilio’s feelings about his brother’s close relationship with his wife. It is possible the rumors did not unduly
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disturb him because he knew for a fact that the relationship was strictly platonic. On the other hand, if he was aware of an affair, perhaps he averted his eyes. Any children would, of course, still be Pam-philis.
Whatever was going on, Pamphilio was not in a position to protest too loudly. For Olimpia made it clear that she was willing to use all of her considerable skill and all of her vast piles of money to have Gian-battista made a cardinal. Why should the Pamphilis not have the best places in church on feast days, the most honorable seats at parties? All the power, prestige, and income had been lost in that tragic moment in 1610 when Cardinal Girolamo’s heart stopped beating, his lungs clogged with whitewash fumes. Why shouldn’t the Pamphili family boast another cardinal, Cardinal Gianbattista?
Most churchmen weren’t made cardinals overnight, unless they were lucky enough to be closely related to a newly elected pope. The first step on the path to the cardinalate was to become a nuncio—papal ambassador—to a foreign court. The most prestigious posting was to Spain, the greatest supporter of the Vatican. Spain controlled large chunks of It-aly—the duchy of Milan in the north, and the kingdom of Naples, which shared the southern border of the Papal States. The second most important posting was to France, Spain’s inveterate enemy and historically a far less supportive ally of Rome. For centuries France had been angling for greater control of naming bishops, owning church properties, and keeping church revenues. France was often bristling with anger toward the Vatican, and its nuncio had to be a man of great diplomatic skill.
Gianbattista couldn’t hope to be made nuncio to Spain or France on his first diplomatic posting, however. But there was Venice, the independent-minded republic in the northeast of Italy, and staunchly loyal Poland, that frontier outpost of Roman Catholicism in Europe. There were the German countries that had remained Catholic after the Reformation, and the Spanish Netherlands. But a more prestigious posting would be to the Holy Roman Emperor in Austria or to the kingdom of Naples.
Olimpia knew that Gianbattista had excellent qualifications for the
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Eleanor Herman
position of nuncio. He had a stellar education and years of church legal experience. His wild youth firmly behind him, he possessed caution, discretion, patience, and a dignified manner. But his lack of sociability was a severe handicap. He was not one for wheeling and dealing, entertaining and glad-handing, for flattering the important and sending tasteful gifts to the powerful. On the contrary, for years he had stayed morosely in the background of the social scene, eyeing Rome’s elite with thinly veiled suspicion.
But it was a handicap Olimpia could easily fix if she played the role of his hostess. She held the right parties and hosted the right people. Cardinals toddled in with their sisters-in-law and nieces, ambassadors with their wives and daughters. Olimpia was ingratiating, helpful, oozing with charm. Her keen memory allowed her to inquire after the illnesses of distant relatives and the harvests of distant vineyards, as if she truly cared. And, as Gregorio Leti remarked, “She went to great trouble to pretend to have the same sentiments as the person she was speaking to.” 12
At these events Olimpia could shine, discoursing on her favorite subjects—politics and finance—and drawing
We have no record of Pamphilio’s feelings about his brother’s close relationship with his wife. It is possible the rumors did not unduly
[ 62 ]
M i s t r e s s o f t h e Vat i c a n
disturb him because he knew for a fact that the relationship was strictly platonic. On the other hand, if he was aware of an affair, perhaps he averted his eyes. Any children would, of course, still be Pam-philis.
Whatever was going on, Pamphilio was not in a position to protest too loudly. For Olimpia made it clear that she was willing to use all of her considerable skill and all of her vast piles of money to have Gian-battista made a cardinal. Why should the Pamphilis not have the best places in church on feast days, the most honorable seats at parties? All the power, prestige, and income had been lost in that tragic moment in 1610 when Cardinal Girolamo’s heart stopped beating, his lungs clogged with whitewash fumes. Why shouldn’t the Pamphili family boast another cardinal, Cardinal Gianbattista?
Most churchmen weren’t made cardinals overnight, unless they were lucky enough to be closely related to a newly elected pope. The first step on the path to the cardinalate was to become a nuncio—papal ambassador—to a foreign court. The most prestigious posting was to Spain, the greatest supporter of the Vatican. Spain controlled large chunks of It-aly—the duchy of Milan in the north, and the kingdom of Naples, which shared the southern border of the Papal States. The second most important posting was to France, Spain’s inveterate enemy and historically a far less supportive ally of Rome. For centuries France had been angling for greater control of naming bishops, owning church properties, and keeping church revenues. France was often bristling with anger toward the Vatican, and its nuncio had to be a man of great diplomatic skill.
Gianbattista couldn’t hope to be made nuncio to Spain or France on his first diplomatic posting, however. But there was Venice, the independent-minded republic in the northeast of Italy, and staunchly loyal Poland, that frontier outpost of Roman Catholicism in Europe. There were the German countries that had remained Catholic after the Reformation, and the Spanish Netherlands. But a more prestigious posting would be to the Holy Roman Emperor in Austria or to the kingdom of Naples.
Olimpia knew that Gianbattista had excellent qualifications for the
[ 63 ]
Eleanor Herman
position of nuncio. He had a stellar education and years of church legal experience. His wild youth firmly behind him, he possessed caution, discretion, patience, and a dignified manner. But his lack of sociability was a severe handicap. He was not one for wheeling and dealing, entertaining and glad-handing, for flattering the important and sending tasteful gifts to the powerful. On the contrary, for years he had stayed morosely in the background of the social scene, eyeing Rome’s elite with thinly veiled suspicion.
But it was a handicap Olimpia could easily fix if she played the role of his hostess. She held the right parties and hosted the right people. Cardinals toddled in with their sisters-in-law and nieces, ambassadors with their wives and daughters. Olimpia was ingratiating, helpful, oozing with charm. Her keen memory allowed her to inquire after the illnesses of distant relatives and the harvests of distant vineyards, as if she truly cared. And, as Gregorio Leti remarked, “She went to great trouble to pretend to have the same sentiments as the person she was speaking to.” 12
At these events Olimpia could shine, discoursing on her favorite subjects—politics and finance—and drawing
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