In truth there was nothing to convince the Romans of the coming woe, or to raise suspicion that a Pope had been elected who would deserve the execration of succeeding centuries.  In Roderigo Borgia the people only saw, as yet, a man accomplished at all points, of handsome person, royal carriage, majestic presence, affable address.  He was a brilliant orator, a passionate lover, a demigod of court pageantry and ecclesiastic parade—­qualities which, though they do not suit our notions of a churchman, imposed upon the taste of the Renaissance.  As he rode in triumph toward the Lateran, voices were loud in his praise.  ’He sits upon a snow-white horse,’ writes one of the humanists of the century,[1] ’with serene forehead, with commanding dignity.  As he distributes his blessing to the crowd, all eyes are fixed upon him, and all hearts rejoice.  How admirable is the mild composure of his mien! how noble his countenance! his glance how free!  His stature and carriage, his beauty and the full health of his body, how they enhance the reverence which he inspires!’ Another panegyrist[2] describes his ’broad forehead, kingly brow, free countenance full of majesty,’ adding that ’the heroic beauty of his whole body’ was given him by nature in order that he might ’adorn the seat of the Apostles with his divine form in the place of God.’  How little in the early days of his Pontificate the Borgia resembled that Alexander with whom the legend of his subsequent life has familiarized our fancy, may be gathered from the following account:[3] ’He is handsome, of a most glad countenance and joyous aspect, gifted with honeyed and choice eloquence; the beautiful women on whom his eyes are cast he lures to love him, and moves them in a wondrous way, more powerfully than the magnet influences iron.’  These, we must remember, are the testimonies of men of letters, imbued with the Pagan sentiments of the fifteenth century, and rejoicing in the advent of a Pope who would, they hoped, make Rome the capital of luxury and license.  Therefore they require to be received with caution.  Yet there is no reason to suppose that the majority of the Italians regarded the elevation of the Borgia with peculiar horror.  As a Cardinal he had given proof of his ability, but shown no signs of force or cruelty or fraud.  Nor were his morals worse than those of his colleagues.  If he was the father of several children, so was Giuliano della Rovere, and so had been Pope Innocent before him.  This mattered but little in an age when the Primate of Christendom had come to be regarded as a secular potentate, less fortunate than other princes inasmuch as his rule was not hereditary, but more fortunate in so far as he could wield the thunders and dispense the privileges of the Church.  A few men of discernment knew what had been done, and shuddered.  ’The king of Naples,’ says Guicciardini, ’though he dissembled his grief, told the queen, his wife, with tears—­tears which he was wont to check even at the death of his own sons—­that