In striving, then, for worldly eminence by every means in his power, Alexander is no more blameworthy than any other.

What, then, remains?
The fact that he succeeded better than any of his forerunners.
But are we on that account to select him for the special object of our vituperation?
The Papacy had tumbled into a slough of materialism in which it was to wallow even after the Reformation had given it pause and warning.

Under what obligation was Alexander VI, more than any other Pope, to pull it out of that slough?
As he found it, so he carried it on, as much a self-seeker, as much a worldly prince, as much a family man and as little a churchman as any of those who had gone immediately before him.
By the outrageous discrepancy between the Papacy's professed and actual aims it was fast becoming an object of execration, and it is Alexander's misfortune that, coming when he did, he has remained as the type of his class.
The mighty of this world shall never want for detractors.

The mean and insignificant, writhing under the consciousness of his shortcomings, ministers to his self-love by vilifying the great that he may lessen the gap between himself and them.

To achieve greatness is to achieve enemies.