illegitimate birth placed him from childhood in a false position. As
a boy he learned to master his passions, and acquired a control over
his words and manner which too often degenerated into dissimulation
to secure his ends. Philippe de Commines (a contemporary somewhat
prejudiced, it is true, against the house of Aragon), says, when
speaking of Alfonso of Calabria, ‘The father was more dangerous
than the son, for nobody ever understood either the man or his real
thoughts. With an assumed smiling manner he would deceive and betray
people; there was neither grace nor mercy in his disposition, as even
his relatives and adherents acknowledged; he knew neither mercy nor
pity for his poor people where money was concerned.’ In trying to
promote trade and commerce he thought first of the interests of his
own exchequer, and burdened the people with socages, requisitions, and
duties which too often defeated his own object. From the very beginning
of his reign he had to contend with difficulties with his relatives,
with his subjects, with the Popes, till his natural distrustfulness
had deepened into gloomy suspicion. The remembrance of past (and by no
means always justifiable) opposition and the dread of fresh outbreaks,
increased by the frequent threats on the part of foreign countries to
revive the claims of Anjou, led him astray to unjust and cruel actions
whereby he undermined the throne, to strengthen which was his constant
and never-ceasing aim. The feudal arrangements of the kingdom not
only weakened Ferrante’s political power, but had the inconvenient
consequence of keeping him poor. It is difficult to believe that the
ruler of such a fertile country, though in great part uncultivated,
was in almost continual want of money, and was always obtaining drafts
on foreign, and especially Florentine, banks, to which, in his turn,
he had to give drafts on the current revenues. He once asked Lorenzo
for a loan of 10,000 gold florins, which Lorenzo cut down to half;
and Filippo Strozzi advanced him 20,000 on one occasion, besides
undertaking the expense of provisioning the capital.
As Ferrante advanced in years his eldest son acquired a baleful
influence over him. Alfonso was by no means equal to his father. He was
considered a tolerably good soldier, and was certainly not wanting in
energy, nor apparently in personal valour; yet he never carried out any
campaign of real importance, though the recapture of Otranto was looked
upon as a brilliant success. He was not lacking in cultivation and
interest in learning, but his bad qualities outweighed his good ones.
He was haughty, violent, faithless, and cruel. He hated the barons
of the kingdom from a despot’s instinct, he hated the influential
servants of his father because their wealth excited his covetousness.
As he had not inherited Ferrante’s power of dissimulation, enough was
known of his sayings and projects to put others on their guard, and
his hatred was paid back in kind. He was not more successful in making
those beyond the kingdom favourably disposed to him. The quarrel with
Milan, of which, however, the blame did not rest with him, was already
beginning, though it did not come to an open rupture till after the
death of his wife Ippolita. In Tuscany there was a secret grudge
against him on account of the events of 1478—his intrigues at Siena
and the loss of Sarzana. He must have known how unpopular he was at
Florence, but he did nothing to regain the favour of the government
or the people. ‘On October 8,’ observes Alamanno Rinuccini, speaking
of the year 1484,[276] ‘the Duke of Calabria arrived in Florence on
his way back from Lombardy, where he had been captain of the league
against the Venetians. He was accompanied by about eight hundred
horsemen in bad condition. On his entry he did not go to the palace
to greet the Signoria as he had hitherto done, though the Signoria
had made preparations to receive him, and summoned many citizens for
the purpose of honouring him. This was considered a great piece of
insolence. Nevertheless, in pursuance of a shameful order, he was left
unmolested during his passage through our territory—to our shame,
considering what he had done five years before.’ Commines has drawn in
a few words a fearful picture of Alfonso: ‘Never,’ says he, ‘was seen a
more cruel, wicked, vicious, base man, or one more addicted to excess.’
The Frenchman and the courtier of Charles VIII. speaks here, but the
portrait drawn by the Venetian, Marino Sanuto, is not at all more
flattering.[277]
In the face of the Duke’s ill-will, now no longer doubtful, aggravated
by a suspicion of encroachments on the part of the king, the most
powerful of the Neapolitan barons had entered upon a league for
mutual protection, when the outbreak of hostilities was precipitated
by two distinct causes. Ferrante and his son, however pleased they
professed to be at the election of Innocent VIII. as Pope, were in
reality anything but satisfied, as they feared to find him an adherent
of Anjou. The Duke had even made an effort to get him excluded from
the list of candidates for the pontificate. The embassy sent to Rome
to present the congratulations of Naples was to try to procure the
remission of that everlasting apple of discord, the feudal tribute. The
Pope refused to remit it, the king held to his resolve not to pay, and
the coming strife might be the more clearly foreshadowed as Cardinal
della Rovere was opposed to the Aragonese claims. In the summer of 1485
the rupture took place. The Duke of Calabria persuaded the king not to
allow the schemes of the discontented nobility to come to maturity, but
to nip them in the bud by a sudden attack. The way in which he set to
work furnished a new ground for heaping upon him accusations of fraud
and violence. On June 23, by treacherously imprisoning the Count of
Montorio, of the house of Cantelmo, the chief person in Aquila, and his
people, he obtained possession of that city, which was an independent
commonwealth under the suzerainty of the crown; shortly after, the
same was done at Nola by arresting several of the Orsini, to whom the
countship belonged. Many of the heads of the nobility were just then
assembled at Melfi, in the Basilicata, on the occasion of a wedding
in the Caracciolo family. In this manner a declaration of hostilities
was hastened, which, from the intensity of opposition, could indeed
hardly have been prevented under other circumstances, but which was now
encouraged by the disagreement between the Pope and the king.
On August 10, 1485, the Duke of Calabria left Naples to begin the
war against the barons.[278] He did not find them unprepared; their
vassals were in arms, and they had formed an alliance with the Pope,
who was angry, not only at the refusal of the tribute, but also at the
incredibly arbitrary conduct of the king with regard to Church matters.
This monarch, nominally a vassal of Rome, not only subjected the clergy
to the most despotically imposed taxation, but treated the bestowal of
ecclesiastical offices as a financial speculation. Affairs soon became
complicated. On September 26 the inhabitants of Aquila rose against
their oppressors, hewed the leader in pieces, set up the standard of
the Church, and sent plenipotentiaries to Rome. Ferrante tried to avert
the storm by sending his son, the Cardinal of Aragon, to Rome; but he
died on October 16. On the 17th Ferrante caused a protest to be read in
the cathedral of Naples, announcing that he had no intention of making
war against the Pope. Next he tried to negotiate with the barons,
sent his son Don Federigo to the Sanseverini at Salerno, and caused
the Count of Montorio to be set at liberty. It was all in vain; no
one trusted him. The people of Salerno kept the prince as a prisoner,
and set up the standard of the Church on November 20; the king’s own
friends began to desert him, one of his natural sons went over to the
insurgents. Ferrante had long been accustomed to put no trust in his
own relatives. This time the crisis was rendered doubly serious by the
now openly declared conduct of Innocent VIII.
The new Pope’s desire to maintain peace and heal the wounds inflicted
during the late pontificate gave way at the approach of the Neapolitan
troubles, the point of contention between the papal government and its
neighbours. Innocent can hardly have been drawn into the fight by the
secret motive of which he was accused—a preference for the interests
of his own family before the welfare and peace of the country; but he
may well have been influenced by his own and his predecessor’s repeated
unpleasant experience of the Aragonese. He made the quarrel of Aquila
and of the barons his own, accepted their tender of obedience, and
began to arm. He had to be quick, not to give the Duke of Calabria time
to scatter his opponents. While the king sought help from Florence and
Milan, the Pope and the barons turned to Venice. The propositions of
the nobles were very tempting to the Venetians, ever hankering after
the cities on the Apulian coast; but they had doubts about entering
upon such a hazardous undertaking after all the losses they had
sustained in the last war. They expressed regret for the oppression
under which the barons described themselves as suffering, but they
recommended a compromise through the mediation of the Pope; at the
same time they dissuaded Rome from violent proceedings. But when
Innocent, hurried on by the rapid progress of events, entered into
negotiations with Roberto da Sanseverino to obtain his services, they
contented themselves with half-measures. Roberto’s Venetian _condotta_
had expired at the peace of Bagnolo. The Republic might easily have
restrained his ardour, for though his own people were deeply involved
in the rising, the _condottiere_, long a stranger to his own home,
would have preferred his own advantage to all other considerations. But
after a few indifferent remonstrances he was left free to go ‘according
to his own pleasure,’ as was announced to the Pope on October 7.[279]
How disagreeable all these matters were to the Florentines, and above
all to Lorenzo, may be imagined. A dangerous flame was being kindled.
Towards the end of August the Neapolitan ambassador, Marino Tomacelli,
made to the Signoria, on behalf of the king, the first announcement
of the outbreak of internal hostilities, but without owning their
real importance. Before the middle of September it became known that
the Pope was causing troops to march over the border. On October 3
the deliverance of Aquila from the garrison placed there by the Duke
of Calabria became known. Thereupon Ferrante sent his eldest son’s
confidant—Giovanni Albino—to Lorenzo, who had long been intimate
with this learned and accomplished man, at once a politician and
a historian:[280] ‘You shall tell Lorenzo,’ such were Ferrante’s
instructions,[281] ‘that we turn to him as the best friend we have
in Italy, and one for whom, in case of need, we would risk our State,
our children, and our own person. Beg him not to leave us in the
lurch; he and his house shall be rewarded for their services to us.’
Then followed negotiations with Lodovico il Moro, to whom Albino
proceeded on leaving Florence. It was ill speaking of Lodovico at the
latter city, because his intrigues with Girolamo Riario kept up a
constant fear of disturbances in Romagna; nevertheless, in the present
conjuncture, it was necessary to try to keep at peace with him. The
Duke of Bari’s policy was evidently to put the Florentines forward
and watch the moment when he himself could most fittingly appear. He
proposed that the Florentines should hinder Sanseverino’s passage
through Umbria; but they answered that it would be far simpler for
_him_ to prevent his crossing the Po, whence he would doubtless skirt
the Adriatic coast and not turn inland at all. Next, Ercole d’Este gave
notice that by a brief of October 1 the Pope had commanded him to grant
a passage through the Duchy of Ferrara to Roberto da Sanseverino, who
was leading 600 men-at-arms to his Holiness, and who, added the Duke,
was expected to set out on the 10th from Cittadella, in the Paduan
territory, cross the Po at Ficcarolo, and take the road through Romagna
and the Marches—which showed that the Florentines were right in
their answer to Sforza. Soon after news came from Siena that the Pope
had asked that Republic for a body of 120 men-at-arms and 300 picked
mercenaries.
The Florentines did all they could to prevent the Sienese from yielding
to the Pope’s demand. As the armed force of Florence was small, they
took the Count of Pitigliano into their service and decided to await
the course of events. But there was no real feeling of security, from
the impossibility of trusting to the little neighbouring state. ‘The
Sienese,’ wrote the Ferrarese ambassador,[282] ‘being by nature at
once frivolous and suspicious, and perpetually stirred up by the Pope,
are in a violent fever, lamenting over the danger to which they would
be exposed if the king got the victory over the Pope, as he would then
employ their natural enemies—the Orsini—to avenge himself for the
revolution of 1480. Their ambassador plagued the illustrious Lorenzo
for two hours to-day with this nonsense, and it will cost a great
deal of trouble to keep them neutral, for they are always getting
troublesome.’ On October 10, the day on which Sanseverino began his
march, Lodovico il Moro wrote to Lorenzo.[283] He represented to him
the danger that would threaten the king if the enemy appeared on the
frontiers of the already excited country. ‘As your Magnificence sees,
prompt proceedings are necessary. The best way to help the king will
be to break at once with the Church, as the Pope has done with the
king. It appears to me necessary that you should induce the Signoria
to consent to a declaration of war, that while awaiting reinforcements
from hence they may set their armed force in order and despatch it to
the frontier without minding the unfavourable season, which hinders
neither the Pope nor the lord Roberto. What the foes think their troops
capable of, ours can surely do. But there is no time to be lost in
coming to a decision.’
When this new complication arose, Lorenzo was at the baths of San
Filippo in the Siena territory. The Morba waters had greatly benefited
him in the spring, and in May the Anziani of Siena sent a special envoy
to congratulate him on his recovery;[284] but it was not lasting.
The position of affairs was such as to embarrass even as practised
a politician as Lorenzo. He thought it needful to support the king,
but he was too clear-sighted and knew his native city too well to
give way to illusions as to the feeling about Naples. The king and
the duke were hated; to enter on their behalf into a war, which would
entail certainly great expenses and possibly serious complications,
was pleasing to no one. When Lorenzo proposed to the Council to give
support to Ferrante of Naples he met with vehement opposition. ‘At
first,’ relates Niccolò Valori,[285] ‘the majority were decidedly
against the proposal. In the midst of this long-wished-for peace, said
they, did he want to kindle the flame of a fresh war? Had he forgotten
in what danger they had been placed by arms and the censures of the
Pope? What if Venice should take part in the contest? How were they
to help the king, hard-pressed at once by internal feuds and external
war? Let him beware of turning aside the war from Ferrante, and drawing
it upon his own home. Notwithstanding, Lorenzo urged the necessity
of taking a side with so much eloquence that those who doubted were
encouraged, and at last all were brought over to his view. I never
read anything more earnest and impressive or better put together than
this speech, which was taken down at the time.’ But while Lorenzo held
it a political necessity to side with Naples, he clearly perceived
the reason of this fresh disturbance of peace. The bad condition of
the Neapolitan finances and army was no secret from him. ‘I regret,’
he wrote on November 3 to Albino,[286] after informing him of the
proposals made by the insurgents in case of the neutrality of Florence,
‘that the king is no longer reputed to have a rich treasury and a
good army as of old, when he was regarded as the arbiter of Italy.
That the contrary is now the case I regret on account of my devotion
to his Majesty; but, however matters may stand, I shall always fulfil
my obligations. I am most deeply grieved that my lord the duke is
denounced as cruel; though it be a false accusation, yet his Excellency
should do all in his power to rid himself of it, for it can only be to
his advantage to do so. If the taxes are hateful to the people let them
be abolished, and let the former contributions suffice; one carlino
willingly and gladly paid is better than ten gained by compulsion and
with ill-will; for no people willingly endures the imposition of fresh
burthens.’ He also recommended keeping the soldiers in good humour;
never had this been more needed. If the king had faith in himself he
would conquer; the Signoria would be true to him. Ferrante thanked
Lorenzo for his wise counsels, but remarked that he did not altogether
understand them.
CHAPTER V.
REACTION AFTER THE BARONS’ WAR. THE STRUGGLE FOR SARZANA.
LORENZO’S position was anything but enviable. The Florentine merchants
at Naples complained that the Duke of Calabria did not fulfil his
obligations, and, moreover, treated them insolently, so that they found
themselves compelled to leave the city.[287] The Pope, who on November
1, 1485, had issued a bull enumerating all the charges of the Holy See
against the King of Naples, and threatening with excommunication all
who should support the latter, exerted himself to prevent the Republic
from taking part in the quarrel. The authority of the Medici even
might receive a blow, for the position of affairs in the kingdom was
considered bad in the extreme. Lorenzo was visibly full of cares. He
proceeded very slowly. Towards the end of November Innocent sent the
Archbishop of Florence to his cathedral city to try if he could change
the mind of his brother-in-law. Rinaldo Orsini was a prelate of a type
then but too common; from his youth up he had held benefices without
spiritual functions, and so he treated his archbishopric as a sort of
garrison, the revenue of which was sufficient for him. He was generally
in Rome; leaving his vicar to look after the church affairs. Being in
the habit of getting into debt, he afterwards tried to do a profitable
piece of business with his see. At last, when things in Florence were
altogether changed, and the powerful support of the Medici failed him,
the universal dissatisfaction reduced him to resign for a pension and
a title _in partibus_. Before this, during the persecutions that broke
out against his family in the time of the Borgias, his insignificance
as a mere man of pleasure had saved him from the tragic fate of his
cousin Cardinal Orsini, with whom he had been placed in the castle of
St. Angelo. It may easily be imagined that he was not the man to make
any impression on Lorenzo, more especially as the latter well knew
that he was entirely a creature of the Pope, in daily anticipation
of obtaining the cardinal’s hat. Rinaldo declared that Innocent was
determined on war. For months past he had been warning the king,
through the now deceased Cardinal of Aragon, through his brother Don
Francesco, even through the Florentine ambassador; but Ferrante only
went on more recklessly, and now at last allowed things to take their
own course.[288]
Meanwhile, November 10, Sanseverino arrived at Rome, and was solemnly
received at the Porta del Popolo by the governor of the city, the
papal court, the ambassadors of the Kaiser and of King Maximilian,
and others. Twenty days after, in the Vatican basilica, he took the
oath to the Pope as gonfalonier of the Church.[289] Innocent showed
to the Florentine ambassador money and jewels to the value of 150,000
ducats, all of which, he said, was to be spent in carrying out the war.
All recruiting and sales of horses in and around Rome, except for the
service of the Church, were forbidden. But in Naples it was resolved
not to await the attack. Alfonso of Calabria marched into the States
of the Church, and was soon on the nearer side of the Alban hills,
with the Campagna and the city lying before him; on the north-west the
Orsini were taking up arms in alliance with him; Florentine troops were
advancing under the Counts of Pitigliano and Marsciano and the lord of
Piombino, and 100 Milanese men-at-arms under the Count of Cajazzo—for
that was all Lodovico sent after all his assurances! Soon the
Neapolitans and the Papal troops attacked each other in the immediate
neighbourhood of Rome, by the bridges over the Anio. The whole city was
in tumult. Monte Giordano, the Orsini stronghold in the Campus Martius,
was burnt down; King Ferrante’s ambassador, who with his colleagues of
Florence and Milan had remained in Rome after the fighting began, had
his house plundered and wrecked, and fled to the Vatican. The greatest
distress and insecurity prevailed; cardinals and others brought their
valuables to the Pope’s palace and to the castle of St. Angelo for
safety. But the duke proved himself a wretched general. He could not
manage to effect a junction with the Orsini, and Sanseverino pressed
the latter hard, compelled some of them to accept a compromise, and
obstructed the road into Tuscany. Within the kingdom itself matters
were taking an unfavourable turn; Alfonso, seeing himself in danger
of being hemmed in within the Campagna, decided to make a diversion
against the Pope and gain breathing-time for himself by coming to a
personal understanding with Lorenzo and Lodovico. On January 17, 1486,
the news reached Florence that the heir to the Neapolitan throne had
left the army in a dangerous position, and with only 300 horsemen
taken the road through the lower part of the Viterbo territory. After
riding sixty miles a day, like a fugitive, he arrived at Pitigliano,
the little capital of the Orsini territory, on the west of the lake of
Bolsena; from thence he intended proceeding to Florence and Milan.
The surprise in Florence was great. Negotiations had never ceased
between the Pope and Lorenzo. It was said that the latter was trying
to facilitate an accommodation; but there was a suspicion that he was
playing a double game, that he had no confidence in the Neapolitan
affairs, and that he had a hand in the defection of some of the Orsini,
which put the Duke of Calabria into difficulties; and that now he
wanted to hinder the Duke coming to Florence, in order to escape his
reproaches. The Signoria immediately sent a special messenger to the
Duke to prevent his coming to the city; Piero Capponi followed the
messenger, to have an explanation with Alfonso, and to remain with the
army as Florentine commissioner.[290] For some time past Lorenzo had
been suffering severely; an affection of the bladder was now added to
his old complaint the gout. He was not in a happy humour. He said he
would have nothing more to do with business, for everything was going
contrary to his desires and expectations; he meant to spend his time
more agreeably. He begged Ercole d’Este and the Marquis of Mantua
to send him falcons, and it was said that he was going to Pisa for
change of air. His ill humour was visible. Sometimes he was in the
city, sometimes at Careggi. The Duke of Calabria was urgent to see
him at Pitigliano, in Florence, anywhere he liked; but he was not to
be persuaded. Pier Filippo Pandolfini and Giovanni Serristori went in
January to Pitigliano to agree upon the necessary arrangements.
Meanwhile the situation had somewhat improved. The troops, deserted by
the Duke whom all accused of cowardice and want of head, were guided by
Paolo Orsini to Vicovaro in the valley of the Anio, beyond Tivoli; from
thence the road into the kingdom was open to them. Gentile Virginio and
others of the Orsini remained faithful. Letters from Milan announced
an intention of abiding by this alliance. On February 3, Gian Jacopo
Trivulzio and Marsilio Torello arrived in Florence with men-at-arms
and archers, to join the Duke.[291] The latter came as far as
Montepulciano, and wanted to make an attempt upon Perugia, where there
was some understanding with a few of the Baglioni. But the Florentines
had no desire to see the fire kindled so near their own borders; and
as the Milanese were of the same mind, the plan was given up. The war
was again transferred to the Papal territory, where the union between
the Orsini and the duke was at last effected. But it was a feeble war,
which only served to display the decay of Italian military skill.
One single fight, however, in which the allies were victorious, and
which took place in the beginning of May near Campagnano, a place
belonging to the Orsini and situated twenty-one miles north-west of
Rome, deserves the name of a warlike achievement. The Florentine
commissioner, who was not a military man, but had seen a good deal of
fighting in his life, was very little edified by the proceedings. On
the papal side they were no better off. Innocent, ill and repeatedly in
danger of his life, saw his means disappearing, his capital disturbed
and discontented, almost besieged, and the neighbourhood devastated.
He had little confidence in Sanseverino, who failed to profit by the
favourable moment of the Duke’s absence, and whose chief aim seemed to
be to gain a red hat for one of his sons. This distrust was heightened
by letters from Piero Capponi, which, by a not over-honourable
artifice, raised doubts as to Sanseverino’s honesty, and were put into
the enemy’s hands. Through the Bishop of Treviso the Pope tried to
get help from Venice; through the Cardinal della Rovere, who went to
Genoa at the end of March, he set on foot a negotiation with the Duke
of Lorraine, who with the help of France was planning an expedition
against Naples. But everything remained too long in suspense.
In the College of Cardinals the different opinions produced violent
disputes. As has been observed, Lorenzo remained in communication
with Innocent, although he was the very corner-stone of the league in
favour of Naples, and without Florentine money the king would long
ago have been unable to carry on the war. It was his representations
that chiefly contributed to induce the Pope to arrive at the needful
accommodation. Ferrante on his part saw very well that unless he made
peace abroad it was vain to think of restoring peace at home. Lodovico
il Moro, though now less scanty in his contributions of assistance,
was still more lavish of words than of deeds. His brother Ascanio
was urging the Pope to an accommodation. On March 6 he spoke very
strongly in the secret consistory in opposition to Cardinal La Balue,
who was charged by France with supporting the interests of the Duke
of Lorraine. The Pope, said Sforza, had a right to claim from King
Ferrante the fulfilment of his obligations to the Church; but it was
contrary to the duty of a cardinal to try and induce the Pope to drive
the king from his hereditary throne and put a stranger in his place.
He, Sforza, believed that he was not failing in his duty to the holy
father in defending the rights of his relative. The cardinal of Erlau,
the pious Franciscan Gabriel Rangoni, supported Ascanio, and said to
the Pope: ‘Your Holiness has threatened to go as far as the Acheron. If
the war continues, I fear those words will come true. May your wisdom
find means to prevent greater troubles!’[292]
The Florentines were wearied with the whole affair. Ambassadors came
from René of Lorraine to argue against the alliance with Naples, and
to recall the old relations with France, and the old devotion of
Florence to the Holy See. They were answered that the league which had
existed for some time between the Republic, Naples, and Milan had for
its object the preservation of peace; the disturbance had come from
the Pope. The latter had never mentioned the Duke of Lorraine in his
negotiations with the city; and if he was now making use of his name to
help his own cause, they must first of all find out his real aims, and
then consult with the allies. The old obligations to France would be
remembered as far as was consistent with honour. The answer, remarks
Francesco Guicciardini,[293] was prudent, for ambassadors had arrived
not only from the duke but also from the King of France, and for the
sake of the merchants it was necessary to be cautious. The occurrence
caused a good deal of anxiety, so that Lorenzo, who well knew the
attachment of the citizens to the house of France and their hatred to
King Ferrante, was afraid of the burthen becoming too heavy for his
shoulders, particularly as the alliance with Ferrante was displeasing
to many of the chief citizens. He would, perhaps, have changed his
policy, although Venice, where his brother-in-law Bernardo Rucellai
was ambassador, and which did not like seeing foreigners in Italy, now
sided with the king; but suddenly peace put an end to all troubles.
On the afternoon of August 11, 1486, this peace was signed at Rome
by the Spanish ambassador, the Count of Tendilla, the Archbishop of
Milan, and Gian Jacopo Trivulzio on behalf of Sforza, Cardinal Giovanni
Michiel on behalf of the Pope, and Gioviano Pontano on behalf of
Naples. King Ferrante was again formally to acknowledge the supremacy
of the Church; to pay the tribute; to retain Aquila on condition of
maintaining its liberties; not to oppress the barons who returned to
their allegiance, and to give them complete freedom as to their abode
and their family connections. These conditions were to be guaranteed
by Milan and Florence. The Orsini were to beg the Pope’s forgiveness,
and to be taken back into favour under guarantee of the said States;
all places taken on either side were to be restored. Sanseverino was
dismissed from the service of the Church. In Florence the conclusion
of peace was celebrated by ringing the bells; but Lorenzo was highly
displeased, not at the peace as such, but at the manner and the
conditions of it, on which he spoke sharply to the Milanese ambassador.
The conclusion had been arrived at without reference to him, and there
had been no mention of Sarzana. In reality this was better than what
had been originally intended, for Cardinal Sforza had exerted himself
to get his brother Lodovico appointed arbiter in the question; but this
scheme was foiled by the decided opposition of Capponi, who was then at
Bracciano.[294] The Republic had spent all her money for a cause not
her own.[295] And what a peace it was! Sanseverino had most decidedly
not proved himself a hero in the war, and his conduct had not deserved
any great confidence. But the way in which he was treated was almost
past belief. The gonfalonier of the Church, who as holder of one of the
highest dignities had handed the holy water to the Pope at a solemn
mass a little while before, suddenly found himself like an outlaw
chieftain compelled to use force against force. He was told he might
go where he liked, and a claim which he sent in for arrears of pay was
left unnoticed. Then, when he was about to take the road to Romagna,
to return to the Venetian territory, he found himself surrounded by
Neapolitan troops. To fight was certain ruin. He had nothing for it but
to dissolve his bands; many escaped to the Marches; others were taken,
plundered, slain; others again took service with the Duke of Calabria.
With about a hundred horsemen Roberto cut his way through, and after
many difficulties arrived as a fugitive, on the Venetian frontier which
less than a year before he had crossed at the head of a powerful army.
The Republic took him back into her service, and he showed himself
not ungrateful and far less selfish than was the usual fashion of
_condottieri_. A year after the conclusion of a peace so fatal to him,
he met his death fighting gallantly in the neighbourhood of Roveredo,
in the war stirred up by the frontier disputes between Venice and
Archduke Sigismund of Austria-Tyrol. The Sanseverino affair, however,
disappeared before what happened in Naples.
Two days after the conclusion of the treaty, at Castelnuovo, on the
occasion of a marriage arranged by the king between Marco Coppola, son
of the Count of Sarno, chief counsellor of the crown, and a daughter
of Antonio Piccolomini Duke of Amalfi, granddaughter of Ferrante, the
count and his family were arrested, as well as Antonello Petrucci the
other private secretary of the king, the Count of Burello, formerly
ambassador to Rome, and many of their relatives and friends, all
distinguished and influential persons. They had been in communication
with the insurgent barons, and as far back as October of the previous
year Lodovico il Moro had given the king proofs of their guilt; but
the latter had secured them and then waited till the conclusion of
peace to draw in the net. Only a fortnight before he had called the
Count of Sarno ‘our best-beloved counsellor.’ Three months later the
culprits were condemned to death and executed; and the shuddering city
beheld the bleeding limbs of the Count of Carinola, son of Antonello
Petrucci, quartered by the executioner’s hand. All their property
was confiscated; not only were their possessions within the country
sequestrated, but Ferrante at once sent one of the superior officers
of the chamber of accounts to take possession of sums deposited in
the banks in Rome, Florence, Genoa, and Milan. A million in gold is
said to have thus passed into his hands. Horrified at this fearful
vengeance, warned by the fate of Aquila, which lost all its liberties,
and putting no trust in the stipulated guarantee of Florence and Milan,
the barons were long undecided if they should trust themselves to the
mercy of the king. Ferrante himself did not believe they would. At
last, however, they submitted, besought pardon, and promised fidelity
and obedience. ‘All the princes and lords who formerly rebelled against
us,’ wrote the king on February 17, 1487, to Giovanni Nauclero,[296]
his ambassador to Ferdinand the Catholic, ‘are now with us at Naples.
They enjoy greater security for their persons and possessions, and
greater contentment and tranquillity than before the war; for they
have their revenues as heretofore, and while we know that we are safe
with them because their castles are in our hands, they are safe with
us, and, thank God, we live together without suspicion. The past has
vanished from our memory, and we treat them as dear sons. We hope it
will last, for we are resolved to give them daily greater occasion to
remain in this mind. Thus we keep all parts of our kingdom in peace and
quiet.’ Within three months came the confiscation of the principality
of Salerno, whose lord—Antonello da Sanseverino—was absent from the
country; and, later on, the arrest of those ‘dear sons’ the barons, who
one after another disappeared and left no trace behind.
The complications which arose from this interpretation of the
conditions of peace between the king and the Pope, and the sentiments
it awakened in Florence, will be mentioned later on. There can be
little difference of opinion as to this melancholy episode and its
influence on the destinies of Naples. But the whole blame must not be
laid on Ferrante. A nobility so powerful and warlike, so rebellious,
and among some of whom disaffection was an inheritance, rendered
government impossible. Defection had penetrated the king’s own privy
council, nay even his own family. How little unity there was in the
latter is shown by the fact that the barons hoped and attempted to
gain over to their side Don Federigo, who was as much beloved as his
brother Alfonso was hated and feared. At Salerno they offered him the
crown, which he refused. Ferrante conquered by prudence and force of
arms, but he abused his victory by cunning, avarice, and cruelty. In
the use of foul means he outdid his old enemy Louis XI.; but while the
latter, who personally was not a bit better, strengthened the royal
power, Ferrante overshot the mark and cut the ground from under his
own feet. Other men of the time were not more honest, yet they never
enacted such horrible tragedies as those witnessed at Naples in 1486
and 1487. Ferrante’s reign lasted seven years longer, externally more
quiet than before, more prosperous, more unlimited, less disturbed;
but all his sagacity could not save him from the phantoms called up by
the consciousness of past crimes and the fear of new dangers. In his
strivings after despotic power, and in the interests of the latter, he
made havoc of the old nobility. He could not destroy it so completely
as to prevent its remaining one of the factors in all great political
changes, or the enmity of a large portion of it from becoming fatal to
his house, but he diminished the strength of the country, which was
founded on the old feudal order of things. He hoped to find support
from the people, but could not really raise them because his system of
monopolies and finance oppressed them no less than the outgrowths of
the feudal state, and he had not time to carry out the change in public
matters which he might possibly have projected. The people, who had not
forgotten old grievances, were bound by no ties of affection to their
sovereign and his heir-apparent, who had come out of the Barons’ war
with a greatly diminished reputation for military capacity and a yet
more greatly increased reputation for faithlessness and cruelty.[297]
Like the peace of 1484, that of 1486 did not take into consideration
the Florentine desires and demands in the vexed question of Sarzana.
Lorenzo was ill and out of humour. Repeated attacks of gout either
laid him up at home, as in July 1486, or compelled him to go to
Bagno a Morba, where he passed the September of the same year. He
often sojourned at Careggi for a time or at the villa at Poggio a
Cajano, where he sought refreshment and relaxation from the exciting
affairs which never left him free. He was at no pains to conceal his
irritation. One ally compromised him by faithlessness and severity,
the other endangered his policy by double-dealing and the pursuit
of selfish aims. The more lavish were the assurances of friendship,
the nearer treachery was lurking. As to the treaty of peace and
Trivulzio’s part in it, he declared the proceedings of Milan were
downright disgraceful. When Ferrante began to meddle with the barons
whose safety had been guaranteed by Florence and Milan, and it became
evident that he aimed at their destruction and the confiscation of
their property, Lorenzo remarked that from a political point of view
the king was becoming too powerful. If he went on thus he would soon
be master in Italy, in which case Florence and Milan would fare badly,
as the predominance of his influence had repeatedly been injurious to
them. From the Duke of Calabria the worst must be expected, as he was
of a malicious and vindictive temper setting aside that, when once his
object was attained he regarded neither friendship nor past services.
Lorenzo saw that he must bring the Sarzana affair to a conclusion if
he did not wish to endanger his own position. The thing could not be
done in the year which ended the Barons’ war, but the next must not be
allowed to pass without profit. There was not much to be expected from
the allies. King Ferrante well knew how much he was indebted to Lorenzo
and to Florence, and remarked that one good turn deserved another; but
added that where an alliance was so sure and the will so entirely the
same on both sides, conduct must be measured, not by the extent of the
obligation, but by the power to serve. Then came the usual references
to the exhaustion of the treasury, difficulties with the Pope, and the
danger from the Turks, all of which Bernardo Rucellai, the ambassador
at Naples, likewise had to listen to.[298] To Lutozzo Nasi, another
Florentine diplomatist, Ferrante said: ‘Lorenzo knows that I really
love him and his city, for I have had practical proof of his attachment
to me and mine. But for him, they and I would no longer be in this
kingdom. He has conferred on us a benefit which we and our posterity
never will or can forget, and we will always display our gratitude to
him and the Signoria.’ But all this was mere talk. It was not of much
use that Ferrante occasionally condescended to flatter the Signoria,
as, for instance, when in the autumn of 1486 he appointed a house in
Naples for their embassy, as King Ladislaus had once done for Venice;
or when he sent back trophies of the war of 1478, declaring that he did
not wish to preserve memorials of past strife when nothing should be
thought of but reciprocal friendship.[299]
In Lodovico il Moro Lorenzo had still less confidence, but on account
of the situation in Northern Italy, and especially on account of the
Venetians, he was yet more anxious to keep on the best terms possible
with Milan. Lodovico was jealous of the close relations between his
allies; so, in order not to increase this jealousy, Lorenzo found it
convenient to point out the common interest of Florence and Milan in
preventing the king from becoming too powerful. Moreover, the Sarzana
affair still prevented the conclusion of a good understanding. Lodovico
was always thinking of regaining Genoa, and was the more unwilling to
turn the Genoese against him for the sake of a quarrel which kept them
in continual suspense, because they had applied to Venice herself for
aid against the Florentines. Innocent VIII. had made an attempt at
mediation, whereby the Bank of San Giorgio was to give up Pietrasanta
and receive Sarzana in exchange; but the matter fell through,
nominally on account of disagreements between the Pope and his native
city, but no doubt also because, after all the sacrifices that had been
made, public opinion in Florence would have been in nowise satisfied
with such a settlement. A trifling occasion, the occupation by the
Florentines of a small castle beyond the Magra, sufficed to cause
high words between Lorenzo and Lodovico. The former had sent Baccio
Ugolini to the Duke of Calabria in 1486, and Sforza took it amiss
that he had not been informed of the fact. ‘Milan and Lord Lodovico,’
returned Lorenzo, ‘seem to forget that this city calls herself a city
of freedom, and that she would be in a sorry plight if she could not
even send a man on an unofficial mission to the Neapolitan prince
without taking advice from Milan about it.’ In Florence, he continued,
nothing had been said when Lord Lodovico, without asking anybody’s
opinion, made his agreement with Venice. Such things were tokens of
disaffection, and should it ever befall that Milan was in need of
Florence it would be impossible to incline the people in her favour if
they had been previously driven to extremities. Such were the relations
in which these Italian States, calling themselves allies, stood to each
other! Then fine words followed again, and assurances of friendship,
which kept up appearances and deceived nobody as to the real state of
the case. To Lorenzo’s honour it must be said that he did all in his
power to support the tottering edifice of concord.
At the beginning of 1487 the Florentines were firmly resolved to make
an end of the Sarzana affair, which was really becoming a disgrace to
the Republic. But the Genoese were beforehand with them. On a hill to
the east of the town of Sarzana lies the fort of Sarzanello, begun
by the brave Ghibelin leader Castruccio Castracani when he extended
the Lucchese territory as far as the Magra. It was a hill-fort, still
worthy of notice for its construction, and it had always been held
by the Florentines. In March 1487 the commandant of Sarzana, Gian
Luigi Fiesco of Lavagna, made a sudden attack on Sarzanello, took
the outworks, and began to fire on the fortress. The famous Sienese
architect Francesco di Giorgio, who, together with Giuliano da
Sangallo, did more than anyone else for the military architecture of
the time, was serving as an engineer in the Genoese camp, and he seems
to have first adopted the mining system against Sarzanello. Florence
saw there was no time to lose. The Count of Pitigliano and the lords of
Piombino, Faenza, and Mirandola commanded the troops, to which Naples
and Milan sent scanty contingents. On April 15 the besiegers of the
fort were completely beaten, and their leader, Obietto Fiesco, fell
into the hands of the victors. But the fight for the town of Sarzana
dragged on, though the troops were better than some of their leaders.
The place was in increasing misery, yet the defenders held out amid the
distress and ruin of the inhabitants.
In the beginning of June Lorenzo went to Pisa to be nearer the scene of
action. On the 8th he was in the camp and ordered the town to be more
closely surrounded. An attempt to relieve it failed. On the 21st it was
decided to storm it, but a white flag was hoisted on the walls, and the
next morning the gates were opened. The inhabitants were spared, the
garrison remained prisoners of war. Two days before midsummer Lorenzo
returned to Florence. ‘Never,’ writes the Ferrarese ambassador, ‘was
he received with such acclamations by the people, who attribute the
recapture of Sarzana to him before all others.’[300] It was not the
importance of the place itself that Florence cared for; she regarded
its seizure as an insult. ‘After you have saluted in our name the
illustrious Signoria, my lords the Eight, and the illustrious lord
Lorenzo,’ thus ran Ferrante’s instructions[301] of July 27 to Antonio
Sperandeo, whom he was sending to Florence, ‘you shall express to
them our joy at the recovery of Sarzana; a joy which beseems true and
sincere friends on such a happy occasion, and is meet for a connection
which makes the advantage and welfare of the one the advantage and
welfare of the other. Therefore we rejoice at the conclusion of this
affair as at a piece of good fortune to ourselves, and pray God that He
may further the interests and well-being of us both, and lead us from
good to better through a continuance of our reciprocal friendship.’ How
much of these assurances of friendship should be laid to the account of
the complications at home, may be left undecided.
Lodovico il Moro took no trouble to hide his ill-humour, and
immediately recalled his troops from the Florentine camp on the
Magra, whereat the Florentines were highly indignant. Lorenzo said he
supposed the Duke of Bari thought Genoa and the Castelletto would be
given up to him next. But it actually came to pass. The Cardinal-Doge,
Paolo Fregoso, perceived that he could not hold his ground amidst
his many enemies, even if the Florentines—as they were certainly
disposed to do—did not advance further towards the Riviera, where the
neighbourhood of the gulf of Spezia was almost unprotected. While he
began negotiating with Sforza the Adorni party were negotiating with
France. Lodovico was quicker than the counsellors of the young king,
and, after much debating in one form and another, the matter ended
in Genoa once more acknowledging the Duke of Milan as her superior;
whereupon the doge was pensioned and went to end his much-disturbed
days at Rome. The Florentines were not destined long to enjoy the
possession of Sarzana, which had cost them so much blood and still
more money. During Charles VIII.’s campaign against Naples, both the
town and the fortress passed into the hands of the French, who, when
Florentine troops and commissioners came to demand their restoration,
sold them to that same bank of San Giorgio with which the Republic had
fought so long for their possession.
CHAPTER VI.
LORENZO AS MEDIATOR BETWEEN ROME AND NAPLES.
FOR a long time past there could have been no question as to Lorenzo’s
earnest desire to arrive at a good understanding with Innocent VIII.
Immediately after the latter’s election circumstances appeared
favourable, and the Florentines had reasonable hopes of putting an end
to the contest for Sarzana. Unfortunately, the dispute between the Pope
and the King of Naples interfered to retard the good understanding,
but, though Florence took the king’s side, no declarations of war were
published, and the negotiations with the Pope were never broken off.
Lorenzo always remained in communication with Innocent. It was through
him that at the peace of 1486, the Orsini, who were left unprotected,
were reconciled with the Pope. He attached great importance to the
latter’s friendship on both public and private grounds. He fully
understood the instability of the Italian league and the extent of the
influence of the States of the Church on those at home. With regard
to family affairs he had to take into consideration not only money
matters relative to an advantageous marriage for his eldest son and
his daughters, who were now growing up, but also of preferment for his
second son, who, by his father’s wish, was early to enter on the career
once designed for his uncle. All these various interests were fully
developed in Lorenzo’s conduct during the year 1487.
In April 1486 a distinguished and warlike citizen of Osimo in the
Marches of Ancona, by name Boccalino de’ Guzzoni, having acquired
great influence over the people, profited by the Pope’s hour of
difficulty to take forcible possession of that town, which, like many
other Papal possessions, was somewhat inclined to be rebellious. He
pleaded in extenuation of his proceedings that there was a certain sum
owing to him from the Apostolic Chamber.[302] Lodovico immediately
remarked that if the man was inclined to join the league against
the Pope he should have help, as the matter had fallen out very
seasonably.[303] But Boccalino had no intention of accepting the
foreign aid, which he would not trust, without first trying his own
powers. The peace between Naples and the Pope at first turned to his
advantage, as many of Sanseverino’s dispersed soldiers entered his
service; but he very soon saw that he was lost, and, yielding to the
remonstrances addressed to him in the name of the young Duke of Urbino,
he came to terms with the Pope. The accommodation, however, did not
last long; Boccalino again set up the standard of revolt, whereupon it
was decided to besiege Osimo. Boccalino then conceived the adventurous
idea of applying to Constantinople and stirring up Sultan Bajazet to an
attack on the Marches, which he himself would administer as a vassal of
the Turkish empire. The messenger who was to carry this proposition, a
nephew of Boccalino, was arrested at Lecce, and the letters fell into
King Ferrante’s hands. He disclosed the story to Trivulzio, who had
been in the kingdom with Milanese troops ever since the Barons’ war,
and to the ambassadors of Florence and Milan, through whom it reached
the ears of the Pope. Rome determined to prevent the rebellion from
spreading further. On March 2, Cardinal della Rovere was appointed
legate for the Marches,[304] and Giulio Cesare Varano, lord of
Camerino, commander of the troops. Both proceeded to Osimo, but failed
in their object, for Boccalino managed to blind the cardinal with the
eloquence of his speech; so the Pope addressed Lodovico il Moro with a
request that he would lend him Trivulzio and some of his troops. The
Duke of Bari acceded to the request; on May 8, Gian Jacopo reached
Rome, and on the 31st he was in the camp before Osimo.
For a long time this gallant soldier accomplished nothing; he lacked
money, artillery, and ammunition. Part of the Milanese troops deserted
and left the camp because their pay was in arrears; the papal
contingent was quite useless; Boccalino kept on negotiating with the
cardinal and with Francesco Gaddi, whom Lorenzo, through the Bishop of
Arezzo, had sent to arrange an accommodation with Boccalino.[305] At
last Rome grew weary. Cardinal La Balue, the deep intriguer who had
reason to congratulate himself that Louis XI. had done no worse than
shut him up in an iron cage, but who was not wanting in capacity and
had gained some influence at the papal court, was sent in the latter
half of June, with money and fresh troops, to relieve Della Rovere.
When he arrived, Trivulzio had fortified a height which overhung the
town, and had thus rendered further resistance impossible. On July 12
the inhabitants offered to capitulate. The Florentine envoy helped to
arrange the terms: Boccalino agreed, on payment of 8,000 ducats, to
leave the town and settle at Florence. ‘This evening,’ wrote Trivulzio
to Milan on August 1, ‘I have caused 200 foot soldiers and a squadron
of men-at-arms to march into Osimo. Early to-morrow morning Messer
Boccalino will leave the city, and then my lord the legate will hold
his solemn entry. The matter could not have been more happily or
honourably settled.’ More happily or honourably! For sixteen months a
town by no means strong had held out in rebellion against the lord of
the land, and after a five months’ siege it had surrendered for money
and pardon. It was fortunate for the inhabitants, but it showed the
deplorable condition of military affairs.
Boccalino de’ Guzzoni betook himself to Florence, where he was
honourably received, and Lorenzo was commissioned to pay him the
greater part of the sum allotted to him, of which he had received 1,000
ducats on his departure. But there were other difficulties to contend
with, and Lorenzo’s letters to Giovanni Lanfredini, the ambassador at
Rome, show how indignant he was at the delay in fulfilling the promises
made him from thence, and how he feared to be compromised by this
delay. As the promised money did not arrive and Boccalino pressed for
payment, Lorenzo advanced him 500 ducats and charged the ambassador to
see to the settlement of the matter. ‘I do not believe,’ he wrote to
Lanfredini,’[306] that the Pope is by nature spiteful or quarrelsome.
But even if he were so, which I have never observed, he ought not to
be so towards me. Try to arrange the matter, for I should regret the
least stain on my honour more than life or all else that is dear to me
on earth. Make no secret of it that, if no regard is paid to my honour,
I shall make no scruple of showing my displeasure. I cannot believe
it, but shall act according to experience.’ The Florentines seemed to
expect that Boccalino would settle among them and claim the freedom of
the city, in which they were willing to help him; they also offered
him a military post in their service. After staying awhile, however,
he went to Milan, whence Lodovico, who disliked having him in his
neighbourhood, got rid of him by force.
When Lorenzo performed this service for the Pope, a family alliance
had already been sealed between them. The course of political events
has caused us to lose sight of the mi pare mettere una gran parte
dello honore e fede mia.’ Medici family since the complications
and conflicts which sprang from the Pazzi conspiracy. The house in
the Via Larga was full of children; besides the three sons, Piero,
Giovanni, and Giuliano, there were four blooming daughters, Lucrezia,
Maddalena, Luigia, and Contessina. Lucrezia, the eldest of all, was
early betrothed to Jacopo Salviati, for the sake of blotting out the
memories of 1478. Luigia, the third daughter, was the bride of Giovanni
de’ Medici, the younger grandson of Cosimo the Elder’s brother Lorenzo.
When the eldest daughter’s marriage took place in 1487, her grandmother
was dead. Lucrezia Tornabuoni died on the Feast of the Annunciation,
1482. The loss of his excellent mother was deeply felt by Lorenzo. ‘My
reverence for your Excellency,’ he wrote on the same day to the Duchess
of Ferrara, Eleonora d’Aragona d’Este,[307] ‘commands me to announce
to you the sad and overwhelming event which has this day befallen me,
the death of my dearest mother Madonna Lucrezia. It has plunged me in
a grief which your Excellency can imagine, for I have lost, not only
my mother, but my only refuge amid my many cares and difficulties, the
only helper who could aid and counsel me in my many troubles. It is
true that we must submit with patience to the will of God, but I have
not enough strength of mind to bear such a calamity with calmness. I
pray God to send me more composure and comfort, and to grant peace and
blessedness to her soul. Your Excellency, towards whom I give free
course to my sorrow, will understand the state of mind of your faithful
servant, who commends himself to you as heartily as he can.’
It is self-evident that Lorenzo had to consider his peculiar position
in planning the future connections of his children as they grew up.
He strove to reconcile the political needs of this position with the
traditions of the country, which were against foreign marriages.
The family alliance which he formed between the Medici and the Cybò
has this peculiarity, that in this case, for the first time, the son
of a Pope was in some degree recognised and brought on the political
stage, the sad beginning of a grievous error in the history of the
Popedom. Before the middle of March, 1487, Giovanni Lanfredini went
to Rome to arrange preliminaries for a contract of marriage between
Lorenzo’s second daughter, Maddalena, and Franceschetto Cybò, son
of Innocent VIII.[308] On the 22nd Lorenzo publicly announced ‘the
family connection concluded with me by his Holiness.’ The allies,
Naples and Milan, had been informed of the negotiations in question.
Lorenzo attached especial importance to the king’s approval, because
there had once been a project of marriage between Franceschetto and
a daughter of Ferrante, and it was not till he had made sure of the
latter’s agreement that he formally concluded the contract with Rome,
or even discussed the matter with the Florentine magistrates, to whom
he submitted it for approval. ‘Our opinion of the illustrious Lorenzo,’
so run Ferrante’s instructions addressed, on May 1, to Trojano de’
Bottuni, who was going as ambassador to Rome, Florence, and Milan,[309]
‘is so firmly established that the whole world could produce no change
in us. Wish him joy of the new connection, which, in my opinion, is
likely to be no less useful to us than to him; for his influence on the
Pope will operate favourably to smooth the misunderstandings between
his Holiness and ourselves, and we only regret not having known of
the plan earlier that we might immediately have given it our full
agreement.’
‘Now may God guide all for the best,’ wrote Lorenzo to the Florentine
ambassador at Naples,[310] ‘and give me grace that the thing may
benefit ourselves and others, and be for our personal and the general
advantage. Such things are wont to be judged by their results more
than by the rules of reason.’ And he adds these honourable words:
‘As the king wishes that the new connection shall have no disturbing
influence on our alliance, I give my word that this connection shall
not make me other than I was; for I have never been so exclusively
and passionately interested in my own private affairs as to forget
public honour or that which beseems a straightforward and honest man. I
believe the king considers me as such, and he may be sure that if the
Pope should intend anything that might disturb peace I should be the
first to resist him. I know where to seek the foundation of things, and
what difficulties arise from the daily events which go on gradually
evolving themselves. I think I have with no little trouble, care, and
expense proved my devotion to the king, and he may be sure that I shall
not sacrifice a substance to a shadow.’
Franceschetto Cybò has left no brilliant name in the history of his
father’s pontificate. He is supposed to have been born in 1449 at
Naples, where Giambattista Cybò—then only seventeen—was living with
his father Arano before taking holy orders. When the father became
Pope, Franceschetto had a sister, Teodorina, who married into the
Usodimare family of Genoa. The mother’s name and rank are unknown,
and of Franceschetto himself nothing is known till the time when he
made this sudden appearance on the world’s stage. He naturally was
in no want of external honours. He was made governor of Rome and
captain-general of the Church; his brother-in-law, Leo X., afterwards
gave him the government of Spoleto, and he was made a count of the
Empire by the Emperor Frederic. Fiefs were added to his titles.
But he was without talent, at once greedy of gain and a careless
spendthrift. One night, when taking part in the disorderly doings of
some young nobles, he lost 14,000 ducats at play to Cardinal Raffaelle
Riario. When the Pope lay in a seemingly hopeless condition, struck
by apoplexy, his son tried to get possession of his treasures; the
result of which attempt was that the cardinals made an inventory of
them and entrusted one of their own college with the care of them,
though it was said that Franceschetto had already managed to convey
a portion safely to Florence. His bride was still so young that the
marriage was put off. In the interval many things happened which might
have tempted Lorenzo to change his mind, but for his earnest desire to
gain a hold on Rome and his hope of dominating the weak Pope, which was
strengthened by the events of 1487.
Only a few weeks after the conclusion of the treaty disputes again
arose between the Church and Naples, when Aquila was subdued, the papal
governor put to death, and the papal banner torn down. An outbreak of
persecution against the barons increased the disagreement, and then the
king broke his word to the Pope by denying that either he or his son
had consented to pay the actual tribute. The management of benefices
went on in the usual arbitrary manner. Innocent saw himself and his
authority openly set at naught. In January 1487, the Prince of Salerno,
who had quitted the kingdom before the net could be drawn tight round
him, arrived at Rome, where he was received with all honours.[311] His
report of the proceedings added fuel to the flame. Lodovico il Moro,
who was always playing a double game, declared himself unreservedly in
opposition to the king—with whom he was nevertheless at that moment
treating for the marriage of his nephew Gian Galeazzo—and held out
a threat of Venice taking part with the Pope, all of which did not
dispose Innocent to regard Ferrante’s conduct calmly. The king soon
discovered that his position was one of some danger. On May 1, he sent
Trojano de’ Bottuni as envoy-extraordinary to Rome, Florence, and
Milan.[312] He was to make the most of the undecided affair of Osimo
and the services therein rendered to the Pope; to put prominently
forward the danger from the Turks; to explain the king’s financial
difficulties caused by the long-continued wars; and to appeal to
Lorenzo and Lodovico for support in case of invasion. All this was
mere show. If the Pope proved obstinate the ambassador was instructed
to explain that the tribute was a formality rather than a contribution
of money. The king did not hold himself bound to the Pope, and he had
never ratified the consent given to the treaty of peace. Moreover, the
conditions of this peace had not been fulfilled by his barons, and
after the Pope had brought him into endless difficulties and dangers,
he was in nowise minded to weaken his own forces still further in order
to elevate his Holiness. As for the Duke of Bari’s threat about Venice,
the ambassador might take the opinions of the Florentine Signoria and
Lorenzo, and try if possible to obtain a written promise of help. The
conduct of the barons had required renewed and severer measures; their
discontent greatly astonished the king, as it would only bring trouble
on the Pope and the Venetians, and perhaps occasion a more troublesome
disaffection than the last. He relied entirely on Florence and Lorenzo;
the whole world should not be able to change his opinion of the latter.
Gioviano Pontano, the same man who had made the treaty with the Pope,
drew up by the king’s orders instructions which repudiated all the
obligations undertaken at the peace.
Ferrante was not mistaken in his expectation that Lorenzo would
do all in his power to prevent another conflagration; but he was
very much mistaken if he believed, as he pretended to believe, that
Lorenzo approved of his proceedings. On his return from Sarzana, free
at last from that care, Lorenzo spoke out unreservedly his opinion
respecting his allies. He must have been angry indeed when he, the
true representative of Italian national policy, in his delight at
the progress of the French arms against Maximilian in Flanders went
so far as to declare that he still hoped to see the king of France
lord of all Italy.[313] ‘This shows,’ adds the Ferrarese ambassador,
‘how greatly his Magnificence is put out; may God turn his heart to
the best.’ ‘The arrest of the barons,’ reports the same writer, July
11, ‘has greatly displeased not only the illustrious Lorenzo but also
the whole city, and it is spoken of to the king’s dishonour.’ The
annexation of Genoa to Milan, and the losses of Venice in the war with
Archduke Sigismund (so thought the ambassador), would probably incline
the Signoria to extreme caution, but Lorenzo’s expressions against
Lodovico, whom he regarded as the real disturber of peace, were most
violent. If the Duke of Bari continued his crooked policy, Lorenzo
believed the end would be that the King of Naples would lay down the
law for both Florence and the Pope. If they both acted reasonably they
would keep together like their fathers before them and not plunge Italy
into danger. Lorenzo said he wished he could go and bury himself for
six months in some place where no rumour of Italian affairs could reach
his ears.
Lorenzo’s ill-humour and anxiety is displayed in the many letters
written by him at this time to Lanfredini. It was necessary, he wrote
on July 17,[314] that the Pope should make sure of the attitude of
Venice, but at the same time take up a firm position, that he might not
be suspected of believing the king’s assurances that his proceedings
against the barons had been occasioned by their conduct since the
peace; for that suspicion would deprive him of all firm security.
Ten days after, he expressed his irritation at the double-dealing of
Sforza, who, pressed by the Neapolitan envoy, wrote at the same time
letters to his brother the cardinal in favour of the king, and others
to his agent in Rome in agreement with the Papal views. The object of
Sforza’s apparent partisanship with Ferrante was probably to hinder
the latter from forming an alliance with Venice if he saw Florence and
Milan arrayed against him. But the first thing to be done was for all
the Italian States to stand fast by the Pope and show no wavering.
‘Certainly all desire peace, but I think no one will suffer the Pope to
be insulted and oppressed.’
The king’s defence of his proceedings convinced nobody. In the latter
half of July, Innocent held a consistory on the condition of affairs
in Naples. The whole college of Cardinals agreed with him that the
honour of the Holy See no longer permitted him to look on unmoved.
Letters were to be written concerning the breach of the treaty to
the King of Spain, to Milan and Florence, who had guaranteed its
fulfilment. A nuncio was to be sent to Naples to protest, and, in
case the barons had recently failed in their duty, to move for proper
legal proceedings against them, with the participation of the Pope.
Instructions to this effect were drawn up on July 24 for Pietro
Vicentino, bishop of Cesena.[315] But the king treated the nuncio in
the most unworthy manner.[316] He refused him an audience; and when
the bishop, having watched the moment when Ferrante was starting for
the chase, stopped him in the doorway and compelled him to listen to
his demands, he gained nothing by it. He demanded in the Pope’s name
three things; payment of the tribute, abstinence from all unlawful
meddling in spiritual affairs, and the cessation of proceedings against
the barons. To the first point Ferrante answered that he had no money,
having spent everything on the war begun against him by the Pope, so
that the latter must still be patient for a few years. To the second,
that _he_ knew what persons in the kingdom were fit for benefices,
but the Curia did not, and it was sufficient for the Pope to confirm
those appointed by the King. Lastly, as to the third point; as the
Pope had upon treasonable practices imprisoned Cardinals Colonna and
Savelli, and set them free again at his own will and pleasure, so the
king had a right to arrest traitorous subjects and let them go again
just as he thought good. Thereupon he caused the horns to be blown and
rode away to the chase, without even turning to salute the bishop.
‘If I have lately been silent as to the Neapolitan business,’ wrote
Lorenzo to Lanfredini on August 10,[317] ‘the reason is not that I have
changed my mind, but that I will take no more trouble for nothing.
If his Holiness has confidence in me, as you say, it is my duty to
regard only his Holiness’s honour. The more I think over the matter,
the more I am confirmed in my view, that the Pope must neither yield
his rights to the king nor make war upon him. The way to avoid both
extremes seems to me to be this: that the Pope should without delay
take every measure to maintain his rights as to the question of homage,
but on the other hand avoid everything that might lead to a passage
of arms or to an interdict. We are not in a fit condition for making
war, and the circumstances of Italy in general, as well as those of
the States of the Church in especial, will not sustain a shock. An
interdict unsupported by arms produces little effect; therefore I
think for the present the matter is best left alone. But this would
not be the case if the Pope gave in about the tribute, whether by
diminishing or remitting the debt; for at this moment it would do
no good, and be a clear loss. If the king attaches to this affair
the importance he seems to do, then, should a concession be needed,
a time more favourable to the Pope’s interests could be found. I do
not in the least fear that because the Papal rights are upheld, the
king will proceed to a hostile demonstration. He would stand without
justification, and others would not support him. This is my opinion,
expressed only for the Pope himself; for it is better for our object
that I should appear to be persuading him to come to terms with the
king. My lord Lodovico and many others hold the same view. If the Pope
agrees, he must manage so as not to get me and others into trouble,
but wait for time and opportunity.’ The attitude of Venice confirmed
Lorenzo still more in his view that Rome must not push matters to an
extremity. ‘The Venetians’ answer,’ he wrote on August 31, ‘seems to
me to be very vague and gives little response to the confidence placed
in the Republic by his Holiness. I think it would be well if the Pope
showed some little vexation at it, without exactly taking the thing
really amiss, particularly with regard to their war with the Germans,
and the defeat and death of my lord Roberto [Sanseverino]. In any
case, however, they must be impressed with the king’s power, and the
ease with which he could damage the States of the Church, so as to get
their views in case of such an event, and find out how far they may be
reckoned on. It would at the same time be an opportunity for urging
them to peace with the Germans; for, in truth, all sorts of evil fruits
arise from their being busy in that quarter; and I think the Pope would
do well to exhort the Venetians to make peace, and to support them,
that they may regain freedom of action.’
Thus did Lorenzo look to the distant as well as the immediate prospect.
But Innocent VIII. was not the man to take up a firm position; he let
himself be ruled by momentary impulses. On September 3, Gian Jacopo
Trivulzio, loaded with honours by the Pope after the settlement of the
Osimo affair, on his return to Milan came to Florence; here he was
splendidly received by the foreign ambassadors and many distinguished
citizens, with Piero de’ Medici at their head, and lodged in the
convent of Sta. Croce. The cardinal of S. Peter in Vinculis was with
him. Lorenzo was at Pisa. Trivulzio was commissioned by the Pope to
tell him that he trusted entirely to him, and would be guided by him;
but if he guided him amiss it would be the ruin of both. And hereupon
the Pope broke into violent complaints against the king. But the
Milanese captain’s account of Innocent was not such as to strengthen
the confidence of the Republic in him. ‘Messer Gian Jacopo,’ wrote the
Ferrarese ambassador, ‘tells of the Pope’s faint-heartedness and want
of head and spirit, and that he acts after the fashion of an utter
simpleton;’ and adds that ‘if somebody does not put a little spirit
into him and keep him alive, he will come to a most pitiful end.’ On
the 6th the news reached Florence that the king had appealed to the
council. Though Innocent regarded the appeal as null, and declared it
contrary to Ferrante’s own agreements with his predecessor, still it
was believed that the threat would frighten him.[318] This, however,
proved a mistake.
About the beginning of the second week in September Lorenzo went from
Pisa to the hill-country of Volterra, where he had an estate on the
heights that slope down towards the lower part of the Era valley; a
district beautifully cultivated, but less fertile than the valley
of the Arno. This estate had been during the thirteenth century a
settlement of the Hospitaliers of Altopascio, and had thence taken the
name of Spedaletto.[319] Here Lorenzo was wont to take the waters of
Morba, brought to him daily by messengers on horseback; for Spedaletto
was more healthily situated and more convenient for communication.
Hither, on September 10, just as he had despatched Francesco Valori
with commissions to Naples, recommending him to consult with Lanfredini
at Rome, there arrived at his residence a Papal secretary who had
vainly sought for him at Pisa. This was Jacopo Gherardi of Volterra,
sent by Innocent with secret commissions to Lorenzo and Lodovico.[320]
The object of the interview was to draw both, together with Venice,
into a formal league against King Ferrante. Lorenzo’s reception of the
Pope’s proposals shows that he, who, notwithstanding his friendship
and connection with Innocent, had anything but a high opinion of the
latter’s political tact and firmness, was anxious not to risk the peace
of Italy, attained with so much difficulty. However much he might be
angered by Ferrante’s faithlessness and violence, yet the weakness of
the Pope, the trickery of Sforza, and the ambition of Venice caused
him such grave anxiety that he determined to ward off a new conflict
as much as possible. He held to the views expressed to Lanfredini, and
warned the Pope against using either his spiritual or temporal power in
arms. The Papal treasury was exhausted, the armed force slight, there
was no good leader at hand equal to the responsibility, nor would it
be easy to find one; the king was prepared, the inhabitants of the
States of the Church were not at unity among themselves, and many were
discontented. Neither was there harmony in the College of Cardinals.
The circumstances of the Pope and his State were not such that he
ought to enter on a fresh war; the interests of all the other Italian
States demanded peace. As for honour, which in Innocent’s opinion was
endangered by the conduct of the king, Lorenzo thought that a Pope’s
honour could never be endangered through his defending his rights by
means of just protestations, without disturbing the peace of Italy.
Lorenzo’s advice was that the Papal envoy should not proceed to Milan.
But the Pope insisted, and Lorenzo, with his permission, drew up
for Gherardi’s benefit fresh instructions which would prevent any
real engagement, however much Sforza might wish to meddle. These
negotiations continued till the end of the first week in October. Who
would believe that while the bow was so tightly strung and the danger
of a rupture was hovering nearer and nearer, the king, who was openly
defying the Pope and seeking to defend his own conduct by embassies to
all the allied courts, proposed to this same Pope a special alliance,
which was to put an end to all differences? Yet so it was, and the
Bishop of Carinola came to Rome with such a proposition. The Pope
informed the Florentine ambassador of it, and gave him a copy of the
bishop’s instructions. Lorenzo already knew of the matter, but was
in doubt as to the views of Innocent. He spoke out plainly, in his
answer to Lanfredini, intended for communication to the Pope,[321]
his own opinion—that the king only intended to mislead the Pope and
keep him occupied, while he himself kept to the course he had begun;
and all the more so, because the instructions contained nothing but
generalities. Secondly, Ferrante might be trying to separate the Pope
from him, Lorenzo, well knowing that then he could do as he pleased
with the former. Lastly, his object was to make sure whether the Pope
stood firm to his resolves and counted on foreign support. ‘As for
me,’ he continued, ‘you know I will never advise his Holiness to do
anything unworthy of him, or which may disturb the peace of Italy. But
as I warned the holy father through you, only a little while ago, not
to build on hopes of foreign help, so I am now of opinion that he must
not let himself be turned by what seems to me fair words and figures of
speech from a design which he considers reasonable. If his Holiness is
minded to come to terms with the king, in order to put out this spark
which may light a great fire, then I think it can be done by means of
a general Italian alliance. From such I should expect three results.
First, a vindication of the agreement between the Pope and the king,
so that the first would appear to postpone his own interest to the
general good and the tranquillity of Italy. Secondly, greater security
for the king’s fidelity to the treaty, which the Pope must require
after the experience he has had. Thirdly, a confirmation of the good
understanding with the other Italian powers, particularly with Venice;
which understanding would be endangered if the Pope should close
with the king alone.’ The whole despatch is a clear proof how little
confidence the writer felt, on the one hand, in the Pope’s firmness,
and on the other in Ferrante’s honour, and how his own desire to
preserve peace outweighed everything else. He requested the ambassador
to do all he could with Innocent, at whose court there was no lack of
intrigues and counter-intrigues, that the king might not be led to
suspect him, Lorenzo, of opposing an accommodation, which suspicion
would damage his own position with Ferrante; but this was the fruit of
oft-repeated experience. That he should try to keep in the Pope’s good
graces was only natural. ‘My first desire,’ he wrote, ‘is to agree with
the views of the holy father. This is my duty, rather than to give him
advice. For I believe the Pope to be more conversant with the things
of this world than the king’s instructions seem to assume; and he has
reigned long enough not to need directions from the king as to his
bearing towards us and others.’
During all this negotiating backwards and forwards, Lodovico il Moro,
who was a person to be considered in the matter, had fallen seriously
ill. In August 1487, he was seized with such an alarming disorder of
the stomach that the Duke of Ferrara expressed a wish that Lorenzo
would send to Milan his own physician, Piero Leone, who was considered
the most skilful man of his time. In November, Sforza’s condition
was so much worse that the friends of the family summoned his only
living brother, the Cardinal Ascanio, in order to be prepared to
take his place if he died. On November 18, the Cardinal came through
Florence incognito, with a few horsemen, and in such haste that he
changed horses at every post. Lorenzo and he had not always agreed
well together; but now he said that he would, in case of need, support
him, and try to go hand in hand with him and the Pope. The danger in
which Lodovico lay passed slowly by. The Papal affair made no progress
at all. Venice, having made peace with Sigismund, threatened war
against Naples; Milan let King Ferrante know that he must not reckon
on her alliance if he did not alter his conduct towards Rome; the king
persisted in his defiance and in his measures against the barons;
the Pope tried to make money, and threatened him with an interdict.
Lorenzo, highly displeased at the whole state of affairs, did all
in his power to restrain Innocent from taking the extreme steps he
meditated.
CHAPTER VII.
FAMILY EVENTS. MARRIAGES AND DEATHS.
THE marriage of Maddalena de’ Medici with Franceschetto Cybò took
place about this time. When her journey to Rome was partially decided
on, Lorenzo wrote to Lanfredini,[322] without making any positive
statement on the subject: ‘Clarice, my wife, is partly minded to visit
her relations there, and at the same time to try the effect of the
Roman air, as you know that of our neighbourhood does not suit her in
winter. You formerly mentioned a desire that Maddalena should go to
Rome. If this is still the case, she might conveniently accompany her
mother. These are our own present plans, which you can communicate to
the Pope and Signor Francesco. If they are pleased with them, the thing
shall take place, but not otherwise.’ On November 4, 1487, Madonna
Clarice set out for Rome with her daughter the bride, her eldest son,
the Bishop of Arezzo, Jacopo Salviati, and a numerous suite. Lorenzo
did not omit to give his daughter on her departure from home precepts
and advice such as he knew how to give wisely and well. He reminded
her of her own descent and family, as well as of the position she was
about to take; of the consideration due both to the Roman people and
to the Pope, with whom she was to be so nearly connected; of her duty
towards her husband; of the precepts of honour and obedience, and of
respect to her elders and superiors in rank. On arriving near the city
the travellers were met by the bridegroom, with some prelates of the
Pope’s household, several ambassadors and members of the Florentine
colony at Rome, amid whom they were conducted to the Leonine city.
Here Franceschetto dwelt in a house built by his uncle Maurigio,
near that in which Charlotte de Lusignan, queen of Cyprus, had died
after a long exile, on June 12 of that same year. The servants of the
prelates and those of the ambassadors and the Medici rode foremost. On
Franceschetto’s right rode his future brother-in-law, Piero, on his
left, Jacopo Salviati, with whom he was to be similarly connected. The
bride rode between the Archbishop of Cosenza and the Bishop of Oria,
her mother between the Milanese ambassador (the Bishop of Roveredo)
and the Bishop of Volterra. Prelates, jurists, ladies and others
followed.[323] On the Sunday before the 24th, the day on which the
Venetian envoys Sebastiano Badoer and Bernardo Bembo were received in
a secret consistory, the Pope gave a banquet at his palace to Clarice
and her daughter, at which the bridegroom, the Florentine ambassador,
and several prelates were present. To the bride he presented jewels
to the value of about eight thousand ducats, to Franceschetto, one
of two thousand.[324] On January 20, 1488, the marriage contract was
signed.[325] Franceschetto was in his thirty-ninth year; his bride
was yet in her girlhood, gentle and bashful. One of those sent by her
father to accompany her always calls her _la fanciulla_. Her dowry does
not seem to have been large; four thousand ducats, part in cash, part
in state bonds. From a letter of Lorenzo to Lanfredini,[326] it appears
that this sum was not ready at the time of the wedding. ‘You know how
many holes I have to fill up.’ But Franceschetto was no loser. In the
days of Paul II. the countship of Anguillara had been taken from its
ancient lords, on account of their repeated rebellions, and given to
the Apostolic Chamber. The relatives of Everso of Anguillara had never
ceased to protest, and we have already pointed out that after the death
of Sixtus IV. Deifebo regained possession of the castles. Lorenzo made
terms with the claimants by means of a considerable sum, and offered
the county to Cybò as an addition to Maddalena’s dowry; whereupon,
on February 21, 1490, Innocent VIII. conferred on Franceschetto the
fief of Anguillara, without mentioning the transaction, so as not to
call in question the rights of the Chamber. In 1487 Franceschetto had
bought of Bartolommeo della Rovere the Roman castles of Cerveteri and
Sta. Severa.[327] These places, alienated after the Pope’s death to
the Orsini of Bracciano, were, at the beginning of Alexander VI.’s
reign, near kindling a war which threatened to set all Italy on fire.
This was not all the wealth that the Cybò gained by their connection
with the Medici. In Tuscany they acquired property. The palace of
Jacopo de’ Pazzi passed to Lorenzo’s son-in-law, whose descendants long
possessed both it and the country-house of the Pazzi at Montughi.[328]
The Medici’s estate in the Volterra district, which also passed to
the Cybò, has been already mentioned. The intended acquisition of the
unfinished Pitti Palace came to nothing.
Lorenzo, who always knew how to combine his love of splendour with
useful aims, and judged others from the same point of view, had no
very high opinion of his son-in-law. ‘As you have before heard from
me,’ he wrote to Lanfredini before the marriage on November 4, 1487,
when Franceschetto had got himself made captain-general,[329] ‘I
think Signor Francesco should not pursue mere smoke; things without
moderation do not suit me. A captain ought to have seen service and
made himself a reputation. I wish he had rather sought to secure a
maintenance, and I wonder it does not strike him that the day after
the Pope dies he will be the poorest man on earth, and I shall have to
provide for him and his wife. Endeavour to make this clear to him if
you see that he hankers after titles and vanities; I must speak to him
freely and then help him, however he may take it. I hear he keeps aloof
from frivolous people and those of evil report, and that he avoids
play. We must support him as much as possible, and lovingly point
out to him what is becoming, if we are to fulfil our duty.’ Lorenzo
did not wish his son to remain in Rome longer than was absolutely
necessary. On December 9, he wrote to his wife desiring that Piero
should return with the bishop and Jacopo Salviati as soon as he had
despatched certain business of his own, of which more will be said
hereafter. Piero returned to Florence, the bishop remained. Lorenzo
wrote repeatedly to Clarice leaving the length of her stay to her own
decision, but expressing a wish, towards the end of the winter, that
she might stay somewhat longer.[330] Everything did not go according to
Lorenzo’s wishes. The elevation of his son Giovanni to the cardinalate,
undoubtedly one of the motives for the match, was delayed; Clarice was
ill; and the home arrangements of the Cybò seem not to have suited
Florentine and Medicean ideas. ‘I have received,’ wrote Lorenzo to
Lanfredini on April 11, 1488,[331] ‘your information about Clarice, and
am grieved at it, though her ill-health is nothing new to me. I have
informed her of the cause which will somewhat delay Piero’s departure
from here, but let her not trouble herself about it if she wishes to
return here sooner, though I should be glad if she could wait for
Alfonsina [Piero’s bride]. I wish Maddalena might come with her, for
the latter is still quite a child, and Signor Francesco’s household is
badly managed; and, besides, she would be a comfort to Clarice. But
I should wish this to be done with the full consent and without the
slightest dissatisfaction of his Holiness or Signor Francesco, and
I should take it as a favour.’ And after recurring to the insecure
position of his son-in-law, he adds: ‘His Holiness seems to me to go
to work with great lukewarmness in all these things. Independently of
Signor Francesco I also regret that my daughter should find herself in
unfavourable circumstances, and I am in a kind of despair over this and
other matters when I hear of the slowness and carelessness yonder.’
Madonna Clarice stayed in Rome till May 1488, when her son Piero came
with Giovanni Tornabuoni to fetch her back. From a letter written to
Lorenzo by their companion Poliziano, on May 2,[332] it appears that
on that day Piero set out from Acquapendente to Viterbo, and that the
travellers were all in good health and spirits and did not forget to
celebrate the merry month of May with songs and various amusements
on their journey. Piero’s expedition had also another object, he
was going to bring home his own bride. On April 16 Lorenzo wrote to
Lanfredini:[333] ‘My Piero starts in a few days to go and fetch his
wife, and also to help Clarice. If the latter is able to travel I shall
be very glad.’ As well as an unknown son-in-law Lorenzo had chosen
an unknown daughter-in-law; but she came of a family which had long
been intimately associated with his and had many relations with the
Republic, at the same time enjoying the special favour of the ruling
house of Naples. Alfonsina Orsini was the daughter of a man who had
preserved and displayed his loyalty to the house of Aragon when most of
his own people were in the enemy’s camp. Roberto Orsini was a younger
son of that Carlo from whom sprang the line of Bracciano, afterwards
the principal branch of this wide-spreading race. He had fought for
King Ferrante against the Angevins, and for the Florentines against
Bartolommeo Colleone, and died of sickness at Siena in 1476. One of
his children by his second marriage with Caterina da Sanseverino was
Alfonsina, thus named in honour of Aragon. She was married by proxy at
Castelnuovo towards the end of February 1487, in presence of the royal
pair and other members of the reigning family. Ferrante laid aside his
family mourning on this day, and after supper there was a festival
and a ball. The bridegroom was represented by Bernardo Rucellai; the
bride’s next of kin by her cousin Gentil Virginio, lord of Bracciano.
Alfonsina brought a dowry of 12,000 ducats, which popular belief
magnified to 30,000.[334] A whole year passed before Piero brought
her home. Her entry into Florence was to have taken place on May 22,
1488, but the Medici family were in mourning for the death of the third
daughter, Luigia; so, instead of coming to the city, the young couple
went to Careggi. About ten days afterwards Lorenzo gave, in honour of
his daughter-in-law and her suite, a grand banquet, at which the chief
men of the city and the foreign ambassadors were present.[335]
There was no lack of festivities in Florence, and the Medici
contributed not a little to their splendour. Maddalena Cybò came with
her mother and sister-in-law; Franceschetto followed her on June 22.
He was accompanied by Giorgio Santacroce of an old Roman family,
Girolamo Tuttavilla, son of Cardinal d’Estouteville, and many others.
‘We received him,’ wrote Lorenzo to Lanfredini two days after,[336]
‘heartily rather than splendidly. Yesterday he made a visit to the
Signoria; his appearance, bearing, and mode of speech give general
satisfaction. As yet I have been little alone with him. I will
endeavour to fulfil the Pope’s wishes; you will then report to me
what he thinks of us on this first meeting. I will take care that he
finds occasion to come to us often.’ The Florentines helped Lorenzo
in this. In honour of his son-in-law’s presence numerous diversions
for the people and magnificent spectacles were arranged. It was long
since Florence had beheld such triumphal processions, such improvised
buildings, arches, and other decorations, though they had long been
customary there. Franceschetto, who had been presented with the freedom
of the city, did all he could to make himself popular, and succeeded.
When he rode through the streets on the feast of St. John the children
shouted, ‘Cybò and Palle!’ From the piazza of the Signoria to that
of the cathedral there was such a throng that great wax candles and
other consecrated gifts could not be carried to the Baptistery; and
when the street officials tried to clear a space, the people cried
out that they wanted to see Lorenzo’s son-in-law, the Pope’s son.
Franceschetto occupied the place of honour next to the Gonfalonier at
the public banquet given by the Signoria to the distinguished nobles
who were in the city and the foreign ambassadors, among whom, besides
those of the friendly Italian powers, the Turkish envoy was present.
Giovanni Tornabuoni, Bernardo Rucellai, Lorenzo, son of Pier-Francesco
de’ Medici, and others, gave banquets and festivities; the latter gave
one at his villa at Castello, situated to the west of the city on a
gentle slope overlooking the valley of the Arno where it spreads out
into a beautiful plain. Lorenzo saw his daughter and son-in-law daily.
But throughout all the rejoicings of which his house was the centre,
he was not free from cares of all kinds. The bad state of affairs in
Romagna will be mentioned presently; in his own home there were other
causes for discomfort and anxiety.
Lorenzo himself was ill and overwhelmed with business. Ser Piero da
Bibiena wrote to Lanfredini on June 26:[337] ‘Lorenzo has ridden
out to Monte Paldi [a factory now belonging to the Corsini, in the
neighbourhood of San Casciano] to get a little air and freedom from
this mass of business. For two months he had not left the city; he
intends to be back on Saturday.’ A few days before this the Ferrarese
ambassador wrote that Lorenzo positively must go to the baths, but it
was very difficult for him to get away. His own health was not his
only trouble; for a long time past Clarice had been ill. It was hoped
that native air would do her good, but not only did her condition not
improve, but, even before her return from Rome, it became such as
to cause anxiety; and the interior of the household must have been
little suited to the festivities occasioned by the presence of two
newly-married couples. The mother could not bear the thought of parting
from her daughter. ‘Signor Francesco,’ wrote Lorenzo to Lanfredini on
June 30,[338] ‘thinks of setting out in a week, and, as I understand,
taking Maddalena with him. I have not yet spoken of it to him, but I
should be glad if you would mention the matter to his Holiness and get
it arranged that she should remain here the rest of the summer and
autumn. I have two chief motives for this wish. First, Clarice is very
ill, so much so that the doctors are doubtful whether the disease will
soon end fatally or whether it will drag on and the immediate danger
pass over; secondly, the air yonder is unhealthy, and Maddalena is not
used to it. For these reasons, and also because I have never yet had
time to see my daughter comfortably, I earnestly beg his Holiness that
of his kindness he will let me have her a few more months and write to
Signor Francesco accordingly, so that the occasion may not appear to
have come from us.’
Lorenzo’s desire was fulfilled. On July 4, he received from Rome
the news that the Pope had determined to entrust Franceschetto
with a mission to Perugia, and to leave his wife in Florence for a
time. It may easily be imagined how pleasing this last arrangement
was to Lorenzo; the former seemed rather questionable to the
experienced politician. ‘This Perugian affair,’ he wrote at once to
Lanfredini,[339] ‘seems to me very grave, and such as may create
embarrassment; all the more so as Signor Francesco has had no practice
in such things, and has no one near him to whom anything important can
be entrusted.’ Then, after relating how he dined the day before with
his son-in-law at Careggi, and they had visited the Petraja and other
places, which he had much liked, he continues: ‘Maddalena will remain
here, to which Signor Francesco seems quite agreed. Clarice could not
be worse than she is now, and I fear we shall soon lose her. You can
imagine what comfort she finds in the presence of her daughter, who
has always seemed to me to be the apple of her eye (_l’occhio del capo
suo_); so we are both very grateful to his Holiness. Of myself I say
nothing, for you know how I love my children, especially in the present
case.’
On July 6, Franceschetto Cybò left Florence. His experiences at Perugia
will be mentioned hereafter. Lorenzo, though much in need of the
baths, was detained in the city by the weak state of Clarice and the
pressure of business. At last, on the morning of July 21, he set out
for Filetta in the Merse Vale in the Sienese territory. It is a small
village consisting of only a few houses, in a valley surrounded with
woods; the waters of the neighbouring sulphur-springs of Macereto have
been brought thither, and it lies lonely and deserted on the road
leading from Siena to Grosseto and the Maremma. In the summer of 1813
Emperor Henry of Luxemburg was carried thither, with the hand of death
upon him; in 1459 Pope Pius II., who repeatedly visited the waters of
his native land, sought relief from his inveterate enemy the gout in
these springs. Scarcely had Lorenzo arrived at Filetta when the fatal
news reached him—Clarice died on the afternoon of July 30. The day
before, Ser Piero had written to Lanfredini:[340] ‘I know not what to
tell you of Madonna Clarice; she gets better for a day or two, and then
gets worse again, so that she is slowly approaching dissolution.’ The
dissolution came much quicker than was expected, yet it hardly looks
well that Lorenzo should leave the city when her state was so critical,
and that he did not return on hearing that she was worse. ‘If you
should hear Lorenzo blamed for not being present at his wife’s death,’
wrote Ser Piero to Lanfredini on July 31, ‘excuse him. Leoni (the
physician) considered it necessary for his health for him to go to the
baths, and no one thought death was so near.’ The Ferrarese ambassador
confirms the statement that, according to the doctors’ advice,
Lorenzo’s stay at the baths was absolutely necessary, and all his
friends had entreated him not to return till the cure was completed.
On the evening after her death Clarice de’ Medici was entombed without
pomp in San Lorenzo, and on the following morning all the ambassadors
present in Florence went to Piero to offer their condolences. The
solemn obsequies, at which the whole city was present, took place
on August 1.[341] Lorenzo’s wife was not quite forty. No notice is
to be found in his writings of the woman who shared the lights and
shadows of life with him for nineteen years; an idea of their conjugal
relations can be formed only from a few words of his in earlier days,
and the inadequate testimony of contemporaries, which seems to indicate
that their views and inclinations did not always agree. Clarice’s
disagreement with such a celebrated man as Poliziano has tended to
bias the judgment of her contemporaries against her. Nevertheless,
this daughter of an old Roman baronial house, obliged, when young and
inexperienced, to enter a strange world as the wife of a man for whom
she had no affection, displayed in all things tact and sound judgment;
without putting herself forward she did honour to her position and her
husband, and she brought up her children tenderly and carefully. Her
feelings and her relations to Lorenzo are indicated, amongst others,
by the following letter, written to her husband from Caffaggiuolo on
December 13 of the year they were so long separated, 1478, on behalf of
a servant who had been dismissed for some misconduct.[342] ‘Illustrious
husband,’ she wrote; ‘Andrea your messenger has been up here for two
days, and earnestly begged me to put in a good word for him as he is
deeply grieved for his fault. I therefore beg you to keep him with
you or procure him another situation; for, as he has formerly shown
his fidelity, you would be acting contrary to your nature if you did
not forgive him his error, besides being responsible for his falling
into worse ways; also you might inadvertently by this means discourage
others who are faithful to you. He has a mother who was delighted at
his position in your service, and is now in like measure distressed,
fearing that her son may, if you dismiss him, go astray and bring her
to sorrow. He has already expiated his fault by grief and shame; for,
since you sent him away, he has been like one beside himself and has
never had a moment’s happiness. I think he is especially touched on the
point of honour, which is a good sign and should have weight with you.
I beg you therefore to be indulgent to him, whether for the sake of his
proved fidelity, or from pity for his mother, or because he shows right
feeling, or, lastly, for the sake of my intercession, either by taking
him back or by providing for him in some other way.’
A letter written to Innocent VIII. the day after Clarice’s death[343]
displays a warmth of feeling which, after the passages that have been
mentioned, one would hardly have expected from Lorenzo, and which give
a favourable impression of him: ‘I am too often obliged to trouble
your Holiness with what is daily sent me by fate and prepared for me
by the will of God, against which all striving is vain, and to which
everyone must bow with patience and humility, accepting His ways as
tokens of goodness and love. But the recent death of my sweet and
beloved companion Clarice is for numberless reasons such a grief and
loss to me that it has conquered my resignation and endurance amid
the trials and persecutions of fate, against which I thought myself
proof. Bereaved of the pleasant society to which I was accustomed, I
feel the limit is passed, and I can find no comfort or rest for my deep
sorrow. As I do not cease to pray the Lord God to give me peace, I
trust that of His goodness He will put an end to this sorrow and spare
me any more such trials as have visited me lately. I humbly and from
my inmost heart beseech your Holiness to pray for me, for I know your
prayers will do me good. Filetta, July 31.’ August 6, Lorenzo returned
to Florence, from whence he wrote to the ambassador at Rome on behalf
of an Englishman who was going thither to procure a Papal brief and had
been specially recommended to him by the Queen, Elizabeth of York. Two
days later, he apologised to Lanfredini for not having answered some
business questions:[344] ‘You know the cause; when my mind is entirely
occupied with one thing, it cannot think of anything else.’
Clarice’s death obliged Lorenzo to seek a companion for his daughter to
take her back to Rome. He chose a distant relative, Maria de’ Medici,
widow of Galeazzo Malatesta. ‘Maddalena,’ he wrote to Lanfredini on
September 3,[345] ‘starts to-morrow for Rome. She will be accompanied
by my Piero and my uncle Giovanni, who will take her as far as
Acquapendente, as arranged by Signor Francesco. I have chosen for
her companion one Madonna Maria de’ Medici, widow of Signor Galeazzo
Malatesta and daughter of Madonna Ciulla. She is a very well-bred and
truly venerable lady over fifty, who since her widowhood has lived the
retired life of a nun. I think that the more Signor Francesco thinks
over this choice of mine, the better pleased he will be.’ Maddalena
remained with her husband in Rome, whence she wrote to her father,
September 1 of the next year, that she was about to become a mother.
The young wife’s days seem not to have been very cheerful ones. When
she went to Rome with her mother, Lorenzo sent with her a man whom he
trusted and who was faithfully attached to his house—the same Ser
Matteo Franco whose name holds a place in the history of burlesque
poetry. He was Maddalena’s adviser and confidant, her man of business
and, perhaps, her house-chaplain; and his many letters to members of
the Medicean household display a sympathy and warmth of feeling doubly
pleasing in such a jovial man. Franceschetto neglected his young
wife, who fretted continually, while he passed the nights in play and
feasting. With no one to keep her company, she soon languished and lost
her health, thinking regretfully of her father’s house and the pleasant
villas around Florence, where she had passed her happy childhood.[346]
A few days after the loss of Clarice, another death took place which
did not affect the Medici family personally, but whose consequences
had no little influence on the family relations which were closely
connected with later political events. On August 19, at the castle
of Capuano near Naples, died at the age of forty-two Ippolita Maria,
Duchess of Calabria.[347] Her death broke the ties which bound together
the Houses of Aragon and the Sforza. This was probably not perceived
at the moment, for not only did the alliance continue which seemed to
unite the two states, but the death caused no change in the plans for
the new connection long decided on between the two families, whereby
their interests were to be yet more closely and firmly linked together.
But the death of this clever and accomplished woman dissolved the
union between Ippolita’s husband and brother, two men who were willing
and accustomed to sacrifice every consideration and every scruple to
their ambition, greed and hatred, and who, since the Ferrarese war,
had regarded each other with ever-increasing distrust and ill-will.
The longer Lodovico il Moro held the reins of government in Milan, the
less disposed he was to surrender them to his nephew, who, although
now nineteen years old, was still duke only in title. Whether the
accusation is true that Lodovico had neglected the youth’s education
to such an extent that, delicate as he had been from childhood, he
was unfit to govern, must be left an open question. At all events,
Gian-Galeazzo took no part in public affairs, and though everything
was done in the name of the Duke of Milan, it all went through the
hands of the Duke of Bari. From early childhood Gian-Galeazzo had been
betrothed to his cousin Isabella. Alfonso of Calabria had already often
pressed for the completion of the marriage; and as the bride was now
eighteen, Lodovico at last had to yield. The mourning for the Duchess
was not yet over, when, on December 11, Hermes Sforza, Gian-Galeazzo’s
younger brother, arrived in the bay of Naples with six galleys, and
with a brilliant suite landed to fetch his future sister-in-law, whose
father came to meet him and conducted him to the king and queen at
Castelnuovo. On the 21st of the same month Hermes, in his brother’s
name, placed the wedding-ring on Isabella’s finger. The court mourning
prevented all festivities. A gloomy shadow seemed to hang over this
marriage, which was destined to bring nothing but suffering and misery
to the contracting parties.
Its early days, however, were not lacking in splendour. On December 30
the young Duchess of Milan embarked, accompanied as far as the Molo
by her father, her grandparents and their court. Many distinguished
Milanese and Genoese had come with Hermes Sforza; among them Vitaliano
Borromeo, Gasparo Visconti, Ambrosio del Maino, and Giovan Francesco
da Sanseverino Count of Cajazzo (son of Roberto). Ten galleys were
filled by these and the Neapolitan suite, the Duke and Duchess of
Melfi, the Countess of Terranuova, the Counts of Potenza and Consa,
and others. They touched at Civitavecchia, Piombino, and Livorno. At
the first-named port the bride was received by the Cardinals Sforza,
Riario, and de Foix, with the Senator of Rome; at Piombino by Jacopo
IV. Appiani. At Livorno, Lorenzo, again confined at home by the
gout, was represented by his son Piero, accompanied by Pier Antonio
Carnesecchi and Alessandro Nasi. The Republic sent Jacopo Guicciardini,
Pier Filippo Pandolfini, and Paol’Antonio Soderini as envoys to
welcome the Duchess; but Lorenzo’s son put them all in the shade by
his princely appearance. It was the same at Milan, whither Piero went
towards the end of January 1489, to be present at Isabella’s triumphal
entry and the final marriage, which took place on Candlemas day. On
reaching the Milanese frontier, Piero was received by several nobles
sent by il Moro to form his train. At the wedding in the cathedral,
where the ceremony was performed by Federigo Sanseverino (another son
of Roberto, and afterwards a Cardinal), Piero outshone everybody;
though the splendour was such that, as a reporter wrote to Lorenzo,
the very cooks were in velvet and silk. After the ceremony the Ducal
couple sent to Piero to fetch his attire and admire it again. Lodovico
exhausted himself in attentions towards the son of the man in whose
hands were the destinies of Florence. ‘It seems a perfect marvel,’
wrote the Florentine ambassador, Piero Alamanni, on January 31, 1489,
‘to all these Lombards, as well as to the ambassadors, that young as
he [Piero] is, he maintains such a dignified bearing and discourses on
everything with so much readiness. Yesterday morning my lord Lodovico
spoke for half an hour in his praise before the ambassadors, and
assigned to him a place of honour next Messer Galeotto della Mirandola,
Rodolfo Gonzaga, and Annibale Bentivoglio.’ After the nuptial ceremony
Alamanni was knighted by the young Duke and presented with a splendid
robe of brocade, and his spurs were fastened on by Galeazzo and Gian
Francesco da Sanseverino. The splendour of the festivities was such as
the Milanese court had been wont to display since the days of Galeazzo
Maria.[348]
CHAPTER VIII.
TROUBLES IN ROMAGNA. TUSCAN AND UMBRIAN NEIGHBOURS.
THE same year 1488, which brought to Lorenzo’s family festivals and
family mourning, involved him in political complications with the
Republic of a very serious character. The territory on the side nearest
Romagna was threatened, and the amicable relations of Florence with her
allies, and especially with Milan, was thereby greatly endangered.
After the death of Sixtus IV. Girolamo Riario retired within his own
little state, and for a time his grand political schemes remained in
abeyance. He had forcible reason to congratulate himself on being
able to retain possession of his territories, hemmed in on one side
by the Pope, Venice and Florence, and on the other weakened by the
dominion of Faenza, which divided them asunder. At the beginning of
his reign Innocent VIII. showed himself very unfavourable to Riario.
When Lorenzo, through Guid’Antonio Vespucci, confidentially suggested
a project for an undertaking against him, the Pope appeared to have
no objection, but to prefer to keep aloof himself and let others act
for him. The execution of the project was delayed, partly on account
of its difficulty, for Girolamo was on his guard, and there was a
fear of encroachment from Venice; and also because of the doubt as to
who should be enfeoffed with the two cities. Later on, the Pope and
Florence being in difficulties, the project was entirely given up.[349]
When it is remembered that in the lifetime of Sixtus, Lorenzo had
made use of Girolamo’s mediation to procure tokens of favour and even
benefices for his young son,[350] this intrigue throws no favourable
light on his character.
During the four following years the lord of Forlì kept on tolerably
terms with the Florentines. The latter had not forgotten their old
grudge against him for the events of 1478 and 1479; and the Count had
but one genuine ally—Lodovico il Moro, who upheld him, first, on
account of the ties of blood between them; and, secondly, because of
his constant dread of the extension of Florentine sway on the north
side of the Apennines. Confined within a narrow circle, Girolamo
pressed the more heavily on his subjects. Indulging in splendour and
expense when the inexhaustible funds of Rome were at his command, he
still endeavoured to continue living in the same way; he embellished
his two cities, Forlì and Imola, with many fine buildings, and kept
up a military force far too oppressive for such a small state; and
to cover the expenses of all this he was obliged to have recourse to
levies and imposts, thereby strengthening the disaffection towards
himself, already nourished by the old attachment to the Ordelaffi,
which was not yet extinct in Forlì, and increased by his harsh
arbitrary rule and cruel punishments. Under such circumstances, it
was not difficult for a people accustomed to deeds of violence and
to taking the law into their own hands, to form a conspiracy. At its
head was Cecco dell’Orso, the captain of the guard, who was at enmity
with the Count on account of arrears of pay and other private matters,
and having been threatened by him, resolved to be beforehand with
him. On April 14, Cecco, with two accomplices, entered the chamber
of the unsuspecting Riario, and a few minutes afterwards, before
the eyes of his own attendants, threw him from the window into the
street below, a naked, bleeding, still quivering corpse. That was the
signal for a rising. While the people, shouting for liberty, dragged
the corpse through the streets, the murderers struck down the chief
of the municipality as he was hurrying to the spot, took possession
of the wife and three sons of the Count, and hastened with their
followers to the citadel to take immediate possession of it. But the
commandant declared he would surrender to no one but the Countess,
and not even to her if she were a prisoner. Thus repulsed at this
important point, the heads of the conspiracy could not attain their
object in the city either; for as a security against betrayal, they had
admitted only a few to share in their secrets. The new ruling family
had not many adherents; some favoured the old dynasty; the majority
desired the direct government of the Church. The Papal governor of
Cesena, Monsignor Savelli, was called upon to take possession of the
city. Without the fortress this possession was incomplete, and as the
negotiations fell to the ground, Riario’s widow took advantage of the
difficulty and made herself mistress of the situation. Urged by the
prelate and the insurgents to come forward as mediatrix, she promised,
on condition of receiving compensation, to induce the castellan to
surrender if she was allowed to speak to him. Her sons remained as
hostages in the hands of the citizens. The gates were opened to her,
and she raised the standard of the Sforza. A threat to kill the boys
if she did not surrender was received with a defiant answer. The brave
woman reckoned that every hour’s delay was in her favour, while the
disunion among the opponents strengthened her hope that they would
not proceed to extremities against her helpless children. She was not
mistaken. On all sides there was a stir. Lodovico il Moro wrote to
Florence, appealing to the Republic to guard the endangered rights of
the sons of Riario. At the same time, without consulting the allies,
he despatched Galeazzo da Sanseverino with horse and foot, while
Giovanni Bentivoglio and Galeotto Pico della Mirandola set out towards
Forlì with numerous troops. The Florentines, as soon as they heard
of these military movements, sent part of the troops which they still
kept in the Lunigiana to the frontiers of Romagna, under the Count of
Pitigliano and Ranuccio Farnese. In Forlì no one knew what to do. The
enemies of Riario hoped for active support from the Pope; but Innocent,
though he caused a few troops to advance from Cesena, was either
unwilling or unable to take part in their favour.
The heads of the movement turned their eyes to Florence, well knowing
the inward dislike in that city between the Medici and the Riari.
The Ferrarese ambassador wrote that in Florence nothing had been
known of the conspiracy; but the people rejoiced at the misfortune
which had befallen the Count, and, mindful of the past, were not in a
frame of mind to grieve if in the course of events his family should
be destroyed root and branch. A letter addressed to Lorenzo by the
perpetrators of the deed, four days later, sets forth their motives
and proceedings, as well as the resolve of the citizens no longer to
submit to a single ruler, but to give themselves up to the Church,
on whose assistance they reckoned. Lorenzo, the letter added, must
rejoice at an event which freed him and the Republic from a crafty foe,
and avenged his innocent brother’s blood; and therefore the citizens
hoped for active support from Florence. There was nothing, however, to
indicate a previous understanding. Lorenzo sent to Forlì a confidential
agent, Stefano da Castrocaro, who described the circumstances and
state of the city, its confidence in Florentine help, and its idea
of remaining under the direct government of the Church.[351] From
expressions afterwards used by Lorenzo about this matter, it is clear
that this very inclination of the majority of the people would have
cooled his ardour to help them against the Riario party, if, indeed,
he had ever felt any. Moreover, the progress of events was more rapid
than was probably expected in Florence. Before the twisted threads of
propositions and negotiations could be disentangled, the advance of the
Milanese and Bolognese troops settled the matter. Those who were most
deeply compromised betook themselves to the neighbouring Florentine
territory, and on April 29, Girolamo’s little son Ottaviano Riario was
proclaimed lord of Forlì and Imola. Caterina Sforza, who assumed the
regency, took bloody vengeance on those within reach of her hand, for
the murder of her husband and the danger of her children. This affair,
however, brought upon Florence a difficulty which shows how uncertain
were her relations both legal and political. In a rugged part of the
Apennines, north-east of the road from Florence to Bologna, lies
Piancaldoli, now a village of less than a thousand inhabitants. In the
war of 1478, Girolamo Riario took possession of it, and the Florentines
had never been able to make him give it up. Now they thought the time
had arrived to obtain justice and avenge the insult. Their troops
marching towards Romagna, in the direction of Imola, received orders
to secure Piancaldoli. At this Lodovico became highly excited, not so
much for the sake of the unimportant town as because he suspected that
it might be the commencement of greater acquisitions. Giovan Pietro
Bergomino, his commissioner with the troops sent against Forlì, came
to high words with the Florentine commissioner Averardo de’ Medici.
Both sides grew so excited that Ercole d’Este thought it necessary to
step between them. Lorenzo showed not the slightest disposition to
yield. He told the Ferrarese ambassador that things must be bad indeed
if the Republic could not seek to recover her own property by means
of her own people without asking leave of Milan, which at that very
moment had sent her troops against Forlì without any agreement with
Florence, this being an expedition of far more importance than that
against Piancaldoli, and one which ought to have been carried out only
in alliance with the Republic.
Lorenzo’s conversations with the ambassador show the ill-will and
distrust on all sides. He avoided stating plainly whether the Republic
aimed at extending her dominions on the Romagna side, though it was
observed to him that she would thereby become involved in a disastrous
conflict with Sforza, who regarded the Forlì affairs as his own and
thought his honour at stake in them. Lorenzo only promised to wait and
see how events would develop themselves. He thought the Pope had the
best prospect, as he considered it impossible that Forlì would again
submit to the Riari; but he did not conceal the fact that a family
dynasty, whether of Riari or any other, seemed to him a less evil than
direct Papal government or an increase of the influence of the Sforza.
Still, the aggrandisement of the latter would be less injurious than
that of the Church, as they would probably be more willing to confer
fiefs in Romagna on family dynasties, than the Church, which had long
treated her barons with increasing disfavour and would not give up
what she had once secured within her own grasp. The Church, he once
observed, was at present more to be feared than even Venice, and this
had chiefly induced him to support King Ferrante against the Pope.[352]
Such were Lorenzo’s views at that time, when his chief care was to
keep on good terms with the Pope—views which were always shared by
the Neapolitan king. Piancaldoli was taken by the Florentines two
days before Forlì came to terms with the Riari. But a few years after
Lorenzo’s death an event happened to which he was most averse; all the
small lordships of Romagna, whose interests were bound up with those of
the Republic, came to a violent end.
The ill-feeling against Milan remained even after this vexed question
was settled and after Florence, from consideration for Lodovico, had
refused to receive Riario’s murderers, who thereupon applied to Rome.
Lorenzo declared that if the Duke of Bari’s demands were reasonable,
Florence would always be willing to please him, but he must not come
upon her with anything against the honour of the state; he also begged
the Duke of Ferrara not to support such demands. About this time,
towards the middle of May, he went to the baths, and his representative
in politics, Pier Filippo Pandolfini, replied to Lodovico’s urgent
demands for the restitution of Piancaldoli that it was in vain to
ask for anything against their honour; Florence was no Pavia or
Cremona, where the Duke of Milan could command. Scarcely had these
first vexations passed off when a similar case occurred in which the
Republic became still more deeply involved. The cause of the dispute
this time was Faenza, the only state yet left to the Manfredi, and to
which, as has been previously described, Florence stood in the relation
of a protecting power. Galeotto Manfredi was married to Francesca
Bentivoglio, one of the many daughters of the lord of Bologna; and in
arranging this marriage Lorenzo had had a considerable share.[353]
Her husband’s unfaithfulness excited the passionate woman to such a
pitch of revenge that on May 31, 1488, she had him killed in their
sleeping-chamber by hired assassins. She then, with her two sons, of
whom the eldest was only three years old, hastened to the citadel
and informed her father of what had been done. Giovanni Bentivoglio
lost not a moment. He set out with the troops collected at the Forlì
disturbances, and sent to Bergomino, the Milanese commissioner who was
still in the latter town, directions to join him. At first all went
well. The lord of Bologna and his troops were peaceably received in
Faenza, and it seemed as if the proclamation of little Astorre Manfredi
would settle everything; but some disagreement between the inhabitants
and the rude mountaineers of the Lamone valley who had rushed into the
town, caused a riot in which the Milanese commissioner and more than
fifty of his men lost their lives, and Giovanni Bentivoglio saved his
own with difficulty. When the worst of the tumult was put down, Astorre
was proclaimed under the protection of the Republic of Florence, to
whose commissioner Antonio Boscoli the more reasonable of the two
parties had at once applied for mediation and support.
The news from Faenza caused great excitement in Florence. There was
a suspicion abroad that the Milanese and Bolognese intrigues were
at the bottom of the whole affair, and it was at once resolved to
grant the desired protection both to the people of Faenza and to the
young Manfredi, and to send the desired troops; measures which, in
consideration of the old protecting relation of Florence to Faenza,
could not justly be taken amiss by anyone. Faenza was occupied;
Bentivoglio taken prisoner and transported to Modigliana, the
neighbouring capital of Tuscan Romagna; Madonna Francesca was sent to
her mother at Bologna; and a regency was established consisting of
certain inhabitants of Faenza and of the Lamone valley. Bentivoglio,
who had only the Florentines to thank for not having escaped unhurt
from the mountaineers, thought it hard that he was kept in confinement
on Florentine ground. Lodovico Sforza, King Ferrante, and Ercole d’Este
all interceded for his release; his wife was loud in her lamentations,
Bolognese troops assembled on the frontier, and the city of Bologna
sent an embassy to Florence. But Lorenzo, knowing that the frontiers
were sufficiently secured, replied that Messer Giovanni must have
patience till things were settled in Faenza.
At last the commissioner at Modigliana, Dionigi Pucci, received orders
to release the prisoner and send him to Cafaggiuolo, where Lorenzo
awaited him; this was on June 14. Lorenzo declared himself perfectly
satisfied with his interview with Giovanni, and appeared to believe
in a re-establishment of their former good understanding. But after
a while the lord of Bologna sought to obtain the consent of Florence
for his daughter’s return to Faenza, and at the same time offered the
hand of another daughter for Giuliano de’ Medici. Both propositions
were decisively refused, at which Bentivoglio was so angry that the
Florentines began to consider Lorenzo’s residence at Poggio a Cajano
unsafe, as the villa lay exposed to a raid from Bologna. Lorenzo
himself was uneasy though he tried to hide it. When Giovanni appealed
to him to procure the Pope’s absolution for Madonna Francesca that she
might either marry again or enter a convent, he fulfilled the request
in the hope of making friends again. His letter to Innocent VIII.[354]
reminding him of the willingness he had displayed, proves that he was
anxious about the matter. He ‘most earnestly besought,’ he said, ‘these
tokens of favour.’