MILAN, GENOA, AND SIENA.
DURING these events, which, however, promised no quiet time, the
inhabitants of Florence had lived for long years as merrily as if their
state and all Italy were secured against foreign enemies and internal
dissensions. One could see that a young man held the rudder, however
much political affairs and plans and party questions might claim his
attention. In respect to his intellectual pursuits, no time was so rich
in fruits as this. His style of living became more and more splendid.
The many visits of princely personages, for whom his house served as a
lodging, led him to incur expenses of various kinds, in purchases of
works of art as well as for his daily requirements, while they were
an encouragement to luxury for the distinguished citizens who could
not let the Medici act as sovereigns, and accustomed the people to
pastimes and good living. All this had its dark sides. The income of
the Medici was all the more insufficient because strict supervision was
lacking; their foreign business was too widely spread and dependent on
conjunctures of the moment. The waste of public money, which afterwards
was so prevalent, had already begun. Everything seemed allowable when
it was a question of satisfying ambition.
To this time belongs the tournament of Giuliano de’ Medici, which was
still more famous than that of his brother, because the most gifted
poet of the Medicean circle, Angelo Poliziano (not sixteen years old,
as has been believed in consequence of a chronological error, but
still only two-and-twenty[209]) sang this knightly diversion in the
renowned verses which he dedicated to Lorenzo. This tournament took
place on January 28, 1475, probably in the square of Sta. Croce.
Giuliano, who rode a horse named Orso, and wore a rich suit of armour,
obtained the prize. When we consider that he was powerful and practised
in knightly dexterity, an accomplishment which then belonged to the
education of distinguished young Italians, even if he had not devoted
himself to the art of war, as the Florentines seldom did, one need
not suppose that this victory was agreed upon beforehand. Already,
when a boy of twelve, Giuliano had wished, much against his father’s
inclination, to show his prowess and skill at the time of the visit of
the Duchess of Calabria. Giuliano’s arms and helmet were beautifully
wrought by Michel Angelo of Gaiole, father of the sculptor Baccio
Bandinelli, a clever goldsmith, who during many years served the Medici
with equal zeal and fidelity, and was employed by Lorenzo especially
in setting his gems and other precious stones.[210] Poliziano’s
mythological poem does not, like that of Pulci, give us a description
of the event, nor the names of the combatants; and if we hear much
in praise of both brothers and of the whole Medicean house in their
harmonious but somewhat pedantically antiquated octosyllabics, they
teach us little which can give a knowledge of the time or of the
persons. Fifteen months after the tournament, the lady of Giuliano’s
heart, Simonetta, the nymph of the poem, died; it was in the night
from April 26 to 27, 1476, while Lorenzo resided at Pisa, where he
continually received news of the course of the illness and the end of
the beautiful girl who had charmed his brother and whom he himself
lamented. Neither he nor Giuliano dreamed what cruel fate should
befall one of them and threaten the other on the same day two years
later.
Another terrible fate was rapidly approaching, which did not
immediately concern the family of the Medici, but exercised a decided
influence on the political position of Italy; and which when Lorenzo
had scarcely quitted the world’s stage, overthrew in its results the
edifice which he had reared and watched over with such care.
On St. Stephen’s day in 1476, Galeazzo Maria Sforza, at the age of
thirty-two, fell in the church of the saint to whom the day was
consecrated, beneath the daggers of three Milanese noblemen, inspired
by indignation against the cruel and immoral reign of the degenerate
son of an excellent father, who had oppressed the people with taxes in
order to support a luxury, which had bordered on madness. The deed was
tyrannicide after the old classical style; and as the conspirators had
no ulterior projects nor any support or adherents among the people,
the most distinguished councillor of the deceased, Cecco Simonetta,
succeeded in preserving the people in their devotion to their ducal
house, and proclaimed the son of Galeazzo Maria, Gian Galeazzo, then
six years old, as duke, under the guardianship of his mother Bona.
How some of the Florentines judged of the matter may be seen from the
words with which Alamanno Rinuccini, a distinguished man, accompanies
the news of the event recorded in his notices. ‘It was a worthy,
laudable, manly deed, which should be imitated by all who live under
a tyrant or anything similar. But the cowardice and depravity of the
men were to blame, that the example bore little or no fruit, and
those who had acted well must suffer death. Nevertheless, they freed
the earth from the most worthless monster, who was stained with more
shameful sins than any in his time and long before.’[211] But that
Lorenzo de’ Medici, who received the first news of the event from
Tommaso Soderini, at that time ambassador in Milan, was much struck by
it, is easily understood. He had made the policy of his grandfather
and father his own in reference to the Sforza family, and connected
himself closely with them. The league of 1474 had drawn the tie still
closer. An understanding with Venice was always precarious; that with
Milan seemed certain. It was now threatened with sudden dissolution,
for even if they could rely upon a regency, the duchess was in various
ways dangerous; especially under the family circumstances known to all.
Lorenzo must have perceived all this in a moment, and could not be
without serious apprehension. ‘I have heard of the duke’s death,’ wrote
Luigi Pulci to him from Mugello, where he was residing on his estate,
on January 3, 1477.[212] ‘I am sorry, imagining that you are so. I
have not been in the city, for I fear that it would avail nothing.
Wherever I may be, you know that you have a servant who is always ready
to obey you; and if you wish that I should go to our lord Roberto
(Sanseverino), or elsewhere, I will mount at the first signal. In many
respects I think it well that the aforesaid lord is there; he cannot
want for ways and means. All the better am I pleased, therefore, that
he is quite in your interests, and you can dispose of him there or here
as you will.’
In regard to this last, however, Luigi Pulci was much mistaken.
Roberto da Sanseverino, who had exercised so great an influence on the
development of Milanese affairs, was not the man Pulci thought him.
He was descended from one of the most illustrious families of Naples,
that of the Princes of Salerno and Bisignano, who had made themselves
a name on other fields than those of policy and war. He was the son of
Leonetto da Sanseverino and of Lisa Attendolo of Cotignola, daughter of
Sforza, the famous condottiere, a woman who had inherited the heroism
of her father, and he was born about the year 1420. Trained to be an
excellent soldier under his uncle, Francesco Sforza, he rose quickly
to a position of distinction, when the former had become Duke of Milan.
When in the barons’ war against Ferrante of Aragon, he led a Milanese
auxiliary corps to Naples, the king made him Count of Cajazzo, in
gratitude for his services. He was a man of restless mind, to whom
the confusion, more personal than political, which had ensued after
Galeazzo Maria’s death offered a wide field of activity. It was he
who had principally assisted in disturbing Lorenzo’s Milanese policy.
This policy tended to support the duchess-dowager and preserve the
existing government. For this purpose Messer Luigi Guicciardini was
commissioned to be active. He had been sent to Milan immediately after
the duke’s death, where, with Soderini, who afterwards remained alone
there, he was of great service, from the authority of the Republic
and his personal distinction. Bona of Savoy saw her position soon
endangered by her brothers-in-law and their party. Galeazzo Maria had
left no less than five brothers, Sforza, Filippo, Lodovico, Ascanio,
Ottaviano. Except the second, who had a taste for cultivating science
and a quiet life, they were all characters calculated to inspire the
head of a newly-risen family with anxiety. Ascanio dedicated himself
to the ecclesiastical order and became apostolic pronotary, but this
did not restrain the restless ambition which made the life of this man,
afterwards so much spoken of, a chain of negotiations, intrigues, and
vicissitudes of fortune. Sforza, who had inherited from his father the
dukedom of Bari in Apulia, granted him by King Ferrante, and Lodovico,
who obtained an inglorious celebrity under the surname of Il Moro,
had been banished to France by the suspicious duke. From thence they
returned as soon as they heard of his death, in the hopes of obtaining
a share in the government. Simonetta managed to make them harmless
beforehand by transferring to them the presidency in the senate of
justice, and setting a considerable sum apart for all the uncles of
the heir-apparent. Nothing, however, but the representations of the
Marquis of Mantua and the foreign ambassadors persuaded the ambitious
young men to comply with this arrangement, and it was to be foreseen
that affairs would not remain so. Events in Genoa soon lent a pretext
for executing the plans of the malcontents.
The history of Genoa is the counterfoil to that of Venice. Since the
end of the thirteenth century, peace and stability at home and great
territorial and political power, long secured for the latter; while
for the former, constant and sudden changes, which must have had an
unfavourable effect on the position obtained abroad in the days of
maritime greatness; the Genoese power on land being restricted to
a narrow strip of coast, partly fertile indeed, and rich in good
mariners, but mountainous and inaccessible. The Genoese could not even
retain their national and political independence. Weakened by foreign
wars and internal feuds, they had acknowledged first the supremacy of
France, then that of the Visconti, and, having rebelled against both,
they had submitted to Francesco Sforza, who, after having come to an
understanding with King Louis XI. in 1464, united all Liguria to the
Duchy of Milan. But even then the Genoese did not remain quiet, and
after Galeazzo Maria’s death the faction of the Fregosi and Fieschi
brought on a new insurrection, in consequence of which only the fort
called Castelletto remained in the hands of the Milanese troops. But it
served as a central point for the attack, when 12,000 Milanese troops
advanced against Genoa under the command of Roberto da Sanseverino,
with whom were Lodovico and Ottaviano Sforza. A defeat of the rebels
soon led to a pacification, as the city was, as usual, divided. On
April 11, 1477, Prospero Adorno was acknowledged as governor, and peace
was restored. In Florence, where Milanese affairs were watched with
great excitement, this result awakened great rejoicing. The Signoria
had the bells rung and bonfires lighted on April 14, as if for a
victory of the Republic.[213] But things soon took another turn:
Lodovico, Sforza, and Ottaviano could as little remain quiet as the
Genoese, and their influence in the army threatened the government
itself immediately after their return. On command of the regent, one of
their confidants, Donato del Conte, an old companion of Duke Francesco,
was taken prisoner. The attempt of the brothers to liberate him by
exciting a rebellion in Milan was defeated. Roberto Sanseverino, for
whom had been destined the military management of a conspiracy which
was to place Lodovico in his sister-in-law’s place, fled to Asti.
Ottaviano Sforza was drowned on his flight in the Adda. The other
brothers submitted, and were pardoned. But when the trial of Donato del
Conte had brought the full extent of the conspiracy to light, they were
banished from Milan, Sforza to Bari, Lodovico to Pisa, and Ascanio to
Perugia. This was at the beginning of June 1477.
For the time the duchess-regent retained the power in her own hand. But
it was clear that the foundations of her government were weak, while
such dissensions prevailed in the ducal family, the nominal ruler being
a feeble child, and those nearest the throne ambitious young men with
many adherents at home and abroad. Lorenzo de’ Medici saw this clearly,
and strove to support the regent from the beginning. But it is entirely
incomprehensible how, in such a critical moment, while his hold on
Milan was so uncertain, he could think of giving neighbours whom he
already knew to have a grudge against him cause for complaint. And yet
he did so. The discontent of the Pope he increased in a twofold manner.
Filippo de’ Medici, Archbishop of Pisa, who was entirely devoted to
the interest of his relations, had died in 1474. Instead of consulting
with the Republic respecting a successor, Sixtus IV. had made a new
choice, of a Florentine indeed, but a man certainly not very agreeable
to the party then prevailing, and of whom little is known before the
catastrophe which cost him his life. That Sixtus IV. made choice of
him with the intention of insulting the Republic and the Medici,
cannot be supposed; but that he knew it was unwelcome to them we see
from a letter of the Cardinal of Mantua to Lorenzo, in which Salviati
is recommended to the latter, and it is emphatically added that the
promotion was not meant to be displeasing to his Magnificence.[214]
That the Pope held fast by his new appointment was in accordance with
the principles and proceedings of the Holy See. The opposition to the
Medici faction is explained by the fact that, in consequence of the
special circumstances of Pisa, they thought they required a trustworthy
and devoted man there. The new archbishop moreover had been very
serviceable to the State, and as regards family and position, nothing
was to be said against Francesco Salviati. The part acted by him in
1478 has justified the accusations of his enemies. But we must not
forget that he was then embittered by years of opposition, and allowed
free course to evil passions at a time when so many prelates preferred
secular to sacred pursuits, and seized the sword instead of the
crozier. What incited Lorenzo against him is unknown; Angelo Poliziano
had once appealed with most abject flatteries to the protection of a
man against whom he afterwards hurled the severest and most insulting
accusations.[215] Lorenzo had twice thwarted him. When Cardinal Riario
died, Francesco Salviati had sought to obtain the archbishopric of
Florence, but was obliged to yield to the brother-in-law of the
all-powerful Rinaldo Orsini. It was said in Rome that the Pope, who
had presented Count Girolamo with the rich possessions of his brother
the cardinal, and yet was obliged to pay his debts, had offered his
benefices, among which was the archbishopric, valued at three thousand
gold florins, to the highest bidder, by which means money was raised.
This, however, was not to be regarded as simony.[216] Francesco had
only received the lesser consecration, and may have had no vocation
for the priesthood; but this was not the objection raised against him
in Florence, and the man preferred to him did not do his spiritual
dignity the least credit. When, therefore, the Pope invested him with
Pisa, the most important and wealthy bishopric of Tuscany, the Republic
refused to allow him to assume it for three years, and he nursed his
hatred in Rome, where soon others shared it with him. That this hatred
was personal and directed against Lorenzo de’ Medici is easily to be
understood, and even excusable under existing circumstances. They had
accustomed themselves to regard Lorenzo as the head of the State, and
to ascribe good and evil to his influence.
Another complication arose, all the more serious because, not to
mention pope and king, whose suspicions it increased, it excited
another and a neighbour state against the Republic.
The old connections of the Fortebracci of Montone with Florence have
been mentioned. In the first times of the rise of the Medici, Braccio
Fortebraccio had been the favourite hero of the Florentine people,
who, on his account, had deeply insulted Pope Martin V. His son Oddo
had been killed in the Visconti wars in the spring of 1425 by the
peasants of the Val di Lamone, who, seventy years before, had made
short work of the wild freebooters of the so-called Great Company in
their mountain passes. Another son of Braccio’s had remained, Carlo,
still a child at his father’s death. Having grown up in military
service in Piccinino’s troop, he had attained the reputation of a
skilful captain, and lived in the pay of Venice, which always needed
numerous troops for Italy, as well as for her possessions in the
Levant. He was striking in appearance; at the age of fifty-five he
seemed to have renounced all ordinary habits of life, wore a long
beard, forbore to change his clothes, and slept without a tent under
the open sky in the fields.[217] When his _condotta_ came to an end,
instead of beginning another he determined to carve out his fortune in
his own home. His father and brother had once ruled over Perugia; he
therefore relied upon the old attachment of a part of the citizens, and
the love of novelty which was never extinguished in those half-free
cities. In the spring of 1477 he set out with a considerable troop of
mercenaries for Umbria. Such private enterprises of _condottieri_ were
nothing new in Italy; Jacopo Piccinino had attempted something similar
twenty-two years before, but had been defeated and driven to the coasts
of Maremma. Carlo Fortebraccio had, however, chosen an unfavourable
moment, for peace prevailed in the whole of Central and Southern Italy,
and the governments were on their guard on account of Milanese affairs.
To the Florentines, in spite of their ancient friendly connections
with the Fortebracci, the intended attack upon Perugia was most
unwelcome, not so much on the Pope’s account, as because they were
endeavouring to draw the town into their own league. They therefore
hindered the _condottiere_ by strong representations from making an
attack on Umbria. They could not, however, prevent him from falling in
old freebooter fashion upon the neighbouring territory of Siena. He
set up as a pretext old demands of his father, who had been dead more
than half a century, and, like Piccinino, began to plunder and raise
black-mail in the Arbia valley.
The republic of Siena had always been a battle-field for factions which
weakened it within and made it powerless abroad. The old jealousy of
the Florentines had made it always easy for every power possessing the
preponderance in Italy for the time being to plot against Florence
from thence. Thus it happened in the present case, and not without the
fault of Florence. The Sienese were taken by surprise by the attack
of Carlo Fortebraccio. Long at peace with their neighbours, a peace
which was not disturbed by occasional quarrels between places on their
frontier in the Chiana valley, they had but a small armed power to
oppose to the freebooters. They complained bitterly to the Pope and
the King of Naples of the wrong done them, and sent ambassadors to
Florence to beg the intervention of the Republic, whose connections
with the mischief-maker were no secret. The Florentines, when called
upon to put a stop to the favour shown to Carlo by their subjects on
the frontiers and to keep honest neighbourliness, gave at first an
equivocal answer. They had, they said, nothing to do with the matter,
and if Fortebraccio should find support with the Sienese emigrants,
it was not their doing. They did not escape the suspicion of having
acted in this affair with the same want of sincerity as that shown
the Venetians in the Colleonic troubles. Sixtus IV. resolved to be no
longer a mere looker on.[218] He remembered that the father of this man
had once said that he would bring Pope Martin to read twenty masses
for one Bolognino. The Duke of Urbino, captain-general of the Church,
caused Antonio di Montefeltro to march into the Sienese territory;
everything was in movement in the patrimony, where men were enlisted
both for and against the cause. ‘It seemed,’ says the chronicler of
Viterbo, ‘as if men were weary of the long peace and took the field for
little money.’ The attack on Fortebraccio was unsuccessful, so that the
duke himself set out, marched into Perugia, and invested the castle
of Montone, which yielded after thirty-three days’ siege. Neapolitan
troops received commands to march through Romagna; in short, a general
conflagration seemed about to break forth. This calamity was averted
for the time by the departure of the leader of the disturbance, who,
threatened by the danger of being cut off, and urged by Florentine
representations, quitted the Sienese territory and re-entered the
Venetian service. On his return to Romagna, he attempted again to take
possession of Montone, but the Sienese razed the castle for fear he
should again establish himself firmly there in the neighbourhood of
their frontiers.[219]
The political results of this division were evident in the following
year. The Florentines had only to thank themselves for it. Towards the
end of June, the Chancellor, Bartolommeo Scala, had given Lorenzo de’
Medici information of the complaints of the Sienese ambassadors. In
the following month the Pope had himself complained bitterly to the
Signoria of the assistance given to the _condottiere_, and the wrong
done to their neighbours.[220] What made the position worse for the
Pope was the circumstance that the old Roman disturber of peace, Count
Deifebo of Anguillara, served under Fortebraccio. Most unpleasant to
the Florentines had been the Neapolitan intervention, which, indeed,
could no longer leave them in doubt as to the position of affairs.
It is hard to recognise the caution and political sagacity hitherto
displayed by Lorenzo in these proceedings. His biographer, Niccolò
Valori, who is inclined enough to defend him where he cannot praise,
does not venture to reconcile his behaviour towards the Pope with the
claims either of policy or gratitude, and resorts to an ambiguous
reflection. After having enumerated what Lorenzo owed to Sixtus IV.
for the extraordinary furtherance of his private interests, whereby he
and his relations, especially Giovanni Tornabuoni, had acquired great
wealth, as well as in the affair of Volterra, &c., he continues,[221]
‘After the Pope had overwhelmed Lorenzo in public and private matters
with proofs of the greatest favour, and dismissed him with the highest
honours, he did not long remain in the good graces of his Holiness.
Thus it happened that many began to doubt his constancy and wisdom. I
believe all happened through the will of destiny, in order to bring
his great qualities more clearly into view in the midst of untoward
events.’[222]
_THIRD BOOK_
CONSPIRACY OF THE PAZZI
WAR WITH ROME AND NAPLES
CHAPTER I.
THE PAZZI CONSPIRACY.
AS the year 1478 approached, suspense became intense, in consequence
of the events already described, and a political entanglement of
some kind became more and more probable. No fear was entertained of
intrigues at home. Eleven years had passed since the attempt to ruin
the power of the Medici. The leaders of the Opposition were either
dead or entirely powerless; a new generation was springing up, whose
interests were mostly identical with those of the ruling family. All
the modifications of the constitution had contributed to concentrate
the power in comparatively few hands; those who longed for honourable
posts and outward splendour obtained them according to their desire,
while the money-makers never wanted means to enrich themselves, nor
did the people lack diversions and the appearance of freedom; the
system of taxation was so managed that those of whom the government
did not feel certain were kept down, without a pretext being afforded
them for opposition to an overstrong system. Lorenzo de’ Medici at
this time was in his thirtieth year, and had ruled the state for nine
years. All went its usual course: signorie, magistrates, and councils
negotiated, concluded, and voted, as in former times; and a number of
distinguished citizens conducted the business of every-day. But the
leadership was always in one hand. Those who had insight into the state
of home affairs and those abroad were by no means deceived regarding
them. Lorenzo believed he should be left undisturbed. His brother does
not seem to have been a hindrance to him. The plan of making Giuliano
a cardinal had been given up, and an alliance with the daughter of
the seigneur of Piombino and Appiani had been spoken of. Letters and
petitions from abroad were addressed to both brothers, but we never
hear of Giuliano’s interfering in affairs of State.
The danger arose from a combination of home and foreign affairs. Like
his grandfather, Lorenzo had always been careful not to allow any of
the families attached to him to become powerful enough to cause him
anxiety. It may be easily understood that this constant endeavour to
gain the upper hand, although it secured his position, gave rise to
disaffection and hatred. Thus it was with the Pazzi. We have seen
how this family, who at first did not find it easy to obtain popular
favour, rose to high honours, and how closely they were allied to the
Medici. Guglielmo de’ Pazzi had for years always been present at the
tourneys, fêtes, and amusements of his brother-in-law. But in his case
as in others Lorenzo does not appear to have deviated from his usual
policy. He avoided allowing the Pazzi any part in such public offices
as they might well claim, considering their position, and at times he
appeared almost envious of the rising wealth of this family. Still,
for several years harmony was preserved between them. Two letters
directed to Lorenzo in 1474 by Jacopo de’ Pazzi, then at Avignon,
professing gratitude for services rendered to him, and the hope of
future good understanding, are preserved in the archives of the family.
This, however, could not last long, nor was the fault all on the Pazzi
side. In the year 1476, Lorenzo caused a law on the inheritance _ab
intestato_ to pass, which deprived Giovanni de’ Pazzi of the rich
Borromeo succession to which his wife had a claim. Giuliano warned
his brother, but in vain. Francesco de’ Pazzi, Jacopo’s nephew, who
resided in Rome, considered himself ill-used by the magistracy of the
Eight. Still it is hardly to be believed that the Pazzi would have put
themselves at the head of a perilous enterprise in their native town,
if complications in Rome had not brought on a crisis. In the ensuing
tragedy, the Pazzi appear as chief actors, but it is more likely they
were merely the instruments of Girolamo Riario.[223]
The connections between the Florentine family and the Pope arose from
pecuniary affairs. We observed before how the money matters of Rome
were chiefly in the hands of the Florentines, and, from the time of
Pius II., in those of the Sienese. The Via de’ Banchi, leading to
the bridge of St. Angelo, was filled with their counting-houses, and
the names of the Altoviti, Niccolini, Strozzi, Chigi, still exist on
the houses and various other buildings of that part. The Pazzi had
also their banks in the vicinity of the bridge, and the then director
was Francesco the nephew of Jacopo. The principal occasion of the
misunderstanding between them and the Medici was afforded by the sale
of Imola. Lorenzo was said to have attempted to render it impossible
for the Pope, who had no spare cash, to raise the sum necessary by
gaining over the other banking-houses to his interests. With the Pazzi,
however, who had at first also consented, he could not succeed in the
end, and by means of 3,000 gold florins advanced by them Girolamo
Riario had become master of Imola. That this circumstance, if really
true, must have led to a closer connection between the latter, is
clear. When the relations between the Pope and Florence were disturbed
by political events, the former took from the Medici the management
of the finances of the Curia, the so-called ‘Depository,’ and handed
over the business to the Pazzi. Sixtus IV. afterwards declared, when he
reproached the Medici for their ingratitude, that it was through him
that they had amassed wealth. It is uncertain whether, apart from the
above circumstances, the adverse reports of the pecuniary position of
the Medici, which had lately spread and were not groundless, and more
especially of the bad state of their banking business in Flanders,
were the real cause of this measure, so keenly affecting them and
so hurtful to their credit, or whether they were a mere pretext for
its adoption. Certain it is that thenceforward the Pazzi were closely
attached to the Papal interest, and to that of Girolamo Riario, which
was in this case identical with it. It is, however, evident from
the whole course of events that the Medici, notwithstanding these
circumstances, felt no distrust of their fellow-countrymen. Girolamo
Riario had long been aware that the Florentines would constantly
oppose his attempts to extend his dominion on their frontier. To them
he ascribed the turn which the affair of Città di Castello had taken,
which made it difficult, if not impossible, for the Pope to support his
intentions with regard to that town. He did not think himself safe in
the possession of Imola, so long as a good understanding lasted between
the Republic and Taddeo Manfredi. After the death of the Duke of Milan,
who had kept him in a sort of imprisonment, Manfredi had gone to
Venice, and there openly complained of the violence which had been done
him in the matter of the cession of the above named city to Sforza.
Girolamo foresaw that his projects of annexing other possessions of the
Manfredi, and his subsequent intentions on the Ordelaffi vicegerency,
would meet with like obstacles. He erred in supposing that such plans
would succeed better if an end were put to the influence then dominant
in Florence; for the effects which he attributed to the special action
of that influence were merely in accordance with the traditional maxims
of Florentine policy. It was even a political necessity as long as the
old system of balance of power existed, which, in regard to Romagna and
Umbria, only ceased with the death of its last representative, Lorenzo
de’ Medici. But it lay in the character and position of an upstart
like Girolamo Riario, who knew that his rise and fall depended on the
duration of one life, that of the Pope, to confuse what was nearest
and most palpable with conditions which were dependent on individual
persons and expressions of their wishes.
We shall certainly not be mistaken if we suppose that the Pope’s
nephew first entered into connection with Francesco de’ Pazzi, who
superintended the finances in Rome, and that both succeeded in gaining
over the Archbishop of Pisa, who, having only entered upon office the
preceding year, was just then in Rome. The removal of Lorenzo de’
Medici proved the turning-point of the whole undertaking, in what way
appeared indifferent to the accomplices. That they could not reach him
by so-called legal means, such as served in Florence to rouse a spirit
of rebellion, must have been clear to them. Force must therefore be
employed. The three were probably from the first agreed upon this.
It was only a question of how and where. It was of importance to
ascertain how the Pope would regard the plot, for without his consent
nothing could be done. This was all the more necessary because Jacopo
de’ Pazzi, when Francesco first revealed to him in Florence the plan
of overthrowing the Medicean supremacy, did not show the least desire
of taking part in such a venture, and it became clear to the others
that they would achieve nothing by themselves. That Sixtus IV., in his
irritated feeling towards Lorenzo and the Republic, would willingly
offer a hand in the attempt to remodel affairs in Florence, was not to
be doubted. But Girolamo Riario was also obliged to confess that his
uncle would lend himself to no undertaking which would leave any stain
on the honour of the Papacy. It was necessary, therefore, to keep a
free hand for a revolution in Florence, and not to let the Pope see
through their plans, and at the same time give him a false impression
of the feeling prevailing in the city with regard to the Medici and the
support they might expect. The nephew undertook this, and succeeded in
it with a man whose many praiseworthy and even brilliant qualities were
not sufficient to keep him out of the power of those who eventually
brought dishonour on his name.
One of the difficulties of the undertaking consisted in being obliged
to secure both brothers at the same time, for they perceived that
the thing would fail if the possibility were afforded to the younger
one of treading in the other’s footsteps. The attempt was first made
of enticing Lorenzo to Rome, as, in his absence, they hoped to make
away with Giuliano more easily. ‘That my wish may be fulfilled,’ wrote
Girolamo Riario to him on January 15, 1478,[224] ‘that the public and
private affairs of your Magnificence take a prosperous course, and it
is known to me that various things have happened between his Holiness
and the illustrious Signoria, in which your Magnificence, as the most
distinguished citizen and head of the State, have had occasion to
share, and which have somewhat disturbed his Holiness, it would please
me much for the State and on account of your personal position if your
Magnificence would resolve to come to Rome and present yourself to the
Pope for the removal of all misunderstandings and doubts. I do not
in the least doubt that the Holy Father would receive you with joy;
while I, with the affection which I owe you from our mutual friendly
relations, would behave so as fully to satisfy your Magnificence,
and all considerations of grievance which may have arisen from the
afore-named events would vanish.’
Lorenzo did not say No. He had no particular grounds for believing in
the asseverations of Riario’s friendship, for his conscience told him
he had not deserved them. But he might well wish to settle differences
with the Pope while it was yet possible, he therefore had no desire
to refuse the hand apparently extended for reconciliation. Owing to
the uncertainty of his coming, his opponents resolved to be beforehand
at all events, and prepare the means for executing their projects.
For this it was certainly important to secure trusty adherents in
Florence, to entrust a soldier with the guidance of affairs, and to
take measures on the frontiers so as to follow up the advantage, if
the _coup_ succeeded, by advancing immediately an armed force. The
leader, who could only be selected from Riario’s intimate friends,
must at the same time make preparations in Florence. Giovan Batista
da Montesecco, a captain of Abruzzi in the service of the Count,
was the man who was considered suitable for the execution of this
plan.[225] He was not unknown to the Medici. On September 24, 1477,
he had communicated with them from Imola, regarding the soldiers of
Marradi, who had announced themselves for service with Riario.[226]
The first negotiation between the latter, Francesco de’ Pazzi, and
the _condottiere_, took place in the Archbishop’s residence after
Montesecco had sworn to betray nothing that might be confided to him.
Salviati revealed to him that it was in the matter of a revolution at
Florence that they counted on his support. When Montesecco, who was
apparently a sensible and quiet man, remarked that he was not his own
master, and could not undertake anything without the permission of the
Pope and his nephew, he was answered that everything was undertaken not
only by the consent of the latter, but precisely for the preservation
and strengthening of his position; for if things in Florence remained
as they were then, Riario’s rule would not be worth powder and shot on
account of Lorenzo’s enmity, which, after the Pope’s death, would set
everything in agitation to take from him his little state, as a quarrel
had long existed between the two. The captain only answered that he
should be ready for everything which should suffice to the honour and
advantage of the Count and themselves, but all depended on the first
step. Thus they parted to consult over the matter further on a suitable
occasion. This was soon found. The Archbishop and Montesecco met in
Riario’s house. A revolution in Florence, they said, was necessary,
in order to secure the Count from Lorenzo’s evil intentions; but this
revolution would be impossible if both Medici were not got rid of. The
families of Salviati and Pazzi were so influential that half Florence
would adhere to them; troops must be held ready near the frontiers in
order to advance immediately on the city. Montesecco expressed concern.
‘My lords,’ he said, ‘see what you are bringing upon yourselves.
Florence is no trifle, and, according to what I hear, Lorenzo has
powerful adherents.’ Riario replied, ‘Others say the contrary; they
are disinclined towards him, and the people would thank Heaven if
both brothers were made away with.’ ‘Gian Batista,’ interposed the
Archbishop, ‘you have never been in Florence, and we know better than
you how it is with Lorenzo; that is our affair. It is only necessary
to agree upon the method of proceeding. Above all, it is necessary to
warm Jacopo de’ Pazzi, who is like a block of ice. If we are certain
of him, we cannot doubt the result.’ ‘All very well,’ remarked the
captain, ‘but our master, the Pope, what will he say to the matter?’
‘Our master,’ replied the other two, ‘will always do what we advise
him, and he also is prejudiced against Lorenzo, and wishes this more
than anything.’ ‘Have you spoken with him about it?’ ‘Certainly, and
we shall so arrange it that he will speak to you about it also.’
Upon this, measures were debated as to the time for drawing troops
together in the Papal territories adjoining Florence, which were to be
employed in a given case against the city,and to support the projected
movements within her walls. Napoleone Orsini was to hold himself ready
in the territory of Todi and Perugia; Lorenzo Giustini, the enemy of
the Vitelli, in Città di Castello; Giovan Francesco da Tolentino in the
district of Imola.
Soon afterwards Montesecco was summoned to the Pope, and there, in the
presence of Francesco Salviati and Girolamo Riario, the Florentine
affair was discussed. In the collection of paintings in the Vatican, a
fresco may be seen (formerly in the old library hall, now transferred
to canvas) by the hand of Melozzo of Forli, representing Pope Sixtus
IV. on his throne, Bartolommeo Platina, the new keeper of his literary
treasures kneeling before him, in the background Girolamo Riario and
others of his family and court. The scene which now passed in the
Pope’s chamber was very different to this peaceful one. It was a
question of overthrowing the Medici and their Florentine government.
The Pope declared his consent to a revolution in the State, but he
demanded that it should not be a sanguinary one. And when Montesecco
remarked, ‘Holy Father, it is difficult to execute such an intention
without the death of Lorenzo and Giuliano, and several others perhaps,’
Sixtus replied, ‘In no case will I have the death of any one; it is not
my office to cause the death of a man. Lorenzo has behaved unworthily
and badly towards us, but I will not hear of his death, though I wish
for a revolution in the State.’ Girolamo Riario interposed, ‘We will
do our best that no one may fall a victim; should it, however, be
unavoidable, your Holiness will pardon him through whom it happens;’
on which the Pope answered, ‘You are a villain; I tell you I will have
no one die, but only the government overthrown. And to you, Giovan
Batista, I say that I wish the revolution to proceed in Florence and
the government to be taken out of the hand of Lorenzo, for he is a
violent and bad man, who pays no regard to us. If he were expelled,
we could do with the Republic as it seemed best, and that would be
very pleasing to us.’ ‘Your Holiness speaks the truth,’ said Riario
and the Archbishop. ‘If you have Florence in your power, after it has
come into the hands of others, your Holiness can soon prescribe laws
to half Italy, and everyone will be desirous to assure himself of your
friendship. Be then satisfied that we shall do all in our power to
attain this end.’ Whereupon Sixtus said, ‘I say again, I will not. Go
and do what you will, but no lives shall be lost.’ As he now dismissed
the three, he gave his consent to the employment of arms. Salviati said
in going away, ‘Holy Father, be satisfied that we guide the bark; we
will steer safely.’ The Pope answered, ‘I am content, but give heed to
the honour of the Holy See and the Count.’
After the audience the three repaired to Riario’s lodging, where the
latter and the archbishop came to the conclusion that without the
death of the two Medici, the thing could not succeed. A high aim could
not be reached with insignificant means. It was now resolved to make
preparations for executing their design. Francesco de’ Pazzi had, as
we have already seen, repaired to Florence, it was said on account of
business, but in fact to note the inclination of the people better,
and to sound his uncle Jacopo. Riario and Salviati now considered
it necessary to send Montesecco thither in order to make himself
better acquainted with persons and places. A pretext for the visit
was afforded by a dangerous illness of Carlo Manfredi of Faenza, a
part of whose possessions at his decease Riario wished to unite with
his own. This he pretended to wish to arrange with Lorenzo. Lorenzo
had no idea of what was passing, and seems, instead of hindering the
intentions of the Pope’s nephew in any way, to have, on the contrary,
embraced the opportunity of settling former differences with him by
furthering his plans and wishes. But Montesecco had yet another errand;
that of concerting with Jacopo de’ Pazzi and taking measures for the
intended warlike operations. The latter came to him at the inn—his
nephew Francesco happened to be in Lucca—where the captain delivered
to him letters from the archbishop and the count. But still Jacopo
did not show the slightest wish to enter into the matter. ‘I will have
nothing to do with the project,’ he declared. ‘They will only run into
danger. They wish to be masters of Florence, but I understand matters
better than they. Do not speak to me about it again, for I have heard
enough.’ But then, as Montesecco informed him of the conversation with
the Pope, he was undecided. ‘Go to Imola,’ he said, ‘and come again on
your return; Francesco will have returned in the meantime, and we can
consult further about the matter.’
It had thus been introduced, and Jacopo was half-won over. Montesecco
went to the Romagna to watch over the interests of Riario, and as
he met Lorenzo at Cafaggiuola on his return from Florence, he gave
the latter an account of his mission, and received from him repeated
assurances of his readiness to be useful to the count. In Lorenzo’s
company Montesecco rode towards the city, where he had another
conversation with the two Pazzi by night. Jacopo had allowed himself
to be persuaded by his nephew; but their views as to the execution of
the plot were very different, especially as to whether it were not
advisable to kill the brothers at once and in Florence itself. Both
gave it as their opinion that the archbishop must come to the city
under some pretext, in order to take part in the execution. Montesecco
now returned to Rome, where the resolution was taken at Riario’s that
Francesco Salviati should repair to Florence, but that the captain
should lead all the mercenaries of the count who could be spared
in Rome to Romagna, and hold himself ready. Various circumstances,
however, hindered the speedy decision. A chance absence of Carlo
Fortebraccio in Florence made it seem dangerous for the conspirators
to venture the blow at that moment. Then it was said that Lorenzo
intended to go to Rome at Easter, which caused fresh indecision. When
this did not happen, the conspirators recognised the necessity of
acting, in order not to expose a plot in which many were now initiated
to the danger of discovery. The amassing of troops at Imola must rouse
suspicion if they delayed longer.
It was in April 1478 that Francesco Salviati came to Florence in
order to execute an errand with reference to the affairs of Romagna.
Everything was talked over in the houses of the Pazzi and in their
villa at Montughi. The number of accomplices was so considerable that
we can hardly understand how the project never came to the hearing
of the Medici. A nephew of Girolamo Riario, Raffaello Sansoni, was
studying at the time at the university of Pisa. Sixtus IV. had
granted, on December 10, 1477, the cardinal’s purple to this youth of
sixteen, who was not exactly distinguished by brilliant intellectual
gifts, still less by learning. The young man, who henceforward bore
his mother’s name, began his long career as ecclesiastical prince,
a position for which he was but little suited, among circumstances
the memory of which was revived when he, as an aged man, was again
involved in an intrigue against the Medici. Girolamo caused his nephew
to be summoned to Florence, in order to employ him in the execution
of the plot as a tool without a will. The other instruments were of
a different kind. Jacopo Salviati followed the inspirations of his
brother, the archbishop, with whom two other relations were associated.
Jacopo Bracciolini, the son of Poggio, a clever literary man, forgot
the old connections of his father and his own with the Medici in order
to join with their enemies. He had come to Florence in the second half
of January, and delivered a letter from Riario[227] to Lorenzo, which
said that the writer had chosen this learned, virtuous, and upright
man for service with the young cardinal, to instruct the latter in
moral conduct, and begged Lorenzo to grant him full confidence in all
that regarded the aforesaid cardinal, and support where he needed it.
Of Antonio Maffei of Volterra, the brother of the learned Raffaello,
it is said that no personal motives led him to take part in it, but
sorrow over the misfortunes of his native city, of which he regarded
Lorenzo as the destroyer. Bernardo Bandini, the descendant of an
ancient family, son of a man who under King Ferrante had presided over
the first Court of Justice in Naples, is said to have been induced to
join by the ruinous state of his fortune. The clerk Stefano da Bagnone
had served Jacopo Pazzi as scribe, and was then pastor at Montemurlo,
in the territory of Pistoja, the castle which nearly sixty years
later was celebrated by a defeat of the Strozzi and their friends
in a battle against Cosimo de’ Medici, the second Duke of Florence.
Another accomplice was Napoleone Franzesi, of San Gemignano, belonging
to a family which had attained no enviable fame at the beginning of
the fourteenth century, through that Musciatto who, with Guillaume
de Nogaret, organised the attempt against Pope Boniface VIII., and
was also one of the most important tools in some of King Philip the
Fair’s dishonourable money transactions. All were ready to strike the
blow when the young cardinal was residing at the Pazzi villa, from
whence he kept up a friendly intercourse with Lorenzo and his brother,
and among other things recommended to the latter a priest for the
vacant dignity of the Prior of SS. Annunziata.[228] An invitation
of the Medici brothers to visit them at their villa, whose pillared
halls overlook the rich and beautiful country from a lovely hill in
the immediate neighbourhood of Fiesole, seemed to offer the suitable
opportunity for carrying out the conspiracy; but a delay ensued,
because an indisposition of Giuliano hindered him from taking part in
the festival, and the conspirators did not deem it advisable to seize
the brothers separately. It was then determined to proceed to action
on April 26. It was the Sunday before Ascension day. The cardinal was
made to announce his intention of visiting the Medici in their palace
in the city, and at the same time of being present at high mass in
the cathedral near by. He did not dream of the project in which a sad
though inactive part was thus assigned to him.
The brothers prepared to receive the Pope’s nephew worthily. The rich
art treasures of their house, silver-plate and costly furniture, were
exhibited in honour of their guest. A brilliant company was invited,
consisting of the ambassadors of Naples, Milan, and Ferrara, Marino
Tomacelli, Filippo Sagramoro, and Niccolò Bendedei, and various knights
such as Antonio della Stufa, Antonio Ridolfi, Bongianni Gianfigliazzi,
Luigi Guicciardini, Piero Betti, Bernardo Bongirolami.[229] With a
few companions, the archbishop and Montesecco being among them, the
cardinal rode from the villa to the city, the others, mostly in rich
dresses, followed on foot.[230] Giuliano was still unwell, and sent
a message to say that, if he did not appear at the banquet, he would
certainly not fail to be in the church. This news caused an alteration
in the plan; instead of attacking the brothers at the banquet, the
house of God was chosen for the scene of the murder, and the most
solemn moment, the elevation of the host, was to be the signal. But
another alteration was the result of the first. Giovan Batista da
Montesecco had, not without resistance it seems, declared himself ready
to deal the blow against Lorenzo, but he declined to desecrate the
church with bloodshed. As he persisted in his refusal, Antonio Maffei
and Stefano da Bagnone offered to take his place—two priests felt no
dread of that which a soldier declined to do. The ill-success of the
plot is principally to be ascribed to this circumstance. Francesco de’
Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini were to seize on Giuliano, the archbishop to
surround the palace of the Signoria, and Jacopo de’ Pazzi to proclaim
the freedom of the city. The cardinal had changed his dress at the
Medici’s house, and was just descending the staircase when he met
Lorenzo, who had already heard mass, but returned with his guest to
Sta. Maria del Fiore. The archbishop accompanied them to the church
door, and then withdrew under pretext of visiting his mother. All the
others entered the church. Within the choir, which is beneath the
dome of Brunellesco, the cardinal took his place opposite the altar,
his suite, the friends of the Medici, the accomplices in the plot,
churchmen and laity, stood partly in the choir, partly round it. The
mass and singing had already begun when the conspirators remarked that
Giuliano was missing. The two who had undertaken to murder him hastened
to the Medici’s house and persuaded him to follow them; taking him
between them, they ascertained that he wore no shirt of mail beneath
his doublet. Giuliano entered the choir, Lorenzo standing outside.
The change of the wafer was said to be the signal agreed upon. As the
priest elevated the host, Bernardo Bandini plunged a short sword into
the breast of Giuliano, who stood together with Giovanni Tornabuoni and
Francesco Nori. The wounded man made one step forward and then fell;
Francesco de’ Pazzi dealt him one blow after another with a dagger in
such blind fury that he severely wounded his own thigh. At the same
time Stefano and Maffei attacked Lorenzo, but, unaccustomed to deeds of
blood, they missed their aim. Maffei’s dagger, which was to pierce the
throat of Medici, only wounded him in the neck. With swift presence of
mind, the wounded man tore off his mantle, wrapped it round his left
arm, seized his dagger with the right hand, sprang into the choir, and
hurried past the altar to the sacristy. At the same moment Bandini,
seeing what had happened, rushed to Lorenzo, threw Francesco Nori, who
tried to interpose, to the ground,[231] but could not prevent others
springing to the assistance of the intended victim, who hastened with
him to the new sacristy, the bronze doors of which were closed by
Angelo Poliziano before the pursuers.
All this was the work of a moment. ‘Nothing but noise,’ writes Filippo
Strozzi, ‘prevailed in the church. I was just standing in conversation
with Messer Bongianni (Gianfigliazzi) when a general terror seized the
knights and all present. One fled here, another there; the followers of
Pazzi had all weapons in their hands.’ Only those who stood next the
choir could see what passed; those more distant only saw the tumult and
men running hither and thither. Some even thought that the dome was
about to fall in. The truth soon became clear. While the conspirators
fled in all directions, Guglielmo de’ Pazzi loudly asserting his
innocence, the friends of the Medici crowded together and hastened,
some to the choir, some to the sacristy, to surround Lorenzo. Several
members of the families Martelli and Tornabuoni were the first who
pressed into the church. Those in the sacristy were still uncertain how
things stood until Sigismundo della Stufa ascended the gallery of the
organ and saw their victorious friends.
The cardinal had taken refuge at the altar, where several ecclesiastics
surrounded him and led him to the old sacristy. He declared his
complete ignorance of the plot; two of the Magistracy of Eight, who
came up, conducted him to the palace in safety. Lorenzo now first
learnt the death of his brother; the corpse he did not see. A number of
friends accompanied him home.
Meanwhile, with a band among whom were several emigrants from Perugia,
the archbishop repaired to the palace of the Signoria, where the
Gonfaloniere, Cesare Petrucci, was dining with the prior. When the
latter was informed that the prelate wished to speak with him on urgent
matters, he rose and caused him to be led into his reception-room,
while Salviati’s companions entered an adjoining chamber of the
secretary’s in order to wait for the signal agreed upon. The Archbishop
began by saying he had a commission from the Pope which he must fulfil
with the Signoria; but his words were so confused and his demeanour
so uncertain, that the Gonfaloniere immediately suspected something
wrong, and his suspicions were increased by his visitor continually
looking towards the door as if he was expecting some information.
Petrucci deciding quickly, hastened out, met Jacopo Bracciolini coming
towards the door, seized him by the hair, threw him to the ground, and
called in a loud voice to the guard. When Salviati’s companions heard
the noise they would have come to his assistance, but were unable to
open the lock of the door, which was provided with a mechanism known
only to the household, in order to catch intruders. The whole palace
was alarmed. After a great deal of opposition, the archbishop and his
followers were taken prisoners; every corner was searched and the gates
shut. Even the kitchen utensils had to serve as defence. The square was
filled with uproar; adherents of the Pazzi broke open the palace gates
and pressed into the interior; but Petrucci and his men defended the
staircase to the great tower into which the prior had retreated, and
they succeeded in capturing some of the assailants and obliging others
to take to flight.
Jacopo de’ Pazzi had not, from the beginning, deceived himself as to
the difficulties of the undertaking. But it was he who showed the
most determination. He hastened to the square of the Signoria with a
company of about a hundred armed men, summoning the people to regain
their liberty. It was his men who succeeded in penetrating into the
square. But they were soon thrust out again, and none dared to approach
any more, as they were threatened with stones thrown down from the
battlements, this final attempt of the conspiracy was speedily ended.
The streets around were filled with men. ‘Palle! palle!’ ‘Death to the
traitors!’ This was the answer to Pazzi’s summons. Stones were hurled
against the band, who tried to keep the square occupied, but were
threatened on all sides. There was no time to be lost. The people
already began to hew down the armed men who tried to escape. Messer
Jacopo secured first the Porta la Croce, and then hastened to his
house, where his nephew Francesco, severely wounded by his own hand,
lay concealed in the bedchamber, after he had vainly tried to mount
on horseback and ride to the square. No one could stay; the streets
were fast filling; bleeding heads were carried about on pikes, with
wild cries for vengeance. He saw that all was lost, and two hours
after the occurrence, he rode with a band of his followers, through
the gate we have mentioned. As the people of their own accord executed
judgment, and killed even priests in Salviati’s suite on the square,
the cruel work began in the palace. No sooner had the Signoria heard
of Giuliano’s death, than they determined to hang Jacopo Bracciolini.
This was done before the eyes of the crowd, at a window of the
principal storey. Jacopo Salviati met with a like fate. Meanwhile,
Francesco de’ Pazzi had been discovered and dragged into the street.
He arrived at the palace half dead; it was a wonder that the furious
crowd had not torn him to pieces. But no word could be extracted from
him about the conspiracy and his accomplices; he expired at a window
with the expression of the wild passion which inspired him still
on his features. Beside him, the archbishop met a similar end in
his ecclesiastical robes; in his last agony he is said to have torn
Francesco’s breast with his teeth. The prisoners in the palace were
hewn down without mercy. In all the streets bleeding heads and torn
limbs were to be seen, the ghastly tokens of wild popular justice and
no less wild party hatred. Thus passed the Sunday before the Feast of
Ascension of 1478.
The following days things were no better. Many more of the suspected
were still discovered, and, guilty or not, killed. The number of
victims amounted to about eighty. Jacopo de’ Pazzi, with a little
band of armed men, was on the road to Romagna when he was detained by
the peasants of the village of Castagno, whom the news of events in
Florence had reached. This was in the neighbourhood of the Falterona,
where the Arno rises, after he had passed the Mugello and Casentino.
In vain he begged that they would kill him. They would not listen, but
gave him up to the Signoria. After a painful trial, he was hanged at
the palace windows; the palaces seem, indeed, to have been the scene of
executions. His body was interred in the family vault in Sta. Croce;
but the superstition of the people or the hatred of his opponents left
him as little rest there as in a grave in unconsecrated earth at the
town walls before the Porta della Giustizia, from which a crowd of boys
drew the half mouldering corpse and dragged it through the streets
with frightful jests in order to throw it into the Arno. As if he had
had an anticipation of his fate, the day before the execution of the
plot he put his property and business affairs in order, and satisfied
all those who had any claim on him. The whole family was ruined by
subsequent penal measures, which exceeded all bounds. Renato de’ Pazzi,
a quiet man devoted to study, and who had declined all share in it, was
punished by death because he had not disclosed the conspiracy. Some
others were executed or condemned to imprisonment in the fortress of
Volterra. Only Guglielmo, Lorenzo’s brother-in-law, escaped with an
exile that assigned to him a villa as a residence at a considerable
distance from Florence. We shall speak of the legal measures which
afflicted the family still further, later on.
The other partizans of the conspiracy fared no better.[232] Antonio
Maffei and Stefano da Bagnone had taken refuge in the Benedictine
abbey. For two days they were vainly sought for by crowds of people,
who when they discovered them, mutilated their noses and ears and
then killed them. The monks were preserved with difficulty from
ill-treatment. Giovan Batista da Montesecco was seized in flight on May
1. A long trial was begun of the man who was not groundlessly suspected
of knowing a good deal about the connections of the accomplices at
Rome. In this the judges were not deceived, for the revelations which
Batista made of the consultations of the Pazzi and the archbishop with
Pope Sixtus and Girolamo Riario, enable us to perceive the truth and
falsehood in the unmeasured accusations hurled against the Pope by the
Florentines, as they furnish the proper preface to the conspiracy as it
has been represented above. Had Pope Sixtus IV. played another part in
this story, and stooped to what was ascribed to him, Montesecco, who
must above all have sought to diminish his own guilt, would certainly
not have kept silence upon the subject. In spite of these revelations,
which bore the visible stamp of truth, which have been half taken
in their real sense and half arbitrarily construed, it has been the
fashion, even to the present day, to accuse the Pope of a share in
the guilt of the murder. That the evil effect of the revelations was
feared in Rome, is seen from a subsequent letter of the Florentine
ambassador, Pier Filippo Pandolfini, who advised their dissemination
in order to oppose the Roman accusations. On May 4, Montesecco was
beheaded in the court of the palace of the Podestà. Eighteen days later
Donato Acciaiuoli, Napoleone Orsini, and the Archbishop Rinaldo Orsini,
who had witnessed the bad effect produced in Rome by the trial and
execution, advised that Batista’s property should be restored to his
brother Leone, who was residing there.[233] Napoleone Franzesi fled
with the assistance of Piero Vespucci, who dearly paid for the aid he
afforded him. Bernardo Bandini, who had at first concealed himself in
the tower of the cathedral, reached Constantinople, was given up by
command of the Sultan, and in 1479 shared the fate of his accomplices
during Lorenzo’s absence. Antonio de’ Medici, a distant relation of
Cosimo’s line, had been sent to Constantinople to thank Mohammed II.,
and bring the prisoner home in chains. The deliverance of Bandini,
more, perhaps than any other circumstance, contributed to increase the
idea of Lorenzo’s greatness in the eyes of his fellow-citizens.
Lorenzo de’ Medici must have feared somewhat that his adherents would
go too far, rather than that they would do too little. The whole city
assisted him. Many who were, perhaps, disinclined in their hearts to
the family and their supremacy, showed themselves as their friends
when they knew how the wind blew. In the first moment a pole with a
decapitated head had been erected before the Medici’s house, partly
to serve as the signal for all to flock around one whose life had
been preserved in such a wonderful manner. A numerous crowd of people
soon filled the street, and all called for Lorenzo. Notwithstanding
his wound, he appeared, and was received with acclamations. In his
speech he first complained of the envy and hatred of those who,
instead of opposing him in open fight, attacked him unawares. His own
safety was nothing to him where it was a question of the dignity and
position of the State, for which he would be willing to give up his
position and submit to all. He was most sincerely grateful to those
who had protected and saved him; but the avenging interposition of the
people must now be restrained in order not to afford the enemies of
the Republic a pretext for complaints and attacks. Insurrections and
internal party-strife were bad, but some good results sprung therefrom.
When ill-intentioned citizens had the worst of it, secret evils were
disclosed; yet, in punishing and suppressing wrong-doing, they must not
exceed due measure, but reserve the fulness of their anger for foreign
foes who threatened the frontier. The words had their desired effect;
Lorenzo was famed for his moderation, while he might be certain that,
even without his aid, everything would happen which could promote his
aims.
When the wild justice of the crowd had sacrificed their victims,
and their passions had had time to calm in some degree, a decree of
the Signoria, May 23, promulgated by the Gonfaloniere Giacomo degli
Alessandri and the priors, disclosed the penal sentence against the
Pazzi.[234] The name and coat-of-arms of the family should cease to
exist; the localities distinguished by the former should be changed,
and the latter should be erased from all houses and churches; new names
and new insignia to be introduced into the register of the rebels, and
everyone punished who should even pronounce the old name. The property
of the family was confiscated. Whoever should marry into it should be
excluded from public offices. The old ceremony of the Colombina should
cease in respect to the family. Thus ran the sentence. Many of its
provisions were never carried out on account of their exaggeration, and
others only too well. The arms of the Pazzi—two dolphins in a field
covered with crosses—are still seen on many houses in the Borgo degli
Albizzi and elsewhere, which still partly belong to the family; the
name has remained with the beautiful chapel in the cloisters of Sta.
Croce; and the intersection of the streets at the Palazzo Quaratesi,
which once belonged to Messer Jacopo de’ Pazzi, is still popularly
termed the Palazzo della Congiura. But a considerable part of their
possessions fell into strange hands—this same palace, for instance,
and the villa of Montughi, which will be spoken of later.[235] Another
decree of the Signoria ordained, according to the custom in such cases,
that the sharers in the conspiracy should be painted on the wall of the
tower of the Podestà, as hanged men with their heads downwards.[236]
On the other hand, life-size statues of Lorenzo, with the head and
hands of wax, in his usual dress and strikingly resembling him, was
set up in SS. Annunziata and the convent church in Via San Gallo, as
well as in the Madonna degli Angeli below Assisi. Andrea del Verrocchio
furnished the drawing for the figures, which were executed by a clever
sculptor in wax called Orsini. The figure in Via San Gallo was attired
in the robes which Lorenzo had worn when he appeared in his wounded
state before the crowd.[237]
The solemn interment of Giuliano had taken place on the fourth day
following the deed in the church of San Lorenzo. His mortal remains
rest in the porphyry sarcophagus which had received those of his father
and uncle and were destined to contain his brother’s. The corpse showed
nineteen wounds. The grief at his loss was unfeigned, especially among
the young men, and many wore mourning. Giuliano de’ Medici left one
son, respecting whose birth and origin different reports have been
circulated. Many assert that he came into the world after his father’s
death. According to others, Antonio da San Gallo, the architect, is
said to have informed Lorenzo shortly afterwards that his brother had
a son, who was now about a year old, by a girl of a burgher family,
whose house was opposite his own in the Borgo Pinti. Lorenzo, so it
is said, repaired to the said house, and, listening to the entreaties
of the mother, took the child home with him and had him educated
with his own sons. When Giulio de’ Medici, which was the name of the
child, who afterwards became the head of the family, was raised by his
cousin Leo X. to the archbishopric of Florence, the Pope granted him a
dispensation for his lack of the legitimacy required by the canon. But
when, shortly afterwards, he received the red hat, witnesses appeared
who declared that his mother Fioretta, the daughter of one Antonio,
had been united to Giuliano by a marriage of conscience. In 1487
Lorenzo wrote a letter to the ambassadors in Rome, with the consent
of King Ferrante, to recommend the boy, then ten years old, for the
rich priorate of the knights of St. John in Capua, remarking that his
mother had been unmarried.[238] But in the time of Lorenzo de’ Medici
nothing else was known of Giulio de’ Medici than that he grew up with
his cousins a grave, well-educated boy. Later on, Florentine history
learned to know him only too well.
CHAPTER II.
ALLIANCES AND COUNTER ALLIANCES. PREPARATION FOR THE CONFLICT.
IN the speech which he addressed to the people after the murder of
his brother, Lorenzo alluded to the danger then threatening the
Republic from foreign enemies. His anxiety was only too well founded.
Girolamo Riario had taken measures to support the enterprise of the
conspirators. Giovan Francesco da Tolentino advancing with a band of
a thousand foot from the district of Imola, had already passed the
Florentine boundary, and Lorenzo Giustini had set out from Umbria with
an equal number of armed men. Lorenzo’s first thought was to cover the
passes of the Apennines, thus rendering any attack on that side very
difficult for the enemy, as the German freebooters experienced to their
misfortune about the middle of the fourteenth century. However, the
first news of the events in Florence sufficed to induce the intruders
to retreat. But Lorenzo was not at ease. The revelations of Montesecco
had fully explained to him Riario’s fierce hatred and the Pope’s
dangerous indulgence towards his nephews. It was necessary to prevent
future plots, either by reconciling opponents or by rendering them
harmless, and to gain friends abroad Lorenzo spared no labour. The
city was provisioned, the guards at the gates were strengthened, and a
sharp eye was kept on all who passed in and out. A band of armed men
whom Giovanni Bentivoglio caused to advance as far as the Mugello, for
the protection of Florence, secured the Apennine side from a sudden
attack. Lorenzo took care to win over those who belonged to families
involved in the plot, and who were in continual dread of discovery.
He calmed and assured by friendly advances Averardo Salviati, a near
relation of the archbishop, who kept hidden from fear.
His chief cause of anxiety was Sixtus IV. A cardinal was in the palace
of the Signoria deprived of his freedom. An archbishop had been
shamefully killed without a trial, and several ecclesiastics had lost
their lives.
When the news arrived in Rome Donato Acciaiuoli was there as ambassador
of the Republic.[239] It was the second time that he had represented
his native city under Sixtus IV., and his caution and shrewdness seem
to have succeeded in restoring a tolerable feeling between the two
neighbours when this new complication arose and threatened a dangerous
crisis. Acciaiuoli, to whom Riario’s plans had remained a secret,
saw the danger immediately, but he was not prepared for the violence
to which the Pope’s nephew resorted. When the latter heard what had
happened he flew into a great rage. Exasperated at the ill-success of
his enterprise, and the insult done to his family, he urged the Pope
and the Sacred College to violent measures. He then hastened, with
a company of 300 mercenaries, with halberds on their shoulders, to
Acciaiuoli’s lodging, and summoned him to follow him. Donato answered
that he was much surprised at a demand which insulted both himself
and the Republic he represented, which was contrary to all custom,
and the respect befitting foreign ambassadors, so that he could not
believe that it had happened with the knowledge of the Pope and the
College of Cardinals. He, the count, might go wheresoever he pleased:
the Signoria would know how they ought to avenge a slight shown to
them in the person of their ambassador. Girolamo Riario in his rage
scarcely deigned an answer, so that Acciaiuoli, to guard against
worse violence, commissioned his chancellor to bring the ciphers and
important papers in safety, and instantly to inform those at home
of the occurrence; after which he prepared to leave. Surrounded by
armed men, he reached the Vatican, where he demanded an interview
with the Pope. Before the Holy Father he complained bitterly of the
undignified proceeding, and then turned to Riario: ‘Count,’ he said,
‘I am astonished at the insolent daring with which you came armed to
my residence, the residence of the Florentine ambassador, and led me
like a criminal through the city to the palace. I declare to you that
the insult done me is so great that the Republic will not rest till
you have been brought to reason.’ Hereupon he represented to the Pope
that His Holiness had done wrong in allowing such a thing, contrary
to all custom and the respect due to all foreign ambassadors. Sixtus
protested with an oath it had happened without his knowledge, and that
he regretted the event, upon which he dismissed Donato to his lodging
in the city.
The latter was so affected at the insult to himself, the slight cast
upon his native city, and the prospect of irremediable evils, that
he fell into a dangerous illness, from which he never recovered. He
immediately wrote to Florence an account of what had happened, and
urged most pressingly that the cardinal should be set at liberty
without delay. The Signoria had announced to the Pope that he had been
brought to a safe place to protect him from the popular fury, and was
now at the disposal of his Holiness. The ambassador confirmed this
statement, and urged his government to fulfil it, if they did not
intend to plunge him into still greater difficulties. King Ferrante
commissioned his ambassador to the Republic to act in a like manner.
But in Florence they seem to have listened to other counsels from Rome
than these commendable suggestions, and only increased the seriousness
of the situation. The execution of Montesecco, and the disturbance
made about his revelations, irritated the Pope and Girolamo as much
as the imprisonment of the Cardinal. The demand of the former, that
Lorenzo should be banished and complete satisfaction given for all that
had taken place, a demand which seems to have been supported by King
Ferrante, added fuel to the flames in Florence. It is said that the
Pope intended to put Acciaiuoli in the castle of St. Angelo, and the
reason it was not done was that the Venetian and Milanese ambassadors
declared they would share the fate of their colleagues. Certain it
is, that the Florentine feared to leave his house, and as matters
grew daily worse he soon begged permission to quit a post in which he
could no longer work for the good of his native place. But it was only
towards the end of June that he reached Florence, seriously ill.
What had been threatened against the ambassador actually happened to
the other Florentines in Rome. Many of the merchants and bankers were
taken to the Castle and had their property confiscated in order to
prevent them leaving the city with it, according to a summons which
they had received from home. A migration like that would have excited
public attention and brought serious loss to many persons of the Pope’s
court, who had deposited considerable sums in their banks. Scarcely,
however, had they been shut up when the matter was reconsidered, and
the prisoners set at liberty again, on their promising not to leave
Rome. Thus four weeks slipped by without either party arriving at
a decision, one way or the other, while they naturally irritated
each other more and more. On May 24 the bishop of Perugia was sent
to Florence to fetch the cardinal and accompany him to Rome, and he
delivered a letter addressed to Lorenzo by the Cardinal Camerlengo
Guillaume d’Estouteville, Archbishop of Rouen, who knew Florence
and the Medici well, since Cosimo’s time, and had gone in person to
Castle Sant’Angelo to effect the liberation of the prisoners. The
letter announced that the Pope and College of Cardinals had determined
to proceed to measures against the Republic if the cardinal of San
Giorgio (Riario) were not immediately set at liberty, and a commission
consisting of five cardinals had already been appointed to commence
legal proceedings. Lorenzo might thus, in order to avoid anger and
injury, use his influence to a conciliatory purpose. The imprisonment
and liberation of the Florentine merchants were explained by the
circumstance mentioned above, and would, it was said, give the Republic
no cause to complain.[240]
In Florence they were by no means inclined to push matters to extremes,
because the Venetian Signoria, when asked for advice respecting the
cardinal, gave it as their opinion, on May 22, that his captivity
not only served no purpose, but afforded the enemies of the Republic
ground for accusation, and that it would be most rational to announce
at Rome that from respect to His Holiness and the Sacred College,
they had protected the cardinal from popular fury, and would leave
him entire personal freedom.[241] Ample time had been afforded them
to convince themselves of the innocence of young Riario. On June 5 he
quitted the palace and repaired first to the Servite cloister by S.
Annunziata, from whence he addressed to the Pope, on the 10th of the
same month, the following letter which may have been dictated to him,
but which did not describe the situation of affairs incorrectly. ‘A
few days ago I informed your Holiness that perfect freedom over my
movements had been granted me. Besides this, I said how much I was
obliged to the Government here, and especially to Lorenzo de’ Medici
for their great kindness to me. Finally, I begged your Holiness to
grant the Florentines some favour in return for the benefits shown
me in your name. My hope has, however, been bitterly disappointed on
learning that Lorenzo and the Florentine people have been laid under
an interdict; and I, unhappy man that I am, expected and wished that
good might befall them, whereas the contrary has happened. But I cannot
say, Holy Father, how much it grieves me that my requests have so
little weight with your Holiness, and that I should appear ungrateful
towards those to whom I owe so much, and it seems to me not fitting
I should leave this city before such a sentence should be reprieved.
Were the attachment of this people to the Medici fully known to your
Holiness, you would not hate them as you do. As I rejoiced when your
Holiness granted me the cardinal’s dignity, just so and even more will
I rejoice if I hear that these men, who have deserved so much from us,
have received grace for my sake. I shall then believe that I am in
favour with your Holiness when this senate, and Lorenzo above all, have
a share in your favour. From the cloister of S. Annunziata, June 10,
1478.’[242]
On June 12 Riario set out on his journey to Siena. A Sienese chronicler
relates that the cardinal reached the city June 13th, and alighted at
the house of Messer Tommé, bishop of Pienza, more dead than alive from
the terror he had undergone, which was still so bewildering in its
effect that he thought he felt the rope round his neck.[243] The scene
of which he had been an involuntary spectator, and the danger which he
had incurred of being seized by the furious crowd, had made the deepest
impression on him. If it is true, as some say, that he never recovered
his natural spirits, his whole later life proves at least that his
frivolous disposition suffered no change; for forty years he lived in a
turmoil of gaiety, splendour, and luxury, occupied with the execution
of works of art, and sharing in amusements and intrigues which, towards
the end of his worldly career, involved him in a far worse complication
than did the conspiracy of the Pazzi.
Four days before Riario’s liberation on June 1st, Sixtus IV. had
published the bull of excommunication against Lorenzo de’ Medici
who, according, to the usual style of such documents, was termed
‘iniquitatis filius et perditionis alumnus.’ His adherents and
the members of the government were included. The bull begins with
the enumeration of the old differences existing between the Pope
and Florence, the protection afforded to Niccolò Vitelli, Carlo
Fortebraccio, Deifebo dell’Anguillara, the attacks on the Papal
territory in the valley of the Tiber, the hindrance to those journeying
to Rome, whether they came to the city by land or by water, and
the refusal to allow Francesco Salviati to take possession of his
archiepiscopal chair. It then passed on to mention recent events, the
murder of the archbishop and other priests, and the imprisonment of the
cardinal on account of civil and family feuds, which had arisen because
the Medici and their party had seized all power for themselves and had
exercised it to the prejudice of others with severity and despotism.
On these grounds the ban of the church was pronounced against Lorenzo,
the priors, the Gonfaloniere, and other magistrates, and everyone who
should afford them assistance, or had done so, as against traitors
and desecrators of the Church. They were declared to be deprived
of all possessions, all honours and offices, and the capability of
bequeathing to their heirs. All their male descendants were included in
this sentence. If Florence did not deliver up Lorenzo and his fellow
culprits within a month, she should be deprived of her archbishopric,
and with her entire territory, and those of Fiesole and Pistoja, be
placed under an interdict.[244] It is a singular fact that, even after
the publication of the bull, Cardinal d’Estouteville wrote to Lorenzo
to acquaint him with the Papal grants of tithes in the territory of the
Republic.[245]
Thus war was declared. On both sides it was necessary to collect forces
and gain allies.
The history of the events of the last years has shown how intimate
the connection of King Ferrante and his family was with the Medici.
Outwardly this connection was still existing when the strife between
Florence and the Pope began. In November 1477, the Duke of Calabria,
when he wrote to Lorenzo, styled him ‘my dear and most beloved;’ the
Neapolitan ambassador, Marino Tomacelli, had the best position in
Florence; the king sent horses and falcons to Medici, and entrusted
Giovan Batista Coppola, on March 23, 1478, with a mission, the aim
of which is unknown. A letter of April 30 of the same year, four
days, therefore, before the terrible event, begins with the words:
‘Illustrious lord, dearest friend and gossip.’ But there was no lack
of grounds for displeasure and disunion. Ferrante, who was as shrewd
as he was ambitious, soon discovered that Lorenzo stood in the way of
his endeavour to attain the preponderating influence in Italy, and if
he had earlier sought to use the position of the Medici for his own
purposes he easily offered his aid to overthrow them when he found
them to be no mere tools of his. There is no record that he knew of
Riario’s plans; but we know from Sixtus’s own words that he not only
agreed to the enraged Pope’s proposal to proceed against Florence, but
fomented his hatred of her. Causes easily to be understood contributed
to render a change in Florence desirable to the king. Whether the
supposition be true or not, that Ferrante had once projected a marriage
between his second son and the duchess dowager of Milan, but that the
plan was frustrated by Lorenzo, cannot be decided. But other facts
are undoubted. It was the ancient policy of the rulers of Naples to
employ the Sienese against their neighbours. Even King Manfred had
pursued this. Ferrante, and still more his son Alfonso, cherished the
secret hope of gaining firm footing in Siena, which wavered like a
reed in every wind, and thus keeping Florence in check. By her very
dubious conduct in the predatory attack of Fortebraccio, of whom it
was supposed that, had he succeeded in getting possession of Siena, he
would have delivered it to the Florentines, the latter had played their
enemies’ game. We shall see how it was by the merest chance that the
plans of the Aragonese were not realised.
The result of such mistakes was that the connection between the Sienese
and the King and the Pope became closer, and the confirmation of the
alliance between them had been published in Siena on February 8, giving
general satisfaction. It may be easily understood that Ferrante made
use of these circumstances, and after the Duke of Calabria had arrived
at Rome on May 12 to consult with the Pope and his captains respecting
military measures, the valley of the Chiana was chosen as the basis of
the operations which should receive support from Umbria. The Duke of
Urbino, as captain-general of the church, undertook the chief command
in conjunction with the Neapolitan prince. Not only the military skill
of Federigo di Montefeltro, but the affairs of Romagna, rendered his
accession important.
We have already pointed out the disturbed state of this province, and
the different interests which prevailed among its dynasties. Several
of these remained faithful for a long time on the side of Florence,
others only waited for an opportunity of declaring themselves for the
Republic. Sixtus IV. fully perceived how serious was the position of
affairs. Bologna especially inspired him with anxiety, on account of
the friendship of the Bentivogli with the Medici, so that he sent
thither the legate of the city, the Cardinal of Mantua, as Francesco
Gonzaga was commonly called, in order to win and preserve them in
fealty to the Holy See. The instructions that he gave him plainly
betrayed his anxiety as well as his consciousness of the bad impression
which the events at Florence had produced. After he had spoken of
his duty to watch over the whole State, and especially over a city
which was the first and most illustrious after Rome, and exhorted its
inhabitants not to waver in their fidelity nor allow a passage to
hostile troops which might be intended to attack the Papal army, but
to abstain from all communications with the Florentines, he continues
thus: ‘That on the first news of the Florentine disturbances our
Bolognese assisted their neighbours, has not been taken amiss by
us, nor blamed, but we have regarded it as an act of sympathy, as
they had as yet done nothing against the dignity of the Church, and
we, too, lamented the first occurrence, to which we testified in a
letter to the Florentines. But as the latter subsequently showed
such unworthy slights and insults to the ecclesiastical order, every
honourable ground has been removed for the Bolognese assisting a
people obstinately offending the dignity of the Holy Roman Church,
and rightly condemned by her on account of public crimes; for aid to
them would be rather a personal insult to us.’ If any projects for aid
were in progress the legate was first to exhort paternally, and if
this did not avail, to excommunicate the offenders, and, in the last
extremity, to lay the city under an interdict and shake the dust from
their feet. In like manner he was to proceed with Giovanni Bentivoglio,
who, as he took a privileged position in the city with Papal consent,
was especially bound to the Holy See as feudatory and vassal. But the
Pope hoped that the inhabitants would show themselves good and loyal
sons.[246]
If Sixtus IV. found allies, his opponents did not lack them either. In
the foremost ranks were Venice and Milan. The Republic had already, on
April 28, despatched a letter of condolence to Florence,[247] at the
same time announcing that they had immediately resolved upon decisive
measures if necessary, in concert with the ambassadors from Milan and
Ferrara. Giovanni Emo arrived in Florence with the commission, to
confirm these friendly intentions and inform himself of the position
of affairs. Serious representations were made in Rome, first in
order to hinder the Pope from giving free course to his rage against
the Florentines; and, secondly, in order to persuade him to retract
the bull. When both failed, the Republic assumed a decided tone of
command. ‘Because his Holiness,’ so she wrote to her ambassador, ‘on
the urging of others, and to satisfy their unjust demands, attacks the
Florentines with spiritual and temporal weapons, we wish that the Holy
Father should know that we, of one accord with them, and the state of
Milan, will defend the possessions, honour, and dignity of our ally in
spiritual and temporal things. The Holy Father must not flatter himself
he can conceal the purpose of his evil thoughts by asserting that he
does not fight against Florence only, but against Lorenzo personally,
for we all know perfectly well that this attack is not only upon
Lorenzo, who is entirely innocent of the false accusations heaped upon
him, but the present form of government in Florence, which they wish to
overthrow, and change according to their will, with the whole of Italy.
We wish, also, that the Holy Father should be assured henceforth that
if he does not recall the ban, and refrain from warlike preparations,
but continues his attack, we three will recall our ambassadors, and
take such measures that he shall soon perceive that we have said the
truth respecting our intentions, and that whoever causes him to take
hostile steps deceives him in order to make him the instrument of views
which are in themselves shameful and dangerous to the States of the
Church, and especially to his Holiness.’[248] That the duchess-regent
of Milan, guided by Simonetta, in whom the tradition of Francesco
Sforza’s policy lived, acted in concert with Venice, is proved by this
declaration. On the side of Savoy there was as little to fear as from
Ferrara, for although the duke was son-in-law of the King of Naples, he
was yet entirely powerless in the presence of his neighbour, even if he
had intended to obey Ferrante. Thus it stood with Upper Italy. Abroad
the Florentines could likewise count on allies; the most important of
whom, if not in reference to actual assistance, yet on account of his
position, was the French king.
We have remarked before upon the intimate connections of Louis XI.
with Florence and the Medici. But it was not only the wish to preserve
connections which were beneficial to his country which induced the
king to take the side of the Republic. The strange mixture of bigotry
and gross superstition with extreme contempt for the persons connected
with the Church, even her highest dignitaries, which certainly never
existed in such a degree as with this prince, are here revealed. The
man who had faith in amulets and portable altars, who, as the Bishop
de Seyssel informs us in his panegyric, knelt from time to time before
lead and tin figures of the Madonna fastened to the brim of his hat,
so that the people thought him mad, allowed the disputes of his clergy
to grow to a schism when he found them opposed to his projects, or
thought them connected with the attempts at conspiracy by which he
constantly believed himself threatened. Wherever his authority was
questioned, he regarded the Pope and clergy as hostile powers, and
their conduct unfortunately often added strength to such views. When he
confined the Cardinal La Balue in an iron cage, which still may be seen
in the castle of Loches in Touraine, the latter had deserved severer
punishment for his dishonourable treason. Just at this time many
reasons combined to irritate him, and the accusations hurled against
him in the sermons preached at Paris by the Franciscan Antoine Fradin,
which found their echo in popular tumults, did not help to pacify him.
Louis XI.’s relation to Pope Sixtus IV. had always been uncertain.
The king had, from the beginning of his reign, held out the Pragmatic
Sanction and the Council as a bait and a terror. He had not even always
observed outward respect; anger and sorrow at the slighting treatment
shown to him during his French legation, had shortened Cardinal
Bessarion’s life. He was on the verge of open hostility when the Pope
appointed Giuliano della Rovere legate of Avignon, which dignity was
filled by Charles de Bourbon. The king accused the new legate of
being implicated in Réné of Anjou’s plans, who, at variance with Louis
XI., hoped to obtain the county of Provence for the Duke of Burgundy.
After appointing his only remaining nephew, Charles, Count of Maine,
as his heir, the old king entered into an agreement of the kind with
Charles the Bold in 1474, who by this means, and the reviving of the
superannuated royal title of Arelat, hoped to attain the dignity, for
the grant of which he had vainly negotiated with the Emperor Frederick
III. Louis XI. had formerly garrisoned the province of Anjou, and taken
the precautions necessary to hold both Charles and Réné in check.
Towards the end of the winter of 1476 the terrible defeat of Charles at
Granson left the hands of Louis free, and he immediately commenced a
trial against Réné in Parliament for high treason, and forced him and
the other branches of the house of Anjou at Lyons to cede all rights
and claims to him. Réné, who was then sixty-eight years old, still
retained the government of his States, but the king took precautions
against future vagaries by fortifying and by gaining over to his
side the principal councillors of his wavering and incapable cousin,
precautions which future events proved useless.
The influence on the destinies of Italy of this transferring of the
claims on Naples from a weak collateral line to the royal house of
France, need not be indicated here. In order to punish the Holy See for
the share ascribed to her legates, the king had an idea of garrisoning
Franche Comtois, Venaissin and Anjou, and he refrained only because
Charles the Bold, who had speedily collected his army, threatened to
advance into Provence in case the Pope were annoyed in his French
possessions.
It was his relationship with the Duke of Burgundy which so violently
excited Louis XI. against Sixtus IV.’s ally, the king of Naples, and
this was the foundation of French policy towards the Aragonese. It has
been observed already that King Ferrante declined Louis’s proposals of
a family alliance, out of regard for his connections with Spain and
Burgundy. He held firmly to his alliance with the latter, even when,
after the battle at Granson, Milan and Savoy turned aside from the
vanquished party and joined the king. In the autumn of 1474 Ferrante
had sent his younger son Federigo to the duke to deliver to him the
order of the Ermine, and the prince had married a daughter of the duke
of Bourbon, Charles the Bold’s adherent, and had only returned home two
years later. Among his companions was the same Cola di Campobasso, who
remained in the duke’s service, and exercised, by his shameful treason,
only too great an influence on his tragical fate.[249] In April 1475
the Bastard of Burgundy, Antony, brother of the Duke, was in Naples,
where he lived in the house of Diomed Carafa, and was most honourably
treated by the King.[250] Charles the Bold’s death, in the battle near
Nancy, January 5, 1477—an event which made Louis XI. entirely master
of France, although it did not diminish the discontent excited by his
covetousness, cunning, and cruelty—was a heavy blow for Ferrante’s
entire policy, and later forced him into compliance when affairs in
Italy also took a turn not in accordance with his expectations.
From Arras, which the king had taken May 4, 1478, in war against Mary
of Burgundy, Charles’s daughter, by means of a capitulation which
seemed concluded only to be broken, Louis XI. addressed a letter to the
Florentines, May 12, in which he expressed his sorrow and indignation
at what had occurred, and announced the arrival of an ambassador: ‘Our
regret is as great as if the matter had concerned ourselves, and our
honour is as much insulted as your own, the Medici being our relations,
friends, and allies. We hold the attempt against you, and the murder of
our cousin Giuliano, as equal to an attempt against ourselves, and we
consider the Pazzi as guilty of high treason. On no account do we wish
that their crime go unpunished, but desire with all our heart that a
chastisement may be inflicted which shall serve as an example for ever.
Thus we have determined to send our beloved and faithful chamberlain
to your Excellencies, the Lord of Argenton, seneschal of our province
of Poitou, at present one of the men who has our complete confidence,
in order to make known our intentions to you. He will inform you of
various things concerning these matters.’[251]
It was no unimportant man whom the king sent to Italy. Philippe de
Commines delineates in his memoirs an ambassador as ‘a complaisant
man, who takes liberties with things and words in order to attain his
end.’ It was he who wrote thus, whom Louis XI. selected. During the
days of Peronne, when the king had voluntarily put himself in the power
of his mighty opponent, Charles the Bold, he recognised Commines’
acuteness and knew his obligations to him, so that when the duke in
his inconsiderate haste was plunging himself into destruction, the
king employed every means in his power to gain over this most capable
councillor. The youthful companion and confidant of Charles went
over to the enemy’s camp in 1472, and his new master so overwhelmed
him with honours and gain that the motives of his change of party
and faithlessness now seem even worse than they perhaps really were,
however unfavourable certain expressions attributed to him on other
occasions may appear. When the Duke of Burgundy at last met before
Nancy, the death he had challenged so often, the king dreaded to employ
Commines to execute his plans against Flanders; he employed him first
in Burgundy itself, and then entrusted him with the Italian embassy.
Florentine affairs formed only a part of his mission. A question arose
concerning the intentions of Sixtus IV. and his predominating influence
in Central Italy, limiting the ambition of the Aragonese who promoted
these views for the time, and thus forced Florence, as well as Savoy
and Milan, to adhere closer to the French interest.
In the middle of June the lord of Argenton—Commines bore this title
after his marriage with Hélène de Jambes, heiress of Ortes—arrived at
Turin. The duchess of Savoy, Jolante, widow of Amadeus IX., regent for
her son Philibert I., was the King’s sister, and he had always managed
to make use of the relationship more in the French interest than in
that of the little neighbour state. He must have repented frustrating
Philibert’s marriage with Mary of Burgundy when the archduke Max
obtained her hand. He promoted the betrothal of the latter with Bianca
Sforza, who was destined in later years to become the consort of the
Emperor. Commines was to negotiate this affair in Milan with Bianca’s
mother, Bona of Savoy. He repaired thither after two days’ halt in
Turin. The promise of the renewal of the investiture of Genoa and
Savona, in favour of Giovan Galeazzo Sforza, was to ally the regent
of Milan more closely to France, and confirm the common alliance with
Florence. The Italians soon observed, however, how the matter stood
respecting the king’s intentions towards the Holy See, even before
Commines expressed himself on the subject to Bona of Savoy. On June
16, during Commines’ residence in Turin, Antonio d’Appiano, Milanese
ambassador at the court of Guglielmo Paleologus, marquis of Montferrat,
wrote from Casale to the duchess, ‘The marquis imparted to me to-day
that the French king has long been labouring to produce a schism in the
church. What has occurred in Florence seems to afford him a suitable
means to this end; on which account he sends the lord of Argenton to
the duchess of Savoy, to your Excellence, and to Florence. To Venice
he will not go, because the king is certain that, in respect to the
alliance entered into, a simple letter will suffice to persuade the
Republic to comply. The purpose is to complain of the Pope, because,
instead of protecting Christendom against the Turks, he thinks of
nothing but elevating and enriching his relations, by suffering all
wickedness and treasons, and allowing them to be carried out without
hindrance, as is the case in Florence. For this reason he wishes that
the Duchess of Savoy, your Excellency, and the Venetians may let
none pass to Rome from beyond the mountains. Without taking up arms
against the Pope, he wishes thus to awake in him bitter repentance
for his errors, and to proceed gradually, day by day, according to
circumstances and information and careful calculation.’ It was said the
Bishop of Clermont was to go to Rome to make representations to the
Pope and to threaten Riario personally.[252]
On June 22 Commines left Milan with a suite of twenty-five horsemen.
‘The lord of Argenton,’ thus wrote the duchess to her ambassador in
Rome, ‘leaves us to-day for Florence. He is commissioned to persuade
all the powers to withdraw from their obedience to the Pope, the king
of France deeming it necessary for the weal of Christendom to assemble
a general council as soon as a disposition favourable to it evinces
itself. His Majesty will immediately summon one in the kingdom.’ Three
days before, Lorenzo de’ Medici had thanked the king for his sympathy,
and given him information of the excommunication proclaimed against him
and the strife in prospect. ‘God is my witness that I am conscious of
having done nothing against the Pope but that I live, that I did not
allow myself to be killed, that grace from above protected me. This is
my sin; this my crime for which I deserve destruction and exclusion
from the Church. But we have the canon laws, we have natural and
political justice, we have truth and innocence, and we have God and
man.’[253]
The lord of Argenton, who had obtained auxiliary troops as well from
Savoy as from Milan, was received at Florence with open arms. ‘We went
to meet him,’ wrote the Milanese ambassadors,[254] ‘with the deputies
of the league and many citizens, with the Lord Lorenzo, Lorenzino his
cousin, and a troop of armed men for his guard.’ Commines found the
city in the midst of preparations for war. He offered the assistance of
the king against the Pope’s measures, both spiritual and military. In
his memoirs he does not say much of this embassy. ‘The favour of the
king was useful to them in some measure, but not so much as I could
have wished. I could offer them no army, and had nothing excepting my
suite.’[255] Of his journey to Rome and the affairs there, he says not
a word. That they were not without fear in high ecclesiastical circles
is shown by a letter addressed to the Pope by the Cardinal of Pavia
on July 16, from San Lorenzo alle Grotte on the Lake of Bolsena, in
which he speaks of the opposition extending within and without Italy,
and gives the advice to gain time till the cardinals were again more
numerously assembled in Rome. ‘Certain intelligence has reached me
that the French king is sending an ambassador to us, a man of high
standing in France, who has received peremptory instructions. If
the ban against the Florentines be not removed, if the sharers and
accomplices in the murder of Giuliano de’ Medici be not punished, and
if peace be not restored, the king will have no scruple in pronouncing
the withdrawal of obedience, and appealing to the council.’ When the
cardinal wrote thus, Commines must have been long in Rome, as he passed
through Perugia on July 9, accompanied by the Florentine ambassador
Guid’Antonio Vespucci. Of the negotiation with the Pope nothing is
known. That Sixtus IV. did not allow himself to be frightened by the
king’s threats is shown by the fact that the war began at once. That
the circumstances of the Papal States made no unfavourable impression
on the ambassador is proved by his remark that the Popes were prudent
and well-advised, and the inhabitants of the States would be the
happiest people in the world but for the quarrels of the Colonna and
the Orsini, for they paid no taxes nor any impositions worthy of
consideration. After a few days, Philippe de Commines was again in
Florence without having accomplished anything. We shall speak of his
later activity further on.
CHAPTER III.
THE CAMPAIGN OF 1478.
WHEN the Florentines saw that war was inevitable, they appointed,
on June 13, the magistracy usual in such cases, the Ten of War,
among whom, beside Lorenzo de’ Medici, were Tommaso Soderini, Luigi
Guicciardini, Bongianni Gianfigliazzi, &c. At first the opinion
prevailed that it would be advisable not only to put the frontier
in a state of defence on the side of Siena and Umbria, but to make
a dangerous diversion for the enemy by an attack on Imola, the city
and territory of Girolamo, a plan, however, which they were compelled
to abandon by the swift and powerful inroad of the enemy in the
Chiana valley. They were not prepared for war, and had to provide for
everything in a hurry, and were thus unable to gain an advantage over
the enemy. It was to Lombardy that they turned for leaders and men,
and also for horses and all materials for war. Among the captains
chosen was Niccolo Orsini, Count of Pitigliano, who in later years
made himself a name in the service of the Republic of Venice, which
he retained even after the defeat at the battle of Ghiaradadda in the
war of the League of Cambray; Rodolfo Gonzaga, brother of Federigo,
Marquis of Mantua, with two of his sons; and several others. Venice
and Milan sent auxiliaries, the former under Galeotto Pico, lord of
Mirandola; those of Milan under Gian Jacopo Trivulzio, who, then
thirty-seven years old, was destined to become a celebrated leader
in the transformation of Italian tactics, Alberto Visconti, and
Giovanni Conti. The assistance of Milan was far less than had been
hoped for in Florence, owing to her own need. King Ferrante managed
to make a formidable diversion for the duchess-regent. Even before
the present complication began, he seems to have been gained over by
Sforza Maria, Duke of Bari, who had been in Naples since the November
of the preceding year, while the Duchess of Calabria took part with
her brothers against her sister-in-law, so that when the war against
Florence began, the king, with the aid of the exiles, attempted a new
enterprise, which we shall soon describe more fully, against Genoa,
the weakest point of the territory of Sforza. An enterprise so well
begun must have been the cause of very great anxiety and fear to the
regent, and made the Florentines tremble for their frontier on the side
of Liguria, where Sarzana might be exposed to an attack; and to be
prepared for this the Marchesi Gabriello and Leonardo Malaspina were
sent thither with a squadron of soldiers.
One other means was tried to withdraw the Milanese regent from the
Florentine-Venetian alliance. The Duke of Urbino endeavoured to
effect a change of opinion and bring about an alliance with Naples.
In a long letter addressed from Gubbio to his agent in Milan, Ser
Matteo,[256] he commissioned him to labour for this end with Cecco
Simonetta and Gian Jacopo Trivulzio. He was to represent to them that
Venice was the natural enemy of Milan, from whom danger was always
threatening, and that Lorenzo was a most untrustworthy ally. ‘It cannot
please me in the least that Milan relies upon her own strength or the
friendship of Lorenzo de’ Medici. For in herself she is not secure,
but endangered, and we cannot at all depend on Lorenzo’s friendship.
We have always seen, and still see plainly, that he neither desires
the peace nor safety of that State. Had he ever wished it, or did he
care for it now, he would not have chosen Messer Tommaso Soderini as
ambassador immediately on the death of Duke Galeazzo, for the former
is a thorough Venetian and more inclined to the Signory of Venice than
any one in the council. Lorenzo would not by means of this man have
urged so strongly the renewal of the bond between Venice, Milan, and
Florence, adding the declaration that the latter state would always
go hand in hand with Venice, and objecting to an agreement with the
king’s majesty. He would not twice have hindered my appearing in
Milan when he was certain that nothing was so dear to my heart as
the honour and advantage of that state. He would not have constantly
formed plots against the Milanese government with the brothers of the
deceased duke and Lord Robert (Sanseverino). He would not have taken
the trouble to lull the suspicions of the king, who desired the renewal
of the alliance with Milan and Florence, or pretended that it was not
the fitting time at present, and that it would be better to wait and
see how matters would arrange themselves at Milan. He would not have
behaved as he did lately in reference to Lord Robert, by undertaking
his defence in Florence, accusing Messer Cecco, seeking to gain the
commander over to Florentine pay, and when this failed, recommending
him to the Venetians with the same intention (Messer Cecco may be
certain of it), so that he may guide affairs there according to his
will, as long as men remain in dread of the Turks. Had he known how
lovingly the Pope behaved to the serene Duke and Duchess of Milan, he
would not have acted towards his Holiness in the manner he did. For he
has often stirred up the count (Fortebraccio) against Perugia, and then
irritated him against the Sienese, without considering how dangerous
it is for that state (Milan) to enkindle war in Italy, especially by
an old opponent of the house of Sforza, like Count Carlo, whom he
has in a certain way restored from death to life. He would, on the
contrary, have preferred the friendship of the king before every other
friendship, not only because it is more sincere, but also on account
of his relationship and greater power. If Messer Gian Jacopo says
that he suspects Lorenzo of sinning against the Holy Ghost, I am of
the same opinion, and think that he doubts God’s mercy. As he has most
indecorously insulted the king and me, who am, indeed, nothing but a
poor nobleman, he will never again trust the former, and has therefore
thrown himself into the arms of the Venetians.’ The letter finishes
with the proposal that Milan should conclude a secret compact with the
king (of Naples) in order to assure himself of his assistance in case
of need. The king’s interests were identical with those of the house of
Sforza, the rivals of Venice. Only by being in league with Naples could
they oppose Florentine machinations with decisive effect. ‘The safest
way seems to me not to wait till things have taken a turn that may
allow of no alternative. I have repeatedly remarked to Duke Galeazzo
that the state of Milan is so composed that with the first buffet
of fortune, whether coming from Lodi, or Cremona, or Ghiaradadda or
elsewhere, his power may be said to come to an end.’
Feltriers, who knew Tuscan affairs as well as those of his own little
country, and who was by no means a man given to violent impulses,
explains in a letter the frame of mind which Lorenzo’s policy had
produced in King Ferrante and Sixtus IV. even before the late events.
The principal matter, Medici’s behaviour and feeling towards Milan, may
have been falsely represented. Some facts may have been imagined—and
even a certain amount of justification is not to be denied to some of
the accusations—and who knows if, as the duke suggests, Lorenzo was
not conscious of it himself. However, the letter produced no result,
for the insufficient number of troops which came from Milan arose, as
we have said, from other causes. Even the preparations of Florence were
insufficient. In order to cover the expenses, the Ten levied taxes and
borrowed money from the banks, without, however, obtaining what they
required. The clergy were exhorted to a contribution of 50,000 gold
florins, at which the monasteries broke forth into endless complaints.
On the enemy’s side they were ready first, and the promptness with
which Siena promoted the designs of the Duke of Calabria, as well
as the docility of the Perugians, who, at the Pope’s command,[257]
dissolved the compact concluded with Florence, afforded the opponents
a great advantage. Alfonso of Calabria led twenty-five squadrons,
and five hundred select mercenaries (Provvisionati); Federigo of
Montefeltro twenty squadrons of heavy cavalry, each consisting of
twenty men-at-arms and forty archers, with the attendants mounted on
auxiliary horses. The attack was expected in the Val di Chiana.
This valley is an inland province of Tuscany, stretching from north
to south, its length, from the southern slopes of the Casentino above
Arezzo, to the southern end of the Lake of Chiusi, some forty miles,
and its greatest breadth between the suburbs of Cortona and the Poggia
di Sta. Cecilia, where a chain of hills descends along the Sienese
valley of Ombrone, about five-and-twenty miles. The Arno, coming from
the Casentino, touches the north-western end of this valley, where,
instead of pursuing a southward course seemingly prescribed by the
nature of the ground, it ‘contemptuously turns its back,’ according
to the poet’s expression,[258] on the town of Arezzo, and by a sharp
turn, created possibly in old times by an artificial cutting, takes a
direction almost parallel to its earlier one and flows towards Florence
in the north-westerly direction. At a small distance west of Arezzo it
unites with the principal Tuscan branch of the river, which gives its
name to the valley watered by it along its whole length, the Chiana or
Clanis of the ancients, the original form of which is still an unsolved
riddle, for it presents the singular appearance of its course and falls
being divided between two larger streams, the Tiber and the Arno, to
both of which it bears its waters, the drainage of the flat valley
being now facilitated by hydraulic works. It is these works which have
entirely altered the appearance of this valley in the present time,
and created a flourishing fertile land where, throughout the Middle
Ages, the miasma prevailed so terribly that the poet was reminded of
its misery in his wanderings through the place of punishment for the
makers of discord.[259] When we view the wide plain from the loftily
situated Cortona, the horizon of which is bounded by a chain of hills,
above which on the south rise the volcanic peak of Radicofani and the
immense trachyte mass of Montamiata, a splendidly green and excellently
cultivated fertile land lies before us. There are numerous hamlets
mostly elevated on the western hills, at the southern end, where
two small lakes seem to announce the neighbourhood of the greater
Trasimene—Chiusi, Chianciano, Montepulciano, Torrita, Asinalunga,
Fojano, Lucignano, Marciano, Monte San Savino. Three states join here:
the State of the Church, with its province Umbria; the land of Siena,
with the valleys of Orcia and Ombrone; and the Florentine territory,
to which by far the greater part of the Val di Chiana belonged. From
the most ancient times this Val di Chiana has always been chosen as a
battle-field, on account of its situation and uncertain boundary, as
well as on account of level suitable for military operations.
About the middle of the fifteenth century, in the Neapolitan war with
King Alfonso, this place was celebrated, as also a century later, when
Siena fell in the heroic defence of her independence.
On July 11, the enemy crossed the Florentine frontiers, and encamped
two miles below Montepulciano.[260] This lofty town was safe from
sudden attack, but the surrounding country had to suffer heavily from
the troops, who destroyed the mills, drove away the cattle, and made
numerous prisoners, spreading terror around. The principal force of
the Florentines encamped farther north, between Arbia and Chiana.
Scarcely had the news of a foreign inroad reached Florence, when a
trumpeter of the Duke of Calabria brought a brief from Sixtus IV.,
dated July 7, and addressed to the Republic. The Pope declared that
for a long time he had been unable to endure the insults offered by
Lorenzo de’ Medici to the Holy See, and that at last he had resolved
on war, in order to liberate Florence from a despotism which would
make it impossible for him to devote himself to the crusade conjointly
with the other princes, who had already once before been prevented by
this man’s fault. He hoped, therefore, that the Republic would take
reasonable measures; he demanded nothing from her but that Lorenzo
should be removed, with whom alone he was at enmity. Only the cessation
of such shameful servitude was the goal towards which he strove; and
only from these measures could he or any clear-sighted person expect
safety. Lorenzo knew the prevailing feeling too well to be seriously
alarmed at a move which sought to check him personally. But he was
obliged to bring the matter to instant decision. After the brief had
been read aloud in the Senate, he begged to be allowed to speak to the
people. Before an assembly of citizens called together in the palace,
he declared he was ready to make any sacrifice whereby the safety of
the State could be purchased, either by his banishment or death, as
their interests had always been as near to his heart as they had been
dear to his father and grandfather. He would not go over the past nor
seek to justify himself or accuse others, as the Republic had already
sufficiently displayed her sentiments on these points. But he could
not refrain from remarking that it was strange that the vicegerent of
Christ should think it right at such a time of anxiety and care to show
hatred to a single man by inflicting ruinous war on a peaceful and
flourishing neighbour. In such a condition of things he did not know
if his gratitude towards heaven for the affection shown him should be
greater, or sorrow for the variously threatening ills which without
his fault had already befallen them. He hoped that the assistance of
God, and the activity and prudence of numerous citizens, would help the
Republic to save her honour and preserve her fame. If his life would
better serve the attainment of this end than his exile or death, he
offered it and his family and possessions willingly and joyfully. As we
can easily understand, all declared themselves of one accord with him.
The result of the Pope’s letter was that all Florence declared that
it regarded Lorenzo’s cause as its own, and gave the threatened man a
guard of twelve men to protect his person.