Several great canonists and others learned in the law were questioned

as to the validity and effect of the Papal censures, and gave their

opinion that the Republic, by appealing to the future council, was,

notwithstanding the interdict, justified in letting divine service

be celebrated in the city and territory as before. The storm raged

high; the Pope and the Florentines mutually excited one another. On

June 20, the bull with which Lorenzo and the Republic were threatened

was enforced; commerce with them, and service under their flag were

forbidden.[261] A letter written on July 21 by the Signoria to the

Pope[262] contains expressions which scarcely keep within the limits

of deference to the head of the Church, making accusations against

the Senate, and appealing to the protection of the French king. It

was not calculated to soften Sixtus IV. Neither did it stop here. The

uncontrolled passion of the Pope and that total want of moderation

which made him seize the weapons of the world in order to attack

his enemies and enkindle a terrible war, affected not only the

Florentine laity, but the clergy also. Again was repeated what had

been experienced a century before under the reign of the last Pope

of Avignon, that is to say, a part of the clergy took part with the

state. A synod in Sta. Maria del Fiore was to investigate the facts of

the case, and the question of right in the Pazzi affair, and publish

its decision. Whether the assembly really took place is questionable;

a rambling document from the hand of Gentile, Bishop of Arezzo, the

head of the clerical opposition to the Pope, certainly would lead us

to suppose that the synod was convened.[263] But the tone of this

composition is so violent, the accusations against Sixtus IV. are so

immoderately passionate, exaggerated, and irreverent, the temper is

so unworthy a society of clericals and sons of the Church assembled

for a serious deliberation, that we must, for the honour of the Tuscan

clergy, believe that we have here a sample of individual invective

merely. The signature ‘Given in our cathedral of Sta. Reparata on July

23, 1478,’ which only befitted the Archbishop of Florence, Rinaldo

Orsini, whose name is not mentioned in this confused epistle, confirms

this supposition. In any case, such a declaration in a cause which

it was to defend would do far more harm than good. That even the

mere mention of the council, and especially of the council of Bâle,

embittered and disturbed the Pope, is shown from the impression made

upon him by a subsequent and most unimportant attempt to revive once

more that ecclesiastical assembly, the constant terror of the successor

of Eugenius IV., to kindle its ashes into flame, and effect on the

other side of the Alps an opposition to the unspiritual tendencies

of the Holy See which became more and more apparent. The official

defence which the Republic caused to be drawn up by their chancellor,

Bartolommeo Scala, on August 10, seems dignified and moderate

beside such attacks. The principal contents are the declarations of

Montesecco, which the composer of the letter above mentioned had also

seen, and which are followed by a short account, limited to facts, of

the events at Florence; while the assistance of the Emperor Frederick

III. and King Louis XI. is appealed to against the threatened

violence. The emperor is especially reminded that it concerns his most

faithful city of Florence and her people, always devoted to his sacred

majesty.

After receiving the Florentine answer on July 21, the Pope addressed

an autograph letter to the Duke of Urbino, in which he remarked that

the tone and contents of the answer had not alarmed him, but had only

shown that God, to punish his enemies for their sins, had deprived them

of their understanding. His cause was just. He demanded nothing but

the punishment of Lorenzo, who had behaved inimically towards God and

His church, and ungratefully to the Pope, who relied upon the duke’s

valour and devotion, and that of the Neapolitan prince. He had answered

the Venetians, God would chastise them if they acted wrongly. He had

sent Nuncios to the emperor, the Kings of France, Spain and Hungary,

to justify himself. The bull was printed; everyone would know of it.

French ambassadors were announced, and he hoped that God would inspire

him with a proper answer. They threatened disobedience and schism; it

would be as God wished; it would at all events serve some purpose, if

he, the duke, would write to the King of England, King Ferrante, his

ally, and Louis XI.[264]

They did not content themselves with writing; the Pope must have

perceived that a dangerous contest had begun. Guid’Antonio Vespucci

was sent to Rome in order to show that they would not submit to the

interdict. The government reckoned on support from the French side; not

one of the Italian allies joined the demonstration. Donato Acciaiuoli,

who still resided at home, received a commission to repair to France

to keep the king favourably inclined. He had never really recovered

from the excitement which the events in Rome had caused him, and

undertook the commission very unwillingly. As Vespucci was to thank

the Perugians, who seemed to wish to join the Florentines again, for

their friendliness, Acciaiuoli received a command to negotiate in Milan

regarding further action in common. Scarcely arrived, he fell ill, and

died on August 28. It was a heavy loss for the Republic, who honoured

his memory, as Florence possessed few abler or more respected citizens.

The moment when he arrived in Milan was not a fortunate one, for the

revolution had already taken place in Genoa, which immediately produced

a reaction on the Tuscan war, as a part of the troops in Tuscany were

called home. King Ferrante had managed the matter more cleverly. Not

only, as was easy for him, did he stir up the brothers Sforza and

Roberto Sanseverino against Genoa, but succeeded in reconciling for

the moment the chief of the great parties in the city to one another;

and meanwhile he won over Prospero Adorno, who governed Genoa for the

duchess, in order to bring thither the former doge, Lodovico Fregoso,

who lay in wait at Piombino. The Milanese garrison held out with

difficulty against the city, which had declared itself free, and had

received from Naples artillery, munitions, and men. The Duke of Atri,

Giulio Acquaviva, sailed from thence on July 22, and when a Milanese

army approached, it was completely defeated on August 7 by Sanseverino.

So far all things had prospered according to King Ferrante’s wish. But

the quarrels which never ceased to divide the nobility came to the aid

of the regent, who, in order not to leave the city in the hands of her

brothers-in-law and their faction, secretly negotiated with Battista,

one of the Fregosi, and caused Castelletto, still garrisoned by her

troops, to surrender to him, on which he took possession of the city,

which proclaimed him doge, and if not subject to Milan, was as little

dependent on Naples.[265]

Meanwhile the campaign had begun in a manner which showed beforehand

that, even without decisive battles, the Florentine territory would

be ruined. The enemy was three times as strong as the Florentines,

who were unprovided in many ways, but whose most serious deficiency

at the beginning of the war was that they had no captain-general, and

consequently failed in unity of leadership and a plan of war. The

troops were in a bad condition. The reports sent to Milan by Gian

Jacopo Trivulzio show a sad picture of the circumstances. Having set

out from Milan with a hundred men-at-arms, he had come by Pontemoli

into Tuscany, and at length reached the Aretine territory. There, at

Olmo, three miles from Arezzo, at the entrance to the Chiana valley,

where the roads divide to Cortona and Siena over Monte Sansavino,

he halted and awaited the Florentine army. His people produced a

favourable impression on the Florentine commissaries, but not so those

of the allies on him. ‘The Florentine troops,’ he writes on July

16,[266] ‘passed in such a wretched state that I was disgusted—without

order or connection, the different troops mingled together, so that I

could not distinguish them, one squadron half a mile distant from the

other.’ In the camp there was similar disorder; only a few infantry,

and those badly armed, and no sappers and miners. Besides this,

insufficient means for provisioning, so that the Milanese _condottiere_

complained that the government only seemed to think of their own

advantage, and not of the welfare of the troops. No prices were fixed;

they opened door and house to the usurers, and sought by the taxation

of imported provisions to procure money, instead of providing for the

first necessities. Under such circumstances, it availed little that

illustrious men arrived in the camp, among them Ghiberto da Correggio

and Teodoro Trivulzio, Gian Jacopo’s cousin, and, like him, afterwards

Marshal of France. The two commissaries of the army, Luigi and Jacopo

Guicciardini, with whom the Venetian ambassadors Giovanni Emo and

Bernardo Bembo were associated, could not hide the want of united

military guidance, a want which remained perceptible even when a

commission of four captains was entrusted with the representation for

the time of the captain-general. These were the Count of Pitigliano,

Galeotto Pico, Gian Jacopo Trivulzio, Alberto Visconti.

The enemy had quitted Montepulciano and turned northward, with the

evident intention of gaining the road to Florence. Without venturing

a battle, the Florentines slowly retreated, at first towards Arezzo,

then, as they saw the enemy take the direction to Siena, to cover the

Elsa valley, in which they set up their camp on the Poggio Imperiale

on a broad and flat hill overlooking the whole district by Poggibonzi,

which once bore the old castle destroyed by the Guelphs, where the

Emperor Henry VII. spent the last years of his life. Without being

molested, the enemy took in the meantime several small places situated

in the neighbouring province of Chianti, some of which offered a

gallant resistance. The open country suffered dreadfully from the

destruction of the mills and of such provisions as the soldiers

could not carry away. The havock made in the Sienese territory and

an attempt of the Florentines to win over Perugia so exasperated the

Pope as to make him publish, from the Orsini castle of Bracciano, on

August 10, a new and stronger bull against the Republic. It was on the

same day that Commines paid a visit to the Florentine head-quarters

at Poggibonzi.[267] Here at last they got a captain-general, Ercole

d’Este, Duke of Ferrara. Though son-in-law to the King of Naples

he accepted the command of the Florentine and Milanese troops, and

arrived at Florence on September 8. The Venetians were displeased

at this choice, and had protested against it in Milan and Florence

without avail. On the same day with the duke the Marquis of Saluzzo

had arrived, with nearly two hundred foot, at Pisa. It was high time.

The duke stayed four days in the city, which received him with great

distinction, and presented him with the house of Renato de’ Pazzi,

the most innocent victim of the conspiracy. On the 13th he set out for

the camp. Before the staff of command was delivered to him, which was

done for the Republic by Lorenzo, for Milan by Gian Jacopo Trivulzio,

the stars were consulted by an astrologer according to the fashion of

the times, and the afternoon of September 27 declared favourable. It

might have been expected that a more active prosecution of the war

would now begin. But the new captain-general ventured as little as

his predecessors to attack the enemy, notwithstanding his augmented

forces; and when the former considering an advance upon Florence

unadvisable, gave up his position in Chianti, and, turning again to the

Chiana valley, began the siege of Monte San Savino, it needed the most

express commands of Florence to persuade Ercole d’Este to break up his

head-quarters and approach the enemy.

The slowness of his movements and the numerous difficulties that

were raised showed how little he was disposed to advance. When the

armies had approached one another the Royalists proposed a truce of

several days, which the duke gladly accepted, and when the truce

was over, Monte San Savino capitulated on November 8. From its

protected situation and the easy provisioning of the place it was not

unimportant, and the Florentines felt the loss severely. For as at

the same time an attempt to reconquer Castellina by surprise failed

on account of the unskilful leadership of the army, the Chiana valley

and the Chianti were exposed to the devastations of the enemy, and

reprisals on the Sienese domain afforded but slight consolation. They

were not without anxiety either for other parts of the territory. In

Pistoja a project was discovered to give the town into King Ferrante’s

hands, who longed to compete with the Florentines with the help of the

Genoese and to take possession of their trading ships. Lucca was not

considered safe either; Piero Capponi represented here the interests of

the Republic. So ended the year 1478, a fruitful but unhappy year. The

war had consumed much money, ruined the country people in flourishing

districts, much injured a number of villages, and produced not one

warlike deed.

Things could not continue thus. If Milan and Venice did not fulfil

their duty to their allies better, Florence, which was in such a

bad military condition and had the war in her territory, could not

offer resistance to her enemies. Bernardo Bembo, a respected and

business-like man whom the Republic of Venice had sent as their

permanent representative, might well see the situation of affairs

without being able to cause a more energetic interposition, for they

were always negotiating with the Pope, while the Papal and Neapolitan

troops made daily progress. Tommaso Soderini went to Venice to

represent to the Republic the state of affairs. Girolamo Morelli did

the same in Milan. The Florentines proposed to attack the King of

Naples by invading his shores and summoning the Angevins once more

to Italy, and at the same time to disturb the Pope in his own states

in Romagna as well as in Umbria. But in Milan, however good the will

might be, little was to be gained, because of their own embarrassments.

The Swiss, misled by Papal and Neapolitan intrigues which broke the

treaties confirmed at Galeazzo Maria’s death, marched once more

against the frontiers of the Alps, overran Bellinzona, and defeated

the ducal troops. At the same time, on account of Genoese affairs and

disturbances in the reigning families which will soon be mentioned, the

Venetians were opposed to the removal of the war to Romagna. The other

projects seemed too complicated and uncertain. After long negotiation,

it was agreed that the Marquis of Mantua should strengthen the army

of the Duke of Ferrara and that Roberto Malatesta of Rimini, who had

dissolved his connection with the Church and passed over to the service

of Florence, should make a strong diversion in the territory of Perugia

with Carlo Fortebraccio. At the same time, the treaties with Louis XI.

had arrived at a conclusion which, though not all that could be wished

by the allies, certainly promoted their cause.

CHAPTER IV.

LOUIS XI. AND SIXTUS IV. SECOND YEAR OF THE WAR.

PHILIPPE DE COMMINES returned to Florence after a short, and, as we

must suppose, fruitless residence in Rome. That he returned thither on

July 25 is seen from a letter to the Milanese ambassador, who informs

us that they had not failed in accordance with the admonition they had

received to attend upon him and show him all honours.[268] His visit

to the camp and his presence served, at all events, to strengthen the

belief in the French king’s friendship. But the impressions which he

received from this visit were not favourable, and are expressed in

the opinion he gave of things. ‘The Florentines,’ he observes,[269]

‘might consider it good fortune that they were not defeated on all

sides, for as it was long since they had been engaged in war, they

could not measure the danger in which they were. Lorenzo de’ Medici,

who guided affairs in the city, was young, and influenced by young

people. His opinion was held in high estimation. They had few leaders

and a small number of troops. The enemy took all the places which he

besieged, but not so quickly as is usual with us; for in a war of

fortresses they are not so skilful either in siege or defence, while

in the formation of a camp and the preservation of good order and all

the requisites necessary for provisioning, and in all the arrangements

of a campaign, they surpass us.’ To judge from the last words, the

condition of the camp must have improved since the time when Gian

Jacopo Trivulzio described it. On July 28 Commines obtained the royal

warrant which empowered him, in conjunction with Lorenzo de’ Medici,

‘nostre très-chier et amé cousin,’ to conclude the alliance with the

Duchess-regent of Milan, which made the investiture of Gian Galeazzo

Sforza with Genoa and Savona one condition.[270] On the following

day he showed Bona of Savoy and her private secretary the commission

he had received. On August 18, Lorenzo and Commines concluded an

alliance[271] with the Milanese ambassadors in Florence, Gian Angelo

de’ Talenti and Filippo Sagramoro. Six days later Commines quitted

Florence and repaired to Milan, where, in the king’s name, he invested

the young Duke in the person of his mother with the two towns and

their territory. In his Memoirs he only mentions this occurrence in

a few words, but there are detailed accounts of how Bona of Savoy,

representing her son, kissed the document of investiture and then gave

the oath of fealty for him with her hand on the Gospels, to be a true

vassal of the French king, to have friends and foes in common with him,

and conform to his will in peace and war.

Commines writes respecting his departure from Florence, ‘I was

excellently lodged by the inhabitants and at their cost, and more

liberally on the last day than even the first.’ That means that the

Republic sent him silver-plate of fifty-five pounds weight, while the

Signoria expressed their gratitude to the king for sending such a

distinguished man, and expressed hopes of his favour, ‘surrounded as

they were by cruel enemies, who had already caused them many losses,

as they had been attacked unprepared.’ According to the Milanese

ambassadors, the value of the presents offered to him was between four

and five hundred ducats, to which Lorenzo added jewels worth about

three hundred. ‘We are continually,’ writes Lorenzo de’ Medici to Louis

XI., ‘at war with our opponents, who seek to defeat and humiliate

us. The lord of Argenton will inform you by word of mouth what has

happened, and in what state he leaves our affairs. I beg you all to

believe what he says on my part, as if I myself spoke to you. To-day,

as always, I think I shall need the assistance, favour, and protection

of your Majesty, to whom I shall turn in confidence for all that

concerns me, as to my true lord, protector, and patron, my hope and my

refuge.’[272]

During Commines’ Italian embassy Louis XI. had not been inactive.

On August 16 he had published an _ordonnance_ at Blois, by which,

in regard to the Pope’s behaviour in the Pazzi affair, he declared

that French money should not serve to promote such things, and

had strictly forbidden all remittances of money to Rome for the

fulfilment of expectations and other things. An assembly meeting at

Orleans in September was to ratify this decree, but it restricted

itself to leaving the king free either to call a Gallican national

council at Lyons in the following year, or to persuade the Pope to

summon an œcumenical council. Louis XI. considered it best to try the

latter. He had his hands full at the time. His sister of Savoy died

before Commines returned, and it was most important for him firmly

to establish the Government in the duchy, and to get the duke, then

twelve years old, into his power, in which he succeeded. He sought to

make a diversion for the King of Naples in his own house, by enlisting

his younger son Don Federigo in his interest through a marriage with

his niece of Savoy; while on the other hand he kept alive the Angevin

claims on Naples as a means of terrifying Ferrante. It was under such

circumstances that the unfavourable news from Tuscany, which Philippe

de Commines confirmed, hastened his determination to attempt to

influence the Pope.

From Plessis-les-Tours, Louis XI. had announced to Lorenzo de’

Medici on November 1 that an embassy consisting of six members, the

chamberlain Guy d’Arpajon, viscount of Lautrec, the president of the

Toulouse Parliament, Antoine de Morlhon, and others, would repair to

Italy, in order to effect a union for the purpose of a war against the

Turks. Soon afterwards the instructions for the treaty with Sixtus

IV. were drawn up. The ambassadors were to represent to the Pope how

the advance of the Turks in Greece and Bosnia, on the Hungarian and

Polish frontiers, and in the Venetian possessions, threatened the whole

of Christian Europe, and made indispensable their union against the

common enemy, and the summoning of a general council to consult upon

all spiritual and temporal affairs. Lyons would be the most suitable

place for such an assembly, and this praiseworthy and sacred purpose

was hindered by nothing so much as by the war which had broken out in

Italy between the Pope and Naples on the one side, and on the other the

league of Milan, Venice, and Florence. The king wished to fulfil his

duties on both sides—the duty of a devoted and faithful son of the

Church, and that of a warm friend of the Florentines, who had always

shown themselves true and loyal adherents of France. The Pope, as

vicegerent of Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, was called especially

to mediate and restore peace. If he had laid city and Republic under

an interdict with penalties and confiscations on account of what had

happened in April in Florence, the king certainly did not wish to

defend a crime against the Holy See and the Pope, nor interpose between

his authority and his rights. But they must investigate the matter

well, and see what had caused those events, and whence the attack had

proceeded. The other side must be listened to. If the Florentines were

in the wrong, the king would endeavour to bring them to reason. If

the wrong were on the side of the representative of the Holy See, the

Holy Father must grant redress. The king could not believe that the

attempt of Count Riario against the Florentines had taken place with

the knowledge and consent of the Holy Father, for it was a breach of

the general Italian league, a disturbance of peace, an aid to the

enemies of Christendom, a summons to bloodshed, to which, in the king’s

opinion, the Pope must have been averse. If matters had proceeded too

far to allow of the conclusion of peace at once, a truce might at least

be permitted, that the proposals might ripen which the council would

bring up for consideration.[273]

Sixtus IV. had had time to look carefully into the situation of

affairs. The king’s proceeding did not find him unprepared. The

Cardinal of Pavia had above all pointed out the necessity of no

over-haste and the wisdom of letting the storm spend itself. The

Cardinal of Mantua, who has been already mentioned, went as legate to

the Emperor Frederick III. On January 10, 1479, the French ambassadors

reached Florence, where they made a solemn entry, and were welcomed

joyfully. On the 16th they continued their journey to Rome, after

having consulted about everything with the Signoria and magistracy

of war. Two days after them, ambassadors from the Emperor Frederick

also arrived and repaired to Rome on the same errand. On January 27

the Pope received the ambassadors, who fulfilled their commissions,

and then delivered in writing the demand for summoning a council. In

his answer, Sixtus contested the right of the French king to give an

opinion on a matter decided by the Pope, and held up to him the example

of Charlemagne, from whom he boasted his descent. The Pope was not

obliged to answer for his decisions. The fate of the Archbishop of Pisa

had shown how little spiritual immunities were protected by temporal

magistrates. A council would preserve the rights of the Church, but it

could only be summoned by the Pope in agreement with the emperor and

other kings; its assembly did not depend on the sovereign of France.

Councils were generally summoned for three objects—for the extinction

of heresies, the restoration of peace among Christian powers, and the

reform of manners. There were no heresies now. And that mediations

had sometimes more hindered than promoted peace had been shown by

the Synod of Constance, while much that was annoying, and especially

disadvantageous to the princes, would come to light. The summoning of

the council would be a glorious thing, but for the reasons mentioned

he must against his will decline it. If the renewal of the Pragmatic

Sanction were threatened, it was really a question of the king’s honour

and conscience. The summons to the French prelates was unlawful. If

Lorenzo de’ Medici would acknowledge his sin before God and man, and

endure with a penitent heart the punishment laid on him, all the rest

would be easily adjusted.[274]

For the rest, Sixtus IV. expressed himself willing to treat, and

ordered for this purpose a commission of ten cardinals who should

investigate the matter. Of the demand for Lorenzo’s banishment nothing

more was said, but from the beginning it was plain how far asunder the

two parties were. Matters did not proceed till, in the middle of March,

a rumour spread in Rome that Louis XI. intended to summon the council

at Lyons in a month’s time if the Pope did nothing for the restoration

of peace. An English embassy had also arrived to support the demand of

the friendly States. On April 4, Sixtus IV. ordered a suspension of the

spiritual ban and a truce to hostilities for the time. Negotiations

for peace were to be carried on at Naples. Not without difficulty had

they obtained this concession, nor until the ambassadors of Florence,

Milan, and Venice, supported by the rest, had declared that, if no

measures were taken, they would protest solemnly, appeal to the council

and quit Rome. Venice had exerted herself most in this affair. After

all representations to the king had been unavailing, the Republic had

taken steps with the emperor and French king in order to bring Sixtus

IV. to a better mind by threatening him with a council, and when the

ambassadors of both those powers went to Rome, the Venetians sent

thither Sebastian Venier, to support their petition.[275]

So much was accomplished; but the demands of the Pope to the

Florentines did not afford a prospect of quieting the strife. The

Republic was to humiliate herself before the Holy Father, beg

for forgiveness of her sins, celebrate a solemn service for the

reconciliation of those killed in the Pazzi conspiracy and give

alms for their souls, and destroy all libellous pictures painted to

commemorate the events.[276] They were to expel Niccolo Vitelli from

their territory; deliver to the Holy See the fortresses of Borgo San

Sepolcro, Modigliana, and Castrocaro; pay compensation for the war, and

engage never again to undertake an attack on the Papal territories.

On the side of Florence the demand of a public service to acknowledge

their guilt was refused, on the ground that such a revival of the

memory of the sad event would prejudice the dignity of the state.

The destruction of the paintings was agreed to, the expulsion of

Vitelli refused, but it was promised that they would prevent him from

attempting anything against the States of the Church. In respect to the

places mentioned, it was answered that these had nothing to do with the

questions on hand, and they could only treat for the restitution of

such as had been garrisoned in the course of the war. Thus not even a

basis for treaties was obtained.

Affairs dragged on hopelessly. What passed meanwhile outside Rome

contributed still more to this state of hopelessness. Things could

not remain thus. On May 18, a command was given to the ambassadors of

the allied states to leave Rome, if the work of peace were not begun

within a week. On the 31st the Pope summoned to him all the foreign

plenipotentiaries who had a share in the negotiations. On the question

addressed to the representatives of the three allied states, whether it

were the intention of their governments to begin the campaign against

the Turks immediately upon the conclusion of peace, the Venetian

ambassador answered that his Republic had maintained for seventy years

a cruel and exhausting war against an enemy that daily became more

terrible. At length she had concluded a compact with them which was

advantageous for Christianity, and this compact she should keep to the

best of her power. He referred to the most fatal agreement, perhaps

necessary under the oppressions that then prevailed, which Venice had

concluded on January 25, 1479, with Mohammed II., and published three

months later; by which, among other places, Skodra, which had been so

long and valiantly defended, was lost with others in the Morea, and

considerable sums besides accorded to the Grand Turk.[277] The deputies

from Florence and Milan agreed to this declaration. But when the Pope

announced that under such circumstances he would decline to treat, the

Venetian ambassador made a protest and appealed to the council. The

moment the French ambassador began speaking, Sixtus IV. dissolved the

meeting. It was evident, that his one desire was to gain time. The

three ambassadors then repeated their protest on leaving Rome, and

summoned the prelates belonging to their territories to take leave of

St. Peter’s Chair.[278]

In this manner the winter and time of truce passed without bringing

matters to any agreement. If the position of their opponents was in

some degree more favourable than that of the Florentines and their

allies, yet it was at the same time such that this agreement must

have been most desirable to them. In the Papal Neapolitan army there

prevailed a great dearth of provisions. Long processions of mules with

flour and bread traversed the Patrimony and Siena, and their guards

were not always able to repulse hostile attacks. When the troops went

into winter quarters, the greatest disorder prevailed; and had not the

weather been very mild, the evils would have been felt still more. As

the Neapolitan troops were quite in rags, the king sent a number of

articles of clothing, while he caused great quantities of corn to be

bought up in Piombino and the port of Telamone. The Pope commissioned

the Commandant of Sto. Spirito, the great Roman hospital, with the

provisioning of the camp. Two hundred mules from the Papal court

were continually passing through the territory of Viterbo, to bring

provisions to Acquapendente and the district of Siena. It may be easily

understood that the cost was immense; and Sixtus IV. was compelled

to borrow money continually, and mortgage a number of places to the

rich cardinals and others. The parts of the Florentine and Sienese

territories adjoining the States of the Church suffered severely

from the march of the troops and scarcity of provisions, though not

immediately touched by war.[279]

The announcement of the armistice being ended was not necessary to

make the combatants take up arms; for though in the Chiana valley,

and from Urbino, nothing was undertaken against the enemy on the

part of the Duke of Calabria, everything was in preparation in the

western districts of the Republic. The increasing annoyances here were

connected with the insurrection of Genoa and the Milanese troubles.

Roberto Sanseverino, compelled to quit Genoa, had repaired to France

and put himself in communication with Louis XI. for the purpose of

enlisting an Italian corps of mercenaries for the Burgundian war. At

the end of January 1479, he had arrived at Asti, in order to effect

enlistments there, but the Duchess-regent of Milan, rightly dreading

the proximity of this restless man, forbad all her subjects to take

service with him; a prohibition in which Venice, Florence, Mantua,

Ferrara, Bologna, in short the whole league, joined. In vain did the

king mediate with his sister-in-law. Roberto could not obtain what he

desired, but he was all the more confirmed in the scheme, which seems

to have been the real ground of his proceedings. At the beginning of

February the report had already been spread that the Duke of Bari and

Ludovico Sforza had appeared in the Lunigiana, in order thence to

operate on the one side against Florence, on the other against Milan.

It soon proved to be no empty rumour. In the neighbouring district of

Parma, seditious proclamations of the two Sforza were soon spread;

they wished, they said, to liberate their nephew, the young duke, from

the servitude in which he was held. Among the Milanese mercenaries

alarming movements were observed. At the end of February, the brothers,

with Roberto, set up the flag of rebellion, and immediately afterwards

the latter appeared with 400 foot and 500 to 600 horse, mostly people

from the Genoese coasts, before the gates of Pisa.[280] The attack

on the town failed, but he devastated all the more unsparingly the

whole country round, while a Neapolitan corps advanced through the

Cecina valley. Without the aid of the Lucchese, who were ill disposed

towards Florence, it would have been impossible for Sanseverino to

carry out his plans. The disinclination of the people in Lucca to their

neighbours was, however, so great, that Piero Capponi, Neri’s energetic

grandson, who was there as the Florentine plenipotentiary, had some

trouble to hinder a formal alliance of the Republic with the enemies

of Florence, and was in danger of his life when the mob, in defiance

of the warning of more sensible people, stormed his house.[281] The

Duke of Ferrara was obliged to come to the assistance of the threatened

province with a portion of the troops encamped on the Poggio Imperiale;

and as the Duke of Calabria meddled in the affair from the Riviera, it

would have been a most dangerous diversion, if the fear of being cut

off by the Milanese troops had not induced Roberto to withdraw about

the middle of April.

It was high time; for scarcely had the termination of the armistice

been published when the hostile leaders stood in the Chiana valley with

their armies reinforced. This time the Florentines showed no lack of

sensible dispositions. From Poggio Imperiale to the frontiers, their

corps were so stationed that it would be difficult for the enemy to

break through. On the side towards Poggio, where the head-quarters

were, stood the Marquis of Mantua, and Deifebo dell’ Anguillara; while

from the Romagna, Roberto Malatesta was marching towards Perugia, where

Carlo Fortebraccio was to support him. They relied much on the latter,

on account of the old connections of his family with Perugia; but he

fell ill on the road, at Cortona, where he died on June 17. Meanwhile

his son Bernardino had taken his place, and the troops had crossed the

Papal frontiers on June 9. The treaties with Perugia with a view to her

joining the league did not affect their purpose. The enemy had had time

to send a considerable number of troops, chiefly cavalry, under the

command of Matteo da Capoa and the prefect of Rome, to Umbria. On June

27 they met Malatesta between Cortona and Perugia, in the neighbourhood

of the lake of Trasimen, where Hannibal had destroyed the Roman army.

The little town of La Magione reminds us of one of the most eventful

occurrences in the history of Cæsar Borgia. Here they were entirely

defeated. But this advantage led to nothing but a renewal of plundering

and depredations from which the country suffered severely, from the

gates of Perugia to the valley of the Tiber towards Città di Castello

on the one side, and the Chiana and Arno valleys on the other.

The miserable management of the war, which cost the Florentines more

dearly than their enemies, because their territory, more than any

other, was the theatre of war, avenged itself in another way. In the

Florentine head-quarters nothing but discord prevailed, and the more

incapable and irresolute the captain-general showed himself, the higher

rose the insubordination of the officers. The old quarrel between the

Sforzas and Braccios, which had once divided the Italian mercenaries

into two camps, broke out here among the Florentine troops, which

were composed of the two factions. During the skirmishes in Perugia,

whither a considerable part of the hostile army had marched in order to

avenge the repulse they had received, and hinder Malatesta’s further

progress, the Florentine army advanced, and stormed and plundered

the little Sienese town of Casole. Here the troops of the Duke of

Ferrara and those of the Marquis of Mantua quarrelled so fiercely

over the division of the booty, that the Florentine commissaries with

difficulty separated and pacified them. On the other side, Roberto

Malatesta and Costanzo Sforza were so much at enmity that it was not

possible to leave one in the neighbourhood of the other. Thus a union

of the hostile powers was not to be thought of. But now another and

more serious complication arose. In Milan the crisis happened which

had long been threatening. Roberto Sanseverino had, after quitting the

territory of Pisa, kept himself till the summer in the Val di Taro,

whence he continually annoyed Parma. He had then, believing he could

not advance, and seeing that he was hindered by Gian Jacopo Trivulzio,

turned to Liguria, where the Duke of Bari died after a short illness.

When it was felt in Milan that they might at last give way to a feeling

of security, the warlike Roberto, with Lodovico Sforza, who now bore

the title of Bari, descended the inaccessible pass of the Apennines,

Le Cento Croci, which was unguarded because it was held impracticable

for great bodies of troops, into the valley of the Po, and on August

23 seized Tortona, where Lodovico had partisans. The greatest alarm

arose in the capital. An army of 12,000 men was despatched to Tortona,

whither the Marquis of Montferrat also hastened. It did not seem enough

to oppose the formidable enemy. The Duke of Ferrara and the Marquis of

Mantua were recalled from Tuscany with a part of the Milanese troops.

On September 2, Ercole of Este arrived at Parma with 400 horse and 200

foot, whence on the following day he advanced to Piacenza. He had not

yet crossed the Po when, at Voghera, the Marquis of Montferrat’s men

fell in with those of Sanseverino, and inflicted severe losses on them.

From Venice came the news that the Republic would send 1,000 horse

and 2,000 foot to their assistance, but at the same moment, when the

affairs of the Milanese Government seemed about to take a favourable

turn, an unexpected mischance occurred. On September 6 a bonfire

was lighted in the rebel camp, and joybells rang. In the ducal camp

appeared a trumpeter of Sanseverino, with the information that peace

was restored, and Lodovico Sforza, invited by the regent was on his

way to Milan. The Duke of Ferrara had urged Bona of Savoy to reconcile

herself with her two still remaining brothers-in-law. To her misfortune

and that of the state, she had complied, in opposition to her trusty

counsellors, who plainly foresaw the result of such a step. On

September 7, Lodovico had arrived in Milan, and was joyfully received

by a crowd of people. On the following day the duchess received him; he

begged her pardon for the past, and promised allegiance. Immediately

afterwards he was appointed governor-general of the duchy. The first

thing which then happened was the arrest of Cecco Simonetta. The regent

was obliged to put her signature to the decree which sent him, to whom

more than to any one she owed the preservation of the state after her

husband’s death, into a prison at Pavia, while the mob plundered his

and his friends’ houses in such a way that even window-shutters and

iron bars were carried off.[282]

The Tuscan war felt the reaction of these events, even before they were

fully developed. Sigismondo d’Este had undertaken the supreme command

for his brother, the duke. But the men were not only diminished in

number, they were also careless in service. This was not unknown to

the enemy, and he availed himself of it. The Duke of Calabria selected

the most skilled among his captains, Matteo da Capoa, Giulio Acquaviva

of Atri, Gentil Virginio and Giordano Orsini of Bracciano, &c., in

order to attempt an attack on the Florentine side. From Chiusi they

marched through the Arbia valley to Siena, and surprised Mont’Imperiale

at the dawn of September 7, the day on which Lodovico Sforza entered

Milan. The attempt succeeded perfectly. The confusion soon became so

great that, notwithstanding the natural strength of the place, no one

thought of serious opposition. Every obstacle was scattered in the

shortest possible time. Most sought their safety in hasty flight.

Of the combatants some were slaughtered, some captured; among the

latter Galeotto Pico, Rodolfo Gonzaga, Niccolò da Correggio, and

other captains, and about a hundred and fifty men-at-arms. Costanzo

Sforza, pursued by Jacopo Appiano, lord of Piombino, on the road to San

Gemignano, not only took his pursuer captive but saved the large banner

of the Republic, and assembled in San Casciano as many as he could of

the fugitives and those who had dispersed.

It was a severe blow. Florence saw herself threatened by the enemy, who

took the castles of the Elsa valley one after the other, and attacked

Colle, the most important place in this province, with greatly superior

forces. Roberto Malatesta was ordered to protect Arezzo and the Arno

valley. Costanzo Sforza covered the capital on the Sienese side, and

drew reinforcements to himself from all quarters. In Poggibonzi and

the lofty San Gemignano smaller corps were stationed. But all this only

just sufficed to turn aside the most threatening part of the danger.

Colle defended itself heroically, and did much injury to the Duke of

Calabria, who conducted the siege in person, but the capitulation

took place on November 14. Malatesta, who had quitted Umbria, where

he expected the fall of Perugia, was displeased at the conduct of

the war, the misfortunes of which he ascribed more to the constant

interference of the Ten than to the captains or men, and employed the

time of inaction which followed the taking of Colle to repair to Venice

and withdraw from the Florentine service. The foreign affairs were

not more consolatory. Little confidence was felt in Milan. Venice,

whither Luigi Guicciardini went as ambassador, in order to represent

the oppressed state of the Florentines and to entreat more powerful

assistance, showed itself lukewarm, and was more disturbed by an attack

of the Turks on Hungary than by the threatening of Florence by the Pope

and Naples. If the season had been more favourable, the position might

have become still worse. But even the enemy needed rest. The Duke of

Calabria was in Siena; Urbino, aged and sick, in Viterbo. On November

24 a trumpeter of the former entered Florence with the offer of a

truce. Two days afterwards it was proclaimed.

CHAPTER V.

FLORENCE AND HER ALLIES. LODOVICO IL MORO.

THE moment for decision had arrived. It was acknowledged in Florence

that matters must come to a crisis one way or the other. A considerable

part of the territory was in the enemy’s power, the valleys of the

Chiana and Elsa terribly wasted. The chief portion of the army,

demoralised by the late losses, was driven back the small distance of

seven miles from the city. From one of the allies no active help could

be expected, and the other was already in treaty with the enemy.

Since the defeat of Poggibonzi, Lorenzo could no longer deceive himself

respecting the position of the Republic or his own. He knew that all

sources of help were exhausted. He knew also that Florence could obtain

peace without any difficulty if she would consent to sacrifice him,

and he understood the position of affairs too well not to foresee the

result of the struggle. During the whole course of the war, in which,

being no warrior, he naturally held aloof, the best of the illustrious

citizens who were devoted to him went as commissaries to the army, and

gave him ample opportunities of studying the state of feeling at home,

and the possibility of a compromise.

His industry had been great and various. On account of the sickness

prevailing in Florence, which swept away thousands, he had, soon after

the outbreak of hostilities, sent his wife and children first to

Pistoja, and then to his villa Cafaggiuolo, under the protection of his

uncle Giovanni Tornabuoni. This left him free to act as he liked, and

he did not quit the city, where there was enough for him to do. Since

the conspiracy, the administration of affairs was more than ever in

his hands, for a constitution which had such a complicated machinery

made a safe and consistent guidance more necessary than ever in those

stormy times. During the first year of the war, notwithstanding the

greater numbers of the enemy, they could still hope for success from

the languid manner in which the contest was carried on. The second

spring brought no decision, for the successful skirmish at Trasimene

was more than outweighed by the occurrences in the Elsa valley.

Lorenzo was forced to think of negotiation, if he would not expose

himself to the danger of having to conclude a treaty disadvantageous

to himself. For while so little was accomplished with weapons, there

was not much more to be hoped for from diplomatic arrangements. The

slight advance negotiations had made in Rome we have already seen.

It was not to be expected that a more favourable result would occur,

when the allies were at such decided disadvantage from a military

point of view. They had never ceased to intrigue with Louis XI.; Milan

through Carlo Visconti and Giovann’Andrea Cagnola, Florence through

Francesco Gaddi, who belonged to a family which had always remained

in friendly relations with the Medici. The French king was the only

one who received these two members of the alliance with warmth—he had

often differences with Venice. But he had other things to disturb his

peace of mind, and the war in Picardy and in the Franche Comté with the

heiress of Burgundy, and partly, also, the feuds in Milan and Piedmont,

afforded him the wished-for opportunity of allowing his own intriguing

spirit full play, whatever might be the end of negotiations with the

Pope. During those negotiations he had a real pleasure in expressing

his grudge against Sixtus IV. and King Ferrante. At the end of December

1478 he said to the Milanese ambassadors that he would himself head an

enterprise against the Turks (the usual assurance and bait of princes

in the fifteenth century) if Italy were in peace, ‘and especially if

they had a Pope as he should be.’ ‘Upon this he indulged in a flood

of evil words against the Pope, King Ferrante, and Count Girolamo,

speaking for two hours with such a flow of words, that we were obliged

to restrict ourselves to listening, and it seemed unadvisable to us

to touch upon anything else.’ Even in the presence of Don Federigo

d’Aragona, who was then in France, the king did not moderate his

expressions ‘de mala natura’ against the Pope and Ferrante, the latter

of whom he spared no humiliation. After having once said to the

Neapolitan ambassador that his master interfered in matters more than

he ought, he asked, ‘Your king, such as he is, do you then believe

him to be King Alfonso’s son?’[283] Such things certainly could not

surprise a sovereign who before a foreign ambassador could insult his

own good and patient mother by saying he did not know whose son he was.

Nevertheless Louis XI. was resolved not to leave Milan and Florence

to the will of their opponents. He remained firm to his old affection

for the Medici. Even after he had resolved to leave the hands of

Cecco Simonetta’s enemies free, whereby those who caballed with King

Ferrante must cling to the rudder, he held firmly to Lorenzo. ‘For

nothing in the world,’ wrote Philippe de Commines on October 3, 1479,

from Plessis to an agent of the king in Italy, Pietro Palmieri, at a

time when the Milanese affairs were still undecided—‘would the king

allow the Florentines, and especially Lorenzo de’ Medici’s person,

to come to harm. If they decided in the enemy’s favour at Milan, the

king would assist the Florentines and Lorenzo with all the means in

his power.’ In June the Pope had proposed to the French ambassador,

who was still staying with him, to leave the settlement of their

differences to a council composed of Edward IV., king of England, and

a legate _a latere_. A courier was despatched to France, where an

ambassador of Girolamo Riario was active against Lorenzo de’ Medici.

The Milanese ambassador suspected that the French diplomatists in

Rome were to be won by gold. But Louis XI. would know nothing of the

matter; he answered that in case the position of umpire were offered

to him, in conjunction with king Edward, he would perhaps accept it,

although he was occupied enough. The joy at the advantage gained by

the Florentines at Trasimene was cooled by the loss of the battle of

Guinegate, near St. Omer, where, on August 7, Maximilian of Austria

defeated the French. The president of the Toulouse parliament and head

of the Roman embassy had returned shortly before. The king had received

him very badly; Commines and others were obliged to mediate to obtain

a hearing for him. The Pope represented himself as not disinclined for

mediation, and Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere confirmed this, but for

the present those in Rome attempted to prolong the matter in order to

tire the Florentines. At the end of August a Papal plenipotentiary,

Giovan Batista of Imola, came to the French court. Philippe de Commines

received him by command of the king, who at first would hear nothing

from him. The conference took place in the presence of Don Federigo

d’Aragona.

Sixtus enumerated once more all the complaints which he had against

Florence and Lorenzo. The principal cause of war, he said in the brief

he had given to his ambassadors, was not to be sought for in the events

of April 1478, but in what had preceded them, in the affairs of Città

di Castello and Faenza, in the personal position of Lorenzo de’ Medici.

He could not agree to the proposals of accommodation hitherto made.

The restitution of the places taken would imply a self-accusation, as

though he had begun an unjust war. He must demand a guarantee for the

Sienese before his troops and those of the Neapolitans could evacuate

the Florentine territory. A treaty respecting Genoa could only begin

with the consent of the Genoese themselves. The Pope was nevertheless

inclined to leave the decision to the king, with a reservation of the

aforesaid points, and deliver up to him the occupied castles. Louis

XI., by whom the ambassador was personally disliked on account of

matters which had taken place formerly, received these advances very

coldly. He suspected that the Pope wished to sow discord between him

and the English king, who had already been publicly designated as

umpire. He repeated his former demands, a formal abrogation of the

spiritual interdicts, evacuation of the territory, and restitution

of the fortresses.[284] The Papal negotiator departed with this

unsatisfactory demand. Francesco Gaddi had been present at the whole

of this interview; the Milanese ambassadors, summoned to Orleans from

Paris, had arrived too late, but were acquainted with all that had

taken place. Then followed the events unfavourable to the allies in

the Elsa valley. Even if the Pope and Ferrante had intended to resume

negotiations with France, it would have been impossible to expect any

good result from them. Lorenzo de’ Medici was obliged to make a direct

compromise with at least one of his enemies.

The choice of this one could not be difficult. If the Pope himself had

been personally less irritated, the hatred of Girolamo Riario against

the Medici, a hatred which still found vent in low intrigues[285] in

the summer of 1479, would have made a negotiation difficult. It was

otherwise with King Ferrante. He had done everything, military and

diplomatic, to conduct the war with energy. The Duke of Calabria, who

had hoped to fix himself as firmly in Tuscany as the Angevins once had

done, had supplied the majority of the troops; the rising in Genoa, the

attack on Pisa and the Lunigiana, were his work. In France no less

than four Neapolitan ambassadors were active in persuading Louis XI.,

in which, however, they did not succeed. But Ferrante was acute enough

to see that nothing but an agreement with Florence could calm Italy,

and only the authority of a capable man, which Lorenzo showed himself

to be more and more, could give permanence to this agreement, while the

Papal policy was too changeful to offer security. Lorenzo had known for

some time of the king’s inclination to treat. But it was distasteful

to him to meet his advances, not because he suspected personal danger

therein, but because he saw that an agreement with King Ferrante would

have political results for Florentine affairs which must have seemed

important to him. He said to himself that his position would be quite

different if he could begin the treaty from a more favourable point,

and only the powerful support of his allies could help him in this,

especially the mediation of Lodovico Sforza, who, since he had become

Duke of Bari, had entered into still closer connections with the ruling

family in Naples, to which his sister belonged. With Lodovico, who

was daily obtaining greater influence in Milan, Lorenzo now stood in

constant communication direct and indirect. His opinion on the position

of affairs is expressed most clearly in a letter which he sent to

Girolamo Morelli at Milan, on September 25.[286] ‘The observations

made,’ he says in this letter, after mentioning the proposals in regard

to the Pazzi, ‘can only proceed from an ill opinion which is held

there of our affairs; and although what has happened partly justifies

that opinion, the matter does not stand as is believed there, but the

unfavourable opinion is explained by a misunderstanding which you

yourself hint at. I wish to impress this truth on Lord Lodovico, when

I show him how our position will be strong or weak at his lordship’s

will. For here at home there is not one who will raise a finger; and

even if they do leave us there in the lurch, I have little fear

respecting the direction of affairs. But I fear that if our forces

cannot make head against the enemy, it will be necessary to take steps

contrary to our freedom, and allow to others an influence in our

government which will first of all be injurious to us, and then give

others cause of alarm. If, therefore, apart from old friendship and

good services, his lordship is of opinion that our preservation is of

use to himself, he might take measures to this end, for I do not doubt

for one instant that we shall only thus attain what we desire, if our

enemies perceive that they can do nothing against us, while we have

proofs enough of their will. Although I have received many friendly

words from the Duke of Calabria for many months, and much encouragement

to throw myself into the king’s arms, he attempting to show me that

only in this manner can I save myself and the state, a penny from you

would be worth more than a florin from the others. It is good that Lord

Lodovico should know these things, and that if he wish to save us, he

must take up the matter with more energy and act with more decision.

If he does this, I have no anxiety respecting affairs here; if this,

however, does not happen, he will see how it will be with our cause,

and partly also with his own. For if nothing else should occur he will

give into other people’s hands the reins of Italy, which are now in

his, as I wrote to you in my long letter, which is so long that I do

not believe he has read it in the midst of his many employments, and

which I beg you to deliver to him again, for I have continually more

than enough to do.’

In this letter the position of affairs was clearly indicated. But

Lorenzo deceived himself when he hoped that Lodovico Sforza would

agree to his views and seek to withdraw him from the necessity ‘of

throwing himself into the king’s arms.’ Whether the will or ability

were here wanting may remain a question. Lodovico approached the goal

of his desires. His nephew, Gian Galeazzo, was crowned duke with great

solemnity while yet in exile, on April 24, 1478, but the government

had of course remained with his mother, from whose hands Lodovico now

took it more completely, having at first employed a favourite of the

duchess, a Ferrarese named Antonio Tassino, to make her agree to his

plans. He soon became even to foreigners the lord of Milan. From his

early years his subtle nature showed itself, although his character was

only fully developed under the influences of the changing fortunes of

his busy life.

Lodovico il Moro—a name which Sforza received in youth on account of

his dark complexion, and continued to bear in later years, so that

it became the war-cry of his partisans—was no ordinary man. Born at

Vigevano on August 3, 1451, after his father had ascended the ducal

throne, a circumstance from which he seemed inclined to claim a right

of succession to the prejudice of an elder brother and his son, he

was in his eight-and-twentieth year when he attained to power in

Milan. Galeazzo Maria had never trusted his restless ambition, for

indeed he never ceased to conspire in one way or the other till he was

lord of Milan; and even then he continued to weave intrigues against

enemies when he could not reach them otherwise, against friends when

his plans crossed theirs. He could not live without plotting. An ally

was never safe with him, and in time he wove a net which not only

extended through Italy but through Europe, and in which he himself was

taken. Of moral courage he was exceedingly destitute. ‘The aforesaid

Lord Lodovico,’ says Philippe de Commines, ‘was very clever but very

timid, and extremely subservient when afraid, of which I can speak

fully from personal knowledge, as I have had much to do with him. He

was besides destitute of truth and faith where he thought to gain an

advantage by breaking his word.’ This passion for intrigue became his

own ruin and that of his country and Italy, for the confidence which

inspired him, his reliance upon fortune, whose son he called himself,

and his measurement of matters according to a mere calculation of their

advantage, darkened in time a perception which was otherwise not

deficient in acuteness, while his entire want of moral consciousness

falsified his judgment. This confidence he had never so naively

expressed as in 1496, when, after Italy had been evacuated by the

French, the Emperor Maximilian married to his niece, Venice allied to

him, and Florence crippled, he fancied he held the fate of Italy in

his hand. ‘The Duke of Milan boasts of having at present a chaplain,

a _condottiere_, a chamberlain, and a courier, who are all at his

service. The chaplain is Pope Alexander, the _condottiere_ Maximilian,

the chamberlain the Signoria of Venice, which freely expends what he

orders, the courier the French king, who comes and goes at his good

pleasure.’[287] ‘It is terrible to think of,’ adds our informant.

He knew no scruples where there was a question of satisfying his

selfishness. The slow torture inflicted on his unhappy nephew, and his

treatment of his consort, are among the most fearful episodes of a

time which abounded in wickedness. In order to attain to power he had

employed other rebels; when his end was attained he discarded them,

especially Roberto Sanseverino, and sought to make friends with the

opposite party, hoping thus to render them harmless.

As a ruler, not to speak of his vivid interest in art and intellectual

efforts generally, which he shared with most princes good or bad of his

time, Lodovico Sforza had some praiseworthy qualities. He was neither

a profligate like Galeazzo Maria, nor cruel from an inhuman pleasure

in other people’s sufferings, nor a wild spendthrift like him. He was

active, watchful, clever, considerate of the material welfare of the

country which he carefully governed, fostering rather than exhausting

her resources, while his own treasuries were always filled, so that he

could dispose of considerable sums for political and military purposes.

Commines, it is true, accuses him of fiscal oppression, and traces the

popular discontent to this. ‘I have never seen more beautiful and

fertile land than this duchy. If its master were content with drawing

500,000 ducats from it annually, his subjects would remain wealthy

and the master would live in security, but Lord Lodovico makes from

650,000 to 700,000, which is a real piece of tyranny, so that the

people only long for change.’[288] This is, however, only applicable

to later times, and even then il Moro had always a strong party, which

the misgovernment of the French strengthened, though they succeeded

in expelling him with the help of his enemies from Milan. Giovan

Pietro Cagnola, who belonged, indeed, to the unconditional adherents

of the Sforzas, and dedicated his history to il Moro, is never tired

of praising his wisdom and ripe judgment—how he had brought the

state into such excellent order, how he had enlarged and enriched it

in extent and respect, had cherished peace, regained Genoa without

arms, and protected the country on the side of Switzerland.[289] He

was vain, not of mere show like his brother, but of position and

name, and he sunned himself in deceptive appearances of good fortune,

when his praise resounded day and night in the people’s voice and the

poet’s mouth as that of the dictator of the fate of Italy. His own

unscrupulousness caused him to judge all others in the same light,

and the times were such that he did not always deceive himself. He

bought people in Rome as well as in France. Can we blame him from his

point of view when a man like Commines, of so much higher intellectual

standing, though stained with many of the sins of his century, mentions

the bribing of Etienne de Vescq and other councillors of Charles VIII.

with 8,000 ducats, with the cold remark, ‘If they were obliged to take

money, they might have demanded more.’ Commines apparently was of the

opinion that perjury was only wrong when it was unprofitable.

Many years afterwards, when his equally ambitious and no less clever

consort, Beatrice d’Este, had been taken from him in the bloom of

life—a loss which he felt severely even in political affairs—Lodovico

il Moro drew up a political testament for his son and successor in

case he should come to the government in early youth, respecting all

branches of the administration.[290] ‘As our first command since all

power and dominion are given by God, we wish and appoint that those

who have to conduct the government after us, and be entrusted with the

education of our son, should instruct him in religion and teach him to

recognise his Creator as the giver of all good bestowed on him upon

earth, as also that they should show him that, with the reservation of

the respect due to his Papal Holiness as vicegerent of Christ, he has

to consider the Holy Roman Empire as the authority set over him in all

devotion and affection, especially the person of the Most Serene and

unconquered Lord Maximilian, the Roman king, or in case he should no

longer live, he who has succeeded him, for so commands our duty to His

Majesty and the Holy Empire, through whose goodness we have obtained

our dukedom.’

Such was the man who was then but at the commencement of his great

political career, and to whom Lorenzo de’ Medici, a little older than

he, and connected with the house of Sforza by inherited ties, saw

himself principally referred by the conjunctures of the time. Lodovico

had on November 12 caused Niccolo Martelli,[291] then in Milan, and

a friend of Lorenzo’s, to disclose to him Ferrante’s inclination to

treat, and to impress on him not to refuse the proffered hand. He was

to take the whole situation of affairs into consideration, forget the

past, and seize the opportunity without delay. It would be important to

decide what conditions the Republic would make or accept respecting the

places occupied, the dynasties of Romagna, and Count Girolamo. It might

be good to send his eldest son to Naples (Piero was then only eight

years old). Above all he advised him to hasten the matter; ‘for the

hand of dark fate hovers between cup and lip.’ He might cast the die.

Ten days later Lodovico renewed his representations to the ambassador

of the Republic, Piero Filippo Pandolfini. They would accomplish

nothing by persisting in the beaten course at Florence, as announced

by the Milanese ambassador, Filippo Sagramoro. They should look into

the matter closely and not irritate the king by defiance. They must not

rely on Venice, for when she could defend her own interests, she would

not think of Florence. From Milan little was to be expected on account

of its own troubles: he said so openly that they might not have to rue

it too late. If they agreed, he was ready to mediate in Naples, but

if they should not come to a resolution, or should make unacceptable

conditions, he must lay the responsibility on the Republic.[292] It

was clear that Sforza acted in concert with Ferrante. The offer of the

truce, which followed two days afterwards, showed that the king was in

earnest in his wish for reconciliation. We shall soon see that Sixtus

IV. did not deceive himself in respect to the feeling of his allies,

however displeasing to himself.

On the same day on which the trumpeter of the Duke of Calabria entered

Florence, a distinguished Florentine set out on a confidential mission

to Naples. It was Filippo Strozzi, who had long lived in business at

Naples, and whose connections with King Ferrante were known. In his

memoirs of the events connected with the Pazzi conspiracy he mentions

this mission.[293] ‘The situation of affairs appeared serious to all,

especially to Lorenzo de’ Medici, on whose account, as they said, war

was made. The aforesaid Lorenzo sent me to Naples. On November 24 I

set out, to say to the king’s majesty, he threw himself entirely into

his arms, and would willingly agree to that which his majesty wished,

whether the king should decide on high or low, within or without,

provided he restored peace to the city and gave up the places he

had taken. I found the king hunting at Arnone (at the mouth of the

Volturno). After I had delivered my message, he answered me that he had

later news: Lorenzo would come in person, and so we must wait to see

what will result from his visit.’ Shortly after Filippo’s departure,

Lorenzo made up his mind to go himself, a determination to which the

revelations of Lodovico Sforza, which took away all hopes of a powerful

support from Milan and Venice, undoubtedly contributed. He acted quite

independently, and though he took counsel with his confidants, he only

imparted the matter to the official representatives of the Republic

when he was himself resolved.

On December 5 he caused an assembly to be summoned by the magistracy of

Ten, of about forty of the most respected citizens, in the palace of

the Signoria. He said he had called them together in order to inform

them of a resolution he had taken without asking their advice. He had

considered how much the city needed peace, as it would be impossible to

defend her alone against such powerful opponents while her allies would

not fulfil their obligations. But as these opponents always asserted

they had more to do with him personally than with the city, and the

king in especial always declared he was no enemy to the latter, but

loved her and desired her liberty, and sought to secure her friendship

by redressing her wrongs if every other way were closed to him, he had

determined to go to Naples. This seemed to him the best in all cases.

If the enemy wished for him only, they should have him in their hands

and need not molest the city further. If they did not wish for him,

but the friendship of the city, this would be the means of coming to

an understanding sooner, and obtaining more favourable conditions.

If they wished something else, he should learn it and obtain the

possibility of protecting their freedom and the city better. He knew

that he was going into danger, but he considered his own welfare less

than the common good, and the duty of any citizens to the fatherland

less than his duty, for none had attained to favour and respect as he

had. But he hoped the citizens here present would preserve his position

for him, and commended himself, his family, and his house to them.

But, above all, he hoped that God, in consideration of the justice of

his cause and his good intentions, would promote his purposes, and

that a war begun with the murder of his brother would be ended by his

endeavours.[294]

Lorenzo had announced from the first that his resolution was taken.

Many might think this resolve daring, but they knew that persuasion

would avail nothing. It was natural that King Ferrante’s reserved

character, which had not yet revealed itself as it did in the second

barons’ war, should frighten many who remembered the fate of Jacopo

Piccinino, whose bleeding ghost pursued the king to his end. But

Lorenzo, though he might not be quite without anxiety, appreciated

too well the distinction between his position and that of a wandering

_condottiere_, and trusted also to the real love of peace of the

Aragonese. The armistice offered by the Duke of Calabria was a

favourable sign.[295] He set out without delay. From San Miniato on

December 7 he informed the Signoria of his resolution, which he founded

on the same reasons which he had given to the assembly before his

departure.[296] He added that if he had not revealed his intention

before, this was not from pride, but because it seemed to him that in

the straits in which the city now was, action was more necessary than

speech. As the city needed peace, and the means employed for attaining

the same had proved ineffective, it seemed better to him that one

should run into danger than that the whole people should be exposed

to it. On the preceding day he had already sent a confidential man,

Baccio Ugolino, to the Duke of Ferrara, to give him information of

his resolution,[297] and at the same time announced his approaching

departure to the Dukes of Calabria and Urbino, and told them that M.

Francesco Gaddi would present himself before them, and if they thought

fit would proceed to Naples.[298] At Pisa he received a letter from the

Signoria which empowered him to act as ambassador to King Ferrante.

Bartolommeo Scala, who had drawn it up, on sending it to him, added,

‘All rely upon your wisdom and your authority. But they do not judge of

the king’s inclination by the present condition of things, but looking

back on our former relations by the sympathy which he once showed to us

and the service he already has rendered us.’[299]

CHAPTER VI.

LORENZO DE’ MEDICI IN NAPLES. PEACE WITH THE KING AND WITH THE POPE.

ON the evening of December 10 two Neapolitan galleys arrived at the

little port of Vada, not far from the mouth of the Cecina in the Pisan

Maremma, having on board Gian Tommaso Caraffa, son of the Count of

Maddaloni, chief counsellor of the king, and Prinzivalle di Gennaro,

the confidant of the Duke of Calabria. On the following morning Lorenzo

entered Vada. ‘Pray God,’ he had written from Pisa to the Ferrarese

ambassador,[300] ‘I may journey there and back in safety, and my

purpose may be attained.’ On the afternoon of the 18th, a Saturday,

the galleys ran into the port of Naples. Informed of his approaching

arrival, the king not only sent vessels to meet and welcome him,

but his son Federigo and Ferrandino, Prince of Capua, were on the

landing-place to receive him. A great crowd had assembled to see

the man whose name had long been in the mouths of all. The house of

Pasquale Diaz Garloni, Count of Alife, opposite the Castelnuovo, the

usual residence of the king, was destined for the guest.[301] The

reception was honourable, and the first meeting with the king very

cordial.[302] Ferrante could not shake off the impression which Lorenzo

made on him personally. It must have been clear to him that if he

made it up with this man who exhibited in his youth so much shrewdness

and skill, and such great political sagacity, he could rely directly

on the Republic; and, while securing Lorenzo’s authority at home by

peace and by alliance, he would be strengthening and establishing his

own influence on Italian affairs. Thus far it must have been easy

for Lorenzo to persuade the king, who was not expected to give the

preference to a popular form of government. But a number of the most

varied considerations had to be weighed by Ferrante. He had to consider

the Pope, of whom he was not fond, and whom, remembering the position

of the Holy See at Naples, he did not trust, but whom he neither dared

nor wished to offend on account of this very position. The Venetians

had to be considered; they were dangerous neighbours for him as well

as the Pope, on account of their constant endeavours to extend their

dominion on the Adriatic coasts; while a good understanding with them

was all the more uncertain because their policy was mostly determined

by conjunctures which were foreign to the relations of the other

Italian States. Siena, too, must not be overlooked, which the king and

his son had their eye upon; nor Milan, where a change was in progress

the extent of which could not be appreciated. All this, combined with

the traditions of the policy of the times—namely the policy of a ruler

surrounded by foreign and domestic difficulties from the beginning of

his reign—must have caused Ferrante to hesitate long. Besides, it

cannot be doubted that he wished to see what turn Florentine affairs

would take in Lorenzo’s absence.

From various causes things were still unsettled in Florence. Lorenzo’s

determination and sudden journey had not made the same impression on

all the allies. Lodovico il Moro had assisted in it, and the Venetians

were taken by surprise. They expressed their distrust and vexation in

plain language. The Venetians, relates Francesco Guicciardini,[303]

persuaded themselves that peace had been concluded between Naples and

Florence; that Lorenzo had only gone thither for the ratification of

peace, and that they were left at their enemies’ discretion. But in

order to hinder the treaty in case it were not yet concluded, or, in

other words, to secure themselves, it seemed necessary for them to be

as well armed as possible. They recalled their troops from Tuscany, but

at the same time offered to Milan and Florence a renewal of the compact

hitherto existing. The news had spread as far as Rome and elsewhere

that this alliance had been dissolved on account of non-fulfilment of

the conditions, so that it seemed necessary to renew it formally. In

order not to render the negotiations with Naples more difficult, the

offer was declined in Florence. When the Venetians offered the command

of their troops to Roberto Malatesta—who would have been unable to

accept it without the consent of Florence—permission was granted him

by the latter, though unwillingly, in order not to offend Venice.

‘The ambassadors of our allies,’ wrote Bartolommeo Scala, on January

4, 1480, to Lorenzo,[304] ‘give us trouble enough. They have become

suspicious, but I do not believe they are agreed among themselves.

They besiege us daily, officially and privately, in order to obtain

news. It will not be easy to come to an understanding, especially with

the Venetians; but we must keep to that which was given to you at

your departure. The affair has its difficulties, and it will be best

to conclude it with your aid. Now when you are far away, we, like the

fools we are, have learnt to know you better.’ The Venetian ambassador

in France expressed the same anxiety that in the new alliance which

Lorenzo was endeavouring to effect at Naples, Venice would not only be

excluded, but would have to suffer herself.[305]

That the most varied tendencies were manifested at home was but

natural. Not only the ancient opponents of the Medici raised their

heads but even a few of their own party showed themselves lukewarm

or disaffected. The heavy losses made the game easy for the former.

It was said to be time to change a system which had lasted so long,

and united all political power in the hands of a comparatively small

number of families. Offices as well as burdens should for the future

be no longer dispensed at the will of these few, but be granted and

distributed by the old councils. The uncertainty of Lorenzo’s fate gave

this party courage, while it made many of his adherents inclined to

come to terms with them by a compromise. It seems, indeed, that they

thought of choosing Girolamo Morelli, the former ambassador in Milan,

as a new leader. The friends of the Medici thought they had gained much

if they prevented a change till Lorenzo’s return. Piero Guicciardini,

the historian’s father, was one of those most active in his behalf. The

unfavourable position of foreign affairs had been rendered still worse

at the moment of his departure. Without regarding the armistice still

existing, Lodovico and Agostino Fregoso had by a _coup-de-main_ seized

upon Sarzana, which had been only eleven years in the possession of

Florence. When the Republic complained to the leaders of the Neapolitan

and Papal army, these expressed themselves angry at the breach of peace

by the Genoese, and commanded them to leave the city. But they were

not expelled; and the Florentines suspected, certainly not without

ground, that the Duke of Calabria had had a hand in the game, in order

to increase, for his advantage, the number of claims in the forthcoming

treaties of peace. The military situation was likewise much injured by

the departure of the Venetians, and the exhaustion and disunion of the

Florentines gave no prospect of improvement.[306]

The connection with the lords of Romagna was also uncertain. As may

easily be understood, the latter followed the negotiations of the

Florentines with their former enemies with the greatest anxiety, for

their very existence depended on the result. This was particularly

the case with Galeotto Manfredi. After the defeat at Poggio Imperiale

Costanzo Sforza had marched to Romagna with as many men as could be

spared, in order to protect his own territories and those of the

Malatesta and Manfredi from an attack which was most to be dreaded by

the latter if it came from Imola. But the precaution was not sufficient

to pacify Galeotto. On the other side the Florentines could not submit

to the capture of their best general Roberto Malatesta, so they

ordered an ambassador and 200 men to Faenza in order to protect its

master. Gismondo Manfredi, Taddeo’s son, remained in the service of

the Republic, and also Antoniello Ordelaffi, Cecco’s son, the rightful

heir to Forli, which was withheld from him by his uncle Pino, whom the

Pope favoured. Costanzo Sforza felt safer than the other petty lords on

account of the Milanese relationship; but a real mutual confidence was

not to be thought of, even here.[307]

While affairs were in this state in Florence, Lorenzo de’ Medici was

occupied with troubles of another kind.

His appearance in Naples was exceedingly distasteful to the Pope. From

the first Sixtus had perceived the king’s inclination to agree to

favourable terms, the final result of which he easily foresaw. But,

if powerless to prevent an understanding, he would at least have a

personal share in it, and insisted that Lorenzo should come to Rome.

However, the latter showed no inclination to take the journey, and

was strengthened in his objection by Ferrante.[308] Lorenzo Giustini,

who had been deputed to Naples by the Pope, left no argument unused

to persuade him. When all this resulted in nothing, and the treaty

between the king and Florence seemed to take a favourable course,

Sixtus IV. despatched a special plenipotentiary Antonio Crivelli.

The detailed instructions given to this man put the whole course of

affairs and the relations of the Pope and king in the clearest light.

‘After the events in Florence had taken a course so displeasing to the

Church,’ says the Pope in this remarkable document,[309] ‘we held it

best to hear the king’s opinion of the imprisonment of the cardinal and

other things; and, as his Majesty by several writings not only agreed

with us, but called upon and encouraged us to take up arms, with the

offer and promise to make every exertion and put his son’s and his own

life at stake, in order to avenge this insult shown to the Holy See,

it was unanimously determined to begin the war against Lorenzo and his

adherents as the stumbling-block and disturber of the peace of Italy.

At the same time the freedom of Florence must be restored, to which we

and the king’s Majesty have pledged ourselves by autograph and other

documentary writings, being moved thereto by Lorenzo’s evil proceedings

and the disturbances caused by him in Italy. Lorenzo likewise has

endeavoured to sow dissension between us and the king, and to dissolve

the alliance in favour of one drawn up by himself.’

After the Pope had remarked that the ingratitude of Lorenzo was all

the greater because he had won treasure by means of the Holy See,

he expatiated on the course of the war, which was only begun when

spiritual weapons availed nothing, on the attempts of foreign powers

to terminate the strife with due respect to the Holy See and the king,

and the great advantages obtained in 1479. When peaceful overtures were

made by Milan, the king declined them. At the time it had been remarked

by several cardinals that he only did this in order to transfer the

negotiations to Naples, and be able to ascribe all the merit to

himself, and likewise to negotiate with Lorenzo without any regard

to the Holy See, as at present was actually the case, according to

the report of the royal ambassador. While the Pope was led to believe

that the king agreed with him in views and treatment of affairs, the

latter had let a number of other considerations influence him. They

had decided to insist upon Lorenzo’s banishment from Florence; and

then came the king’s doubt as to whether it would be possible to

attain this, and whether there was not danger of his returning like

his grandfather Cosimo. Little as the Pope believed in the validity

of the reasons urged, as he thought that the principal end of the

undertaking was overlooked, and that Lorenzo, having shown himself to

be so bad when they were doing him good, would be found still worse

now that he was irritated, he had yet persuaded himself to agree to

a reconciliation with Lorenzo as the king wished, if the conditions

demanded by him through his ambassador could be obtained, while,

if this did not happen, the war should be continued. The king had

commanded the captains of his army to continue operations although they

thought of pacification, and on the showing of the Duke of Calabria the

prospect of reconciliation offered by the enemy diminished the prospect

of success. He had answered that by negotiation he would neither tie

his own hands nor those of the army. Even then the Pope had complied

with the king’s wishes, although his son’s opinion had seemed to him

correct.

‘Scarcely had this occurred,’ continued Sixtus, ‘than the armistice

followed, which filled us with surprise and displeasure, and confirmed

us in the suspicion awakened. Therefore we refused decidedly to

acknowledge it, and only yielded to the ambassador’s urgency, and

because we perceived that we could not continue the war alone; under

the express stipulation, however, that, if the conditions of peace

should suffer thereby, we should never pardon the king for it. We made

a virtue of necessity, but to our serious displeasure, for we saw how

we missed the victory while we were deprived of the satisfaction of

liberating Florence from these tyrants, and restoring freedom and quiet

to her and peace to all Italy. The hope still remained to us that as

the king had turned us whither he wished, he would at least conclude

peace on the conditions mentioned, and would have some regard to the

honour of God, the Church, and himself. Lorenzo went to Naples. The

king announced to us he knew nothing of his movements, but in spite of

all, if Lorenzo should refuse to accept the stipulations agreed upon,

he would dismiss him. In a case of this kind we must stake the tiara

and the whole States of the Church, and his Majesty would venture the

crown and ten kingdoms, if he had them, to effect Lorenzo’s expulsion

and complete ruin.’ The Pope had demanded that Lorenzo should come

to Rome and beg for forgiveness, and that the lords of Romagna, who

were guilty of rebellion, should do the same. Lorenzo so decidedly

declined the former, that the king requested the Pope to withdraw this

demand. He, Sixtus, refused this, however, for it was a point which

the king disregarded—the only satisfaction he would receive in the

whole affair. Respecting the lords of Romagna, the king desired that

time might be afforded to them to fulfil their obligations, if the Pope

would not leave it to the king to arrange the matter with them. Both

conditions were refused, as also the proposal to send ambassadors to

Milan at the same time as the king, to settle the other conditions of

peace. The Pope had repeatedly shown that the king had it in his power

to terminate the matter by force of arms if he fulfilled the conditions

of alliance; and as Lorenzo was in his power, and would yield to him

whether willing or not, he might also be induced to negotiate. Instead,

however, of breaking with Lorenzo as he had hinted he should in case

the latter refused to accept the conditions offered him, he treated

him more kindly every day he was in Naples. The Pope wished for peace.

In order to attain this peace he had begun the war, which had already

cost him a heap of money. But he would purchase no peace with his

dishonour.

The position of affairs is rendered quite clear by these instructions.

Ferrante was inclined to come to terms with Lorenzo, but the Pope’s

representations could not fail to make some impression on him. Lorenzo

did not conceal this from himself, though he appeared content and

cheerful before others, but when alone he had many heavy and anxious

hours. His letters to the Ten prove this, by the manner in which he

describes the rising and falling of his hopes. The affairs of Romagna

increased the difficulties considerably; for if Ferrante believed that

he had freedom to act in regard to Florentine affairs, inasmuch as he

had not to pay attention to Siena, he found himself tied here towards

the Pope. Florence did not cease to urge including the dynasties of

Romagna in the peace. ‘The lords of Romagna who are in our pay,’ wrote

Agnolo della Stufa on January 4, 1480,[310] ‘are warmly commended to

you for our own honour’s sake. For if they are left to the will of

the Pope, I consider them as lost, for I know how the priests act. No

one will believe in our protection any more. If the king, as I hope,

receives us as his devoted sons, he must be also careful to preserve

us this reputation as long as he can.’ No less skill was needful to

continue the negotiation, as the Duke of Calabria, who speculated on

the weakness of the Florentines, was exceedingly disinclined towards

it. Perhaps Lorenzo’s aim would not have been attained had he not won

over the most distinguished counsellor of the king, Diomede Carafa,

Count of Maddaloni, son of that Malizia Carafa who had been so active

in the cause of King Alfonso of Aragon. In the endless street which

the people had named Spacca-Napoli, near the Dominican convent, is the

palace where he resided—a building of architectural value. In the

court of this house, once adorned with the colossal antique horse’s

head, the arms of the city, King Ferrante had on one occasion stood

waiting for the faithful servant who was to accompany him. Diomede

Carafa was a man of distinction. He had served under King Alfonso,

aided in the conquest of Naples, and penetrated within a few miles of

the capital in the Florentine war of 1452. As superintendent of finance

he had great influence on the administration—an influence which

brought him into violent opposition to the king’s private secretary,

a quarrel the fatal ending of which cast a dark shadow on the later

period of Ferrante’s reign. With the king and his children, especially

the second son Don Federigo, he stood in the most intimate connection.

He shared Lorenzo de’ Medici’s interest in literature and art; and, if

he was far from rivalling him in his high literary gifts, he showed

in several smaller works of a didactic kind, in books on war and

courtlife, in the rules of behaviour for the king’s daughters Beatrice

and Eleonora, a practical understanding, knowledge of business, and

experience of the world that was very rare.

The Count of Maddaloni was not the only one whom Lorenzo gained over

to his interest. Naples at that time was a city full of busy life and

varied culture, which had been promoted first by King Alfonso and then

by his sons, in which Lorenzo must have felt himself all the more at

home as the literary connections with his native city were various, and

many of the artistic circle which had been so intimate with his family

for three generations, beginning with Donatello, had laboured here,

while the Florentine banking-houses had the greater part of the money

matters of the Neapolitans in their own hands. From the royal family,

members of which had repeatedly been his guests, to the citizens and

country people, increasing affection was shown him, as Pope Sixtus had

said. The Duchess of Calabria, remembering old friendship, became,

as the king expressed it, his fellow-ally, and reminded him in later

years of their wanderings at the villa—probably that near the Riviera

di Chiaja of the present day—between the banks and the heights of

Vomero, then with a free prospect over sea and shore, which is now

changed into the Ferrandina palace with the adjoining gardens and

buildings. ‘The present letter will not be one of those which refer to

alliance and State affairs, but will merely bring to your remembrance

that we always think of you, although we are by no means certain that

you often think of our garden, which is now most beautiful and in full

bloom.’[311] The century was not wanting in highly-cultivated women,

but Ippolita Maria, who excelled so many in grace, also exceeded the

ladies of her time in literary knowledge; and as her familiarity with

Cicero’s writings was praised, so did she also shine in her knowledge

of Greek, in which Constantinos Lascaris had been her teacher. Her

learning did not diminish her womanly charm.[312] Lorenzo lived in

Naples _en grand seigneur_, spared no expense, gave banquets and made

presents, and dowered poor girls who came to him from the provinces.

He purchased the freedom of a hundred galley-slaves, and gave them new

clothes.[313] But that he urgently wished to attain his purpose and be

able to return home may be well understood, for the ground under him

was not safe either here or there. When the king presented him with a

beautiful horse, he remarked, in thanking him, that the man who would

be the bearer of good news needed indeed a swift steed.

At length the main conditions of the treaty were agreed upon, and

without having come to a formal conclusion Lorenzo deemed it possible

to quit Naples, and to leave further steps to the Republic. At the end

of February he departed by sea as he had arrived. Three months had

passed, a time full of doubts and fears, but crowned with success.

‘He landed,’ says Niccolò Valori, ‘in Livorno, from whence he went to

Pisa. In the harbour and town he was received with such a manifestation

of joy, with such signs of attachment and shouts of applause from

the whole population, that the place itself seemed to join in the

rejoicing. But it is impossible to describe how he was received at his

entry into Florence. Young and old, men and women, flocked together.

The people and the nobles rejoiced together to see him return safely.

To all he gave his hand kindly and gratefully. The people embraced each

other for joy.’ But a reaction soon set in. On the evening of March

17 a compact was published, which had been concluded on the 13th at

Naples by Agostino Biliotti and Niccolò Michelozzi in the name of the

Republic.[314] They had made peace; but the conditions were not easy,

and the suspicion arose among the people that the most oppressive

articles were kept secret. If all the circumstances are considered,

however, the conditions were supportable. The Florentines had been

conquered, and from whatever point of view the cause of the war might

be judged, the fact of defeat could not be denied.

On March 25, 1480, the feast of the Annunciation, peace and alliance

were formally proclaimed throughout Florence, and a grand procession

took place headed by the statue from Sta. Maria dell’Impruneta, which

was brought into the city for the purpose. The two opponents bound

themselves mutually to defend their states; the occupied places should

be restored to the Florentines, but at the king’s own time, and with

the exception of Castellina and a part of the Chianti, which was

to be given to Siena. The Duke of Calabria was to be paid a salary

under the name of _condotta_. The Pazzi imprisoned in the tower of

Volterra were to be restored to freedom. The lords of Romagna were

not included in the treaty of peace but the king pledged himself to

preserve their interests. Lorenzo had exerted himself in vain in this

respect. Ferrante out of regard for the Pope was not to be moved. The

dynasties, with the exception of the Ordelaffi, had not to complain

later, as we shall see. Efforts on behalf of the Chianti had likewise

been fruitless. Lorenzo endeavoured to show how advantageously it would

affect the future connections of the Republic with the king if their

territory remained undiminished.[315] It offended the Florentines most

of all that they did not even receive a promise respecting Sarzana, the

restitution of which they had tried to obtain during the negotiations,

in order to diminish the number of claims of compensation from their

opponents. The demand of payment to Girolamo Riario which had been

threatened them, and would indeed have been an insult, was allowed to

remain in abeyance. ‘The conditions,’ remarks Francesco Guicciardini,

‘were not unfavourable to the vanquished.’ But the populace in Florence

were not of the same opinion. That they were not satisfied with the

demeanour of Lodovico Sforza and his influence on the negotiation is

shown by a letter of the Duke of Ferrara to his ambassador, wherein he

requires him to represent to Lorenzo that he would do well to go as

much as possible hand in hand with Milan, even if some things in the

compact were displeasing. He was not to forget that Florence and Milan

were two states whose interests coincided, and whose true union would

be useful to both, as it had been before.[316]

At Rome and Milan the compact was made known on the same day as at

Florence. In the presence of the Pope and his cardinals, Ambrogio

Cerano, general of the Augustinians, announced peace[317] from the

pulpit in Sta. Maria del Popolo, where the Papal service took place on

the feast of the Annunciation.

The position with regard to Sixtus IV. remained, however, as uncertain

as before. Scarcely had Lorenzo left Naples when the king received

through Lorenzo Giustini, new proposals of agreement which appeared

to him of sufficient importance to justify his sending after Medici,

and requesting him to return from Gaeta or Pisa in order to effect an

agreement with Sixtus. The latter, so wrote the king, had displayed

the greatest readiness to agree to the proposals made by Florence and

Milan; and as Girolamo Riario had expressed himself in like manner,

Lorenzo’s return appeared to him highly desirable to bring the matter

to a conclusion, all the more so as the Pope had regarded his departure

as a sign of ill-will. He, the king, had indeed answered that this

departure had been caused by affairs at Florence; but he advised him

to announce at home that bad weather had hindered him on the way, and

as, meanwhile, the Papal decision had arrived, he had considered it

necessary to return in order not to delay the complete conclusion of

the affair. In this manner he would render the League and Milan a real

service, put an end to the Pope’s suspicion, recover his affection,

and promote the king’s interests also. The negotiation could then

proceed without delay on the part of the Milanese ambassadors, who

had a time of departure appointed them, and he would return with the

fame of having completed his work.[318] In this suggestion a cunning

intention has sometimes been suspected, as if the king, enticed by the

new proposals of the Pope, had repented his compact with Lorenzo, and

tried to get the latter into his power again in order to dictate his

will to him. Ferrante’s whole subsequent behaviour affords no ground

for such a suspicion. But that Lorenzo did not accede to the king’s

wishes is explained sufficiently by the painful suspense in which the

Papal policy had kept him so long, and by the necessity of his presence

at home. Probably, too, the king expected no result from this step,

which he was obliged to take for the sake of the Pope. Sixtus IV.

did, indeed, ratify the peace, as we have seen; but he was very ill

satisfied with the whole course of the matter, and Lorenzo Giustini,

who had conducted the negotiation, lost the confidence of the Pope

and his nephew, which he had long enjoyed.[319] Antonio Ridolfi and

Piero Masi were sent to Rome to defend the cause of the Republic. They

accomplished little. The Pope demanded that Lorenzo himself should come

to Rome, for which the latter showed no inclination, and which was also

advised against by others, Ferrara for example.[320] Sixtus complaining

that the agreement and new alliance were to the disadvantage of the

Church, allied himself with the Venetians, who regarded their ancient

relation to Milan and Florence as dissolved, and left the Florentines

still under the pressure of the interdict laid upon them.

Evils soon followed this policy in Romagna. Costanzo Sforza was in

a difficulty, but his powerful relations came to his aid this time

also against the plans of the Pope’s nephew. In Forli, on the other

hand, affairs took a turn very unfavourable for the Republic. Pino

degli Ordelaffi, whom we saw in 1466 violently freed from his brother

Cecco, almost the only one of these lords of Romagna who took the side

of Sixtus IV., had died on February 10, worn out by his dissipated

life, which made it impossible for him to support the fatigues of a

short campaign, which did not tax him heavily. In 1473 be had obtained

from the Pope the renewal of his vice-regency for his own natural

descendants, to the exclusion of his nephew Antonio or Antoniello, to

whom, according to previous family statutes, the joint government of

Forli belonged, and who, like his father, held to Florence as firmly as

Pino to the opposite party. The natural son of the latter, Sinibaldo,

a boy of thirteen years, had been acknowledged by the inhabitants of

Forli as his successor. His stepmother and guardian, Zaffiera Manfredi,

soon made herself so hated that an insurrection broke out as early as

the beginning of July, in consequence of which Antoniello on the 8th

entered Forli. Here the people were still fighting the mercenaries

of Sinibaldo, who had sought protection in the fortress of Ravaldino.

Sixtus IV. took advantage of this opportunity. The Duke of Urbino

received a command to march to Forli; Antoniello was declared deprived

of all his rights, and as the boy Sinibaldo died about this time—how

is unknown—the Pope granted Forli to Girolamo Riario as a lapsed fief.

The citizens at first showed themselves willing to defend the cause

of the rightful heir; but when the duke approached the city, and a

few skirmishes had ended unfavourably, neither provisions nor money

for a longer opposition were existing, and Antoniello recognised the

impossibility of maintaining himself. On August 8 he quitted Forli and

repaired to Florentine territory, and on the following day the Papal

army entered, and Riario was proclaimed lord of Forli. How displeased

they were in Florence to see these embittered enemies at their frontier

with increased powers, may be understood. Two conspiracies in favour of

the Ordelaffi, which broke out in the course of the year, failed, and

Antoniello, who remained in the service of the Republic, awaited better

times.

Far more serious cause of anxiety was afforded by affairs in Siena.

Peace had been proclaimed on March 25 at Siena, but the Duke of

Calabria made no sign of evacuating the territory of that Republic.

During the winter he had been frequently in the city, and he managed

to make himself beloved by the inhabitants. They gave him festivals in

the palace, balls, banquets, and masquerades; and in return he bestowed

knighthood, stood sponsor for children, and was present at the election

of magistrates. In February he had been with troops in the Maremma,

whence an attack from the Duke of Lorraine was feared. Three days after

the proclamation of peace Alfonso went to Viterbo in order to consult

with the Duke of Urbino, who was taking the baths there; and when he

returned, the city sent him to Buonconvento, where the greater part

of his troops were encamped, to meet three illustrious citizens with

the ostensible object of welcoming him, and inviting him to Siena—in

reality, to discover his intentions. For suspicion was already roused

regarding Neapolitan affairs, and not without reason. Twice already

in King Alfonso’s as well as in Ferrante’s days, the Aragonese had

sought to gain ground in Siena. The discord which had always prevailed

more in this city than in any other offered frequent opportunity for

intervention. One happened at this very time. The Duke of Calabria,

who had a residence in Siena, although he was chiefly in the camp, had

put himself in communication with the disaffected of the aristocratic

party, the Monte de’ Nove, the heads of which had lived in banishment

since 1456 or stood aloof from government. His repeated endeavours to

obtain the recall of the exiles had remained without result. It was now

attempted in another way. On the morning of June 22, the friends of the

duke, with the help of some of his troops, who were secretly admitted

into the city, seized on the piazza and palace of the commonwealth,

summoned a council of the people to which only their own adherents

were admitted, abolished the government which had existed hitherto,

and excluded its heads and partisans from office, appointing for the

next two months a new magistracy composed entirely of members of their

party. Without violence or bloodshed, an entire faction of the citizens

which had ruled the city for seventy-seven years was expelled from home

and position.

The duke was in Buonconvento when this revolution took place, either

in order not to seem to countenance it, or to avoid danger in case the

citizens rose in favour of the government, as they had done once before

in the Emperor Charles IV.’s time. He calculated that the victors would

call upon him, if only to accept the military aid without which they

were too weak to maintain themselves permanently—and he calculated

rightly. The Signory and magistrates went to meet him at the gates

on his entry; and during his stay of several days the people were

so amused by festivities that the new rulers had time to recall the

exiles, and weaken their enemies by banishment and fines. All this was

of a kind to inspire the Florentines with the most serious anxiety;

for if the Aragonese obtained a firm footing in Tuscany, their own

independence was much more endangered, for late events had shown how

inferior their military power was to that of the king. ‘Suspicion,’

remarks Machiavelli, ‘seized not only the people, but the heads of the

State likewise;’ and it is considered that the city had never been in

such danger of losing her freedom. This suspicion was strengthened by

events on the Ligurian frontier, in which from the first the Duke of

Calabria’s hand had been recognised. Sarzana was not only not given up

to the Republic, but the garrison disturbed the neighbouring territory

so that Giovanni Aldobrandini, commander of the fortress of Sarzanello,

received commands to repel force by force.

Such was the position of affairs when an unexpected occurrence

produced a decided reaction in the political situation of Central

Italy. The quarrels of the Christian princes, which armed Louis XI.

against Maximilian of Austria, and Mathias Corvinus against Ladislaus

of Poland, the Tuscan war, and the Venetian peace, had been very

advantageous for Mohammed II. The aged sultan wished to crown the

series of his conquests with a brilliant feat of arms. The Sicilian

coasts had been threatened in 1479. In May 1480 a numerous Turkish

fleet attacked Rhodes. The heroic courage of Pierre d’Aubusson and

his knights saved the island, which was held to be the bulwark of

Christendom. Returning from the fruitless siege, a part of the squadron

took a westerly direction, and, sailing by the Venetian islands of

the Ionian sea, landed a considerable number of troops—about seven

thousand men—on the southern coast of Apulia (July 28), where, after

a terrible slaughter of the neighbouring population, the blockade of

Otranto began. On August 11, after a hard struggle, the town fell into

the hands of the inhuman opponents of the Christians.

The blow was stunning. The whole of Italy was in a flame. The threat

of Mohammed to plant the Crescent instead of the Cross in Rome was

remembered. It is said that in his first terror the Pope thought of

quitting the city and retiring to Avignon. But Sixtus IV. was not a man

to lose courage. He wrote to all the Christian princes, representing

the urgent danger to them. Cardinal Gabriele Rangoni went to Naples,

Cardinal Savelli to Genoa, to mediate between the disputants, Cardinal

Giuliano Cesarini to France and England. A French fleet was to combine

with the Neapolitan. The first result for the Florentines was the

return of the Duke of Calabria to Naples. On August 1 the king had

received news of the Turks, and he immediately recalled his son.[321]

The advantage accruing to the Florentines from the new position of

affairs was so great and so evident that many voices were heard

accusing Lorenzo de’ Medici of having encouraged the sultan to attack

Apulia. The friendly relations with Mohammed II., which had been proved

at the Pazzi conspiracy, must have likewise afforded grounds for such

an accusation, the influence of which is, however, not discernible in

the subsequent attitude of the king.[322] On August 7 the duke quitted

Siena. If he accused fate of wresting from him the fruits of his two

years’ exertions in Tuscany the very moment he believed himself certain

of success, he caused those to complain who had calculated on his

assistance, and now feared having to yield for want of it. The same

Prinzivalle di Gennaro who had accompanied Lorenzo was entrusted with

the superintendence of the place which, for the present, was to remain

in the king’s hands, and be given back to the Florentines at the end

of March of the next year. The reconciliation of the Republic with

the Pope could be no longer delayed. It must have been especially

important to him to leave no cause for discontent in Florence when such

danger threatened Christendom.

At the request of King Ferrante, the Signoria, who had conducted

the government during the two last months of the year 1480 with the

Gonfaloniere Bernardo Rucellai, appointed a solemn embassy which

should request Sixtus IV. to revoke the spiritual interdict. The

most distinguished men of the city undertook the mission: Francesco

Soderini, Bishop of Volterra, and afterwards Cardinal, Luigi

Guicciardini, Bongianni Gianfigliazzi, Piero Minerbetti—who all three

possessed the dignity of knighthood—Guid’Antonio Vespucci, Maso

degli Albizzi, Gino Capponi, Jacopo Lanfredini, Domenico Pandolfini,

Giovanni Tornabuoni, Antonio de’ Medici—names some of which have

already appeared in the course of this history, others yet to be

seen. Antonio Ridolfi, who was in Rome holding the office of regular

ambassador of the Republic, was to join them. The instructions given

to the deputies[323] were conciliatory, but moderate and dignified.

‘After the disturbances permitted by God,’ it says, ‘which have been

principally pacified by the grace of his Holiness, peace and quiet

never appeared so sweet to us as at present, for the true peace of our

people devoted to the Holy See depends on the right understanding with

him whom Divine Providence has placed there, and appointed vicegerent

of Christ and successor of Peter. We know that in public and private

we have committed various errors from human weakness, which the Holy

Father has perceived better than we, and therefore send you to entreat

pardon for the same and acknowledge our guilt, and commend our city

and citizens, clergy and laity, to his protection for the future.’

But the ambassadors were at the same time recommended to watch over

the honour and interests of city and State, to give way in reasonable

matters, to refuse unreasonable and dishonourable demands prompted by

secret motives, whether they referred to a public demonstration of

obedience, payments of money, or other things; they were to depart with

their protest in case it should not seem suitable to send for fresh

instructions. The affairs of Lorenzo de’ Medici were to be included in

the general instructions; for special cases Antonio de’ Medici was to

represent him. The Archbishop Rinaldo Orsini, residing at Rome, should

be informed of all, and his mediation with the Pope claimed.

Sixtus IV. had long resolved on reconciliation. On St. Catherine’s

day, November 25, the ambassadors arrived at Rome, welcomed only by

their adherents in the State and friends, as the interdict was still

in force. Two days later they were admitted to the secret consistory,

where the Bishop of Ferrara made a suitable and well-composed speech.

On the first Advent Sunday, December 3, the solemn abrogation took

place in the portico of St. Peter’s. Before the closed bronze gate

of the central nave of the basilica, seated on a throne covered with

purple silk, surrounded by the cardinals, prelates, and officers, and

in presence of a great crowd, the Pope received the ambassadors, who

kissed his foot, and on bended knee besought his forgiveness in the

name of the city, and promised to fulfil the conditions prescribed.

Luigi Guicciardini, an aged man, spoke, but his address was brief,

and difficult to be understood from the noise. An apostolic notary

then read aloud the conditions in the presence of the fiscal advocate

and procurators, to which the ambassadors bound themselves by oath.

The Pope then addressed them, reproved them briefly for what they had

done against the Church, and then declared them free by touching the

shoulder of each lightly with a staff such as penitents were accustomed

to carry, with the words ‘Miserere mei Deus,’ to which the cardinals

responded. Hereupon the ambassadors again kissed the Pope’s foot, and

received his blessing, after which the gates were opened, and Sixtus

IV. being raised on his throne, all went into church, and high mass was

celebrated.

Peace was restored. Most of the members of the embassy returned

immediately to Florence. Only Francesco Soderini and Guid’Antonio

Vespucci remained in order to arrange matters. They also quitted Rome

on December 18 with small pomp and suite, and by no means in a cheerful

frame of mind. For among the conditions imposed on them by the Pope

was the one that the Republic should furnish fifteen galleys for the

war with the Turks;[324] a severe condition considering the depressed

position in which Florence found herself at the end of a war which had

required the hardest pecuniary sacrifices, and desolated a great part

of her territory.

_FOURTH BOOK._

THE MEDICI IN THEIR RELATION TO LITERATURE AND ART.

FIRST PART.

_THE HUMANISTS AND POPULAR LITERATURE TO THE SECOND HALF OF THE

FIFTEENTH CENTURY._

CHAPTER I.

COMMENCEMENT OF HUMANISM. COLUCCIO SALUTATI AND POGGIO BRACCIOLINI. THE

BOOK TRADE.

DURING the first half of the fifteenth century the great revolution

was accomplished which introduced a new era. The antique classical

world entered the lists against the Middle Ages. The contest had

already begun before events which properly extended beyond the learned

circles produced a swift and irresistible reaction. At a time when

ecclesiastical schism was already throwing its dark shadow over

the general disturbances in Western Christendom, two great poets,

Petrarch and Boccaccio, died, after having brought the ancient world,

of which they themselves possessed but an imperfect view, closer to

their contemporaries and those who followed them than had been the

case during the eight centuries which had elapsed since Theodoric the

Ostrogoth. Between the first humanists who pursued the road taken by

these writers and the faction who held fast to ecclesiastical and

learned traditions, a contest had arisen which, properly speaking,

never ceased in life and literature, however different might be the

forms under which it was designated. The Florentine chancellor,

Coluccio Salutati, to whom in the latter third of the fourteenth

century the first place belongs in State documents and learned

treatises, had displayed more Pagan learning than Christian views in

his book ‘De Fato et Fortuna.’ The Dominican Fra Giovanni Dominici,

afterwards cardinal of Ragusa, in his treatise on family life,[325]

spoke against a school which made youths, nay children, ‘rather heathen

than Christian, taught them rather of Jupiter and Saturn, Venus and

Cybele, than of God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; would poison the

tender and helpless minds by sacrifices before false Gods, and train

Nature’s apostate from the truth in the bosom of infidelity.’

Another contest was beginning now. The Latin language asserted an

exclusive pre-eminence in the learned world. It had discarded the

ungainly form of preceding centuries; but although it claimed to

emulate Cicero and Virgil and renew the Augustan age, many decades

were to pass before learning clothed itself in the originality of a

living idiom. The authors of the time we are now considering, however

high they stand above those of the preceding epoch, among whom only

Petrarch possessed a shadow of true Latinity, were never otherwise

than imitators. Their true services are not to be sought for in

their own intellectual work as poets, rhetoricians, historians, or

letter-writers. While they retarded, if they did not prevent, the

development of the vulgar tongue, they created nothing new in the

direction they themselves pursued. The last third of the fifteenth

century was the first to witness the sudden and simultaneous revival

of Latin and Italian poetry. The first assumed a peculiar tone, while

the latter rose to a lofty flight by an independent use of the models

of its grand youth and a liberal appropriation of new elements. The

literature of the first epoch of humanism had played its part then.

Its importance did not so much consist in original productions as in

the ground it prepared and fertilised, in the ideas it smoothed the

way for, the intellectual material which it collected, and in the

superannuated things which it abolished for ever. This limited and

conditional recognition, which its representatives would have proudly

repelled at a time when they thought they governed the world, and

really did so in certain respects, includes both praise and blame. For

while the revival of classical spirit and forms called forth in the

plastic arts great works which will endure through all centuries by

their own merits, it left not a single independent typical monument in

literature.