XI. THE GUILDS AND THE SEIGNIORY IN FLORENCE…

XI. THE GUILDS AND THE SEIGNIORY IN FLORENCE

[Sidenote: [1350-1400 A.D.]]

In an earlier chapter we left the affairs of Florence shortly after the time of the great plague in the middle of the fourteenth century. Succeeding chapters have outlined the history of the Neapolitan kingdom, of the Lombard tyrannies, and of the maritime republics, and, in so doing, have necessarily brought us pretty constantly in contact with Florentine affairs. We are now to give more specific attention to the great Tuscan city, with regard to its internal conditions during the last century following the great plague. The central events of this period have to do with the struggles that culminated in the insurrection of the ciompi, and the momentary assumption of power by the masses.

The growing discontent of the workmen gives us an illustration of the old-time conflict between capital and labour. The attempt of the wool manufactures to put themselves on a political equality with the supposedly higher arts was one of those socialistic movements which from time to time have made themselves felt among all European civilised peoples. Nothing comparable to this was ever seen in the old Orient, under despotic governments which subordinated and enslaved the individual; but such uprisings occurred in Rome under the commonwealth, and were only prevented from frequent repetition in imperial Rome by the pauperising ministrations of the paternal government. The violent outbreak of such a movement in Florence evidences the wide prevalence there of the democratic spirit, and the discontent that is the natural accompaniment of conditions making it possible for the individual to better his social state. Again and again in Italy of this period men came up from the masses and acquired the utmost distinction. Where such a defiance of hereditary traditions is possible there must be a state of social unrest; but, on the other hand, it is precisely this state of unrest that makes a great progressive civilisation possible. The present socialistic uprising in Florence did not reach more than a temporary success, so far as the precise ambitions of its promoters were concerned; but, doubtless it contributed their numberless ancillary channels to the augmentation of the great stream of progress that was sweeping humanity forward toward the deep waters of the Renaissance.

While our present concern has to do solely with these internal affairs of Florence, it will be well to bear in mind the external political conditions with which these struggles of the guilds were contemporary, as they have been already outlined in previous chapters. It must be recalled that during all this time of internecine strife Florence was pretty well occupied with external warfares as well. This was the half-century when the tyrants of Milan were making their power secure, and were reaching out with more and more expectant grasp for the lands of influence that might make them supreme in all Italy. Galeazzo Visconti was the enemy of Florence during the early decades of the period, and his son Gian Galeazzo, who succeeded him in 1385--just after the period of the ciompi’s insurrection--terrorised northern Italy throughout the remainder of the century. It was in the wars of these Lombard tyrants that Sir John Hawkwood appeared. First he warred for Visconti; then, lured by the gold of Florence, he turned enemy to his old employer. Opposed to Hawkwood in his later campaigns was that other great leader of mercenaries, Jacopo del Verme, the leader whose famous feat of cutting the dams and flooding the plain about Hawkwood’s army gave the redoubtable Englishman an opportunity to make that famous retreat which is one of the most picturesque incidents of military annals.

Almost precisely contemporary with the insurrection of the ciompi, was the termination of the so-called Babylonish Captivity of the popes at Avignon, an event soon followed by the Great Schism and its attendant dissensions. In the same decade, too, occurred the famous overthrow of the Genoese by Venice in the war of Chioggia. All these events have been treated elsewhere and will be disregarded in the present chapter; but, as has been said, it will be well for the reader to bear in mind these great political upheavals which furnish the setting for the local insurrections in Florence, and which were of necessity closely associated with them in the minds of contemporaries.[a]

SOCIAL UPHEAVALS OF THE MIDDLE OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY

[Sidenote: [1339-1353 A.D.]]

Democracy had not had for the Florentines the disadvantage sometimes attributed to it--that of making great enterprises impossible. It was their ruling spirit; and, being neither an expedient of empiricism nor yet a deduction of theory, it had not limited the advance of their external power which absorbed their former rivals, Arezzo and Pistoia, and reduced Siena to a tributary state. But in the interior of their town itself they had always opposed a weak resistance to those fatal quarrels which so often caused them to fall into a state of anarchy. Nobles deprived of their rights, and finding in persecution that sustenance of life which would soon have failed them had they been left to degenerate in their narrow caste; burghers in possession of the privileges of which they had despoiled the nobles, and which they guarded fiercely, like a new garden of the Hesperides; lastly the people, who climbed to the assault as the burghers had climbed before them--all kept up an agitation with a contrary aim, but incessant, weakening the power of the state. No stability was left to the state; never had Dante’s words been truer with regard to what was woven in October and no longer existed in mid-November. If one day, against their will, the burghers grudgingly consented to the institution of casting lots which meant the ruin of their pretensions to oligarchy, shortly after they withdrew with one hand what they had given with the other; they replaced in the bags of the electoral colleges the names which had been drawn from the priors’ bags, and vice versa, so that the same names could be frequently drawn. But the triumph of their cunning was a short one! The democratic instinct framed a law which made this abuse impossible (December, 1339); henceforth the tickets drawn from the bags were destroyed, and no one who filled one office could receive a second, till the bags had been entirely emptied.

These continual changes in the institutions were not accomplished without disturbances which were a constant cause of alarm, even if they did not lead to taking up arms. Macchiavelli declares that the abasement of the nobles was a cause of prosperity for Florence, because the magistrates were more respected. How can this be believed when the rich burghers are seen reproducing the excesses and abuses of those whom they succeeded in power? A petition of August 27th, 1352, accused them of pride, arrogance, and injustice, and obtained the concession that those accused of misdoing should be punished as nobles. What threat could have been more effective in holding them back on the brink of the precipice? However, they fell to the bottom. The following year their acts of brigandage formed a constant topic. Each night some daring robbery was committed. They forced the tills of the money-changers; carried away clothes and cloth from the tailors--forty-five articles on one occasion--two hundred halves of salted pigs from a pork butcher; from others, beds with mattresses, ticken, and covers. In spite of the traffic, which was great even after the curfew, the robbers were never surprised at work. In vain did the podesta, Paolo Vaiani, a severe Roman eager for justice, put on foot all the men at his disposal, and even himself keep watch. After several nights spent in the open air, he at last discovered certain men carrying bales to the walls and throwing them over; their accomplices loaded a boat with them and took them to Pisa. But they were men of low rank, many of whom believed they were only helping a bankrupt and saving his possessions from confiscation--the least of offences, if it was one at all, according to the ideas of those times. These men received the bastinado; the others were hanged.

The principal criminals were still to be discovered--those who prudently remained in the background undeterred in their shameful exploits by these examples in anima vili. After long investigation and examination it was at last discovered that the thieves were “honourable citizens,” who met with trumpets, lutes, and other musical instruments, as if for the purpose of giving a serenade. Certain young men of good family stood at either end of the street and begged the passers-by to take another road, because the musicians wished to remain unrecognised. The deafening noise made the request appear rational, and so the place was left free for houses and shops to be pillaged in the darkness of the night, without attracting suspicion, without fear of interruption. One of the leaders of the band was Bordone Bordoni, of an old and wealthy burgher family, whose members succeeded each other, almost without interruption, in public offices. Put to torture, he confessed. His brother Gherardo, one of the ambassadors sent the previous year to Charles IV, pleaded his cause with the priors, and they, indulgent towards a criminal of their own rank, opposed the capital sentence which the people demanded and which the podesta wished to pronounce. Finding it impossible to bend this severe Roman to their desire, they disbanded his body-guard. They believed that without these latter he would be forced to submit. But he refused to accept this ridiculous situation, indignantly gave up the rod, emblem of command, and retired to Siena (March 11th, 1353).

[Sidenote: [1353-1355 A.D.]]

Immediately the town was roused. Men declared that justice was no longer to be had by the humble. The least fault caused them to be slaughtered; if, however, a man of powerful position was banished for a crime, he posed as a victim of political proscription. If the podestas were cashiered when they were anxious to render justice, who would be willing to come to Florence? The walls were covered with angry inscriptions, insulting the priors. Those who succeeded them hastened to disavow a compromising fellowship; yielding to the general sentiment, they sent an envoy to Siena to beg the podesta to return, promising strict obedience. Paolo Vaiani did not yield immediately; he enumerated his grievances: corn had increased in price, and his salary was not sufficient for his expenses. If he returned, it must be with an increase of 2,000 florins--more than was needful, says one of the chroniclers. He had Bordone beheaded, and sent many of his accomplices into exile. By this means he calmed the people, and at last cleansed Florence of these miscreants of high rank. But their relatives were left to rekindle the almost extinguished fire. Gherardo Bordoni accused the Mangioni and the Beccanugi of his brother’s death. To avenge him he took advantage of the disorder in the town caused by the approach of the Grand Company (1354). With his consorti and his followers he pursued his enemies even to their homes, and killed two women who, according to the custom of the time, were enjoying the cool of the evening on the threshold. The troops of the seigniory tried to restore order, but they were powerless. The militia of the suburbs, with their gonfalons, were called out. This time five of the Bordoni and twelve of their accomplices were condemned to confiscation of goods and capital punishment, unless they preferred to go into exile (July, 1354).

Far more serious, and with more disastrous results in this city constantly a prey to the disputes of its families, was the rivalry of the Ricci and the Albizzi. Macchiavelli compares it with that of the Buondelmonti and the Uberti, in which history, not clear-sighted, and misinformed, so long saw the generative act of Florentine annals. A discussion was going on concerning the origin of the Albizzi. According to some, they came from Arezzo, and consequently were Ghibellines. On the contrary, others, their friends, declared that they had been driven thence because they were Guelfs. True or false, the accusation of being Ghibellines was not without danger at a time when the announced approach of Charles IV was awakening former terrors. When minds are agitated, the least incident appears important, and furnishes food for hatred. The Albizzi have servants at Casentino to defend their property? It is a lie! They are there to attack the Ricci. An ass brushed against one of the Ricci at Mercato Vecchio, and the driver was beaten for his negligence? Evidently the Ricci are attacking the Albizzi. And thus two large families took up arms, and with them the entire city. It was not easy to disarm them, and they were always ready to take up arms again. If an occasion for doing so did not soon appear, they would employ ruse instead of force.

The detail of events is wanting; but by the measures taken for or against the great, the fluctuations of public opinion may be seen, or rather the ephemeral preponderance of one or other of the two factions. At one time popular government restores to the nobles, provided they be of the Guelf faction, the right to hold posts of secondary importance, and suppresses the big drum used to issue denunciations against them (April 10th, 1355). Twelve days instead of five, fifteen days instead of ten, as the case may be, are allowed their enemies to bring an action against them, and consequently for them to escape. They are allowed to enter the public palace, and to rebuild their ruined houses. No more bail, no relatives responsible beyond the third degree. At another time (August 21st, 1355), “in order to preserve and defend popular liberty and innocence, especially that of weak and unhappy persons,” it was decreed that nobles condemned for homicide, acts of wounding, robbing, incendiarism, adultery, etc., “shall no longer be allowed, nor yet their descendants, to live in the home of their family.” It was perceived that the burghers were becoming infused with the spirit of the nobles, and in consequence the difficulties of passing from one rank to the other were increased; three-quarters of the votes were required in the ballot, a majority difficult to realise, and it became, moreover, an obstacle to the cancelling of sentences and to the recall of exiles. When the seigniory was merciful to the nobles, it was a sign that the Albizzi were in power; when it was severe to them, it was under the influence of the Ricci.

Most frequently the Ricci were in power. They held community of ideas with the medium crafts, and with them they forbade the holding of office by the fourteen lesser crafts, an accomplished fact which was nevertheless always contested; they maintained the inexorable law of divieto, which held at a distance the numerous relatives of a burgher in office, without injuring the lower classes, who either had few relatives or else did not know them. The nobles and the burghers forgot, as did the Albizzi, that this government had been able to bring to a happy conclusion the unfortunate affair of Telamone, without engaging in war; to create a fleet, though they had no shore; to drive away the free companies, without paying them shameful ransoms; to keep their engagements with the Visconti, without offending the legate; and to restore order, which, precarious as it may seem to us, then appeared satisfactory. They saw only the crime of these lower classes in being so numerous in office, as arrogant at having obtained position as they were eager to obtain it, despotic, as their class always is, thinking only of their own interests, and each of them believing himself a king. These reproaches are heard in every age in the writings of the chroniclers, always disposed to despise what lies before their eyes; and, moreover, how many men can be found who do not deserve such reproaches? The optical illusion which distance gives is necessary to perceive in the rich burghers only, as we see them in the past, “the old friends of their country, despisers of their own wealth to increase that of the republic”; and it requires the contrary error, which comes from too close a neighbourhood, to perceive only the failings of the lower class in a government where the lesser crafts dominated. “It is wonderful,” said Matteo Villani,[c] “that Florence did not perish then.” The simple statement of facts shows us what to think on this subject. How many times, under other governments, has Florence not been seen on the brink of ruin, yet ever rising with powerful force which nothing could destroy.

Another historian of Florence, Signor Gino Capponi,[d] blames Dante for lamenting the confusion of ranks, the introduction into the city of men from Certaldo, Campi, and Signa, who became merchants and money-changers and formed the nerve of the new race, and he approves the rich burghers who were now the objects of the same complaints which they formerly brought against the nobles. But it should be remembered that in each seigniory of that time, at the most, three members out of nine were of the lowest crafts, and that old families still kept their share. If the people of the middle classes who make the laws agreed by preference with the lowest classes, it certainly was no proof that the lowest classes were unreasonably exacting; and it leads one to think that the rich burghers were extremely so, especially in refusing to admit any newcomer to a share in the power.[b]

MACCHIAVELLI’S ACCOUNT OF THE CIOMPI INSURRECTION

[Sidenote: [1355-1356 A.D.]]

After the victory of Charles the government was formed of the Guelfs of Anjou and it acquired great authority over the Ghibellines. But time, a variety of circumstances, and new divisions had so contributed to sink this party feeling into oblivion, that many of Ghibelline descent now filled the highest offices. Observing this, Uguccione, the head of the family of the Ricci, contrived that the law against the Ghibellines should be again brought into operation, many imagining the Albizzi to be of that faction, they having arisen in Arezzo, and come long ago to Florence. Uguccione by this means hoped to deprive the Albizzi of participation in the government, for all of Ghibelline blood who were found to hold offices would be condemned in the penalties which this law provided. The design of Uguccione was discovered to Piero son of Filippo degli Albizzi, and he resolved to favour it; for he saw that to oppose it would at once declare him a Ghibelline; and thus the law which was renewed by the ambition of the Ricci for his destruction, instead of robbing Piero degli Albizzi of reputation, contributed to increase his influence, although it laid the foundation of many evils. Piero having favoured this law, which had been contrived by his enemies for his stumbling-block, it became the stepping-stone to his greatness; for, making himself the leader of this new order of things, his authority went on increasing, and he was in greater favour with the Guelfs than any other man.

As there could not be found a magistrate willing to search out who were Ghibellines, and as this renewed enactment against them was therefore of small value, it was provided that authority should be given to the capitani to find who were of this faction; and, having discovered, to signify and admonish them that were, not to take upon themselves any office of government; to which admonitions, if they were disobedient, they became condemned in the penalties. Hence, all those who in Florence were deprived of the power to hold offices were called ammoniti, or “admonished.” The capitani, in time acquiring great audacity, admonished not only those to whom the admonition was applicable, but any others at the suggestion of their own avarice or ambition; and from 1356, when this law was made, to 1366, there had been admonished above two hundred citizens. The captains of the Parts and the sect of the Guelfs were thus become powerful; for everyone honoured them for fear of being admonished; and most particularly the leaders, who were Piero degli Albizzi, Lapo da Castiglionchio, and Carlo Strozzi. The insolent mode of proceeding was offensive to many; but none felt so particularly injured with it as the Ricci; for they knew themselves to have occasioned it, they saw it involved the ruin of the republic, and their enemies the Albizzi, contrary to their intention, become great in consequence.

[Sidenote: [1356-1371 A.D.]]

On this account Uguccione de’ Ricci, being one of the seigniory, resolved to put an end to the evil which he and his friends had originated, and with a new law provided that to the six captains of Parts an additional three should be appointed, of whom two should be chosen from the companies of minor artificers, and that before any party could be considered Ghibelline, the declaration of the capitani must be confirmed by twenty-four Guelfic citizens, appointed for the purpose. This provision tempered for the time the power of the capitani, so that the admonitions were greatly diminished, if not wholly laid aside. Still the parties of the Albizzi and the Ricci were continually on the alert to oppose each other’s laws, deliberations, and enterprises, not from a conviction of their inexpediency, but from hatred of their promoters. In such distractions the time passed from 1366 to 1371, when the Guelfs again regained the ascendant. There was in the family of the Buondelmonti a gentleman named Benchi, who, as an acknowledgment of his merit in a war against the Pisans, though one of the nobility, had been admitted amongst the people, and thus became eligible to office amongst the seigniory; but when about to take his seat with them, a law was made that no nobleman who had become of the popular class should be allowed to assume that office. This gave great offence to Benchi, who, in union with Piero degli Albizzi, determined to depress the less powerful of the popular party with admonitions, and obtain the government for themselves. By the interest which Benchi possessed with the ancient nobility, and that of Piero with most of the influential citizens, the Guelfic party resumed their ascendency, and by new reforms among the “parts” so remodelled the administration as to be able to dispose of the offices of the captains and the twenty-four citizens at pleasure. They then returned to the admonitions with greater audacity than ever, and the house of the Albizzi became powerful as the head of this faction. On the other hand, the Ricci made the most strenuous exertions against their designs; so that anxiety universally prevailed, and ruin was apprehended alike from both parties.

The seigniory, induced by the necessity of the case, gave authority to fifty-six citizens to provide for the safety of the republic. It is usually found that most men are better adapted to pursue a good course already begun, than to discover one applicable to immediate circumstances. These citizens thought rather of extinguishing existing factions than of preventing the formation of new ones, and effected neither of these objects. The facilities for the establishment of new parties were not removed; and out of those which they guarded against, another more powerful arose, which brought the republic into still greater danger. They, however, deprived three of the family of the Albizzi, and three of that of the Ricci, of all the offices of government, except those of the Guelfic party, for three years; and amongst the deprived were Piero degli Albizzi and Uguccione de’ Ricci. They forbade the citizens to assemble in the palace, except during the sittings of the seigniory. They provided that if anyone were beaten, or possession of his property detained from him, he might bring his case before the council and denounce the offender, even if he were one of the nobility; and that if it were proved, the accused should be subject to the usual penalties. This provision abated the boldness of the Ricci, and increased that of the Albizzi; since, although it applied equally to both, the Ricci suffered from it by far the most; for if Piero was excluded from the palace of the seigniory, the chamber of the Guelfs, in which he possessed the greatest authority, remained open to him; and if he and his followers had previously been ready to admonish, they became after this injury doubly so. To this predisposition for evil, new excitements were added.

The Eight “Saints of War”

[Sidenote: [1371-1375 A.D.]]

The papal chair was occupied by Gregory XI. He, like his predecessors, residing at Avignon, governed Italy by legates, who, proud and avaricious, oppressed many of the cities. One of these legates, then at Bologna, taking advantage of a great scarcity of food at Florence, endeavoured to render himself master of Tuscany, and not only withheld provisions from the Florentines, but in order to frustrate their hopes of the future harvest, upon the approach of spring, attacked them with a large army, trusting that being famished and unarmed he should find them an easy conquest. He might perhaps have been successful, had not his forces been mercenary and faithless, and, therefore, induced to abandon the enterprise for the sum of 130,000 florins, which the Florentines paid them. People may go to war when they will, but cannot always withdraw when they like. This contest, commenced by the ambition of the legate, was continued by the resentment of the Florentines, who, entering into a league with Barnabò of Milan, and with the cities hostile to the church, appointed eight citizens for the administration of it, giving them authority to act without appeal, and to expend whatever sums they might judge expedient, without rendering an account of the outlay.

This war against the pontiff, although Uguccione was now dead, reanimated those who had followed the party of the Ricci, who, in opposition to the Albizzi, had always favoured Barnabò and opposed the church, and this, the rather, because the eight commissioners of war were all enemies of the Guelfs. This occasioned Piero degli Albizzi, Lapo da Castiglionchio, Carlo Strozzi, and others to unite themselves more closely in opposition to their adversaries. The Eight carried on the war, and the others admonished during three years, when the death of the pontiff put an end to the hostilities, which had been carried on with so much ability and with such entire satisfaction to the people, that at the end of each year the Eight were continued in office, and were called santi, or holy, although they had set ecclesiastical censures at defiance, plundered the churches of their property, and compelled the priests to perform divine service. So much did citizens at that time prefer the good of their country to their ghostly consolations, and thus showed the church that if as her friends they had defended, they could as enemies depress her; for the whole of Romagna, the Marches, and Perugia were excited to rebellion.

Yet whilst this war was carried on against the pope, they were unable to defend themselves against the captains of the Parts and their faction; for the insolence of the Guelfs against the Eight attained such a pitch, that they could not restrain themselves from abusive behaviour, not merely against some of the most distinguished citizens, but even against the Eight themselves; and the captains of the Parts conducted themselves with such arrogance that they were feared more than the seigniory. Those who had business with them treated them with greater reverence, and their court was held in higher estimation; so that no ambassador came to Florence without commission to the captains. Pope Gregory being dead, and the city freed from external war, there still prevailed great confusion within; for the audacity of the Guelfs was insupportable, and as no available mode of subduing them presented itself, and as it was thought that recourse must be had of being prepared against this calamity, the leaders of the party assembled to arms, to determine which party was the stronger. With the Guelfs were all the ancient nobility, and the greater part of the most powerful popular leaders, of which number, as already remarked, were Lapo, Piero, and Carlo. On the other side, were all the lower orders, the leaders of whom were the eight commissioners of war, Giorgio Scali and Tommaso Strozzi, and with them the Ricci, Alberti, and Medici. The rest of the multitude, as most commonly happens, joined the discontented party.

[Sidenote: [1375-1378 A.D.]]

It appeared to the heads of the Guelfic faction that their enemies would be greatly strengthened, and themselves in considerable danger in case a hostile seigniory should resolve on their subjugation. Desirous, therefore, to take into consideration the state of the city, and that of their own friends in particular, they found the ammoniti so numerous and so great a difficulty, that the whole city was excited against them on this account. They could not devise any other remedy than that, as their enemies had deprived them of all the offices of honour, they should banish their opponents from the city, take possession of the palace of the seigniory, and bring over the whole state to their own party--in imitation of the Guelfs of former times, who found no safety in the city till they had driven all their adversaries out of it. They were unanimous upon the main point, but did not agree upon the time of carrying it into execution. It was in the month of April, in the year 1378, when Lapo, thinking delay unadvisable, expressed his opinion that procrastination was in the highest degree perilous to themselves, as in the next seigniory, Salvestro de’ Medici would very probably be elected gonfalonier, and they all knew he was opposed to their party. Piero degli Albizzi, on the other hand, thought it better to defer, since they would require forces, which could not be assembled without exciting observation, and if they were discovered, they would incur great risk. He thereupon judged it preferable to wait till the approaching feast of St. John, on which, being the most solemn festival of the city, vast multitudes would be assembled, amongst whom they might conceal whatever numbers they pleased. To obviate their fears of Salvestro, he was to be admonished, and if this did not appear likely to be effectual, they would admonish one of the “colleagues” of his quarter, and upon re-drawing, as the ballot-boxes would be nearly empty, chance would very likely occasion that either he or some associate of his would be drawn, and he would thus be rendered incapable of sitting as gonfalonier.

They therefore at last came to the conclusion proposed by Piero, though Lapo consented reluctantly, considering the delay dangerous, and that, as no opportunity can be in all respects suitable, he who waits for the concurrence of every advantage either never makes an attempt, or, if induced to do so, is most frequently foiled. They admonished the colleague, but did not prevent the appointment of Salvestro, for the design was discovered by the Eight, who took care to render all attempts upon the drawing futile.

Salvestro Alamanno de’ Medici was therefore drawn gonfalonier, and, being of one of the noblest popular families, he could not endure that the people should be oppressed by a few powerful persons. Having resolved to put an end to their insolence, and perceiving the middle classes favourably disposed, and many of the highest of the people on his side, he communicated his design to Benedetto Alberti, Tommaso Strozzi, and Giorgio Scali, who all promised their assistance. They, therefore, secretly drew up a law which had for its object to revive the restrictions upon the nobility, to retrench the authority of the capitani di parte, and also to recall the ammoniti to their dignity.

In order to attempt and obtain their ends, at one and the same time, having to consult, first the colleagues and then the councils, Salvestro being provost (which office for the time made its possessor almost prince of the city), he called together the colleagues and the council on the same morning, and the colleagues being apart, he proposed the law prepared by himself and his friends, which, being a novelty, encountered in their small number so much opposition that he was unable to have it passed.

Salvestro, seeing his first attempt likely to fail, pretended to leave the room for a private reason, and, without being perceived, went immediately to the council, and taking a lofty position from which he could be both seen and heard, said that, considering himself invested with the office of gonfalonier not so much to preside in private cases (for which proper judges were appointed, who have their regular sittings) as to guard the state, correct the insolence of the powerful, and ameliorate those laws by the influence of which the republic was being ruined, he had carefully attended to both these duties, and to his utmost ability provided for them, but found the perversity of some so much opposed to his just designs as to deprive him of all opportunity of doing good, and them not only of the means of assisting him with their counsel, but even hearing him. Therefore, finding he no longer contributed either to the benefit of the republic or of the people generally, he could not perceive any reason for his longer holding the magistracy, of which he was either undeserving, or others thought him so, and would therefore retire to his house, that the people might appoint another in his stead, who would either have greater virtue or better fortune than himself. And having said this, he left the room as if to return home.

Mob Violence

Those of the council who were in the secret, and others desirous of novelty, raised a tumult, at which the seigniory and the colleagues came together, and finding the gonfalonier leaving them, entreatingly and authoritatively detained him, and obliged him to return to the council room, which was now full of confusion. Many of the noble citizens were threatened in opprobrious language; and an artificer seized Carlo Strozzi by the throat, and would undoubtedly have murdered him, but was with difficulty prevented by those around. He who made the greatest disturbance, and incited the city to violence, was Benedetto degli Alberti, who, from a window of the palace, loudly called the people to arms; and presently the courtyards were filled with armed men, and the colleagues granted to threats what they had refused to entreaty. The capitani di parte had at the same time drawn together a great number of citizens to their hall, to consult upon the means of defending themselves against the orders of the seigniors; but when they heard the tumult that was raised, and were informed of the course the councils had adopted, each took refuge in his own house.

Let no one, when raising popular commotions, imagine he can afterwards control them at his pleasure, or restrain them from proceeding to the commission of violence. Salvestro intended to enact his law, and compose the city; but it happened otherwise; for the feelings of all had become so excited, that they shut up the shops; the citizens fortified themselves in their houses; many conveyed their valuable property into the churches and monasteries, and everyone seemed to apprehend something terrible at hand. The companies of the arts met, and each appointed an additional officer or syndic; upon which the priors summoned their colleagues and these syndics, and consulted a whole day how the city might be appeased with satisfaction to the different parties; but much difference of opinion prevailed, and no conclusion was come to. On the following day the arts brought forth their banners, which the seigniory, understanding, and being apprehensive of evil, called the council together to consider what course to adopt. But scarcely were they met, when the uproar recommenced, and soon the ensigns of the arts, surrounded by vast numbers of armed men, occupied the courts. Upon this the council, to give the arts and the people hope of redress, and free themselves as much as possible from the charge of causing the mischief, gave a general power, which in Florence is called balia, to the seigniors, the colleagues, the Eight, the capitani di parte, and to the syndics of the arts, to reform the government of the city for the common benefit of all. Whilst this was being arranged, a few of the ensigns of the arts and some of the mob, desirous of avenging themselves for the recent injuries they had received from the Guelfs, separated themselves from the rest, and sacked and burned the house of Lapo da Castiglionchio, who, when he learned the proceedings of the seigniory against the Guelfs, and saw the people in arms, having no other resource but concealment or flight, first took refuge in Santa Croce, and afterwards, being disguised as a monk, fled into the Casentino, where he was often heard to blame himself for having consented to wait till St. John’s day, before they had made themselves sure of the government. Piero degli Albizzi and Carlo Strozzi hid themselves upon the first outbreak of the tumult, trusting that when it was over, by the interest of their numerous friends and relations, they might remain safely in Florence.

The house of Lapo being burned, as mischief begins with difficulty but easily increases, many other houses, either through public hatred or private malice, shared the same fate; and the rioters, that they might have companions more eager than themselves to assist them in their work of plunder, broke open the public prisons, and then sacked the monastery of the Agnoli and the convent of Santo Spirito, whither many citizens had taken their most valuable goods for safety. Nor would the public chambers have escaped these destroyers’ hands, except out of reverence for one of the seigniors who, on horseback and followed by many citizens in arms, opposed the rage of the mob.

This popular fury being abated by the authority of the seigniors and the approach of night, on the following day the balia relieved the admonished, on condition that they should not for three years be capable of holding any magistracy. They annulled the laws made by the Guelfs to the prejudice of the citizens; declared Lapo da Castiglionchio and his companions rebels, and with them many others, who were the objects of universal detestation. After these resolutions, the new seigniory were drawn for, and Luigi Guicciardini was appointed gonfalonier, which gave hope that the tumults would soon be appeased; for everyone thought them to be peaceable men and lovers of order. Still the shops were not opened, nor did the citizens lay down their arms, but continued to patrol the city in great numbers.

Presently a disturbance arose, much more injurious to the republic than anything that had hitherto occurred. The greatest part of the fires and robberies which took place on the previous days was perpetrated by the very lowest of the people; and those who had been the most audacious were afraid that, when the greater differences were composed, they would be punished for the crimes they had committed; and that, as usual, they would be abandoned by those who had instigated them to the commission of crime. To this may be added the hatred of the lower orders towards the rich citizens and the principals of the arts, because they did not think themselves remunerated for their labour in a manner equal to their merits. For in the time of Charles I, when the city was divided into arts, a head or governor was appointed to each, and it was provided that the individuals of each art should be judged in civil matters by their own superiors. These arts were at first twelve; in the course of time they were increased to twenty-one, and attained so much power that in a few years they grasped the entire government of the city; and as some were in greater esteem than others, they were divided into major and minor; seven were called the “major,” and fourteen the “minor arts.” From this division, and from other causes, arose the arrogance of the capitani di parte; for these citizens, who had formerly been Guelfs, and had the constant disposal of that magistracy, favoured the followers of the major and persecuted the minor arts and their patrons; and hence arose the many commotions already mentioned. When the companies of the arts were first organised, many of those trades, followed by the lowest of the people and the plebeians, were not incorporated, but were ranged under those arts most nearly allied to them; and, hence, when they were not properly remunerated for their labour, or their masters oppressed them, they had no one of whom to seek redress, except the magistrate of the art to which theirs was subject; and of him they did not think justice always attainable. Of the arts, that which always had the greatest number of these subordinates was the woollen; which being the most powerful body, and first in authority, supported the greater part of the plebeians and lowest of the people.

The lower classes, then, the subordinates not only of the woollen, but also of the other arts, were discontented, from the causes just mentioned; and their apprehension of punishment for the burnings and robberies they had committed did not tend to compose them. Meetings took place in different parts during night, to talk over the past, and to communicate the danger in which they were. When one of the most daring and experienced, in order to animate the rest, spoke thus: “If the question now were whether we should take up arms, rob and burn the houses of the citizens, and plunder churches, I am one of those who would think it worthy of further consideration, and should, perhaps, prefer poverty and safety to the dangerous pursuit of an uncertain good. But as we have already armed, and many offences have been committed, and those who are first in arms will certainly be victors, to the ruin of their enemies and their own exaltation; thus honours will accrue to many of us, and security to all.” These arguments greatly inflamed minds already disposed to mischief so that they determined to take up arms as soon as they had acquired a sufficient number of associates, and bound themselves by oath to mutual defence, in case any of them were subdued by the civil power.

Whilst they were arranging to take possession of the republic, their design became known to the seigniory, who, having taken a man named Simone, learned from him the particulars of the conspiracy, and that the outbreak was to take place on the following day. Finding the danger so pressing, they called together the colleagues and those citizens who with the syndics of the arts were endeavouring to effect the union of the city. It was then evening, and they advised the seigniors to assemble the consuls of the trades, who proposed that whatever armed force was in Florence should be collected, and with the gonfaloniers of the people and their companies meet under arms in the piazza next morning. It happened that whilst Simone was being tortured, a man named Niccolo da San Friano was regulating the palace clock, and becoming acquainted with what was going on, returned home and spread the report of it in his neighbourhood, so that presently the piazza of Santo Spirito was occupied by above a thousand men. This soon became known to the other conspirators, and San Pietro Maggiore and San Lorenzo, their places of assembly, were presently full of them, all under arms.

At daybreak, on the 21st of July, there did not appear in the piazza above eighty men in arms friendly to the seigniory, and not one of the gonfaloniers; for knowing the whole city to be in a state of insurrection they were afraid to leave their homes. The first body of plebeians that made its appearance was that which had assembled at San Pietro Maggiore; but the armed force did not venture to attack them. Then came the other multitudes, and finding no opposition, they loudly demanded their prisoners from the seigniory; and being resolved to have them by force if they were not yielded to their threats, they burned the house of Luigi Guicciardini; and the seigniory, for fear of greater mischief, set them at liberty. With this addition to their strength they took the gonfalon of justice from the bearer, and under the shadow of authority which it gave them, burned the houses of many citizens, selecting those whose owners had publicly or privately excited their hatred. Many citizens, to avenge themselves for private injuries, conducted them to the houses of their enemies; for it was quite sufficient to insure its destruction, if a single voice from the mob called out, “To the house of such a one,” or if he who bore the gonfalon took the road towards it. All the documents belonging to the woollen trade were burned, and after the commission of much violence, by way of associating it with something laudable, Salvestro de’ Medici and sixty-three other citizens were made knights, amongst whom were Benedetto and Antonio degli Alberti, Tommaso Strozzi, and others similarly their friends; though many received the honour against their wills. It was a remarkable peculiarity of the riots that many who had their houses burned were on the same day and by the same party made knights; so close were the kindness and the injury together. This circumstance occurred to Luigi Guicciardini, gonfalonier of justice.

In this tremendous uproar, the seigniory, finding themselves abandoned by their armed force, by the leaders of the arts, and by the gonfaloniers, became dismayed; for none had come to their assistance in obedience to orders; and of the sixteen gonfalons, the ensign of the Golden Lion and of the Vaio, under Giovenco della Stufa and Giovanni Cambi, alone appeared; and these, not being joined by any other, soon withdrew. Of the citizens, on the other hand, some, seeing the fury of this unreasonable multitude and the palace abandoned, remained within doors; others followed the armed mob, in the hope that, by being amongst them, they might more easily protect their own houses or those of their friends. The power of the plebeians was thus increased and that of the seigniory weakened. The tumult continued all day, and at night the rioters halted near the palace of Stefano, behind the church of St. Barnabas. Their number exceeded six thousand, and before daybreak they obtained by threats the ensigns of the trades, with which and the gonfalon of justice, when morning came, they proceeded to the palace of the provost, who refusing to surrender it to them, they took possession of it by force.

The seigniory, desirous of a compromise, since they could not restrain them by force, appointed four of the colleagues to proceed to the palace of the provost, and endeavour to learn what was their intention. They found that the leaders of the plebeians, with the syndics of the trades and some citizens, had resolved to signify their wishes to the seigniory. They therefore returned with four deputies of the plebeians, who demanded that the woollen trade should not be allowed to have a foreign judge; that there should be formed three new companies of the arts; namely, one for the wool-combers and dyers, one for the barbers, doublet-makers, tailors, and such like, and the third for the lowest class of people. They required that the three new arts should furnish two seigniors; the fourteen minor arts, three; and that the seigniory should provide a suitable place of assembly for them. They also made it a condition that no member of these companies should be expected during two years to pay any debt that amounted to less than 50 ducats; that the bank should take no interest on loans already contracted and that only the principal sum should be demanded; that the condemned and the banished should be forgiven, and the admonished should be restored to participation in the honours of government. Besides these, many other articles were stipulated in favour of their friends, and a requisition made that many of their enemies should be exiled and admonished. These demands, though grievous and dishonourable to the republic, were for fear of further violence granted, by the joint deliberation of the seigniors, colleagues, and council of the people. But in order to give it full effect, it was requisite that the council of the commune should also give its consent; and, as they could not assemble two councils during the same day, it was necessary to defer it till the morrow. However, the trades appeared content, the plebeians satisfied; and both promised that, these laws being confirmed, every disturbance should cease.

On the following morning, whilst the council of the commune were in consultation, the impatient and volatile multitude entered the piazza, under their respective ensigns, with loud and fearful shouts, which struck terror into all the council and seigniory; and Guerrente Marignolli, one of the latter, influenced more by fear than anything else, under pretence of guarding the lower doors, left the chamber and fled to his house. He was unable to conceal himself from the multitude, who, however, took no notice, except that, upon seeing him, they insisted that all the seigniors should quit the palace, and declared that if they refused to comply, their houses should be burned and their families put to death.

The law had now been passed; the seigniors were in their own apartments; the council had descended from the chamber, and without leaving the palace, hopeless of saving the city, they remained in the lodges and courts below, overwhelmed with grief at seeing such depravity in the multitude, and such perversity or fear in those who might either have restrained or suppressed them. The seigniory, too, were dismayed and fearful for the safety of their country, finding themselves abandoned by one of their associates, and without any aid or even advice; when, at this moment of uncertainty as to what was about to happen, or what would be best to be done, Tommaso Strozzi and Benedetto Alberti, either from motives of ambition (being desirous of remaining masters of the palace), or because they thought it the most advisable step, persuaded them to give way to the popular impulse, and withdraw privately to their own homes. This advice, given by those who had been the leaders of the tumult, although the others yielded, filled Alamanno Acciajuoli and Niccolo del Bene, two of the seigniors, with anger; and, reassuming a little vigour, they said, that if the others would withdraw they could not help it, but they would remain as long as they continued in office, if they did not in the meantime lose their lives. These dissensions redoubled the fears of the seigniory and the rage of the people, so that the gonfalonier, disposed to conclude his magistracy in dishonour than in danger, recommended himself to the care of Tommaso Strozzi, who withdrew him from the palace and conducted him to his house. The other seigniors were, one after another, conveyed in the same manner, so that Alamanno and Niccolo, not to appear more valiant than wise, seeing themselves left alone, also retired, and the palace fell into the hands of the plebeians and the eight commissioners of war, who had not yet laid down their authority.

Michele di Lando

When the plebeians entered the palace, the standard of the gonfalonier of justice was in the hands of Michele di Lando, a wool-comber. This man, barefoot, with scarcely anything upon him, and the rabble at his heels, ascended the staircase, and, having entered the audience chamber of the seigniory, he stopped, and turning to the multitude said, “You see this palace is now yours, and the city is in your power; what do you think ought to be done?” To which they replied, they would have him for their gonfalonier and lord; and that he should govern them and the city as he thought best. Michele accepted the command; and, as he was a cool and sagacious man, more favoured by nature than by fortune, he resolved to compose the tumult and restore peace to the city. To occupy the minds of the people, and give himself time to make some arrangement, he ordered that one Nuto, who had been appointed bargello, or sheriff, by Lapo da Castiglionchio, should be sought. The greater part of his followers went to execute this commission; and, to commence with justice the government he had acquired by favour, he commanded that no one should either burn or steal anything; while, to strike terror into all, he caused a gallows to be erected in the court of the palace. He began the reform of government by deposing the syndics of the trades, and appointing new ones; he deprived the seigniory and the colleagues of their magistracy, and burned the balloting purses containing the names of those eligible to office under the former government. In the meantime, Ser Nuto, being brought by the mob into the court, was suspended from the gallows by one foot; and those around having torn him to pieces, in little more than a moment nothing remained of him but the foot by which he had been tied.

The eight commissioners of war, on the other hand, thinking themselves, after the departure of the seigniors, left sole masters of the city, had already formed a new seigniory; but Michele, on learning this, sent them an order to quit the palace immediately; for he wished to show that he could govern Florence without their assistance. He then assembled the syndics of the trades, and created as a seigniory, four from the lowest plebeians, two from the major, and two from the minor trades. Besides this, he made a new selection of names for the balloting purses, and divided the state into three parts; one composed of the new trades, another of the minor, and the third of the major trades. He gave to Salvestro de’ Medici the revenue of the shops upon the Ponte Vecchio; for himself he took the provostry of Empoli, and conferred benefits upon many other citizens, friends of the plebeians, not so much for the purpose of rewarding their labours, as that they might serve to screen him from envy.

It seemed to the plebeians that Michele, in his reformation of the state, had too much favoured the higher ranks of the people, and that they themselves had not a sufficient share in the government to enable them to preserve it; and hence, prompted by their usual audacity, they again took arms, and coming tumultuously into the court of the palace, each body under their particular ensigns, insisted that the seigniory should immediately descend and consider new means for advancing their well-being and security. Michele, observing their arrogance, was unwilling to provoke them, but without further yielding to their request, blamed the manner in which it was made, advised them to lay down their arms, and promised that then would be conceded to them, what otherwise, for the dignity of the state, must of necessity be withheld. The multitude, enraged at this reply, withdrew to Santa Maria Novella, where they appointed eight leaders for their party, with officers and other regulations to insure influence and respect; so that the city possessed two governments, and was under the direction of two distinct powers. These new leaders determined that eight, elected from their trades, should constantly reside in the palace with the seigniory, and that whatever the seigniory should determine must be confirmed by them before it became law. They took from Salvestro de’ Medici and Michele di Lando the whole of what their former decrees had granted them, and distributed to many of their party offices and emoluments to enable them to support their dignity. These resolutions being passed, to render them valid they sent two of their body to the seigniory, to insist on their being confirmed by the council, with an intimation, that if not granted they would be vindicated by force. This deputation, with amazing audacity and surpassing presumption, explained their commission to the seigniory, upbraided the gonfalonier with the dignity they had conferred upon him, the honour they had done him, and with the ingratitude and want of respect he had shown towards them. Coming to threats towards the end of their discourse, Michele could not endure their arrogance, and sensible rather of the dignity of the office he held than of the meanness of his origin, determined by extraordinary means to punish such extraordinary insolence, and drawing the sword with which he was girt, seriously wounded, and caused them to be seized and imprisoned.

When the fact became known, the multitude were filled with rage, and thinking that by their arms they might insure what without them they had failed to effect, they seized their weapons, and with the utmost fury resolved to force the seigniory to consent to their wishes. Michele, suspecting what would happen, determined to be prepared, for he knew his credit rather required him to be first in the attack than to wait the approach of the enemy, or, like his predecessors, dishonour both the palace and himself by flight. He therefore drew together a good number of citizens (for many began to see their error), mounted on horseback, and followed by crowds of armed men, proceeded to Santa Maria Novella, to encounter his adversaries. The plebeians, who, as before observed, were influenced by a similar desire, had set out about the same time as Michele, and it happened that, as each took a different route, they did not meet in their way, and Michele, upon his return, found the piazza in their possession. The contest was now for the palace, and joining in the fight, he soon vanquished them, drove part of them out of the city, and compelled the rest to throw down their arms and escape or conceal themselves, as well as they could. Having thus gained the victory, the tumults were composed, solely by the talents of the gonfalonier, who in courage, prudence, and generosity surpassed every other citizen of his time, and deserves to be enumerated among the glorious few who have greatly benefited their country; for, had he possessed either malice or ambition, the republic would have been completely ruined, and the city must have fallen under greater tyranny than that of the duke of Athens. But his goodness never allowed a thought to enter his mind opposed to the universal welfare: his prudence enabled him to conduct affairs in such a manner that a great majority of his own faction reposed the most entire confidence in him; and he kept the rest in awe by the influence of his authority.

By the time Michele di Lando had subdued the plebeians the new seigniory was drawn, and amongst those who composed it were two persons of such base and mean condition that the desire increased in the minds of the people to be freed from the ignominy into which they had fallen; and when, upon the 1st of September, the new seigniory entered office and the retiring members were still in the palace, the piazza being full of armed men, a tumultuous cry arose from the midst of them, that none of the lowest of the people should hold office amongst the seigniory. The obnoxious two were withdrawn accordingly. The name of one was Il Tira, of the other Baroccio, and in their stead were elected Giorgio Scali and Francesco di Michele. The company of the lowest trade was also dissolved, and its members deprived of office, except Michele di Lando, Lorenzo di Puccio, and a few others of better quality. The honours of government were divided into two parts, one of which was assigned to the superior trades, the other to the inferior; except that the latter were to furnish five seigniors, and the former only four. The gonfalonier was to be chosen alternately from each.

Momentary Peace; Renewed Insurrections

[Sidenote: [1378-1381 A.D.]]

The government, thus composed, restored peace to the city for the time; but though the republic was rescued from the power of the lowest plebeians, the inferior trades were still more influential than the nobles of the people, who, however, were obliged to submit for the gratification of the trades, of whose favour they wished to deprive the plebeians. The new establishment was supported by all who wished the continued subjugation of those who, under the name of the Guelfic party, had practised such excessive violence against the citizens. And as amongst others thus disposed, were Giorgio Scali, Benedetto Alberti, Salvestro de’ Medici, and Tommaso Strozzi, these four almost became princes of the city. This state of the public mind strengthened the divisions already commenced between the nobles of the people and the minor artificers, by the ambition of the Ricci and the Albizzi; from which, as at different times very serious effects arose, and as they will hereafter be frequently mentioned, we shall call the former the popular party, the latter the plebeian. This condition of things continued three years, during which many were exiled and put to death; for the government lived in constant apprehension, knowing that both within and without the city many were dissatisfied with them. Those within, either attempted or were suspected of attempting, every day some new project against them; and those without, being under no restraint, were continually, by means of some prince or republic, spreading reports tending to increase the disaffection.

Gianozzo da Salerno was at this time in Bologna. He held a command under Charles of Durazzo, a descendant of the kings of Naples, who, designing to undertake the conquest of the dominions of Queen Joanna, retained his captain in that city, with the concurrence of Pope Urban, who was at enmity with the queen. Many Florentine emigrants were also at Bologna, in close correspondence with him and Charles. This caused the rulers in Florence to live in continual alarm, and induced them to lend a willing ear to any calumnies against the suspected. Whilst in this disturbed state of feeling it was disclosed to the government that Gianozzo da Salerno was about to march to Florence with the emigrants, and that great numbers of those within were to rise in arms, and deliver the city to him. Upon this information many were accused, the principal of whom were Piero degli Albizzi and Carlo Strozzi; and after these, Cipriano Mangione, Jacopo Sacchetti, Donato Barbadori, Filippo Strozzi, and Giovanni Anselmi, the whole of whom, except Carlo Strozzi, who fled, were made prisoners; and the seigniory, to prevent anyone from taking arms in their favour, appointed Tommaso Strozzi and Benedetto Alberti, with a strong armed force, to guard the city. The arrested citizens were examined, and although nothing was elicited against them sufficient to induce the capitano to find them guilty, their enemies excited the minds of the populace to such a degree of outrageous and overwhelming fury against them, that they were condemned to death, as it were, by force. Nor was the greatness of his family, or his former reputation, of any service to Piero degli Albizzi, who had once been, of all the citizens, the man most feared and honoured. Someone, either as a friend to render him wise in his prosperity, or an enemy to threaten him with the fickleness of fortune, had upon the occasion of his making a feast for many citizens sent him a silver bowl full of sweetmeats, amongst which a large nail was found, and being seen by many present, was taken for a hint to him to fix the wheel of fortune which, having conveyed him to the top, must, if the rotation continued, also bring him to the bottom. This interpretation was verified, first by his ruin, and afterwards by his death.

[Sidenote: [1381-1382 A.D.]]

After this execution the city was full of consternation, for both victors and vanquished were alike in fear; but the worst effects arose from the apprehensions of those possessing the management of affairs; for every accident, however trivial, caused them to commit fresh outrages, either by condemnations, admonitions, or banishment of citizens; to which must be added, as scarcely less pernicious, the frequent new laws and regulations which were made for defence of the government, all of which were put in execution to the injury of those opposed to their faction. They appointed forty-six persons, who, with the seigniory, were to purge the republic of all suspected by the government. They admonished thirty-nine citizens, ennobled many of the people, and degraded many nobles to the popular rank. To strengthen themselves against external foes, they took into their pay John Hawkwood, an Englishman of great military reputation, who had long served the pope and others in Italy. Their fears from without were increased by a report that several bodies of men were being assembled by Charles of Durazzo for the conquest of Naples, and many Florentine emigrants were said to have joined him. Against these dangers, in addition to the forces which had been raised, large sums of money were provided; and Charles, having arrived at Arezzo, obtained from the Florentines 40,000 ducats, and promised he would not molest them. His enterprise was immediately prosecuted, and having occupied the kingdom of Naples, he sent Queen Joanna a prisoner into Hungary. This victory renewed the fears of those who managed the affairs of Florence, for they could not persuade themselves that their money would have a greater influence on the king’s mind than the friendship which his house had long retained for the Guelfs, whom they so grievously oppressed.

This suspicion, increasing, multiplied oppressions; which again, instead of diminishing the suspicion, augmented it; so that most men lived in the utmost discontent. To this the insolence of Giorgio Scali and Tommaso Strozzi (who by their popular influence overawed the magistrates) also contributed, for the rulers were apprehensive that by the power these men possessed with the plebeians they could set them at defiance; and hence it is evident that not only to good men, but even to the seditious, this government appeared tyrannical and violent. To put a period to the outrageous conduct of Giorgio, it happened that his servant accused Giovanni di Cambio of practices against the state, but the capitano declared him innocent.

Upon this, the judge determined to punish the accuser with the same penalties that the accused would have incurred had he been guilty; but Giorgio Scali, unable to save him either by his authority or entreaties, obtained the assistance of Tommaso Strozzi, and with a multitude of armed men, set the informer at liberty and plundered the palace of the capitano, who was obliged to save himself by flight. This act excited such great and universal animosity against him, that his enemies began to hope they would be able to effect his ruin, and also to rescue the city from the power of the plebeians, who for three years had held her under their arrogant control.

To the realisation of this design the capitano greatly contributed; for the tumult having subsided, he presented himself before the seigniors, and said he had cheerfully undertaken the office to which they had appointed him, for he thought he should serve upright men who would take arms for the defence of justice, and not impede its progress. But now that he had seen and had experience of the proceedings of the city, and the manner in which affairs were conducted, that dignity which he had voluntarily assumed with the hope of acquiring honour and emolument he now more willingly resigned, to escape from the losses and danger to which he found himself exposed. The complaint of the capitano was heard with the utmost attention by the seigniory, who promising to remunerate him for the injury he had suffered and provide for his future security, he was satisfied. Some of them then obtained an interview with certain citizens who were thought to be lovers of the common good, and least suspected by the state; and in conjunction with these, it was concluded that the present was a favourable opportunity for rescuing the city from Giorgio and the plebeians, the last outrage he had committed having completely alienated the great body of the people from him. They judged it best to profit by the occasion before the excitement had abated, for they knew that the favour of the mob is often gained or lost by the most trifling circumstance; and more certainly to insure success, they determined, if possible, to obtain the concurrence of Benedetto Alberti, for without it they considered their enterprise to be dangerous.

Benedetto was one of the richest citizens, a man of unassuming manners, an ardent lover of the liberties of his country, and one to whom tyrannical measures were in the highest degree offensive; so that he was easily induced to concur in their views and consent to Giorgio’s ruin. His enmity against the nobles of the people and the Guelfs, and his friendship for the plebeians, were caused by the insolence and tyrannical proceedings of the former; but finding that the plebeians had soon become quite as insolent, he quickly separated himself from them; and the injuries committed by them against the citizens were done wholly without his consent. So that the same motives which made him join the plebeians induced him to leave them.

Having gained Benedetto and the leaders of the trades to their side, they provided themselves with arms and made Giorgio prisoner. Tommaso fled. The next day Giorgio was beheaded, which struck so great a terror into his party, that none ventured to express the slightest disapprobation, but each seemed anxious to be foremost in defence of the measure. On being led to execution, in the presence of that people who only a short time before had idolised him, Giorgio complained of his hard fortune, and the malignity of those citizens who, having done him an undeserved injury, had compelled him to honour and support a mob, possessing neither faith nor gratitude. Observing Benedetto Alberti amongst those who had armed themselves for the preservation of order, he said, “Do you, too, consent, Benedetto, that this injury shall be done to me? Were I in your place and you in mine, I would take care that no one should injure you. I tell you, however, this day is the end of my troubles and the beginning of yours.” He then blamed himself for having confided too much in a people who may be excited and inflamed by every word, motion, and breath of suspicion. With these complaints he died, in the midst of his armed enemies delighted at his fall. Some of his most intimate associates were also put to death, and their bodies dragged about by the mob.

The death of Giorgio caused very great excitement; many took arms at the execution in favour of the seigniory and the capitano; and many others, either for ambition or as a means for their own safety, did the same. The city was full of conflicting parties, which each had a particular end in view, and wished to carry it into effect before they disarmed. The ancient nobility, called “the great,” could not bear to be deprived of public honours; for the recovery of which they used their utmost exertions, and earnestly desired that authority might be restored to the capitani di parte. The nobles of the people and the major trades were discontented at the share the minor trades and lowest of the people possessed in the government; whilst the minor trades were desirous of increasing their influence, and the lowest people were apprehensive of losing the companies of their trades and the authority which these conferred.

Such opposing views occasioned Florence, during a year, to be disturbed by many riots. Sometimes the nobles of the people took arms; sometimes the major, and sometimes the minor trades and the lowest of the people; and it often happened that, though in different parts, all were at once in insurrection. Hence many conflicts took place between the different parties or with the forces of the palaces; for the seigniory, sometimes yielding and at other times resisting, adopted such remedies as they could for these numerous evils. At length, after two assemblies of the people, and many balias appointed for the reformation of the city; after much toil, labour, and imminent danger, a government was appointed, by which all who had been banished since Salvestro de’ Medici was gonfalonier were restored. They who had acquired distinctions or emoluments by the balia of 1378 were deprived of them. The honours of government were restored to the Guelfic party; the two new companies of the trades were dissolved, and all who had been subject to them assigned to their former companies. The minor trades were not allowed to elect the gonfalonier of justice; their share of honours was reduced from a half to a third; and those of the highest rank were withdrawn from them altogether. Thus the nobles of the people and the Guelfs repossessed themselves of the government, which was lost by the plebeians after it had been in their possession from 1378 to 1381, when these changes took place.

The new establishment was not less injurious to the citizens, or less troublesome at its commencement than that of the plebeians had been; for many of the nobles of the people who had distinguished themselves as defenders of the plebeians were banished with a great number of the leaders of the latter, amongst whom was Michele di Lando; nor could all the benefits conferred upon the city by his authority, when in danger from the lawless mob, save him from the rabid fury of the party that was now in power. His good offices evidently excited little gratitude in his countrymen.

As these banishments and executions had always been offensive to Benedetto Alberti, they continued to disgust him, and he censured them both publicly and privately. The leaders of the government began to fear him, for they considered him one of the most earnest friends of the plebeians. It appeared as if, at any moment, something might occur, which, with the favour of his friends, would enable him to recover his authority, and drive them out of the city. Whilst in this state of suspicion and jealousy, it happened that while he was gonfalonier of the companies, his son-in-law, Filippo Magalotti, was drawn gonfalonier of justice; and this circumstance increased the fears of the government, for they thought it would strengthen Benedetto’s influence, and place the state in the greater peril. Anxious to provide a remedy, without creating much disturbance, they induced Bese Magalotti, his relative and enemy, to signify to the seigniory that Filippo, not having attained the age required for the exercise of that office, neither could nor ought to hold it.

The question was examined by the seigniors, and part of them out of hatred, others in order to avoid disunion amongst themselves, declared Filippo ineligible to the dignity, and in his stead was drawn Bardo Mancini, who was quite opposed to the plebeian interests, and an inveterate foe of Benedetto. This man, having entered upon the duties of his office, created a balia for reformation of the state, which banished Benedetto Alberti and admonished all the rest of his family except Antonio. Not to give a worse impression of his virtue abroad than he had done at home, he made a journey to the sepulchre of Christ, and whilst upon his return died at Rhodes. His remains were brought to Florence, and interred with all possible honours by those who had persecuted him, when alive, with every species of calumny and injustice. The family of the Alberti was not the only injured party during these troubles of the city; for many others were banished and admonished.

[Sidenote: [1381-1393 A.D.]]

It was customary to create the balia for a limited time; and when the citizens elected had effected the purpose of their appointment, they resigned the office from motives of good feeling and decency, although the time allowed might not have expired. In conformity with this laudable practice, the balia of that period, supposing that they had accomplished all that was expected of them, wished to retire; but when the multitude were acquainted with their intention, they ran armed to the palace, and insisted that, before resigning their power, many other persons should be banished and admonished. This greatly displeased the seigniors; but without disclosing the extent of their displeasure, they contrived to amuse the multitude with promises, till they had assembled a sufficient body of armed men, and then took such measures that fear induced the people to lay aside the weapons which madness had led them to take up. Nevertheless, in some degree to gratify the fury of the mob, and to reduce the authority of the plebeian trades, it was provided that, as the latter had previously possessed a third of the honours, they should in future have only a fourth. That there might always be two of the seigniors particularly devoted to the government, they gave authority to the gonfalonier of justice, and four others, to form a ballot purse of select citizens, from which, in every seigniory, two should be drawn.

This government, from its establishment in 1381, till the alterations now made, had continued six years; and the internal peace of the city remained undisturbed until 1393. During this time, Giovanni Galeazzo Visconti, usually called the count of Virtù, imprisoned his uncle Barnabò, and thus became sovereign of the whole of Lombardy. As he had become duke of Milan by fraud, he designed to make himself king of Italy by force. In 1391 he commenced a spirited attack upon the Florentines; but such various changes occurred in the course of the war that he was frequently in greater danger than the Florentines themselves, who, though they made a brave and admirable defence, must have been ruined if he had survived. As it was, the result was attended with infinitely less evil than their fears of so powerful an enemy had led them to apprehend; for the duke, having taken Bologna, Pisa, Perugia, and Siena, and prepared a diadem with which to be crowned king of Italy at Florence, died before he had tasted the fruit of his victories, or the Florentines began to feel the effect of their disasters.[e]

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XII. FLORENCE UNDER THE MEDICI

[Sidenote: [1434-1492 A.D.]]

The democratic party at Florence, directed by the Alberti, Ricci, and Medici, were deprived of power in 1381, in consequence of the abuse which their associates, the ciompi, had made of their victory. From that time their rivals, the Albizzi, directed the republic for the space of fifty-three years, from 1381 to 1434, with a happiness and glory till then unexampled. No triumph of an aristocratic faction ever merited a more brilliant place in history. The one in question maintained itself by the ascendency of its talents and virtues, without ever interfering with the rights of the other citizens, or abusing a preponderance which was all in opinion. It was the most prosperous epoch of the republic--that during which its opulence acquired the greatest development; that in which the arts, sciences, and literature adopted Florence as their native country; that in which were born and formed all those great men, of whom the Medici, their contemporaries, have reaped the glory, without having had any share in producing them; that, finally, in which the republic most constantly followed the noblest policy: considering itself as the guardian of the liberty of Italy, it in turns set limits to the ambition of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, of Ladislaus, king of Naples, and of Filippo Maria, duke of Milan. Tommaso degli Albizzi, and after him Niccolo da Uzzano, had been the chiefs of the aristocracy at this period of glory and wisdom. To those succeeded Rinaldo, son of Tommaso degli Albizzi, who forgot, a little more than his predecessors, that he was only a simple citizen. Impetuous, arrogant, jealous, impatient of all opposition, he lost the pre-eminence which his family had so long maintained.

Rinaldo degli Albizzi saw, with uneasiness, a rival present himself in Cosmo, son of Giovanni de’ Medici, who revived a party formerly the vanquishers of his ancestors. This man enjoyed a hereditary popularity at Florence, because he was descended from one of the demagogues who, in 1378, had undertaken the defence of the minor arts against the aristocracy; he at the same time excited the jealousy of the latter by his immense wealth, which equalled that of the greatest princes of Italy. Although the Albizzi saw with distrust the family of their rivals attain the supreme magistracy, they could not exclude from it Giovanni de’ Medici, who was gonfalonier in 1421. His son Cosmo, born in 1389, was priore in 1416; he was the head of a commercial establishment which had counting-houses in all the great cities of Europe and in the Levant; he at the same time cultivated literature with ardour. His palace, one of the most sumptuous in Florence, was the resort of artists, poets, and learned men; of those, among others, who about this time introduced the Platonic philosophy into Italy. The opulence of Cosmo de’ Medici was always at the service of his friends. There were very few poor citizens at Florence to whom his purse was not open.[e]

THE RISE, REVERSES, AND POWER OF COSMO DE’ MEDICI

[Sidenote: [1389-1433 A.D.]]

Even in the lifetime of his father, Cosmo had engaged himself deeply, not only in the extensive commerce by which the family had acquired its wealth, but in the weightier concerns of government. After the death of Giovanni de’ Medici, Cosmo supported and increased the family dignity. His conduct was uniformly marked by urbanity and kindness to the superior ranks of his fellow-citizens, and by a constant attention to the interests and the wants of the lower class, whom he relieved with unbounded generosity. By these means he acquired numerous and zealous partisans of every denomination; but he rather considered them as pledges for the continuance of the power he possessed than as instruments to be employed in extending it to the ruin and subjugation of the state. “No family,” says Voltaire,[f] “ever obtained its power by so just a title.”

The authority which Cosmo and his descendants exercised in Florence, during the fifteenth century, was of a very peculiar nature, and consisted rather in a tacit influence on their part, and a voluntary acquiescence on that of the people, than in any prescribed or definite compact between them. The form of government was ostensibly a republic, and was directed by a council of ten citizens, and a chief executive officer called the gonfalonière, or standard-bearer, who was chosen every two months. Under this establishment the citizens imagined they enjoyed the full exercise of their liberties; but such was the power of the Medici that they generally either assumed to themselves the first offices of the state, or nominated such persons as they thought proper to those employments. In this, however, they paid great respect to popular opinion. That opposition of interests so generally apparent between the people and their rulers, was at this time scarcely perceived at Florence, where superior qualifications and industry were the surest recommendations to public authority and favour. Convinced of the benefits constantly received from this family, and satisfied that they could at any time withdraw themselves from a connection that exacted no engagements, and required only a temporary acquiescence, the Florentines considered the Medici as the fathers, and not as the rulers of the republic. On the other hand, the chiefs of this house, by appearing rather to decline than to court the honours bestowed on them, and by a singular moderation in the use of them when obtained, were careful to maintain the character of simple citizens of Florence and servants of the state. An interchange of reciprocal good offices was the only tie by which the Florentines and the Medici were bound, and perhaps the long continuance of this connection may be attributed to the very circumstance of its having been in the power of either of the parties, at any time, to dissolve it.

[Sidenote: [1433 A.D.]]

But the prudence and moderation of Cosmo, though they soothed the jealous apprehensions of the Florentines, could not at all times repress the ambitious designs of those who wished to possess or to share his authority. In the year 1433, Rinaldo de’ Albizzi, at the head of a powerful party, carried the appointment of the magistracy. At that time Cosmo had withdrawn to his seat at Mugello, where he had remained some months, in order to avoid the disturbances that he saw were likely to ensue; but at the request of his friends he returned to Florence, where he was led to expect that a union of the different parties would be effected, so as to preserve the peace of the city. In this expectation he was, however, disappointed. No sooner did he make his appearance in the palace, where his presence had been requested, on pretence of his being intended to share in the administration of the republic, than he was seized upon by his adversaries, and committed to the custody of Federigo Malavolti. He remained in this situation for several days, in constant apprehension of some violence being offered to his person; but he still more dreaded that the malice of his enemies might attempt his life by poison. During four days, a small portion of bread was the only food which he thought proper to take.

The generosity of his keeper at length relieved him from this state of anxiety. In order to induce him to take his food with confidence, Malavolti partook of it with him. In the meantime, his brother Lorenzo, and his cousin Averardo, having raised a considerable body of men from Romagna and other neighbouring parts, and being joined by Niccolo da Tolentino, the commander of the troops of the republic, approached towards Florence to his relief; but the apprehensions that, in case they resorted to open violence, the life of Cosmo might be endangered, induced them to abandon their enterprise. At length Rinaldo and his adherents obtained a decree of the magistracy against the Medici and their friends, by which Cosmo was banished to Padua for ten years, Lorenzo to Venice for five years, and several of their relations and adherents were involved in a similar punishment.

Cosmo would gladly have left the city pursuant to his sentence, had he been allowed to do so, but his enemies thought it more advisable to retain him till they had established their authority; and they frequently gave him to understand that if his friends raised any opposition to their measures, his life should answer it. He also suspected that another reason for his detention was to ruin him in his credit and circumstances, his mercantile concerns being then greatly extended. As soon as these disturbances were known, several of the states of Italy interfered in his behalf. Three ambassadors arrived from Venice, who proposed to take him under their protection, and to engage that he should strictly submit to the sentence imposed on him. The marquis of Ferrara also gave a similar proof of his attachment. Though their interposition was not immediately successful, it was of great importance to Cosmo, and secured him from the attempts of those who aimed at his life. After a confinement of nearly a month, some of his friends, finding in his adversaries a disposition to gentler measures, took occasion to forward his cause by the timely application of a sum of money to Bernardo Guadagni, the gonfalonier, and to Mariotto Baldovinetti, two of the creatures of Rinaldo. This measure was successful. He was privately taken from his confinement by night, and led out of Florence. For this piece of service Guadagni received 1,000 florins, and Baldovinetti 800. “They were poor souls,” says Cosmo in his Ricordi, “for if money had been their object, they might have had 10,000, or more, to have freed me from the perils of such a situation.”

[Sidenote: [1434-1464 A.D.]]

From Florence, Cosmo proceeded immediately towards Venice, and at every place through which he passed, experienced the most flattering attention and the warmest expressions of regard. On his approach to that city he was met by his brother Lorenzo and many of his friends, and was received by the senate with such honours as were bestowed by that stately republic only on persons of the highest quality and distinction. After a short stay there, he went to Padua, the place prescribed for his banishment; but on an application to the Florentine state, by Andrea Donato, the Venetian ambassador, he was permitted to reside on any part of the Venetian territories, but not to approach within the distance of 170 miles of Florence. The affectionate reception which he had met with at Venice induced him to fix his abode there, until a change of circumstances should restore him to his native country.

Amongst the several learned and ingenious men who accompanied Cosmo in his banishment, or resorted to him during his stay at Venice, was Michellozzo Michellozzi, a Florentine sculptor and architect, whom Cosmo (according to Vasari[g]) employed in making models and drawings of the most remarkable buildings in Venice, and also in forming a library in the monastery of St. George, which he enriched with many valuable manuscripts, and left as an honourable monument of his gratitude, to a place that had afforded him so kind an asylum in his adversity. During his residence at Venice, Cosmo also received frequent visits from Ambrogio Traversari, a learned monk of Camaldoli, near Florence, and afterwards superior of the monastery of that place. Though chiefly confined within the limits of a cloister, Traversari had, perhaps, the best pretensions to the character of a polite scholar of any man of that age. From the letters of Traversari,[h] now extant, we learn that Cosmo and his brother not only bore their misfortunes with firmness, but continued to express on every occasion an inviolable attachment to their native place. The readiness with which Cosmo had given way to the temporary clamour raised against him, and the reluctance which he had shown to renew those bloody rencounters that had so often disgraced the streets of Florence, gained him new friends. The utmost exertions of his antagonists could not long prevent the choice of such magistrates as were known to be attached to the cause of the Medici; and no sooner did they enter on their office, than Cosmo and his brother were recalled, and Rinaldo, with his adherents, was compelled to quit the city. This event took place about the expiration of twelve months from the time of Cosmo’s banishment.

From this time the life of Cosmo de’ Medici was one of almost uninterrupted prosperity. The tranquillity enjoyed by the republic, and the satisfaction and peace of mind which he experienced in the esteem and confidence of his fellow-citizens, enabled him to indulge his natural propensity to the promotion of science, and the encouragement of learned men. The study of the Greek language had been introduced into Italy, principally by the exertions of the celebrated Boccaccio, towards the latter part of the preceding century, but on the death of that great promoter of letters it again fell into neglect. After a short interval, another attempt was made to revive it by the intervention of Emmanuel Chrysoloras, a noble Greek, who, during the interval of his important embassies, taught that language at Florence and other cities of Italy, about the beginning of the fifteenth century. His disciples were numerous and respectable. Amongst others of no inconsiderable note were Ambrogio Traversari, Leonardo Bruni, Carlo Marsuppini, the two latter of whom were natives of Arezzo, whence they took the name of Aretino, Poggio Bracciolini, Guarino Veronese, and Francesco Filelfo, who, after the death of Chrysoloras, in 1415, strenuously vied with each other in the support of Grecian literature, and were successful enough to keep the flame alive till it received new aid from other learned Greeks, who were driven from Constantinople by the dread of the Turks, or by the total overthrow of the Eastern Empire. To these illustrious foreigners, as well as to those eminent Italians, who shortly became their successful rivals, even in the knowledge of their national history and language, Cosmo afforded the most liberal protection and support. Of this the numerous productions inscribed to his name, or devoted to his praise, are an ample testimony. In some of these he is commended for his attachment to his country, his liberality to his friends, his benevolence to all. He is denominated the protector of the needy, the refuge of the oppressed, the constant patron and support of learned men.

“You have shown,” says Poggio,[i] “such humanity and moderation in dispensing the gifts of fortune, that they seem to have been rather the reward of your virtues and merits, than conceded by her bounty. Devoted to the study of letters from your early years, you have by your example given additional splendour to science itself. Although involved in the weightier concerns of state, and unable to devote a great part of your time to books, yet you have found a constant satisfaction in the society of those learned men who have always frequented your house.” In enumerating the men of eminence who distinguished the city of Florence, Flavio Biondo (Flavius Blondus)[j] adverts in the first instance to Cosmo de’ Medici--“a citizen who, whilst he excels in wealth every other citizen of Europe, is rendered much more illustrious by his prudence, his humanity, his liberality, and what is more to our present purpose, by his knowledge of useful literature, and particularly of history.”

Cosmo and the Revival of Learning

That extreme avidity for the works of the ancient writers which distinguished the early part of the fifteenth century announced the near approach of more enlightened times. Whatever were the causes that determined men of wealth and learning to exert themselves so strenuously in this pursuit, certain it is that their interference was of the highest importance to the interests of posterity, and that if it had been much longer delayed, the loss would have been in a great degree irreparable; such of the manuscripts as then existed of the ancient Greek and Roman authors being daily perishing in obscure corners, a prey to oblivion and neglect. It was therefore a circumstance productive of the happiest consequences, that the pursuits of the opulent were at this time directed rather towards the recovery of the works of the ancients than to the encouragement of contemporary merit; a fact that may serve in some degree to account for the dearth of original literary productions during this interval. Induced by the rewards that invariably attended a successful inquiry, those men who possessed any considerable share of learning devoted themselves to this occupation, and to such a degree of enthusiasm was it carried that the discovery of an ancient manuscript was regarded as almost equivalent to the conquest of a kingdom.

As the natural disposition of Cosmo led him to take an active part in collecting the remains of the ancient Greek and Roman writers, so he was enabled, by his wealth and his extensive mercantile intercourse with different parts of Europe and of Asia, to gratify a passion of this kind beyond any other individual. To this end he laid injunctions on all his friends and correspondents, as well as on the missionaries and preachers who travelled into the remotest countries, to search for and procure ancient manuscripts, in every language and on every subject. Besides the services of Poggio and Traversari, Cosmo availed himself of those of Cristoforo Buondelmonte, Antonio da Massa, Andrea de Rimino, and many others. The situation of the Eastern Empire, then daily falling into ruins by the repeated attacks of the Turks, afforded him, as Bandini[k] notes, an opportunity of obtaining many inestimable works in the Hebrew, Greek, Chaldaic, Arabic, and Indian languages. From these beginnings arose the celebrated library of the Medici, which, after having been the constant object of the solicitude of its founder, was after his death further enriched by the attention of his descendants, and particularly of his grandson Lorenzo; and after various vicissitudes of fortune, and frequent and considerable additions, has been preserved to the present times under the name of the Bibliotheca Mediceo-Laurentiana.

Amongst those who imitated the example of Cosmo de’ Medici was Niccolo Niccoli, another citizen of Florence, who devoted his whole time and fortune to the acquisition of ancient manuscripts; in this pursuit he had been eminently successful, having collected together eight hundred volumes of Greek, Roman, and oriental authors; a number in those times justly thought very considerable. Several of these works he had copied with great accuracy, and had diligently employed himself in correcting their defects and arranging the text in its proper order. In this respect he is justly regarded by Mehus as the father of this species of criticism. He died in 1436, having by his will directed that his library should be devoted to the use of the public, and appointed sixteen curators, amongst whom was Cosmo de’ Medici. After his death, it appeared that he was greatly in debt, and that his liberal intentions were likely to be frustrated by the insolvency of his circumstances. Cosmo therefore proposed to his associates, that if they would resign to him the right of disposition of the books, he would himself discharge all the debts of Niccolo, to which they readily acceded. Having thus obtained the sole direction of the manuscripts, he deposited them for public use in the Dominican monastery of San Marco, at Florence, which he had himself erected at an enormous expense. This collection was the foundation of another celebrated library in Florence, known by the name of the Bibliotheca Marciana, which is yet open to inspection.

In the arrangement of the library of San Marco, Cosmo had procured the assistance of Tommaso Calandrino (or Parentucelli), who drew up a scheme for that purpose, and prepared a scientific catalogue of the books it contained. In selecting a coadjutor, the choice of Cosmo had fallen upon an extraordinary man. Though Tommaso was the son of a poor physician of Sarzana, and ranked only in the lower order of the clergy, he had the ambition to aim at possessing specimens of these venerable relics of ancient genius. His learning and his industry enabled him to gratify his wishes, and his perseverance surmounted the disadvantages of his situation. In this pursuit he was frequently induced to anticipate his scanty revenue, well knowing that the estimation in which he was held by his friends would preserve him from pecuniary difficulties. With the Greek and Roman authors no one was more intimately acquainted, and as he wrote a very fine hand, the books he possessed acquired additional value from the marginal observations which he was accustomed to make in perusing them.

By rapid degrees of fortunate preferment, Tommaso was, in the short space of twelve months, raised from his humble situation in the lower orders of the church, to the chair of St. Peter, and in eight years, during which time he enjoyed the supreme dignity by the name of Nicholas V, acquired a reputation that has increased with the increasing estimation of those studies which he so liberally fostered and protected. The scanty library of his predecessors had been nearly dissipated or destroyed by frequent removals between Avignon and Rome, according as the caprice of the reigning pontiff chose either of those places for his residence; and it appears from the letters of Traversari, that scarcely anything of value remained. Nicholas V is therefore to be considered as the founder of the library of the Vatican. In the completion of this great design, it is true, much was left to be performed by his successors; but Nicholas had before his death collected upwards of five thousand volumes of Greek and Roman authors, and had not only expressed his intention of establishing a library for the use of the Roman court, but had also taken measures for carrying such intention into execution.

Whilst the munificence of the rich and the industry of the learned were thus employed throughout Italy in preserving the remains of the ancient authors, some obscure individuals in a corner of Germany had conceived, and were silently bringing to perfection, an invention which, by means equally effectual and unexpected, secured to the world the result of their labours. This was the art of printing with movable types. The coincidence of this discovery with the spirit of the times in which it had birth was highly fortunate. Had it been made known at a much earlier period, it would have been disregarded or forgotten, from the mere want of materials on which to exercise it; and had it been further postponed, it is probable that, notwithstanding the generosity of the rich and the diligence of the learned, many works would have been totally lost, which are now justly regarded as the noblest monuments of the human intellect.

Nearly the same period of time that gave the world this important discovery, saw the destruction of the Roman Empire in the East. In the year 1453, the city of Constantinople was captured by the Turks, under the command of Muhammed II, after a vigorous defence of fifty-three days. The encouragement which had been shown to the Greek professors at Florence, and the character of Cosmo de’ Medici as a promoter of letters, induced many learned Greeks to seek a shelter in that city, where they met with a welcome and honourable reception. Amongst these were Demetrius Chalcondyles, Joannes Andronicus Calistus, Constantine, and Andreas Joannes Lascaris, in whom the Platonic philosophy obtained fresh partisans, and by whose support it began openly to oppose itself to that of Aristotle. Between the Greek and Italian professors a spirit of emulation was kindled that operated most favourably on the cause of letters. Public schools were instituted at Florence for the study of the Greek tongue. The facility of diffusing their labours by means of the newly discovered art of printing stimulated the learned to fresh exertions; and in a few years the cities of Italy vied with each other in the number and elegance of works produced from the press.

Last Years of Cosmo

Towards the latter period of his life, a great part of the time that Cosmo could withdraw from the administration of public affairs, was passed at his seats at Careggi and Caffaggiolo, where he applied himself to the cultivation of his farms, from which he derived no inconsiderable revenue. But his happiest hours were devoted to the study of letters and philosophy, or passed in the company and conversation of learned men. When he retired at intervals to his seat at Careggi, he was generally accompanied by Ficino, where, after having been his protector, he became his pupil in the study of the Platonic philosophy. For his use, Ficino began those laborious translations of the works of Plato and his followers which were afterwards completed and published in the lifetime and by the liberality of Lorenzo. Amongst the letters of Ficino is one from his truly venerable patron, which bespeaks most forcibly the turn of his mind, and his earnest desire of acquiring knowledge, even at his advanced period of life.

“Yesterday,” says he, “I arrived at Careggi--not so much for the purpose of improving my fields as myself. Let me see you, Marsilio, as soon as possible, and forget not to bring with you the book of our favourite Plato, De summo bono, which I presume, according to your promise, you have ere this translated into Latin; for there is no employment to which I so ardently devote myself as to find out the true road to happiness. Come then, and fail not to bring with you the Orphean lyre.” Whatever might be the proficiency of Cosmo in the mysteries of his favourite philosopher, there is reason to believe that he applied those doctrines and precepts which furnished the litigious disputants of the age with a plentiful source of contention, to the purposes of real life and practical improvement. Notwithstanding his active and useful life, he often regretted the hours he had lost. “Midas was not more sparing of his money,” says Ficino,[l] “than Cosmo was of his time.”

The wealth and influence that Cosmo had acquired had long entitled him to rank with the most powerful princes of Italy, with whom he might have formed connections by the intermarriage of his children; but being apprehensive that such measures might give rise to suspicions that he entertained designs inimical to the freedom of the state, he rather chose to increase his interest among the citizens of Florence by the marriage of his children into the most distinguished families of that place. Piero, his eldest son, married Lucretia Tornabuoni, by whom he had two sons--Lorenzo, born on the first day of January, 1448, and Giuliano, born in the year 1453. Piero had also two daughters, Nannina, who married Bernardo Rucellai, and Bianca, who became the wife of Gulielmo de’ Pazzi. Giovanni, the younger son of Cosmo, espoused Cornelia de’ Alessandri, by whom he had a son who died very young. Giovanni himself did not long survive. He died in the year 1461, at forty-two years of age. Living under the shade of paternal authority, his name scarcely occurs in the pages of history; but the records of literature bear testimony that in his disposition and studies he did not derogate from the reputation of that characteristic attachment to men of learning by which his family was invariably distinguished.

Besides his legitimate offspring, Cosmo left also a natural son, Carlo de’ Medici, whom he liberally educated, and who compensated the disadvantages of his birth by the respectability of his life. The manners of the times might be alleged in extenuation of a circumstance apparently inconsistent with the gravity of the character of Cosmo de’ Medici; but Cosmo himself disclaimed such apology, and whilst he acknowledged his youthful indiscretion, made amends to society for the breach of a salutary regulation, by attending to the morals and the welfare of his illegitimate descendant. Under his countenance, Carlo became proposto of Prato, and one of the apostolic notaries; and as his general residence was at Rome, he was frequently resorted to by his father and brothers for his advice and assistance in procuring ancient manuscripts and other valuable remains of antiquity.

The death of Giovanni de’ Medici, on whom Cosmo had placed his chief expectations, and the weak state of health that Piero experienced, which rendered him unfit for the exertions of public life in so turbulent a place as Florence, raised great apprehensions in Cosmo that at his decease the splendour of his family would close. These reflections embittered the repose of his latter days. A short time before his death, being carried through the apartments of his palace, after having recently lost his son, he exclaimed with a sigh, “This is too great a house for so small a family.” These apprehensions were in some degree realised by the infirmities under which Piero laboured during the few years in which he held the direction of the republic; but the talents of Lorenzo soon dispelled this temporary gloom, and exalted his family to a degree of reputation and splendour, of which it is probable that Cosmo himself had scarcely formed an idea.[d]

While Cosmo de’ Medici thus fixed the public attention by his private life, Neri Capponi gained the suffrages of the people by his public conduct. Charged, as ambassador, with every difficult negotiation--in war, with every hazardous enterprise--he participated in all the brilliant successes of the Florentines, as well during the domination of the Albizzi as during that of the Medici. From the year 1434 to 1455, in which Neri Capponi died, these two chiefs of the republic had six times assembled the parliament to make a balia; and, availing themselves of its authority, which was above the law, they obtained the exile of all their enemies, and filled the balloting purses of the magistracy with the names of their own partisans, to the exclusion of all others. It appears that all the efforts of their administration were directed towards calming the passions of the public, and maintaining peace without, as well as repose within, the state. They had, in fact, succeeded in preventing Florence from being troubled with new factions, or engaged in new wars; but they drew on the republic all the evils attending an aristocratic government. Medici and Capponi had not been able to find men who would sacrifice the liberties of their country without allowing them to gratify their baser passions. These two heads of the republic, therefore, suffered their subordinate agents to divide among themselves all the little governments of the subject cities, and every lucrative employment; and these men, not satisfied with this first injustice, made unequal partitions of the taxes, increasing them on the poor, lowering them on the rich, and exempting themselves. At last they began to sell their protection, as well with respect to the tribunals as the councils; favour silenced justice; and, in the midst of peace and apparent prosperity, the Florentines felt their republic, undermined by secret corruption, hastening to ruin.

[Sidenote: [1455-1464 A.D.]]

When Neri Capponi died, the council refused to call a new parliament to replace the balia, whose power expired on the 1st of July, 1455. It was the aristocracy itself, comprehending all the creatures of Cosmo de’ Medici, that, from jealousy of his domination, wished to return to the dominion of the laws. The whole republic was rejoiced, as if liberty had been regained. The election of the signoria was again made fairly by lot--the catasto was revised, the contributions were again equitably apportioned, the tribunals ceased to listen to the recommendations of those who, till then, had made a traffic of retributive justice. The aristocracy, seeing that clients no longer flocked to their houses with hands full, began to perceive that their jealousy of Cosmo de’ Medici had only injured themselves. Cosmo, with his immense fortune, was just as much respected as before; the people were intoxicated with joy to find themselves again free; but the aristocracy felt themselves weak and abandoned. They endeavoured to convoke a parliament without Cosmo; but he baffled their efforts, the longer to enjoy their humiliation. He began to fear, however, that the Florentines might once more acquire a taste for liberty; and when Lucas Pitti, rich, powerful, and bold, was named gonfalonier, in July, 1458, he agreed with him to reimpose the yoke on the Florentines. Pitti assembled the parliament; but not till he had filled all the avenues of the public square with soldiers or armed peasants. The people, menaced and trembling within this circle, consented to name a new balia, more violent and tyrannical than any of the preceding. It was composed of 352 persons, to whom was delegated all the power of the republic. They exiled a great number of the citizens who had shown the most attachment to liberty, and they even put some to death.[e]

Cosmo now approached the period of his mortal existence, but the faculties of his mind yet remained unimpaired. About twenty days before his death, when his strength was visibly on the decline, he entered into conversation with Ficino, and whilst the faint beams of a setting sun seemed to accord with his situation and his feelings, began to lament the miseries of life and the imperfections inseparable from human nature. As he continued his discourse, his sentiments and his views became more elevated, and from bewailing the lot of humanity, he began to exult in the prospect of that happier state towards which he felt himself approaching. Ficino replied by citing corresponding sentiments from the Athenian sages, and particularly from Xenocrates; and the last task imposed by Cosmo on his philosophic attendant was to translate from the Greek the treatise of that author on death. Having prepared his mind to wait with composure the awful event, his next concern was the welfare of his surviving family, to whom he was desirous of imparting, in a solemn manner, the result of the experience of a long and active life. Calling into his chamber his wife Contessina, and his son Piero, he entered into a narrative of all his public transactions; he gave a full account of his extensive mercantile connections, and adverted to the state of his domestic concerns. To Piero he recommended a strict attention to the education of his sons. He requested that his funeral might be conducted with as much privacy as possible, and concluded his paternal exhortations by declaring his willingness to submit to the disposal of providence whenever he should be called upon. These admonitions were not lost on Piero, who communicated by letter to Lorenzo and Giuliano the impression which they had made upon his own mind. At the same time, sensible of his own infirmities, he exhorted them to consider themselves not as children but as men, seeing that circumstances rendered it necessary to put their abilities to an early proof. “A physician,” says Piero, “is hourly expected to arrive from Milan, but, for my own part, I place my confidence in God.” Either the physician did not arrive, or Piero’s distrust of him was well founded, for, about six days afterwards, being the first day of August, 1464, Cosmo died, at the age of seventy-five years, deeply lamented by a great majority of the citizens of Florence, whom he had firmly attached to his interest, and who feared for the safety of the city from the dissensions that were likely to ensue.

Roscoe’s Estimate of Cosmo

The character of Cosmo de’ Medici exhibits a combination of virtues and endowments rarely to be found united in the same person. If in his public works he was remarkable for his magnificence, he was no less conspicuous for his prudence in private life. Whilst in the character of chief of the Florentine Republic he supported a constant intercourse with the sovereigns of Europe, his conduct in Florence was divested of all ostentation, and neither in his retinue, his friendships, nor his conversation, could he be distinguished from any other respectable citizen. He well knew the jealous temper of the Florentines, and preferred the real enjoyment of authority to that open assumption of it which could only have been regarded as a perpetual insult by those whom he permitted to gratify their own pride in the reflection that they were the equals of Cosmo de’ Medici.

In affording protection to the arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture, Cosmo set the great example to those who by their rank and their riches could alone afford them effectual aid. The countenance shown by him to those arts was not of that kind which their professors generally experience from the great; it was not conceded as a bounty, nor received as a favour, but appeared in the friendship and equality that subsisted between the artist and his patron. In the erection of the numerous public buildings in which Cosmo expended incredible sums of money, he principally availed himself of the assistance of Michellozzo Michellozzi and Filippo Brunelleschi--the first of whom was a man of talents, the latter of genius. Soon after his return from banishment, Cosmo engaged these two artists to form the plan of a mansion for his own residence. Brunelleschi gave scope to his invention, and produced the design of a palace which might have suited the proudest sovereign in Europe; but Cosmo was led by that prudence which, in his personal accommodation, regulated all his conduct, to prefer the plan of Michellozzi, which united extent with simplicity, and elegance with convenience. With the consciousness, Brunelleschi possessed also the irritability of genius, and in a fit of vexation he destroyed a design which he unjustly considered as disgraced by its not being carried into execution. Having completed his dwelling, Cosmo indulged his taste in ornamenting it with the most precious remains of ancient art, and in the purchase of vases, statues, busts, gems, and medals, expended no inconsiderable sum.

Nor was he less attentive to the merits of those artists whom his native place had recently produced. With Masaccio, a better style of painting had arisen; and the cold and formal manner of Giotto and his disciples had given way to a more natural and expressive composition. In Cosmo de’ Medici this rising artist found his most liberal patron and protector. Some of the works of Masaccio were executed in the chapel of the Brancacci, where they were held in such estimation that the place was regarded as a school of study by the most eminent artists who immediately succeeded him. Even the celebrated Michelangelo, when observing these paintings many years afterwards, in company with his honest and loquacious friend Vasari, did not hesitate to express his decided approbation of their merits. The reputation of Masaccio was emulated by his disciple, Filippo Lippi, who executed for Cosmo and his friends many celebrated pictures, of which Vasari[g] has given a minute account. Cosmo, however, found no small difficulty in controlling the temper and regulating the eccentricities of this extraordinary character. If the efforts of these early masters did not reach the true end of the art, they afforded considerable assistance towards it; and whilst Masaccio and Filippo decorated with their admired productions the altars of churches and the apartments of princes, Donatello gave to marble a proportion of form, a vivacity of expression, to which his contemporaries imagined that nothing more was wanting; Brunelleschi raised the great dome of the cathedral of Florence; and Ghiberti cast in bronze the stupendous doors of the church of St. John, which Michelangelo deemed worthy to be the gates of paradise.

In his person, Cosmo was tall; in his youth, he possessed the advantage of a prepossessing countenance; what age had taken from his comeliness it had added to his dignity; and in his latter years, his appearance was so truly venerable as to have been the frequent subject of panegyric. His manner was grave and complacent, but upon many occasions he gave sufficient proofs that this did not arise from a want of talents for sarcasm; and the fidelity of the Florentine historians has preserved many of his shrewd observations and remarks. When Rinaldo de’ Albizzi, who was then in exile, and meditated an attack upon his native place, sent a message to Cosmo, importing that the hen would shortly hatch, he replied, “She will hatch with an ill grace out of her own nest.” On another occasion, when his adversaries gave him to understand that they were not sleeping, “I believe it,” said Cosmo, “I have spoiled their sleep.” “Of what colour is my hair?” said Cosmo, uncovering his head to the ambassadors of Venice, who came with a complaint against the Florentines. “White,” they replied. “It will not be long,” said Cosmo, “before that of your senators will be so, too.” Shortly before his death, his wife inquiring why he closed his eyes, “That I may accustom them to it,” was his reply.

If, from considering the private character of Cosmo, we attend to his conduct as the moderator and director of the Florentine Republic, our admiration of his abilities will increase with the extent of the theatre upon which he had to act. So important were his mercantile concerns, that they often influenced in a very remarkable degree the politics of Italy. When Alfonso, king of Naples, leagued with the Venetians against Florence, Cosmo called in such immense debts from those places as deprived them of resources for carrying on the war. During the contest between the houses of York and Lancaster, one of his agents in England was resorted to by Edward IV for a sum of money, which was furnished to such an extraordinary amount, that it might almost be considered as the means of supporting that monarch on the throne, and was repaid when his successes enabled him to fulfil his engagement. The alliance of Cosmo was sedulously courted by the princes of Italy; and it was remarked that by a happy kind of fatality, whoever united their interests with his, was always enabled either to repress or to overcome their adversaries. By his assistance the republic of Venice resisted the united attacks of Filippo, duke of Milan, and of the French nation; but when deprived of his support, the Venetians were no longer able to withstand their enemies. Whatever difficulties Cosmo had to encounter, at home or abroad, they generally terminated in the acquisition of additional honour to his country and to himself. The esteem and gratitude of his fellow-citizens were fully shown a short time before his death, when by a public decree he was honoured with the title of Pater Patriæ, Father of his Country, an appellation which was inscribed on his tomb, and which, as it was founded on real merit, has ever since been attached to the name of Cosmo de’ Medici.[d]

“With all his faults,” says Von Reumont,[c] “Cosmo was certainly a remarkable man. More than anyone else he contributed to keep alive not only the forms but much of the spirit of civil equality and dignity, after it had become impossible to avoid a party government leading sooner or later to the preponderance of one family.”

Marsilio Ficino[l] described Cosmo as “a man intelligent above all others, pious before God, just and high-minded towards his fellow-men, modest in everything that concerned himself, active in his private affairs, but still more careful and prudent in public ones. He did not live for himself alone,” adds the eulogist, “but for the service of God and his country.”

COSMO’S SUCCESSOR

During the later years of Cosmo’s life Lucas Pitti came to regard himself as the future chief of the state. It was about this time that he undertook the building of that magnificent palace which formed the residence of the grand dukes. The republican equality was not only offended by the splendour of this regal dwelling, but the construction of it afforded Pitti an occasion for marking his contempt of liberty and the laws. He made of this building an asylum for all fugitives from justice, whom no public officer dared pursue when once he took part in the labour. At the same time individuals, as well as communities, who would obtain some favour from the republic, knew that the only means of being heard was to offer Lucas Pitti some precious wood or marble to be employed in the construction of his palace.

[Sidenote: [1464-1466 A.D.]]

When Cosmo de’ Medici died, on the 1st of August, 1464, Lucas Pitti felt himself released from the control imposed by the virtue and moderation of that great citizen. Cosmo’s son, Piero de’ Medici, then forty-eight years of age, supposed that he should succeed to the administration of the republic, as he had succeeded to the wealth of his father, by hereditary right; but the state of his health did not admit of his attending regularly to business, or of his inspiring his rivals with much fear. To diminish the weight of affairs which oppressed him, he resolved on withdrawing a part of his immense fortune from commerce, recalling all his loans made in partnership with other merchants, and laying out this money in land. But this unexpected demand of considerable capital occasioned a fatal shock to the commerce of Florence, at the same time that it alienated all the debtors of the house of Medici, and deprived it of much of its popularity. The death of Sforza also, which took place on the 8th of March, 1466, deprived the Medicean party of its firmest support abroad. Francesco Sforza, whether as condottiere or duke of Milan, had always been the devoted friend of Cosmo. His son, Galeazzo Sforza, who succeeded him, declared his resolution of persisting in the same alliance; but the talents, the character, and, above all, the glory of his father, were not to be found in him. Galeazzo seemed to believe that the supreme power which he inherited brought him the right of indulging every pleasure--of abandoning himself to every vice without restraint. He dissipated by his ostentation the finances of the duchy of Milan; he stained by his libertinism the honour of almost all the noble families; and he alienated the people by his cruelty.

The friends of liberty at Florence soon perceived that Lucas Pitti and Piero de’ Medici no longer agreed together; and they recovered courage when the latter proposed to the council the calling of a parliament, in order to renew the balia, the power of which expired on the 1st of September, 1465: his proposition was rejected. The magistracy began again to be drawn by lot from among the members of the party victorious in 1434. This return of liberty, however, was but of short duration. Pitti and Medici were reconciled; they agreed to call a parliament, and to direct it in concert; to intimidate it, they surrounded it with foreign troops.

But Medici, on the nomination of the balia, on the 2nd of September, 1466, found means of admitting his own partisans only, and excluding all those of Lucas Pitti. The citizens who had shown any zeal for liberty were all exiled; several were subjected to enormous fines. Five commissioners, called accoppiatori, were charged to open, every two months, the purse from which the signoria were to be drawn, and choose from thence the names of the gonfalonier and eight priori, who were to enter office. These magistrates were so dependent on Piero de’ Medici, that the gonfalonier went frequently to his palace to take his orders, and afterwards published them as the result of his deliberations with his colleagues, whom he had not even consulted. Lucas Pitti ruined himself in building his palace. His talents were judged to bear no proportion to his ambition; the friends of liberty, as well as those of Medici, equally detested him, and he remained deprived of all power in a city which he had so largely contributed to enslave.

Italy became filled with Florentine emigrants; every revolution, even every convocation of parliament, was followed by the exile of many citizens. The party of the Albizzi had been exiled in 1434; but the Alberti, who had vanquished it, were, in turn, banished in 1466; and among the members of both parties were to be found almost all the historical names of Florence--those names which Europe had learned to respect, either for immense credit in commerce, or for the lustre which literature and the arts shed on them.

[Sidenote: [1466-1470 A.D.]]

Italy was astonished at the exile of so many illustrious persons. At Florence, the citizens who escaped proscription trembled to see despotism established in their republic; but the lower orders were in general contented, and made no attempt to second Bartolommeo Colleoni, when he entered Tuscany, in 1467, at the head of the Florentine emigrants, who had taken him into their pay. Commerce prospered; manufactures were carried on with great activity; high wages supported in comfort all who lived by their labour; and the Medici entertained them with shows and festivals, keeping them in a sort of perpetual carnival, amidst which the people soon lost all thought of liberty.

Piero de’ Medici was always in too bad a state of health to exercise in person the sovereignty he had usurped over his country; he left it to five or six citizens who reigned in his name. Tommaso Soderini, Andrea de’ Pazzi, Luigi Guicciardini, Matteo Palmieri, and Pietro Minerbetti, were the real chiefs of the state. They not only transacted all business, but appropriated to themselves all the profit; they sold their influence and credit; they gratified their cupidity or their vengeance: but they took care not to act in their own names, or to pledge their own responsibility; they left that to the house of Medici. Piero, during the latter months of his life, perceived the disorder and corruption of his agents. He was afflicted to see his memory thus stained, and he addressed them the severest reprimands; he even entered into correspondence with the emigrants, whom he thought of recalling, when he died, on the 2nd of December, 1469. His two sons, Lorenzo and Giuliano, the elder of whom was not twenty-one years of age, were presented by Tommaso Soderini to the foreign ambassadors, to the magistrates, and to the first citizens of the ruling faction; which last he warned, that the only means of maintaining their party was to preserve the respect of all for its chiefs. But the two younger Medici, given up to all the pleasures of the age, had yet no ambition. The power of the state remained in the hands of the five citizens who had exercised it under Piero.

PIERO’S SONS AND THE CONSPIRACIES

Italy had reached the fatal period at which liberty can no longer be saved by a noble resistance, or recovered by open force. There remained only the dangerous and, most commonly, the fatal resource of conspiracy. So far from experiencing the repugnance we now feel to assassination as a means of delivering our country, men of the fifteenth century perceived honour in a murder, virtue in the sacrifice, and historic grandeur in conspiracy. Danger alone stopped them; but that danger must be terrible. Tyrants, feeling themselves at war with the universe, were always on their guard; and as they owed their safety only to terror, the punishment which they inflicted, if victorious, was extreme in its atrocity. Yet these terrors did not discourage the enemies of the existing order, whether royalist or republican. Never had there been more frequent or more daring conspiracies than in this century. The ill success of some never deterred others from immediately treading in their steps.

The first plot was directed against the Medici. Bernardo Nardi, one of the Florentine citizens, who had been exiled from his country in the time of Piero de’ Medici, accompanied by about a hundred of his partisans, surprised the gate of Prato, on the 6th of April, 1470. He made himself master of the public palace, and arrested the Florentine podesta; he took possession of the citadel and afterwards, traversing the streets, called on the people to join him, and fight for liberty. He intended to make this small town the stronghold of the republican party, whence to begin his attack on the Medici. But although he had succeeded by surprise in making himself master of the town, the inhabitants remained deaf to his voice, and not one answered his call--not one detested tyranny sufficiently to combat it, at the peril of the last extremity of human suffering. The friends of the government, seeing that Nardi remained alone, at last took arms, attacked him on all sides, and soon overpowered him by numbers. Nardi was made prisoner, led to Florence, and there beheaded with six of his accomplices; twelve others were hanged at Prato.

[Sidenote: [1476 A.D.]]

In 1476 a conspiracy was formed, at Milan, against Galeazzo Sforza, whose yoke became insupportable to all who had any elevation of soul. There was no crime of which that false and ferocious man was not believed to be capable. Among other crimes, he was accused of having poisoned his mother. It was remarked of him that, enjoying the spectacle of astonishment and despair, he always preferred to strike the most suddenly and cruelly those whom he had given most reason to rely on his friendship.

Not satisfied with making the most distinguished women of his states the victims of his seduction or his violence, he took pleasure in publishing their shame--in exposing it to their brothers or husbands. He not unfrequently gave them up to prostitution. His extravagant pomp exhausted his finances, which he afterwards recruited by the most cruel extortion on the people. He took pleasure in inventing new and most atrocious forms of capital punishment; even that of burying his victims alive was not the most cruel. At last, three young nobles, of families who had courageously resisted the usurpation of Francesco Sforza, and who had themselves experienced the injustice and outrages of his son, resolved to deliver their country from this monster; not doubting that, when he had fallen, the Milanese would joyfully unite in substituting a free government for a tyranny.

Girolamo Olgiati, Carlo Visconti, and Andrea Lampugnani resolved, in concert, to trust only to themselves, without admitting one other person into their secret. Their enthusiasm had been excited by the lessons of their literary instructor, Colas di Montano, who continually set before them the grandeur of the ancient republics, and the glory of those who had delivered them from tyranny. Determined on killing the duke, they long exercised themselves in the handling of the dagger, to be more sure of striking him, each in the precise part of the tyrant’s body assigned to him. Animated with a religious zeal, not less ardent than their republican enthusiasm, they prepared themselves by prayer, by vows to St. Stephen, and by the assistance of the mass, for the act which they were about to perform. They made choice of the 26th of December, 1476, St. Stephen’s Day, on which they knew that the duke Galeazzo would go in state to the church of the saint. They waited for him in that church; and when they saw him advance between the ambassadors of Ferrara and Mantua, they respectfully approached him, their caps in hand. Feigning to keep off the crowd, they surrounded him, and struck him all at the same instant, in the midst of his guards and courtiers. Galeazzo Sforza fell dead under their weapons; and the crowd which filled the church saw the tumult and heard the cries, without comprehending the cause.

[Sidenote: [1476-1478 A.D.]]

The three conspirators endeavoured to escape from the church, to call the people to arms and liberty; but the first sentiments which they encountered were astonishment and terror. The guards of the duke drew their swords only to avenge him. Lampugnani, in attempting to avoid them, got entangled in the trains of the kneeling women, was thrown down, and killed by an esquire of Galeazzo; a few steps from him, Visconti also was put to death by the guards. But Olgiati had the misfortune to escape, in this first moment, from all who pursued him; and, running through the streets, called loudly to arms and liberty; not one person answered the call. He afterwards sought to conceal himself, but was discovered, seized, and put to the most excruciating torture. In the interval between that infliction and his death, he wrote or dictated the narrative demanded of him, and which has been handed down to us. It is composed in a strain of the noblest enthusiasm, with a deep religious feeling, with an ardent love of liberty, and with the firm persuasion that he had performed a good action. He was again delivered to the executioner to have his flesh torn with red-hot pincers. At the time of his martyrdom he was only twenty-two years of age.[e]

The Pazzi Conspiracy

The public agitation excited by the assassination of the duke of Milan had scarcely subsided, before an event took place at Florence of a much more atrocious nature, inasmuch as the objects destined to destruction had not afforded a pretext, in any degree plausible, for such an attempt. Accordingly, we have now to enter on a transaction that has seldom been mentioned without emotions of the strongest horror and detestation; and which, as has justly been observed, is an incontrovertible proof of the practical atheism of the times in which it took place--a transaction in which a pope, a cardinal, an archbishop, and several other ecclesiastics associated themselves with a band of ruffians, to destroy two men who were an honour to their age and country; and purposed to perpetrate their crime at a season of hospitality, in the sanctuary of a Christian church, and at the very moment of the elevation of the Host, when the audience bowed down before it, and the assassins were presumed to be in the immediate presence of their God.

At the head of this conspiracy were Sixtus IV and his nephew, Girolamo Riario. Raffaello Riario, the nephew of this Girolamo, who, although a young man then pursuing his studies, had lately been raised to the dignity of cardinal, was rather an instrument than an accomplice in the scheme. The enmity of Sixtus to Lorenzo had for some time been apparent, and if not occasioned by the assistance which Lorenzo had afforded to Niccolo Vitelli, and other independent nobles, whose dominions Sixtus had either threatened or attacked, was certainly increased by it. The destruction of the Medici appeared, therefore, to Sixtus as the removal of an obstacle that thwarted all his views, and by the accomplishment of which the small surrounding states would soon become an easy prey. There is, however, great reason to believe that the pope did not confine his ambition to these subordinate governments, but that if the conspiracy had succeeded to his wish, he meant to have grasped at the dominion of Florence itself. The alliance lately formed between the Florentines, the Venetians, and the duke of Milan, which was principally effected by Lorenzo de’ Medici, and by which the pope found himself prevented from disturbing the peace of Italy, was an additional and powerful motive of resentment. One of the first proofs of the displeasure of the pope was his depriving Lorenzo of the office of treasurer of the papal see, which he gave to the Pazzi, a Florentine family, who, as well as the Medici, had a public bank at Rome, and who afterwards became the coadjutors of Sixtus in the execution of his treacherous purpose.

The conspiracy, of which Sixtus and his nephew were the real instigators, was first agitated at Rome, where the intercourse between the count Girolamo Riario and Francesco de’ Pazzi, in consequence of the office held by the latter, afforded them an opportunity of communicating to each other their common jealousy of the power of the Medici, and their desire of depriving them of their influence in Florence; in which event it is highly probable that the Pazzi were to have exercised the chief authority in the city, under the patronage, if not under the avowed dominion, of the papal see. The principal agent engaged in the undertaking was Francesco Salviati, archbishop of Pisa, to which rank he had lately been promoted by Sixtus, in opposition to the wishes of the Medici, who had for some time endeavoured to prevent him from exercising his episcopal functions. If it be allowed that the unfavourable character given him by Politian is exaggerated, it is generally agreed that his qualities were the reverse of those which ought to have been the recommendations to such high preferment. The other conspirators were Jacopo Salviati, brother of the archbishop; Jacopo Poggio, one of the sons of the celebrated Poggio Bracciolini, and who, like all the other sons of that eminent scholar, had obtained no small share of literary reputation; Bernardo Bandini, a daring libertine, rendered desperate by the consequences of his excesses; Giovan Battista Montesicco, who had distinguished himself by his military talents as one of the condottieri of the armies of the pope; Antonio Maffei, a priest of Volterra, and Stefano de Bagnone, one of the apostolic scribes, with several others of inferior note.

In the arrangement of their plan, which appears to have been concerted with great precaution and secrecy, the conspirators soon discovered that the dangers which they had to encounter were not so likely to arise from the difficulty of the attempt, as from the subsequent resentment of the Florentines, a great majority of whom were strongly attached to the Medici. Hence it became necessary to provide a military force, the assistance of which might be equally requisite whether the enterprise proved abortive or successful. By the influence of the pope, the king of Naples, who was then in alliance with him, and on one of whose sons he had recently bestowed a cardinal’s hat, was also induced to countenance the attempt.

These preliminaries being adjusted, Girolamo wrote to his nephew, the cardinal Riario, then at Pisa, ordering him to obey whatever directions he might receive from the archbishop. A body of two thousand men were destined to approach by different routes towards Florence, so as to be in readiness at the time appointed for striking the blow.

Shortly afterwards, the archbishop requested the presence of the cardinal at Florence, whither he immediately repaired, and took up his residence at a seat of the Pazzi, about a mile from the city. It seems to have been the intention of the conspirators to effect their purpose at Fiesole, where Lorenzo then had his country residence, to which they supposed that he would invite the cardinal and his attendants. Nor were they deceived in this conjecture, for Lorenzo prepared a magnificent entertainment on this occasion; but the absence of Giuliano, on account of indisposition, obliged the conspirators to postpone the attempt. Being thus disappointed in their hopes, another plan was now to be adopted; and on further deliberation it was resolved that the assassination should take place on the succeeding Sunday, in the church of the Reparata, since called Santa Maria del Fiore, and that the signal for execution should be the elevation of the Host. At the same moment, the archbishop and others of the conspirators were to seize upon the palace, or residence of the magistrates, whilst the office of Jacopo de’ Pazzi was to endeavour, by the cry of “Liberty!” to incite the citizens to revolt.

The immediate assassination of Giuliano was committed to Francesco de’ Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, and that of Lorenzo had been intrusted to the sole hand of Montesicco. This office he had willingly undertaken whilst he understood that it was to be executed in a private dwelling, but he shrank from the idea of polluting the house of God with so heinous a crime. Two ecclesiastics were therefore selected for the commission of a deed from which the soldier was deterred by conscientious motives. These were Stefano da Bagnone, the apostolic scribe, and Antonio Maffei.

The young cardinal having expressed a desire to attend divine service in the church of the Reparata, on the ensuing Sunday, being the 26th day of April, 1478, Lorenzo invited him and his suite to his house in Florence. He accordingly came with a large retinue, supporting the united characters of cardinal and apostolic legate, and was received by Lorenzo with that splendour and hospitality with which he was always accustomed to entertain men of high rank and consequence. Giuliano did not appear, a circumstance that alarmed the conspirators, whose arrangements would not admit of longer delay. They soon, however, learned that he intended to be present at the church. The service was already begun, and the cardinal had taken his seat, when Francesco de’ Pazzi and Bandini, observing that Giuliano was not yet arrived, left the church and went to his house, in order to insure and hasten his attendance. Giuliano accompanied them, and as he walked between them they threw their arms round him with the familiarity of intimate friends, but in fact to discover whether he had any armour under his dress; possibly conjecturing, from his long delay, that he had suspected their purpose. At the same time, by their freedom and jocularity, they endeavoured to obviate any apprehensions which he might entertain from such a proceeding. The conspirators, having taken their stations near their intended victims, waited with impatience for the appointed signal. The bell rang, the priest raised the consecrated wafer, the people bowed before it, and at the same instant Bandini plunged a short dagger into the breast of Giuliano.

On receiving the wound, he took a few hasty steps and fell, when Francesco de’ Pazzi rushed upon him with incredible fury, and stabbed him in different parts of his body, continuing to repeat his strokes even after he was apparently dead. Such was the violence of his rage that he wounded himself deeply in the thigh. The priests who had undertaken the murder of Lorenzo were not equally successful. An ill-directed blow from Maffei, which was aimed at the throat, but took place behind the neck, rather roused him to his defence than disabled him. He immediately threw off his cloak, and holding it up as a shield in his left hand, with his right he drew his sword, and repelled his assailants. Perceiving that their purpose was defeated, the two ecclesiastics, after having wounded one of Lorenzo’s attendants who had interposed to defend him, endeavoured to save themselves by flight. At the same moment, Bandini, his dagger streaming with the blood of Giuliano, rushed towards Lorenzo; but meeting in his way with Francesco Nori, a person in the service of the Medici, in whom they placed great confidence, he stabbed him with a wound instantaneously mortal. At the approach of Bandini, the friends of Lorenzo encircled him, and hurried him into the sacristy, where Politian and others closed the doors, which were of brass. Apprehensions being entertained that the weapon which had wounded him was poisoned, a young man attached to Lorenzo sucked the wound. A general alarm and consternation commenced in the church; and such was the tumult that ensued that it was at first believed that the building was falling in; but no sooner was it understood that Lorenzo was in danger, than several of the youth of Florence formed themselves into a body, and receiving him into the midst of them, conducted him to his house, making a circuitous turn from the church, lest he should meet with the dead body of his brother.

While these transactions passed in the church, another commotion arose in the palace, where the archbishop, who had left the church, as agreed upon before the attack on the Medici, and about thirty of his associates, attempted to overpower the magistrates, and to possess themselves of the seat of government. Leaving some of his followers stationed in different apartments, the archbishop proceeded to an interior chamber, where Cesare Petrucci, then gonfalonier, and the other magistrates were assembled. No sooner was the gonfalonier informed of his approach than, out of respect to his rank, he rose to meet him. Whether the archbishop was disconcerted by the presence of Petrucci, who was known to be of a resolute character, of which he had given a striking instance in frustrating the attack of Bernardo Nardi upon the town of Prato, or whether his courage was not equal to the undertaking, is uncertain; but instead of intimidating the magistrates by a sudden attack, he began to inform Petrucci that the pope had bestowed an employment on his son, of which he had to deliver to him the credentials. This he did with such hesitation, and in so desultory a manner, that it was scarcely possible to collect his meaning. Petrucci also observed that he frequently changed colour, and at times turned towards the door, as if giving a signal to someone to approach.

Alarmed at his manner, and probably aware of his character, Petrucci suddenly rushed out of the chamber, and called together the guards and attendants. By attempting to retreat, the archbishop confessed his guilt. In pursuing him, Petrucci met with Jacopo Poggio, whom he caught by the hair, and throwing him on the ground, delivered him into the custody of his followers. The rest of the magistrates and their attendants seized upon such arms as the place supplied, and the implements of the kitchen became formidable weapons in their hands. Having secured the doors of the palace, they furiously attacked their scattered and intimidated enemies, who no longer attempted resistance. During this commotion, they were alarmed by a tumult from without, and perceived from the windows Jacopo de’ Pazzi, followed by about one hundred soldiers, crying out, “Liberty!” and exhorting the people to revolt. At the same time they found that the insurgents had forced the gates of the palace, and that some of them were entering to defend their companions. The magistrates, however, persevered in their defence, and repulsing their enemies, secured the gates till a reinforcement of their friends came to their assistance. Petrucci was now first informed of the assassination of Giuliano, and the attack made upon Lorenzo. The relation of this treachery excited his highest indignation. With the concurrence of the state counsellors, he ordered Jacopo Poggio to be hung in sight of the populace, out of the palace windows, and secured the archbishop, with his brother, and the other chiefs of the conspiracy. Their followers were either slaughtered in the palace, or thrown half alive through the windows. One only of the whole number escaped. He was found some days afterwards concealed in the wainscots, perishing with hunger, and in consideration of his sufferings received his pardon.

The young cardinal Riario, who had taken refuge at the altar, was preserved from the rage of the populace by the interference of Lorenzo, who appeared to give credit to his asseverations that he was ignorant of the intentions of the conspirators. Ammirato[m] asserts that his fears had so violent an effect upon him that he never afterwards recovered his natural complexion. His attendants fell a sacrifice to the resentment of the citizens. The streets were polluted with the dead bodies and mangled limbs of the slaughtered. With the head of one of these unfortunate wretches on a lance, the populace paraded the city, which resounded with the cry of “Palle! Palle!” (Perish the traitors.) Francesco de’ Pazzi, being found at the house of his uncle, Jacopo, where on account of his wound he was confined to his bed, was dragged out naked and exhausted by loss of blood, and being brought to the palace, suffered the same death as his associate. His punishment was immediately followed by that of the archbishop, who was hung through the windows of the palace, and was not allowed even to divest himself of his prelatical robes. The last moments of Salviati, if we may credit Politian, were marked by a singular instance of ferocity. Being suspended close to Francesco de’ Pazzi, he seized the naked body with his teeth, and relaxed not from his hold even in the agonies of death.

Jacopo de’ Pazzi had escaped from the city during the tumult, but the day following he was made a prisoner by the neighbouring peasants, who, regardless of his entreaties to put him to death, brought him to Florence, and delivered him up to the magistrates. As his guilt was manifest, his execution was instantaneous, and afforded from the windows of the palace another spectacle that gratified the resentment of the enraged multitude. His nephew Renato, who suffered at the same time, excited in some degree the commiseration of the spectators. Devoted to his studies, and averse to popular commotions, he had refused to be an actor in the conspiracy, and his silence was his only crime. The body of Jacopo had been interred in the church of Santa Croce, and to this circumstance the superstition of the people attributed an unusual and incessant fall of rain that succeeded these disturbances. Partaking in their prejudices, or desirous of gratifying their revenge, the magistrates ordered his body to be removed without the walls of the city. The following morning it was again torn from the grave by a great multitude of children who, in spite of the restrictions of decency and the interference of some of the inhabitants, after dragging it a long time through the streets, and treating it with every degree of wanton opprobrium, threw it into the river Arno. Such was the fate of a man who had enjoyed the highest honours of the republic, and for his services to the state had been rewarded with the privileges of the equestrian rank. The rest of the devoted family were condemned either to imprisonment or to exile, excepting only Guglielmo de’ Pazzi, who, though not unsuspected, was first sheltered from the popular fury in the house of Lorenzo, and was afterwards ordered to remain at his own villa, about twenty-five miles distant from Florence.

[Sidenote: [1478-1480 A.D.]]

Although most diligent search was made for the priests who had undertaken the murder of Lorenzo, it was not till the third day after the attempt that they were discovered, having obtained a shelter in the monastery of the Benedictine monks. No sooner were they brought from the place of their concealment, than the populace, after cruelly mutilating them, put them to death, and with difficulty were prevented from slaughtering the monks themselves. Montesicco, who had adhered to the cause of the conspirators, although he had refused to be the active instrument of their project, was taken a few days afterwards, as he was endeavouring to save himself by flight, and beheaded, having first made a full confession of all the circumstances attending the conspiracy, by which it appeared that the pope was privy to the whole transaction. The punishment of Bernardo Bandini was longer delayed. He had safely passed the bounds of Italy, and had taken refuge at length in Constantinople; but the sultan Muhammed, being apprised of his crime, ordered him to be seized and sent in chains to Florence, at the same time alleging as the motive of his conduct the respect which he had for the character of Lorenzo de’ Medici. He arrived in the month of December in the ensuing year, and met with the due reward of his treachery. An embassy was sent from Florence to return thanks to the sultan, in the name of the republic.[d]

LORENZO THE MAGNIFICENT IN POWER

The ill success of the conspiracy of the Pazzi strengthened, as always happens, the government against which it was directed. The Medici had been content till then to be the first citizens of Florence: from that time Lorenzo looked upon himself as the prince of the city; and his friends, in speaking of him, sometimes employed that title. In addressing him, the epithet of “most magnificent lord” was habitually employed. It was the mode of addressing the condottieri, and the petty princes who had no other title. Lorenzo affected in his habits of life an unbounded liberality, pomp, and splendour, which he believed necessary to make up for the real rank which he wanted. The Magnificent, his title of honour, is become, not without reason, his surname with posterity. On the failure of the conspiracy, he was menaced by all Italy at once. The pope fulminated a bull against him on the 1st of June, 1478, for having hanged an archbishop. He demanded that Lorenzo de’ Medici, the gonfalonier, the priori, and the balia of Eight should be given up to him, to be punished according to the enormity of their crime. At the same time he published a league, which he had formed against them with Ferdinand of Naples and the republic of Siena. He gave the command of the army of the league to Federigo di Montefeltro, duke of Urbino, and ordered him to advance into Tuscany.[e]

The Florentines now prepared for war, by raising money and collecting as large a force as possible. Being in league with the duke of Milan and the Venetians, they applied to both for assistance. As the pope had proved himself a wolf rather than a shepherd, to avoid being devoured under false accusations they justified their cause with all available arguments, and filled Italy with accounts of the treachery practised against their government, exposing the impiety and injustice of the pontiff, and assured the world that the pontificate which he had wickedly attained he would as impiously fill.

The two armies, under the command of Alfonso, eldest son of Ferrando and duke of Calabria, who had as his general Federigo, count of Urbino, entered the Chianti, by permission of the Sienese, who sided with the enemy, occupied Radda with many other fortresses, and having plundered the country, besieged the Castellina. The Florentines were greatly alarmed at these attacks, being almost destitute of forces, and finding their friends slow to assist; for though the duke sent them aid, the Venetians denied all obligation to support the Florentines in their private quarrels, since the animosities of individuals were not to be defended at the public expense. The Florentines, in order to induce the Venetians to take a more correct view of the case, sent Tommaso Soderini as their ambassador to the senate, and, in the meantime, engaged forces, and appointed Ercole, marquis of Ferrara, to the command of their army. Whilst these preparations were being made, the Castellina were so hard pressed by the enemy, that the inhabitants, despairing of relief, surrendered, after having sustained a siege of forty-two days.

The enemy then directed their course towards Arezzo, and encamped before San Savino. The Florentine army, being now in order, went to meet them, and having approached within three miles, caused such annoyance that Federigo d’Urbino demanded a truce for a few days, which was granted, but proved so disadvantageous to the Florentines that those who had made the request were astonished at having obtained it; for, had it been refused, they would have been compelled to retire in disgrace. Having gained these few days to recruit themselves, as soon as they were expired they took the castle in the presence of their enemies. Winter being now come, the forces of the pope and the king retired for convenient quarters to the Sienese territory. The Florentines also withdrew to a more commodious situation, and the marquis of Ferrara, having done little for himself and less for others, returned to his own territories.

At this time, ambassadors came to Florence from the emperor, the king of France, and the king of Hungary, who were sent by their princes to the pontiff. They solicited the Florentines also to send ambassadors to the pope, and promised to use their utmost exertion to obtain for them an advantageous peace. The Florentines did not refuse to make trial, both for the sake of publicly justifying their proceedings, and because they were really desirous of peace. Accordingly, the ambassadors were sent, but returned without coming to any conclusion of their differences. The Florentines, to avail themselves of the influence of the king of France, since they were attacked by one part of the Italians and abandoned by the other, sent to him as their ambassador Donato Acciajuoli, a distinguished Latin and Greek scholar, whose ancestors had always ranked high in the city; but whilst on his journey he died at Milan. To relieve his surviving family and pay a deserved tribute to his memory, he was honourably buried at the public expense, provision was made for his sons, and suitable marriage portions given to his daughters, and Guid’ Antonio Vespucci, a man well acquainted with pontifical and imperial affairs, was sent as ambassador to the king in his stead.

The attack of Signor Roberto upon the Pisan territory, being unexpected, greatly perplexed the Florentines; for having to resist the foe in the direction of Siena, they knew not how to provide for the places about Pisa. To keep the Lucchese faithful, and prevent them from furnishing the enemy either with money or provisions, they sent as ambassador Piero di Gino Capponi, who was received with so much jealousy, on account of the hatred which that city always cherishes against the Florentines from former injuries and constant fear, that he was on many occasions in danger of being put to death by the mob; and thus his mission gave fresh cause of animosity rather than of union. The Florentines recalled the marquis of Ferrara, and engaged the marquis of Mantua; they also as earnestly requested the Venetians to send them Count Carlo, son of Braccio, and Deifobo, son of Count Jacopo, and after many delays, they complied; for having made a truce with the Turks, they had no excuse to justify a refusal, and could not break through the obligation of the league without the utmost disgrace. The counts Carlo and Deifobo came with a good force, and being joined by all that could be spared from the army, which, under the marquis of Ferrara, held in check the duke of Calabria, proceeded towards Pisa, to meet Signor Roberto, who was with his troops near the river Serchio, and who, though he had expressed his intention of awaiting their arrival, withdrew to the camp at Lunigiana, which he had quitted upon coming into the Pisan territory, while Count Carlo recovered all the places that had been taken by the enemy in that district.

The Florentines, being thus relieved from the attack in the direction of Pisa, assembled the whole force between Colle and Santo Geminiano. But the army, on the arrival of Count Carlo, being composed of Sforzeschi and Bracceshi, their hereditary feuds soon broke forth, and it was thought that if they remained long in company they would turn their arms against each other. It was therefore determined, as the smaller evil, to divide them; to send one party, under Count Carlo, into the district of Perugia, and establish the other at Poggibonzi, where they formed a strong encampment in order to prevent the enemy from penetrating the Florentine territory. By this they also hoped to compel the enemy to divide their forces; for Count Carlo was understood to have many partisans in Perugia, and it was therefore expected either that he would occupy the place, or that the pope would be compelled to send a large body of men for its defence. To reduce the pontiff to greater necessity, they ordered Niccolo Vitelli, who had been expelled from Città di Castello, where his enemy Lorenzo Vitelli commanded, to lead a force against that place, with the view of driving out his adversary and withdrawing it from obedience to the pope. At the beginning of the campaign, fortune seemed to favour the Florentines; for Count Carlo made rapid advances in the Perugino, and Niccolo Vitelli, though unable to enter Castello, was superior in the field, and plundered the surrounding country without opposition. The forces also at Poggibonzi constantly overran the country up to the walls of Siena.

These hopes, however, were not realised; for, in the first place, Count Carlo died while in the fullest tide of success, though the consequences of this would have been less detrimental to the Florentines had not the victory to which it gave occasion been nullified by the misconduct of others. The death of the count being known, the forces of the church, which had already assembled in Perugia, conceived hopes of overcoming the Florentines, and encamped upon the lake, within three miles of the enemy. On the other side, Jacopo Guicciardini, commissary to the army, by the advice of Roberto da Rimino, who, after the death of Count Carlo, was the principal commander, knowing the ground of their sanguine expectations, determined to meet them; and coming to an engagement near the lake, upon the site of the memorable rout of the Romans by Hannibal, the Carthaginian general, the papal forces were vanquished. The news of the victory, which did great honour to the commanders, diffused universal joy at Florence, and would have insured a favourable termination of the campaign, had not the disorders which arose in the army at Poggibonzi thrown all into confusion; for the advantage obtained by the valour of the one was more than counterbalanced by the disgraceful proceedings of the other. Having made considerable booty in the Sienese territory, quarrels arose about the division of it between the marquis of Mantua and the marquis of Ferrara, who, coming to arms, assailed each other with the utmost fury; and the Florentines, seeing they could no longer avail themselves of the services of both, allowed the marquis of Ferrara and his men to return home.

The Florentines Routed at Poggibonzi

The army being thus reduced, without a leader, and disorder prevailing in every department, the duke of Calabria, who was with his forces near Siena, resolved to attack them immediately. The Florentines, finding the enemy at hand, were seized with a sudden panic; neither their arms nor their numbers, in which they were superior to their adversaries, nor their position, which was one of great strength, could give them confidence; but observing the dust occasioned by the enemy’s approach, without waiting for a sight of them, they fled in all directions, leaving their ammunition, carriages, and artillery to be taken by the foe. Such cowardice and disorder prevailed in the armies of those times that the turning of a horse’s head or tail was sufficient to decide the fate of an expedition. This defeat loaded the king’s troops with booty and filled the Florentines with dismay, for the city, besides the war, was afflicted with pestilence, which prevailed so extensively that all who possessed villas fled to them to escape death. This occasioned the defeat to be attended with greater horror; for those citizens whose possessions lay in the Val di Pesa and the Val d’Elsa, having retired to them, hastened to Florence with all speed as soon as they heard of the disaster, taking with them not only their children and their property, but even their labourers; so that it seemed as if the enemy were expected every moment in the city.

Those who were appointed to the management of the war, perceiving the universal consternation, commanded the victorious forces in the Perugino to give up their enterprise in that district and march to oppose the enemy in the Val d’Elsa, who, after their victory, plundered the country without opposition; and although the Florentine army had so closely pressed the city of Perugia that it was expected to fall into their hands every instant, the people preferred defending their own possessions to endeavouring to seize those of others. The troops, thus withdrawn from the pursuit of their good fortune, were marched to San Casciano, a castle within eight miles of Florence, the leaders thinking they could take up no other position till the relics of the routed army were assembled. On the other hand, the enemy being under no further restraint at Perugia, and emboldened by the departure of the Florentines, plundered to a large amount in the districts of Arezzo and Cortona; whilst those who under Alfonso, duke of Calabria, had been victorious near Poggibonzi, took the town itself, sacked Vico and Certaldo, and after these conquests and pillagings encamped before the fortress of Colle, which was considered very strong; and as the garrison was brave and faithful to the Florentines, it was hoped they would hold the enemy at bay till the republic was able to collect its forces. The Florentines being at San Casciano, and the enemy continuing to use their utmost exertions against Colle, they determined to draw nearer, that the inhabitants might be the more resolute in their defence and the enemy assail them less boldly. With this design they removed their camp from San Casciano to Santo Geminiano, about five miles from Colle, and with light cavalry and other suitable forces were able every day to annoy the duke’s camp.

All this, however, was insufficient to relieve the people of Colle; for, having consumed their provisions, they were compelled to surrender on the 13th of November, to the great grief of the Florentines and joy of the enemy, more especially of the Sienese, who, besides their habitual hatred of the Florentines, had a particular animosity against the people of Colle.

It was now the depth of winter, and the weather so unsuitable for war that the pope and the king, either designing to hold out a hope of peace or more quietly to enjoy the fruit of their victories, proposed a truce for three months to the Florentines, and allowed them ten days to consider the reply. The offer was eagerly accepted; but as wounds are well known to be more painful after the blood cools than when they were first received, this brief repose awakened the Florentines to a consciousness of the miseries they had endured; and the citizens openly laid the blame upon each other, pointing out the errors committed in the management of the war, the expenses uselessly incurred, and the taxes unjustly imposed. These matters were boldly discussed, not only in private circles, but in the public councils; and one individual even ventured to turn to Lorenzo de’ Medici and say, “The city is exhausted and can endure no more war; it is therefore necessary to think of peace.”

Lorenzo was himself aware of the necessity, and assembled the friends in whose wisdom and fidelity he had the greatest confidence, when it was at once concluded that, as the Venetians were lukewarm and unfaithful, and the duke in the power of his guardians, and involved in domestic difficulties, it would be desirable by some new alliance to give a better turn to their affairs. They were in doubt whether to apply to the king or to the pope; but having examined the question on all sides, they preferred the friendship of the king as more suitable and secure; for the short reigns of the pontiffs, the changes ensuing upon each succession, the disregard shown by the church towards temporal princes, and the still greater want of respect for them exhibited in her determinations, rendered it impossible for a secular prince to trust a pontiff, or safely to share his fortune; for an adherent of the pope would have a companion in victory, but in defeat must stand alone, whilst the pontiff was sustained by his spiritual power and influence.

Lorenzo’s Embassy to Naples

Having therefore decided that the king’s friendship would be of the greatest utility to them, they thought it would be most easily and certainly obtained by Lorenzo’s presence; for in proportion to the confidence they evinced towards him, the greater they imagined would be the probability of removing his impressions of past enmities. Lorenzo, having resolved to go to Naples, recommended the city and government to the care of Tommaso Soderini, who was at that time gonfalonier of justice. He left Florence at the beginning of December, and having arrived at Pisa, wrote to the government to acquaint them with the cause of his departure. The seigniory, to do him honour, and enable him the more effectually to treat with the king, appointed him ambassador from the Florentine people, and endowed him with full authority to make such arrangements as he thought most useful for the republic.

At this time Roberto da San Severino, with Lodovico and Ascanio (Sforza, their elder brother, being dead), again attacked Milan, in order to recover the government. Having taken Tortona, and the city and the whole state being in arms, the duchess Bona was advised to restore the Sforzeschi, and to put a stop to civil contentions by admitting them to the government. The person who gave this advice was Antonio Tassino, of Ferrara, a man of low origin, who, coming to Milan, fell into the hands of the duke Galeazzo, and was given by him to his duchess for her valet. He, either from his personal attractions, or some secret influence, after the duke’s death attained such influence over the duchess, that he governed the state almost at his will. This greatly displeased the minister Cecco, whom prudence and long experience had rendered invaluable; and who, to the utmost of his power, endeavoured to diminish the authority of Tassino with the duchess and other members of the government. Tassino, aware of this, to avenge himself for the injury, and secure defenders against Cecco, advised the duchess to recall the Sforzeschi, which she did, without communicating her design to the minister, who, when it was done, said to her, “You have taken a step which will deprive me of my life, and you of the government.” This shortly afterwards took place, for Cecco was put to death by Lodovico, and Tassino being expelled from the dukedom, the duchess was so enraged that she left Milan, and gave up the care of her son to Lodovico who, becoming sole governor of the dukedom, caused, as will be hereafter seen, the ruin of Italy.

Lorenzo de’ Medici had set out for Naples, and the truce between the parties was in force, when, quite unexpectedly, Lodovico Fregoso, being in correspondence with some persons of Sarzana, entered the place by stealth, took possession of it with an armed force, and imprisoned the Florentine governor. This greatly offended the seigniory, for they thought the whole had been concerted with the connivance of King Ferdinand. They complained to the duke of Calabria, who was with the army at Siena, of a breach of the truce; and he endeavoured to prove, by letters and embassies, that it had occurred without either his own or his father’s knowledge. The Florentines, however, found themselves in a very awkward predicament, being destitute of money, the head of the republic in the power of the king, themselves engaged in a long-standing war with the latter and the pope, in a new one with the Genoese, and entirely without friends; for they had no confidence in the Venetians, and on account of its changeable and unsettled state they were rather apprehensive of Milan. They had thus only one hope, and that depended upon Lorenzo’s success with the king.

Lorenzo arrived at Naples by sea, and was most honourably received, not only by Ferdinand, but by the whole city, his coming having excited the greatest expectation; for it being generally understood that the war was undertaken for the sole purpose of effecting his destruction, the power of his enemies invested his name with additional lustre. Being admitted to the king’s presence, he spoke with so much propriety upon the affairs of Italy, the disposition of her princes and people, his hopes from peace, his fears of the results of war, that Ferdinand was more astonished at the greatness of his mind, the promptitude of his genius, his gravity and wisdom, than he had previously been at his power. He consequently treated him with redoubled honour, and began to feel compelled rather to part with him as a friend, than detain him as an enemy. However, under various pretexts he kept Lorenzo from December to March, not only to gain the most perfect knowledge of his own views, but of those of his city; for he was not without enemies, who would have wished the king to detain and treat him in the same manner as Jacopo Piccinino; and, with the ostensible view of sympathising for him, pointed out all that would, or rather what they wished should result from such a course; at the same time opposing in the council every proposition at all likely to favour him. By such means as these the opinion gained ground that, if he were detained at Naples much longer, the government of Florence would be changed. This caused the king to postpone their separation more than he would have otherwise done, to see if any disturbance were likely to arise. But finding everything going quietly on, Ferdinand allowed him to depart on the 6th of March, 1479, having, with every kind of attention and token of regard, endeavoured to gain his affection, and formed with him a perpetual alliance for their mutual defence. Lorenzo returned to Florence, and upon presenting himself before the citizens, the impressions he had created in the popular mind surrounded him with a halo of majesty brighter than before. He was received with all the joy merited by his extraordinary qualities and recent services, in having exposed his own life to the most imminent peril, in order to restore peace to his country. Two days after his return, the treaty between the republic of Florence and the king, by which each party bound itself to defend the other’s territories, was published. The places taken from the Florentines during the war were to be given up at the discretion of the king; the Pazzi confined in the tower of Volterra were to be set at liberty, and a certain sum of money, for a limited period, was to be paid to the duke of Calabria.

Peace with Honour

As soon as this peace was publicly known, the pope and the Venetians were transported with rage; the pope thought himself neglected by the king; the Venetians entertained similar ideas with regard to the Florentines, and complained that, having been companions in the war, they were not allowed to participate in the peace. Reports of this description being spread abroad, and received with entire credence at Florence, caused a general fear that the peace thus made would give rise to greater wars; and therefore the leading members of the government determined to confine the consideration of the most important affairs to a smaller number, and formed a council of seventy citizens, in whom the principal authority was invested. The new regulation calmed the minds of those desirous of change, by convincing them of the futility of their efforts. To establish their authority, they in the first place ratified the treaty of peace with the king, and sent as ambassadors to the pope, Antonio Ridolfi and Piero Nasi. But, notwithstanding the peace, Alfonso, duke of Calabria, still remained at Siena with his forces, pretending to be detained by discords amongst the citizens, which, he said, had risen so high, that while he resided outside the city they had compelled him to enter and assume the office of arbitrator between them. He took occasion to draw large sums of money from the wealthiest citizens by way of fines, imprisoned many, banished others, and put some to death; he thus became suspected, not only by the Sienese but by the Florentines, of a design to usurp the sovereignty of Siena; nor was any remedy then available, for the republic had formed a new alliance with the king, and was at enmity with the pope and the Venetians. This suspicion was entertained not only by the great body of the Florentine people, who are subtle interpreters of appearances, but by the principal members of the government; and it was agreed, on all hands, that the city never was in so much danger of losing her liberty.

The Turkish emperor, Muhammed II, had gone with a large army to the siege of Rhodes, and continued it for several months; but though his forces were numerous, and his courage indomitable, he found them more than equalled by those of the besieged, who resisted his attack with such obstinate valour that he was at last compelled to retire in disgrace. Having left Rhodes, part of his army, under the pasha Akhmet, approached Velona, and, either from observing the facility of the enterprise, or in obedience to his sovereign’s commands, coasting along the Italian shores, he suddenly landed four thousand soldiers, and attacked the city of Otranto, which he easily took, plundered, and put all the inhabitants to the sword. He then fortified the city and port, and having assembled a large body of cavalry, pillaged the surrounding country. The king, learning this, and aware of the redoubtable character of his assailant, immediately sent messengers to all the surrounding powers, to request assistance against the common enemy, and ordered the immediate return of the duke of Calabria with the forces at Siena.

This attack, however it might annoy the duke and the rest of Italy, occasioned the utmost joy at Florence and Siena; the latter thinking she had recovered her liberty, and the former that she had escaped a storm which threatened her with destruction. These impressions, which were not unknown to the duke, increased the regret he felt at his departure from Siena; and he accused fortune of having, by an unexpected and unaccountable accident, deprived him of the sovereignty of Tuscany. The same circumstance changed the disposition of the pope; for although he had previously refused to receive any ambassador from Florence, he was now so mollified as to be anxious to listen to any overtures of peace; and it was intimated to the Florentines that, if they would condescend to ask the pope’s pardon, they would be sure of obtaining it. Thinking it advisable to seize the opportunity, they sent twelve ambassadors to the pontiff, who, on their arrival, detained them under different pretexts before he would admit them to an audience. However, terms were at length settled, and what should be contributed by each in peace or war.

The messengers were then admitted to the feet of the pontiff, who, with the utmost pomp, received them in the midst of his cardinals. They apologised for past occurrences, first showing they had been compelled by necessity, then blaming the malignity of others, or the rage of the populace, and their just indignation, and enlarging on the unfortunate condition of those who are compelled either to fight or die; saying that, since every extremity is endured in order to avoid death, they had suffered war, interdicts, and other inconveniences brought upon them by recent events, that their republic might escape slavery, which is the death of free cities. However, if in their necessities they had committed any offence, they were desirous to make atonement, and trusted in his clemency, who, after the example of the blessed Redeemer, would receive them into his compassionate arms.

The pope’s reply was indignant and haughty. After reiterating all the offences against the church during the late transactions, he said that, to comply with the precepts of God, he would grant the pardon they asked, but would have them understand that it was their duty to obey; and that, upon the next instance of their disobedience, they would inevitably forfeit the liberty which they had just been upon the point of losing; for those merit freedom who exercise themselves in good works and avoid evil; that liberty, improperly used, injures itself and others; that to think little of God, and less of his church, is not the part of a free man, but a fool, and one disposed to evil rather than good, and to effect whose correction is the duty not only of princes but of every Christian. So that in respect of the recent events, they had only themselves to blame, who, by their evil deeds, had given rise to the war, and inflamed it by still worse actions, it having been terminated by the kindness of others rather than by any merit of their own. The formula of agreement and benediction was then read; and, in addition to what had already been considered and agreed upon between the parties, the pope said that, if the Florentines wished to enjoy the fruit of his forgiveness, they must maintain fifteen galleys, armed and equipped, at their own expense, so long as the Turks should make war upon the kingdom of Naples. The ambassadors complained much of this burden in addition to the arrangement already made, but were unable to obtain any alleviation. However, after their return to Florence, the seigniory sent, as ambassador to the pope, Guid’ Antonio Vespucci, who had recently returned from France, and who by his prudence brought everything to an amicable conclusion, and obtained many favours from the pontiff, which were considered as presages of a closer reconciliation.

Having settled their affairs with the pope, Siena being free, themselves released from the fear of the king by the departure of the duke of Calabria from Tuscany, and the war with the Turks still continuing, the Florentines pressed the king to restore their fortresses, which the duke of Calabria, upon quitting the country, had left in the hands of the Sienese. Ferdinand, apprehensive that if he refused they would withdraw from the alliance with him, and by new wars with the Sienese deprive him of the assistance he hoped to obtain from the pope and other Italian powers, consented that they should be given up, and by new favours endeavoured to attach the Florentines to his interests.

The castles being restored, and this new alliance established, Lorenzo de’ Medici recovered the reputation which first the war and then the peace, when the king’s designs were doubtful, had deprived him of; for at this period there was no lack of those who openly slandered him with having sold his country to save himself, and said that in war they had lost their territories, and in peace their liberty. But the fortresses being recovered, an honourable treaty ratified with the king, and the city restored to her former influence, the spirit of public discourse entirely changed in Florence, a place greatly addicted to gossip, and in which actions are judged by the success attending them, rather than by the intelligence employed in their direction; therefore, the citizens praised Lorenzo extravagantly, declaring that by his prudence he had recovered in peace what unfavourable circumstances had taken from them in war, and that by his discretion and judgment he had done more than the enemy with all the force of their arms.

Further Papal Wars

[Sidenote: [1480-1481 A.D.]]

The invasion of the Turks had deferred the war which was about to break forth from the anger of the pope and the Venetians at the peace between the Florentines and the king. But as the beginning of that invasion was unexpected and beneficial, its conclusion was equally unlooked for and injurious; for Muhammed dying suddenly, dissensions arose amongst his sons; and the forces which were in Apulia, being abandoned by their commander, surrendered Otranto to the king. The fears which restrained the pope and the Venetians being thus removed, everyone became apprehensive of new troubles. On the one hand was the league of the pope and the Venetians, and with them the Genoese, Sienese, and other minor powers; on the other, the Florentines, the king, and the duke, with whom were the Bolognese and many princes. The Venetians wished to become lords of Ferrara, and thought they were justified by circumstances in making the attempt, and hoping for a favourable result. Their differences arose thus: the marquis of Ferrara affirmed he was under no obligation to take salt from the Venetians, or to admit their governor; the terms of convention between them declaring that, after seventy years, the city was to be free from both impositions. The Venetians replied that, so long as he held the Polesine, he was bound to receive their salt and their governor. The marquis refusing his consent, the Venetians considered themselves justified in taking arms, and that the present moment offered a suitable opportunity; for the pope was indignant against the Florentines and the king; and to attach the pope still further, the count Girolamo, who was then at Venice, was received with all possible respect, first admitted to the privileges of a citizen, and then raised to the rank of a senator--the highest distinctions the Venetian senate can confer. To prepare for the war, they levied new taxes, and appointed to the command of the forces, Roberto da San Severino, who being offended with Lodovico, governor of Milan, fled to Tortona, whence, after occasioning some disturbances, he went to Genoa, and whilst there, was sent for by the Venetians, and placed at the head of their troops.

[Sidenote: [1481-1482 A.D.]]

These circumstances becoming known to the opposite league, induced it also to provide for war. The duke of Milan appointed as his general Federigo d’Urbino; the Florentines engaged Costanzo, lord of Pesaro; and to sound the disposition of the pope, and know whether the Venetians made war against Ferrara with his consent or not, King Ferdinand sent Alfonso, duke of Calabria, with his army, across the Tronto, and asked the pontiff’s permission to pass into Lombardy to assist the marquis, which was refused in the most peremptory manner. The Florentines and the king, no longer doubtful concerning the pope’s intentions, determined to harass him, and thus either compel him to take part with them, or throw such obstacles in his way as would prevent him from helping the Venetians, who had already taken the field, attacked the marquis, overrun his territory, and encamped before Figaruolo, a fortress of the greatest importance. In pursuance of the design of the Florentines and the king, the duke of Calabria, by the assistance of the Colonna family (the Orsini had joined the pope) plundered the country about Rome, and committed great devastation; whilst the Florentines, with Niccolo Vitelli, besieged and took Città di Castello, expelling Lorenzo Vitelli, who held it for the pope, and placing Niccolo in it as prince.

The pope now found himself in very great straits; for the city of Rome was disturbed by factions, and the country covered with enemies. But acting with courage and resolution, he appointed Roberto da Rimini to take the command of his forces; and having sent for him to Rome, where his troops were assembled, told him how great would be the honour if he could deliver the church from the king’s forces and the troubles in which it was involved; how greatly indebted not only himself, but all his successors would be, and that not mankind merely, but God himself would be under obligations to him. The magnificent Roberto, having considered the forces and preparations already made, advised the pope to raise as numerous a body of infantry as possible, which was done without delay. The duke of Calabria was at hand, and constantly harassed the country up to the very gates of Rome, which so roused the indignation of the citizens that many offered their assistance to Roberto, and all were thankfully received. The duke, hearing of these preparations, withdrew a short distance from the city, that in the belief of finding him gone, the magnificent Roberto would not pursue him, and also in expectation of his brother Federigo, whom their father had sent to him with additional forces. But Roberto, finding himself nearly equal to the duke in cavalry, and superior in infantry, marched boldly out of Rome, and took a position within two miles of the enemy. The duke, seeing his adversaries close upon him, found he must either fight or disgracefully retire. To avoid a retreat unbecoming a king’s son, he resolved to face the enemy; and a battle ensued which continued from morning till midday. In this engagement, greater valour was exhibited on both sides than had been shown in any other during the last fifty years, upwards of a thousand dead being left upon the field.

[Sidenote: [1482-1483 A.D.]]

The troops of the church were at length victorious; for her numerous infantry so annoyed the ducal cavalry that they were compelled to retreat, and Alfonso himself would have fallen into the hands of the enemy, had he not been rescued by a body of Turks, who remained at Otranto, and were at that time in his service. The lord of Rimini, after this victory, returned triumphantly to Rome, but did not long enjoy the fruit of his valour; for having, during the heat of the engagement, taken a copious draught of water, he was seized with a flux, of which he very shortly afterwards died. The pope caused his funeral to be conducted with great pomp, and in a few days sent the count Girolamo towards Città di Castello to restore it to Lorenzo, and also endeavour to gain Rimini, which being by Roberto’s death left to the care of his widow and a son who was quite a boy, his holiness thought might be easily won; and this would certainly have been the case, if the lady had not been defended by the Florentines, who opposed him so effectually as to prevent his success against both Castello and Rimini.

Whilst these things were in progress at Rome and in Romagna, the Venetians took possession of Figaruolo and crossed the Po with their forces. The camp of the duke of Milan and the marquis was in disorder; for the count of Urbino, having fallen ill, was carried to Bologna for his recovery, but died. Thus the marquis’ affairs were unfortunately situated, whilst those of the Venetians gave them increasing hopes of occupying Ferrara. The Florentines and the king of Naples used their utmost endeavours to gain the pope to their views; and not having succeeded by force, they threatened him with the council, which had already been summoned by the emperor to assemble at Bâle; and by means of the imperial ambassadors, and the co-operation of the leading cardinals, who were desirous of peace, the pope was compelled to turn his attention towards effecting the pacification of Italy. With this view, at the instigation of his fears, and with the conviction that the aggrandisement of the Venetians would be the ruin of the church and of Italy, he endeavoured to make peace with the league, and sent his nuncios to Naples, where a treaty was concluded for five years, between the pope, the king, the duke of Milan, and the Florentines, with an opening for the Venetians to join them if they thought proper. When this was accomplished, the pope intimated to the Venetians that they must desist from war against Ferrara. They refused to comply, and made preparations to prosecute their design with greater vigour than they had hitherto done; and having routed the forces of the duke and the marquis at Argenta, they approached Ferrara so closely as to pitch their tents in the marquis’ park.

The league found they must no longer delay rendering him efficient assistance, and ordered the duke of Calabria to march to Ferrara with his forces and those of the pope, the Florentine troops also moving in the same direction. In order to direct the operations of the war with greater efficiency, the league assembled a diet at Cremona, which was attended by the pope’s legate, the count Girolamo, the duke of Calabria, the seignior Lodovico Sforza, and Lorenzo de’ Medici, with many other Italian princes; and when the measures to be adopted were fully discussed, having decided that the best way of relieving Ferrara would be to effect a division of the enemies’ forces, the league desired Lodovico to attack the Venetians on the side of Milan, but this he declined, for fear of bringing a war upon the duke’s territories, which it would be difficult to quell. It was therefore resolved to proceed with the united forces of the league to Ferrara, and having assembled four thousand cavalry and eight thousand infantry, they went in pursuit of the Venetians, whose force amounted to twenty-two hundred men-at-arms, and six thousand foot. They first attacked the Venetian flotilla, then lying upon the river Po, which they routed with the loss of above two hundred vessels, and took prisoner Antonio Justiniano, the purveyor of the fleet. The Venetians, finding all Italy united against them, endeavoured to support their reputation by engaging in their service the duke of Lorraine, who joined them with two hundred men-at-arms; and having suffered so great a destruction of their fleet, they sent him, with part of their army, to keep their enemies at bay, and Roberto da San Severino to cross the Adda with the remainder, and proceed to Milan, where they were to raise the cry of “The duke and the lady Bona!”--his mother; hoping by this means to give a new aspect to affairs there, believing that Lodovico and his government were generally unpopular.

[Sidenote: [1483-1484 A.D.]]

This attack at first created great consternation, and roused the citizens in arms, but eventually produced consequences unfavourable to the designs of the Venetians; for Lodovico was now desirous to undertake what he had refused to do at the entreaty of his allies. Leaving the marquis of Ferrara to the defence of his own territories, he, with four thousand horse and two thousand foot, and joined by the duke of Calabria with twelve thousand horse and five thousand foot, entered the territory of Bergamo, then Brescia, next that of Verona, and, in defiance of the Venetians, plundered the whole country; for it was with the greatest difficulty that Roberto and his forces could save the cities themselves. In the meantime, the marquis of Ferrara had recovered a great part of his territories; for the duke of Lorraine, by whom he was attacked, having only at his command two thousand horse and one thousand foot, could not withstand him. Hence, during the whole of 1483 the affairs of the league were prosperous.

The winter having passed quietly over, the armies again took the field. To produce the greater impression upon the enemy, the league united their whole force, and would easily have deprived the Venetians of all they possessed in Lombardy, if the war had been conducted in the same manner as during the preceding year; for by the departure of the duke of Lorraine, whose term of service had expired, they were reduced to six thousand horse and five thousand foot, whilst the allies had thirteen thousand horse and five thousand foot at their disposal. But, as is often the case where several of equal authority are joined in command, their want of unity decided the victory to their enemies. Federigo, marquis of Mantua, whose influence kept the duke of Calabria and Lodovico Sforza within bounds, being dead, differences arose between them which soon became jealousies. Giovanni Galeazzo, duke of Milan, was now of an age to take the government on himself, and had married the daughter of the duke of Calabria, who wished his son-in-law to exercise the government and not Lodovico; the latter, being aware of the duke’s design, studied to prevent him from effecting it. The position of Lodovico being known to the Venetians, they thought they could make it available for their own interests, and hoped, as they had often before done, to recover in peace all they had lost by war; and having secretly entered into treaty with Lodovico, the terms were concluded in August, 1484.

When this became known to the rest of the allies, they were greatly dissatisfied, principally because they found that the places won from the Venetians were to be restored; that they were allowed to keep Rovigo and the Polesine, which they had taken from the marquis of Ferrara, and besides this retain all the pre-eminence and authority over Ferrara itself which they had formerly possessed. Thus it was evident to everyone they had been engaged in a war which had cost vast sums of money, during the progress of which they had acquired honour, and which was concluded with disgrace; for the places wrested from the enemy were restored without themselves recovering those they had lost. They were, however, compelled to ratify the treaty, on account of the unsatisfactory state of their finances, and because the faults and ambition of others had rendered them unwilling to put their fortunes to further proof.

The Florentines, after the pacification of Lombardy, could not remain quiet; for it appeared disgraceful that a private gentleman should deprive them of the fortress of Sarzana; and as it was allowed by the conditions of peace not only to demand lost places, but to make war upon any who should impede their restoration, they immediately provided men and money to undertake its recovery. Upon this, Agostino Fregoso, who had seized Sarzana, being unable to defend it, gave the fortress to the bank of St. George, which readily accepted it, undertook its defence, put a fleet to sea, and sent forces to Pietrasanta to prevent all attempts of the Florentines, whose camp was in the immediate vicinity. The Florentines found it would be essentially necessary to gain possession of Pietrasanta, for without it the acquisition of Sarzana lost much of its value, being situated between the latter place and Pisa; but they could not, consistently with the treaty, besiege it, unless the people of Pietrasanta, or its garrison, were to impede their acquisition of Sarzana. To induce the enemy to do this, the Florentines sent from Pisa to the camp a quantity of provisions and military stores, accompanied by a very weak escort, that the people of Pietrasanta might have little cause for fear, and by the richness of the booty be tempted to the attack. The plan succeeded according to their expectation; for the inhabitants of Pietrasanta, attracted by the rich prize, took possession of it.

This gave legitimate occasion to the Florentines to undertake operations against them; so leaving Sarzana they encamped before Pietrasanta, which was very populous, and made a gallant defence. The Florentines planted their artillery in the plain, and formed a rampart on the hill, that they might also attack the place on that side. Jacopo Guicciardini was commissary of the army; and while the siege of Pietrasanta was going on, the Genoese took and burned the fortress of Vada, and, landing their forces, plundered the surrounding country. Bongianni Gianfigliazzi was sent against them with a body of horse and foot, and checked their audacity, so that they pursued their depredations less boldly. The fleet continuing its efforts went to Leghorn, and by pontoons and other means approached the new tower, playing their artillery upon it for several days, but being unable to make any impression they withdrew.

[Sidenote: [1485-1486 A.D.]]

In the meantime the Florentines proceeded slowly against Pietrasanta, and the enemy taking courage attacked and took their works upon the hill. This was effected with so much glory, and struck such a panic into the Florentines, that they were almost ready to raise the siege, and actually retreated a distance of four miles; for their generals thought that they would retire to winter quarters, it being now October, and make no further attempt till the return of spring.

When this discomfiture was known at Florence, the government was filled with indignation; and, to impart fresh vigour to the enterprise, and restore the reputation of their forces, they immediately appointed Guid’ Antonio Vespucci and Bernardo del Neri commissaries, who, with vast sums of money, proceeded to the army, and intimated the heavy displeasure of the seigniory, and of the whole city, if they did not return to the walls; and what a disgrace, if so large an army and so many generals, having only a small garrison to contend with, could not conquer so poor and weak a place. They explained the immediate and future advantages that would result from the acquisition, and spoke so forcibly upon the subject, that all became anxious to renew the attack. They resolved, in the first place, to recover the rampart upon the hill; and here it was evident how greatly humanity, affability, and condescension influence the minds of soldiers; for Guid’ Antonio Vespucci, by encouraging one and promising another, shaking hands with this man and embracing that, induced them to proceed to the charge with such impetuosity, that they gained possession of the rampart in an instant. However, the victory was not unattended by misfortune, for Count Antonio da Marciano was killed by a cannon-shot. This success filled the townspeople with so much terror that they began to make proposals for capitulation; and to invest the surrender with imposing solemnity, Lorenzo de’ Medici came to the camp, when, after a few days, the fortress was given up. It being now winter, the leaders of the expedition thought it unadvisable to make any further effort until the return of spring, more particularly because the autumnal air had been so unhealthful that numbers were affected by it. Guid’ Antonio Vespucci and Bongianni Gianfigliazzi were taken ill and died, to the great regret of all, so greatly had Antonio’s conduct at Pietrasanta endeared him to the army.

Upon the taking of Pietrasanta, the Lucchese sent ambassadors to Florence, to demand its surrender to their republic, on account of its having previously belonged to them, and because, as they alleged, it was in the conditions that places taken by either party were to be restored to their original possessors. The Florentines did not deny the articles, but replied that they did not know whether, by the treaty between themselves and the Genoese, which was then under discussion, it would have to be given up or not, and therefore could not reply to that point at present; but in case of its restitution, it would first be necessary for the Lucchese to reimburse them for the expenses they had incurred and the injury they had suffered, in the death of so many citizens; and that when this was satisfactorily arranged, they might entertain hopes of obtaining the place. The whole winter was consumed in negotiations between the Florentines and Genoese, which, by the pope’s intervention, were carried on at Rome; but not being concluded upon the return of spring, the Florentines would have attacked Sarzana had they not been prevented by the illness of Lorenzo de’ Medici and the war between the pope and King Ferdinand; for Lorenzo was afflicted not only by the gout, which seemed hereditary in his family, but also by violent pains in the stomach, and was compelled to go to the baths for relief.

The more important reason was furnished by the war, of which this was the origin. The city of Aquila, though subject to the kingdom of Naples, was in a manner free; and the count di Montorio possessed great influence over it. The duke of Calabria was upon the banks of the Tronto with his men-at-arms, under pretence of appeasing some disturbances amongst the peasantry, but really with a design of reducing Aquila entirely under the king’s authority, and sent for the count di Montorio, as if to consult him upon the business he pretended then to have in hand. The count obeyed without the least suspicion, and on his arrival was made prisoner by the duke and sent to Naples. When this circumstance became known at Aquila, the anger of the inhabitants arose to the highest pitch; taking arms they killed Antonio Cencinello, commissary for the king, and with him some inhabitants known partisans of his majesty. The Aquilani, in order to have a defender in their rebellion, raised the banner of the church, and sent envoys to the pope, to submit their city and themselves to him, beseeching that he would defend them as his own subjects against the tyranny of the king. The pontiff gladly undertook their defence, for he had both public and private reasons for hating that monarch; and Signor Roberto da San Severino, an enemy of the duke of Milan, being disengaged, was appointed to take the command of his forces, and sent for with all speed to Rome. He entreated the friends and relatives of the count di Montorio to withdraw their allegiance from the king, and induced the princes of Altimura, Salerno, and Bisignano to take arms against him. The king, finding himself so suddenly involved in war had recourse to the Florentines and the duke of Milan for assistance. The Florentines hesitated with regard to their own conduct, for they felt all the inconvenience of neglecting their own affairs to attend to those of others, and hostilities against the church seemed likely to involve much risk. However, being under the obligation of a league, they preferred their honour to convenience or security, engaged the Orsini, and sent all their own forces under the count di Pitigliano towards Rome, to the assistance of the king. The latter divided his forces into two parts; one, under the duke of Calabria, he sent towards Rome, which, being joined by the Florentines, opposed the army of the church; with the other, under his own command, he attacked the barons, and the war was prosecuted with various success on both sides. At length, the king, being universally victorious, peace was concluded by the intervention of the ambassadors of the king of Spain, in August, 1486, to which the pope consented; for having found fortune opposed to him he was not disposed to tempt it further. In this treaty all the powers of Italy were united, except the Genoese, who were omitted as rebels against the republic of Milan, and unjust occupiers of territories belonging to the Florentines. Upon the peace being ratified, Roberto da San Severino, having been during the war a treacherous ally of the church, and by no means formidable to her enemies, left Rome; being followed by the forces of the duke and the Florentines, after passing Cesena, he found them near him, and urging his flight reached Ravenna with less than a hundred horse. Of his forces, part were received into the duke’s service, and part were plundered by the peasantry. The king, being reconciled with his barons, put to death Jacopo Coppola and Antonello d’Aversa and their sons, for having, during the war, betrayed his secrets to the pope.

The pope having observed, in the course of the war, how promptly and earnestly the Florentines adhered to their alliances, although he had previously been opposed to them from his attachment to the Genoese, and the assistance they had rendered to the king, now evinced a more amicable disposition, and received their ambassadors with greater favour than previously. Lorenzo de’ Medici, being made acquainted with this change of feeling, encouraged it with the utmost solicitude; for he thought it would be of great advantage, if to the friendship of the king he could add that of the pontiff.

The pope had a son named Francesco, upon whom designing to bestow states and attach friends who might be useful to him after his own death, he saw no safer connection in Italy than Lorenzo’s, and therefore induced the latter to give him one of his daughters in marriage. Having formed this alliance, the pope desired the Genoese to concede Sarzana to the Florentines, insisting that they had no right to detain what Agostino had sold, nor was Agostino justified in making over to the bank of St. George what was not his own. However, his holiness did not succeed with them; for the Genoese, during these transactions at Rome, armed several vessels, and, unknown to the Florentines, landed three thousand foot, attacked Sarzanello, situated above Sarzana, plundered and burned the town near it, and then, directing their artillery against the fortress, fired upon it with their utmost energy. This assault was new and unexpected by the Florentines, who immediately assembled their forces under Virginio Orsini, at Pisa, and complained to the pope that, whilst he was endeavouring to establish peace, the Genoese had renewed their attack upon them. They then sent Piero Corsini to Lucca, that by his presence he might keep the city faithful; and Pagolantonio Soderini to Venice, to learn how that republic was disposed. They demanded assistance of the king and of Signor Lodovico, but obtained it from neither; for the king expressed apprehensions of the Turkish fleet, and Lodovico made excuses, but sent no aid. Thus the Florentines in their own wars were almost always obliged to stand alone, and found no friends to assist them with the same readiness they practised towards others. Nor did they, on this desertion of their allies (it being nothing new to them), give way to despondency; for having assembled a large army under Jacopo Guicciardini and Piero Vettori, they sent it against the enemy, who had encamped on the river Magra, at the same time pressing Sarzanello with mines and every species of attack. The commissaries being resolved to relieve the place, an engagement ensued, when the Genoese were routed, and Lodovico de’ Fieschi, with several other principal men, made prisoners. The Sarzanesi were not so depressed at their defeat as to be willing to surrender, but obstinately prepared for their defence, whilst the Florentine commissaries proceeded with their operations, and instances of valour occurred on both sides.

The siege being protracted by a variety of fortune, Lorenzo de’ Medici resolved to go to the camp, and on his arrival the troops acquired fresh courage, whilst that of the enemy seemed to fail; for perceiving the obstinacy of the Florentines’ attack, and the delay of the Genoese in coming to their relief, they surrendered to Lorenzo, without asking conditions, and none were treated with severity except two or three who were leaders of the rebellion. During the siege, Lodovico had sent troops to Pontremoli, as if with an intention of assisting the Florentines; but having secret correspondence in Genoa, a party was raised there who gave the city to Milan.[r]

LAST YEARS OF LORENZO

[Sidenote: [1486-1491 A.D.]]

From this period until the death of Lorenzo Italy remained at peace and little of any moment occurred at Florence. Lorenzo’s power augmented daily, and like a deep and rapid stream looked clear and smooth and beautiful until crossed by some obstacle; then its force mounted up and swept everything violently away. Nor was it alone in Florence that its strength and volume were felt; Lorenzo’s true object and interest, like Ferdinand’s, was peace, and they held the balance in their hand; the unquiet nature of Alfonso was doubtful and dangerous, but Lorenzo ruled the unextinct energies of a powerful republic with the decision and unity of an absolute monarch and would allow no seeds of discord to be sown without an instantaneous effort to destroy; he influenced all the smaller states, and the vast weight of Florence cast on the side of one or other of the greater was never without its consequences. Disputes for instance occurred this year between Lodovico Sforza and Alfonso of Calabria about the former’s virtually usurping the whole sovereign authority of Milan from his nephew; and these, partly by persuasion, and partly by threats of placing himself on the side of the injured party, Lorenzo settled as he did most others; for he was well convinced that nothing would prove more dangerous to his own authority than any increase of power in either of these potentates. By such judicious management he maintained the peace of Italy, well knowing that no ties, whether of relationship, or obligation, or personal attachment, would ever have the beneficial effects that are produced by fear on sovereign princes.

If Cosmo purchased the liberties of Florence, Lorenzo received back the money with interest, not in power alone, but in gold and silver: under the gonfaloniership of Piero Alamanni in July and August, 1490, the disorder of his finances had become so great as to make a fresh grant of public money absolutely necessary to restore them, and in the year 1491, other fraudulent means were adopted to make up the deficiency. His extensive commercial establishments were necessarily left in the hands of agents who, puffed up with the importance of their master’s name, squandered his substance while they neglected his affairs; from the beginning his credit had been sustained by occasional grants of public money to a large amount; but now the evil was so alarmingly increased that a violent effort of the commonwealth became necessary to remove it, and that effort no less than public bankruptcy! On the 13th of August, 1490, a balia of seventeen members with the full powers of the whole Florentine nation was created to examine the condition of the coinage, the state of the various gabelle, and the public finances as connected with the private necessities of Lorenzo; to ascertain also what was spent on the occasion of making his son a cardinal, which with subsequent donations amounted to 50,000 florins. The disorder both of the public revenues and the private resources of the Medici was extreme, the former having even been anticipated and spent by his own and his agents’ extravagance: the portions of young women, already mentioned as forming a public stock based on national faith and moral integrity, were the first and greatest sufferers; this branch of the public debt which previously paid three per cent. per annum was at once reduced by the authority of the commission to half that interest; and the instantaneous fall of public credit reduced the luoghi di monte, or shares of 100 florins of public stock, from twenty-seven to eleven and a half! The young women who married were allowed a sufficient sum from their portions to pay the contract duty, which of course immediately returned to the treasury; the remainder was reserved, and a payment of seven per cent. promised at the end of twenty years!

One consequence of this was a sudden check to marriage; and when the portions were invested in public securities, dowers of 1500, 1800, and even 2000 florins were given by parties of equal rank to make up the deficiency between real and nominal portions, where 1100 had previously served. There were consequently few marriages except those accomplished by force of ready money, and even for these Lorenzo’s permission became necessary!

“Now,” says Giovanni Cambi,[n] with all the indignation that might be expected from the son of the persecuted Neri, “now let all reflect on what it is to set up tyrants in the city and create balias, and assemble parliaments.” The depreciated currencies of Siena, Lucca, and Bologna affected that of Florence, so that to keep the silver coin in the country it was in like manner depreciated; this measure was considered fair and necessary at the moment by many; but for the people’s quiet, who first and most sensibly feel such evils and who now justly began to murmur, it was announced as a measure for enabling government to pay those marriage portions which had been stopped the previous year. The public for a season appear to have acquiesced in this, not immediately perceiving that they were paying Lorenzo de’ Medici’s debts; but when this new money, called the quattrino bianco was issued at one-fifth more than its real value and not taken by the treasury for more than its actual worth, the citizens saw plainly that they were defrauded and that every species of taxation was virtually augmented by it to that amount, whereupon a deep murmur of indignation pervaded the community. Their anger was vain; Lorenzo’s private necessities required the sacrifice, and his power enforced it!

[Sidenote: [1491-1492 A.D.]]

When Innocent VIII made Lorenzo’s son, Giovanni de’ Medici, a cardinal ere the boy had completed the age of fourteen, being rather ashamed of his work he accompanied this honour by a stipulation that the hat was not to be worn for three years. That time had now elapsed; Innocent sent the long-desired insignia, and thus prepared the way for a pontificate which encouraged Italian genius and established Medicean grandeur. The ceremony of assuming this hat was performed with great pomp on the 10th of March, 1492, and on the 9th of the following April Lorenzo breathed his last at Careggi in the forty-fourth year of his age.

On his death-bed Lorenzo is said to have sent for Girolamo Savonarola (whom he had always unsuccessfully courted), to confess and grant him absolution. The monk first demanded whether he placed entire faith in the mercy of God, and was answered in the affirmative. He next asked if Lorenzo were ready to surrender all the wealth which he had wrongfully acquired. And this, after some hesitation, was also answered in the affirmative. The third question was if he would re-establish popular government and restore public liberty; but to this he would give no answer, or according to others gave a decided negative; upon which the uncompromising churchman quitted him without bestowing absolution. The authenticity of this anecdote has been questioned, but it is in keeping with the character of both men.[p]

VON REUMONT’S ESTIMATE OF LORENZO

Lorenzo de’ Medici was called from this world at the age of forty-three years--a short life in which to have accomplished so much, to have achieved fame so widespread and enduring. In the character of this remarkable man, the foremost representative of a remarkable period, we find the irresistible onward impulse of creative power united to a deep knowledge of the stages that succeed each other in the development of the new; we find the highest degree of receptivity combined with a student’s seriousness and capacity for taking pains; we see a keen and joyous appreciation of art go hand in hand with the practical sense necessary to the proper conduct of life; we find him to possess, in a word, all the qualities that go to make the statesman, the poet, the citizen, and the prince.

He knew no fatigue under the multiplicity of public affairs that fell to him as head of a peculiarly constituted state; with sure and rapid view he could take cognisance of the whole mass of business while giving his attention to the smallest details. In his later years he became wary and discreet, never acting save as the result of deep reflection, holding steadfastly to the goal he had set himself, conscious, but not unduly, of the dignity of his position and that of the state he represented. In his home and family life he was gay and companionable. As a husband he was not above reproach, it is true; but he was tenderly attached to the wife he had not chosen, devoted to the excellent mother with whom he had many qualities in common, and to his children he was always a generous provider, a wise counsellor and guide. He had the faculty of attracting to himself people of the widest diversity of character, and was capable of forming warm and lasting friendships; amid all the cares of state he was never too busy to render assistance to a friend, and was as ready to exert himself in behalf of the low as of the high.

It is not to be denied, however, that he possessed a share of the weaknesses and failings of his times, which were chiefly apparent in his political life, superior as it was in consistency and honesty of purpose to that of most foreign or Italian statesmen of his day. His interior policy, in particular, has received sharp blame, as much for its refashioning of the constitution to permit an increase in personal power as for the corrupt methods employed to gain undisputed control over the state funds. As regards the latter charge it is difficult to see how in later years--had longer life been granted to Lorenzo--a catastrophe could have been avoided, unless a protracted peace had allowed the maintenance of a perfect balance in the state expenditures. In respect to the first shortcoming many contemporaries expressed the opinion that Lorenzo’s fixed and secret aim was to create for himself a principality, to attain which end he was merely awaiting a favourable opportunity--the appointment to the office of gonfalonier, for example, when he should have reached the proper age.

When all has been weighed and judged, undoubtedly the worst evil in the rule of Lorenzo the Magnificent is just this lack of agreement between form and fact, this diversion of the highest authority from its proper centre. Personality had become the most powerful factor in all departments of the administration--the political, the financial, the judicial. Nevertheless if Florence was free from the excesses that disgraced every other Italian state, if Lorenzo’s rule was mild and blameless compared to that of Cosmo, not only the continuance of peace, the assured position of the country, and the habit on the part of the people of submitting to such a rule were to be thanked for it, but the views and ability of the man who stood at the head. Lorenzo de’ Medici was determined to be obeyed, but he was no tyrant: on the one hand too keen-sighted a reader of men, and too well-versed in the traditions of his people; on the other he was of a nature too magnanimous and richly endowed, too open, too necessitous of friendship to fall into an extreme of despotism. Above all he was a citizen of Florence, and if left to himself, would have allowed nothing in his outer circumstances to distinguish him from the rest of his fellow-citizens; but after the Pazzi conspiracy it was deemed necessary that he should be accompanied everywhere by a guard, formed at first of four trusted friends, later of twelve paid members of the nobility.

As regards his arbitrary administration of the state finances opinions varied even in his own time. Had he not diverted to his own purposes a portion of the public funds, argued some, he would have been ruined, and his ruin would have entailed that of countless others. All that he took from first to last, as well to preserve his credit as to carry on an extravagant mode of life, was as nothing compared to the losses an incompetent ruler would have brought upon the state; one ill-considered or untimely public regulation alone would have cost the treasury dearer than Lorenzo’s entire rule. The final aim of all the Medici, so ran the general opinion, was their own profit or advancement, but they remained Florentine citizens to the end, and in most cases their interests and those of their city were identical. To the kindly disposed who rendered this judgment after Lorenzo’s death, the answer was indeed given that the aim of the Medici had been none the less sole dominion, because it was given the form of democracy by the destruction of the patrician influence, and the raising to favour of members of the lower classes; that a subtle, crafty tyranny, like that of Cosmo de’ Medici, or one tempered by generosity and benevolence, like Lorenzo’s, was the more dangerous for the people inasmuch as it paved the way for a severer form.

In the ninth chapter of his History of Florence Guicciardini[q] gives a masterly summing up of Lorenzo de’ Medici’s influence over the city that gave him birth. “Florence,” he says, “did not become free under Lorenzo de’ Medici, but a better master no city could have had. Incalculable good resulted to it as the outpouring of his own benevolent nature, while the evils that are inseparable from tyranny in any form were limited in their workings--rendered almost harmless, in fact, when his will came into play. There were doubtless many who rejoiced at his death; but all who took any part in the administration regretted it deeply, even those who thought they had grounds of complaint against him, for none could tell what a change of rulers might bring about.”[c]

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