CHAPTER VII.

LORENZO DE’ MEDICI IN ROME—PRATO AND VOLTERRA.

WE must now return to the events belonging to the summer of 1471. A

fortnight after the death of Pope Paul II. the Cardinal of S. Pietro in

Vincoli was chosen as his successor. Francesco della Rovere, who took

the name of Sixtus IV., was descended from an obscure family in the

market-town of Albizzola, near Savona. Their possible relation to the

Piedmontese Della Rovera, lords of Vinovi, was first claimed when the

tiara had lent a splendour to the name far outshining that of ancient

nobility. He belonged to the Franciscan order, and had dedicated his

years to the study and teaching of theology, as well as to disputation

and preaching, before Paul II. granted him the red hat, and thus fixed

him at Rome, where he became one of the most active and influential

members of the sacred college. He continued to lead a monastic life

even in the cardinal’s purple. In his lodgings at the Esquiline,

near the church which gave him his title, and whence he overlooked a

great part of the ancient and modern city—which last had not then

encroached upon those heights, with their grand ruins of baths and

temples—scientific and ecclesiastical questions were discussed, while

politics were excluded. And yet this Pope, who had grown up in the

cloister, went farther than any of his predecessors in secularising the

pontificate, and drawing it into the whirl of a restless policy. Under

Sixtus IV. nepotism began to assume a form of aggrandisement, which,

instead of being, as hitherto, restricted to the bestowal of fiefs and

personal property, extended to the formation of sovereign States,

dependent on the Church only in name.

Lorenzo de’ Medici was one of the embassy which the Florentine

Signoria sent to congratulate the new Pope. The other ambassadors

were Donato Acciaiuoli, Agnolo della Stufa, Bongianni Gianfigliazzi,

Domenico Martelli, and Piero Minerbetti, the first of whom was

spokesman. Martelli and Minerbetti were knighted in Rome. ‘In the

month of September, 1471’ so we read in Lorenzo’s memoirs, ‘I was

sent as ambassador to Rome on the occasion of the coronation of Pope

Sixtus, and was received very honourably. I brought from thence the

two marble busts of Augustus and Agrippa which the Pope presented to

me; and besides a chalcedony vase, and many cameos and other things

purchased by myself.’ The Pope’s affection and confidence were shown

in various ways. The Roman Depository, _i.e._, the Receiver’s office,

was handed over to the Medici, with the permission to choose as their

representative Giovanni Tornabuoni, director of the Roman bank. New

privileges were also granted to them in connection with their share in

the farming of the alum-works of Tolfa. It was an important concession.

In the days of Pope Pius II., Giovanni di Castro, son of the famous

jurisconsult, Paolo, the principal co-operator in the revision of the

Florentine statutes, (finished in 1415), discovered alum-deposits in

the rock while making geological investigations in the hilly country

between Civita Vecchia and the territory of Viterbo, in the vicinity

of Tolfa. He instantly perceived the importance of his discovery,

which promised to free the West, hitherto poor in this mineral, from

a tribute to the distant East, made more inaccessible by the Turkish

conquests. In fact, the produce soon amounted to 160,000 gold florins;

and it is well known what sanguine hopes Pius II., whose eyes were

directed towards the East, indulged, that this new source of revenue

would aid his enterprises. Genoese houses had employed themselves

with the alum-trade till the Medici concluded a contract with the

Papal exchequer, which afterwards gave rise to many unpleasant

misunderstandings with the financial department.

However brilliant and cheerful things might look in Florence, and

however bent the people seemed to be on enjoying the fruits of peace,

warnings were not wanting that their security rested on a false

foundation. In the year 1470 a sudden tumult, to which the exiles of

1466 were no strangers, had created momentary anxiety in the town of

Prato, but order had been soon restored. A much more serious case was

the rebellion which two years later took place at Volterra, as it not

only was a source of misery for the town, but cast the first real

shadow on the reputation of Lorenzo de’ Medici.

Volterra, as has been already remarked, had, like all the larger

communes of Tuscany, with the exception of Siena and Lucca, come under

the supremacy of Florence. It was due partly to powerlessness against

complications from without, and partly to repeated and often violent

and bloody attempts of individual citizens to establish a monarchy,

that the most clear-sighted were brought to a determination to

sacrifice a portion of their independence, endangered now from without,

and now from within, in order not to lose domestic security and peace

together with independence. In the autumn of 1361 the Florentines

had gained firm footing in the town (which was suffering under the

tyrannical rule of the Belforti family), the civic guard being

entrusted to them at first for ten years, and then permanently. Though

Florence appointed the Capitano, the Volterrans elected the Podestà and

their magistrates as before, and retained the administration of their

extensive territory—which could be viewed in all directions from the

loftily situated town towards the Maremma, as well as down the valley

of the Elsa and Arno. There was no lack of misunderstandings, and the

worst was that which arose at the beginning of 1429 on account of the

introduction of the registry of land (Cadaster). When the Florentines

prepared to crush the insurrection, and no help appeared, it speedily

ended with the murder of the originator, but deprived the town of the

choice of its Podestà and other rights, which were only regained later.

During the miseries which befell these regions of Tuscany about the

middle of the century from the Neapolitan campaigns, Volterra remained

faithful to the Florentines. The cause of the new disturbances came

from a direction whence it was least expected.

If we descend from Volterra to the south, cross the Cecina, which

flows in a deep valley to the not far distant sea, and follow the road

leading by Pomarance to Massa di Maremma, we reach after a few miles

Castelnuovo, which occupies the sides and summit of a hill, and is

called Di Val di Cecina, to distinguish it from several other places

of the same name. It is now one of the centres of the great industry

which, by obtaining borax from the vapours rising from the hot springs

and Solfatari (Lagoni) of this district, so rich in volcanic phenomena,

has brought undreamed of wealth and a beneficial activity to Volterra.

Four centuries ago another mineral production was in question, namely,

alum, which had been worked for 200 years already, and, therefore,

long before Tolfa was discovered, without apparently having yielded

much. In 1471 Benuccio Capacci, of Siena, made a proposal to the

Signoria of Volterra regarding the farming of these alum-works, which

proposal was accepted after a short consultation by the just retiring

magistracy, and, as it would appear, through the mediation of the

chancellor, Antonio Ivano, although from the first a strong opposition

had been raised in the city, and a reconsideration of the question by

the newly appointed magistrates was demanded. Next came the charge

that the rights of the commune had been infringed by the contract. The

contractors, that is to say, Benuccio and his partners, among whom were

several distinguished Florentines, insisted that the commune was bound

by the contract; the commune objected that the contract was not only

a gross violation of the interests of the whole body, but was also

illegal because the votes had not been unanimous, as was prescribed

in every case of the sale or lease of the common property—a position

which the opponents could not dispute, although it was shown to be

fallacious in practice. During this quarrel the contractors had taken

possession of the mines, and worked them with great zeal, without

troubling themselves about the protest. But, as they could not conceal

from themselves that the matter caused great offence, they offered

to pay a higher lease, whereupon the commune appointed a commission

of eight citizens, which, however, could not come to agreement with

Benuccio and his companions. The Volterran Signoria seem now to have

lost patience. They appointed a new commission of twelve members, and

these sent an armed force to Castelnuovo, who took possession of the

mines, and violently prevented the continuance of the works.

Hitherto the controversy had been confined to the town of Volterra and

the contractors. Now came the interference of Florence. Two of the

shareholders, Paolo Inghirami and Benedetto Riccobaldi, men of good

family, had repaired to Florence. It was all the easier for them to

procure a hearing, as distinguished Florentines, Gino Capponi, Antonio

Giugni, and Bernardo Bonagiusti, belonged to the trading company with

which was also connected Lorenzo de’ Medici, whom we already know as a

chief contractor in the alum-trade. A plenipotentiary went to Volterra

to obtain the restitution of the mines to the company. When he met with

opposition, the Podestà removed first four, and his successor several

other citizens, who were to remain under supervision at Florence.

The contractors were at the same time reinstated, and Lorenzo de’

Medici entrusted with the final decision. However much the excitement

increased at Volterra, the Signoria of the town persuaded the exiles to

yield, so that a composition might have been possible, had not Paolo

Inghirami after his return excited so much bitterness by his arrogant

proceedings that an insurrection broke out. Paolo and several of his

friends who had taken refuge in the palace of the Podestà were besieged

there by the furious people; two were killed, the others escaped

with difficulty, and the Podestà found protection in the palace of

the Signoria. As the matter had gone so far, a magistracy of ten was

appointed, as in times of war, to undertake the guidance of affairs,

with the reservation, however, that nothing should take place which was

contrary to the duty of the town towards the Florentine commune. An

embassy went at the same time to Florence to explain the state of the

case.

Here opinions were divided. Tommaso Soderini stood at the head of

the few who entertained the opinion that a fire must be avoided at

home; the Volterrans should be punished, but not driven to rebellion;

while no ground of complaint or interference should be given to the

Pope and other neighbours; and that they should proceed cautiously in

this doubtful question. Lorenzo de’ Medici was of another opinion.

He remembered the repeated insubordination of the Volterrans, and

concluded that their pride must be broken for ever. Unfortunately he

prevailed. Of course the extreme party in Volterra now gained the

upper hand, and action commenced on both sides. On April 26, 1472,

the Volterrans who were in Florence were brought as prisoners to the

palace of the Priors, and war was declared. A Balia of twenty citizens

was appointed, and the sum of 100,000 gold florins set apart for the

equipment of the army. Volterra appealed to King Ferrante and Galeazzo

Maria Sforza against Florentine violence; but the Duke of Milan and

Pope Sixtus IV. sent reinforcements to the Florentines, and Volterra

only obtained assistance from Siena and the Appiani of Piombino, who,

on account of the attempt of the previous year, had no reason to be

on friendly terms with Florence, and especially with Lorenzo. But

only about a thousand foot-soldiers assembled in the town, while the

Florentines entrusted the generalship to the most capable warrior of

his time, the Count of Urbino; and he, supported by the counsel of the

two commissaries, Bongianni Gianfigliazzi and Jacopo Guicciardini,

advanced into the Volterran territory with at least 5,000 foot and 500

horse, and, defenceless as the land was, easily took possession of it

and began the siege of the town.

Volterra is a town whose position would have enabled it to hold out for

months against the military science and artillery of those days. But

the foreign garrison was discouraged and undisciplined, the citizens

were divided, and the presence of many country people, who had the

ruin of their possessions before their eyes, did not contribute to

strengthen the defence. The unexpectedly prompt attack had, moreover,

prevented a sufficient provisioning of the town. For five-and-twenty

days the Volterrans held out against the cannonade, which seriously

damaged their old walls. They then opened the gates, after having

concluded a treaty with the commissaries, according to which the

possessions, honour, and life of the citizens should remain uninjured.

On June 17, Federigo di Montefeltro rode into the now pacified town.

Scarcely had he, however, reached the square before the palace of the

Signoria with his troop than there arose a disturbance through the

insolence of a soldier, who attacked and robbed a councillor who was

going home. This led to a general sack, and filled the unhappy town

with all the horrors which could be expected after a conquest by storm

from a licentious soldiery. The dreadful treatment of Volterra has left

a dark stain on the otherwise honourable name of the Count of Urbino

and on the reputation of the Florentines.

Though on the side of the latter it has always been asserted the

affair happened without their knowledge and against their intentions

and interests, the Volterrans have never been convinced of this. In

a letter of thanks to King Louis XI., who not only inquired of the

Republic with great interest as to the course of events, but informed

the Milanese ambassador that he would, if necessary, himself assist

against the rebellious town, the Signoria satisfied this friend of

theirs, whom they styled ‘Father of our city,’ that there was now no

longer any cause to be anxious respecting them and their valiantly

defended honour, and they could only wish him similar success under

similar circumstances.[196]

Francesco Guicciardini and others inform us that the news of the sack

of Volterra aroused the most lively displeasure in Florence; but this

pretended displeasure did not prevent them from rewarding the conqueror

and making use of the victory. That the Count of Urbino, when he

returned, was highly honoured was a matter of course. He was presented

with a banner and a silver helmet, besides the right of citizenship;

and that the last might not be a mere form, he received as a location

Luca Pitti’s villa at Rusciano. The success of the enterprise was very

welcome to Lorenzo de’ Medici, for the victory was specially ascribed

to him. One of his confidants said to Tommaso Soderini, ‘What do you

say now that Volterra is taken?’ To which he replied, ‘It seems to me

that the town is lost. Had you compounded on reasonable terms, you

would have preserved an advantage and security. But as you must now

maintain it by force, it will create weakness and embarrassment for

you in case of war, and expense and injury in time of peace.’ But the

Government took care to weaken Volterra, so that the defiant spirit of

its citizens was broken. The Signoria were obliged to give up their

palace to the Florentine commander; the church of San Pietro and the

bishop’s lodging in a high-lying part of the town were pulled down

to make room for a new fortress; a number of citizens were banished,

and many who had refused to keep within bounds were outlawed. The

administration of the district was taken away from Volterra. Lorenzo

himself proceeded to the humbled town, and sought to arouse a more

favourable feeling by liberality and fine words. He caused 2,000 gold

florins to be distributed in the name of the Florentine Signoria. But

what was all this in comparison to the misery which he, before all

others, had brought upon the town? When we read the letter which the

Pope’s private secretary, Antonio Inghirami, a member of a family

always attached to the Medici, writes to Lorenzo from Rome on March

10, 1473, we see from the tone that he was already considered the

ruler of Florence, while the sad state of the ill-used and oppressed

town penetrates through the flattering phrases. ‘The visit of Your

Magnificence to Volterra was a real consolation to me, for you will

have far better recognised how things stood by seeing them than by

mere hearsay. You will be able to measure our sufferings and misery,

public and private; you will yourself have found your old faithful

adherents and servants deprived of all their property, oppressed,

confused, and, as it were, distracted, by the terrible pillage which

has swept away everything. As you must have been moved to pity and

compassion at sight of this, so will your coming have lifted up and

consoled those for whom it was a last hope.’[197] If we consider what

great misery was caused by this conflict, and that the expedition cost

100,000 gold florins, which had to be borrowed from the credit-fund for

wedding-gifts, we shall be astonished when we read that the alum-mines,

which were afterwards worked at the expense of the Florentine

woollen-guild, lay neglected as unproductive before a century had

passed.

In the meantime the progress towards arbitrary government became

daily more apparent. The elections to the communal offices, as well

as to those of the towns and places of the territory, were entirely

in the hands of a party, and even in those cases in which the members

of the Balia were not all adherents of the Medici, means were found

to get what they wanted. Instead of two of the primitive councils,

those of the commune and of the people, a new one composed of 200

members, called the larger council (Consiglio Maggiore) was for a

time instituted for the sake of the elections. The property of the

magistrate of the Parte Guelfa and of the merchants’ office was sold

to assist the public finances, which did not prevent customs and taxes

from being increased. The ancient office of the Capitano del Popolo,

once the political and military chief of the armed citizens, was done

away with, and replaced by a common judge. The Podestà had lost his

former dignity and power, though the office was still eagerly sought

by foreign noblemen. The executor of the laws against the nobles

(_ordinamenta iustitiæ_) was now a captain of the police. All affairs

of importance were treated by a small number of men kept together by

interest and common dependence.