CHAPTER I.

THE PAZZI CONSPIRACY.

AS the year 1478 approached, suspense became intense, in consequence

of the events already described, and a political entanglement of

some kind became more and more probable. No fear was entertained of

intrigues at home. Eleven years had passed since the attempt to ruin

the power of the Medici. The leaders of the Opposition were either

dead or entirely powerless; a new generation was springing up, whose

interests were mostly identical with those of the ruling family. All

the modifications of the constitution had contributed to concentrate

the power in comparatively few hands; those who longed for honourable

posts and outward splendour obtained them according to their desire,

while the money-makers never wanted means to enrich themselves, nor

did the people lack diversions and the appearance of freedom; the

system of taxation was so managed that those of whom the government

did not feel certain were kept down, without a pretext being afforded

them for opposition to an overstrong system. Lorenzo de’ Medici at

this time was in his thirtieth year, and had ruled the state for nine

years. All went its usual course: signorie, magistrates, and councils

negotiated, concluded, and voted, as in former times; and a number of

distinguished citizens conducted the business of every-day. But the

leadership was always in one hand. Those who had insight into the state

of home affairs and those abroad were by no means deceived regarding

them. Lorenzo believed he should be left undisturbed. His brother does

not seem to have been a hindrance to him. The plan of making Giuliano

a cardinal had been given up, and an alliance with the daughter of

the seigneur of Piombino and Appiani had been spoken of. Letters and

petitions from abroad were addressed to both brothers, but we never

hear of Giuliano’s interfering in affairs of State.

The danger arose from a combination of home and foreign affairs. Like

his grandfather, Lorenzo had always been careful not to allow any of

the families attached to him to become powerful enough to cause him

anxiety. It may be easily understood that this constant endeavour to

gain the upper hand, although it secured his position, gave rise to

disaffection and hatred. Thus it was with the Pazzi. We have seen

how this family, who at first did not find it easy to obtain popular

favour, rose to high honours, and how closely they were allied to the

Medici. Guglielmo de’ Pazzi had for years always been present at the

tourneys, fêtes, and amusements of his brother-in-law. But in his case

as in others Lorenzo does not appear to have deviated from his usual

policy. He avoided allowing the Pazzi any part in such public offices

as they might well claim, considering their position, and at times he

appeared almost envious of the rising wealth of this family. Still,

for several years harmony was preserved between them. Two letters

directed to Lorenzo in 1474 by Jacopo de’ Pazzi, then at Avignon,

professing gratitude for services rendered to him, and the hope of

future good understanding, are preserved in the archives of the family.

This, however, could not last long, nor was the fault all on the Pazzi

side. In the year 1476, Lorenzo caused a law on the inheritance _ab

intestato_ to pass, which deprived Giovanni de’ Pazzi of the rich

Borromeo succession to which his wife had a claim. Giuliano warned

his brother, but in vain. Francesco de’ Pazzi, Jacopo’s nephew, who

resided in Rome, considered himself ill-used by the magistracy of the

Eight. Still it is hardly to be believed that the Pazzi would have put

themselves at the head of a perilous enterprise in their native town,

if complications in Rome had not brought on a crisis. In the ensuing

tragedy, the Pazzi appear as chief actors, but it is more likely they

were merely the instruments of Girolamo Riario.[223]

The connections between the Florentine family and the Pope arose from

pecuniary affairs. We observed before how the money matters of Rome

were chiefly in the hands of the Florentines, and, from the time of

Pius II., in those of the Sienese. The Via de’ Banchi, leading to

the bridge of St. Angelo, was filled with their counting-houses, and

the names of the Altoviti, Niccolini, Strozzi, Chigi, still exist on

the houses and various other buildings of that part. The Pazzi had

also their banks in the vicinity of the bridge, and the then director

was Francesco the nephew of Jacopo. The principal occasion of the

misunderstanding between them and the Medici was afforded by the sale

of Imola. Lorenzo was said to have attempted to render it impossible

for the Pope, who had no spare cash, to raise the sum necessary by

gaining over the other banking-houses to his interests. With the Pazzi,

however, who had at first also consented, he could not succeed in the

end, and by means of 3,000 gold florins advanced by them Girolamo

Riario had become master of Imola. That this circumstance, if really

true, must have led to a closer connection between the latter, is

clear. When the relations between the Pope and Florence were disturbed

by political events, the former took from the Medici the management

of the finances of the Curia, the so-called ‘Depository,’ and handed

over the business to the Pazzi. Sixtus IV. afterwards declared, when he

reproached the Medici for their ingratitude, that it was through him

that they had amassed wealth. It is uncertain whether, apart from the

above circumstances, the adverse reports of the pecuniary position of

the Medici, which had lately spread and were not groundless, and more

especially of the bad state of their banking business in Flanders,

were the real cause of this measure, so keenly affecting them and

so hurtful to their credit, or whether they were a mere pretext for

its adoption. Certain it is that thenceforward the Pazzi were closely

attached to the Papal interest, and to that of Girolamo Riario, which

was in this case identical with it. It is, however, evident from

the whole course of events that the Medici, notwithstanding these

circumstances, felt no distrust of their fellow-countrymen. Girolamo

Riario had long been aware that the Florentines would constantly

oppose his attempts to extend his dominion on their frontier. To them

he ascribed the turn which the affair of Città di Castello had taken,

which made it difficult, if not impossible, for the Pope to support his

intentions with regard to that town. He did not think himself safe in

the possession of Imola, so long as a good understanding lasted between

the Republic and Taddeo Manfredi. After the death of the Duke of Milan,

who had kept him in a sort of imprisonment, Manfredi had gone to

Venice, and there openly complained of the violence which had been done

him in the matter of the cession of the above named city to Sforza.

Girolamo foresaw that his projects of annexing other possessions of the

Manfredi, and his subsequent intentions on the Ordelaffi vicegerency,

would meet with like obstacles. He erred in supposing that such plans

would succeed better if an end were put to the influence then dominant

in Florence; for the effects which he attributed to the special action

of that influence were merely in accordance with the traditional maxims

of Florentine policy. It was even a political necessity as long as the

old system of balance of power existed, which, in regard to Romagna and

Umbria, only ceased with the death of its last representative, Lorenzo

de’ Medici. But it lay in the character and position of an upstart

like Girolamo Riario, who knew that his rise and fall depended on the

duration of one life, that of the Pope, to confuse what was nearest

and most palpable with conditions which were dependent on individual

persons and expressions of their wishes.

We shall certainly not be mistaken if we suppose that the Pope’s

nephew first entered into connection with Francesco de’ Pazzi, who

superintended the finances in Rome, and that both succeeded in gaining

over the Archbishop of Pisa, who, having only entered upon office the

preceding year, was just then in Rome. The removal of Lorenzo de’

Medici proved the turning-point of the whole undertaking, in what way

appeared indifferent to the accomplices. That they could not reach him

by so-called legal means, such as served in Florence to rouse a spirit

of rebellion, must have been clear to them. Force must therefore be

employed. The three were probably from the first agreed upon this.

It was only a question of how and where. It was of importance to

ascertain how the Pope would regard the plot, for without his consent

nothing could be done. This was all the more necessary because Jacopo

de’ Pazzi, when Francesco first revealed to him in Florence the plan

of overthrowing the Medicean supremacy, did not show the least desire

of taking part in such a venture, and it became clear to the others

that they would achieve nothing by themselves. That Sixtus IV., in his

irritated feeling towards Lorenzo and the Republic, would willingly

offer a hand in the attempt to remodel affairs in Florence, was not to

be doubted. But Girolamo Riario was also obliged to confess that his

uncle would lend himself to no undertaking which would leave any stain

on the honour of the Papacy. It was necessary, therefore, to keep a

free hand for a revolution in Florence, and not to let the Pope see

through their plans, and at the same time give him a false impression

of the feeling prevailing in the city with regard to the Medici and the

support they might expect. The nephew undertook this, and succeeded in

it with a man whose many praiseworthy and even brilliant qualities were

not sufficient to keep him out of the power of those who eventually

brought dishonour on his name.

One of the difficulties of the undertaking consisted in being obliged

to secure both brothers at the same time, for they perceived that

the thing would fail if the possibility were afforded to the younger

one of treading in the other’s footsteps. The attempt was first made

of enticing Lorenzo to Rome, as, in his absence, they hoped to make

away with Giuliano more easily. ‘That my wish may be fulfilled,’ wrote

Girolamo Riario to him on January 15, 1478,[224] ‘that the public and

private affairs of your Magnificence take a prosperous course, and it

is known to me that various things have happened between his Holiness

and the illustrious Signoria, in which your Magnificence, as the most

distinguished citizen and head of the State, have had occasion to

share, and which have somewhat disturbed his Holiness, it would please

me much for the State and on account of your personal position if your

Magnificence would resolve to come to Rome and present yourself to the

Pope for the removal of all misunderstandings and doubts. I do not

in the least doubt that the Holy Father would receive you with joy;

while I, with the affection which I owe you from our mutual friendly

relations, would behave so as fully to satisfy your Magnificence,

and all considerations of grievance which may have arisen from the

afore-named events would vanish.’

Lorenzo did not say No. He had no particular grounds for believing in

the asseverations of Riario’s friendship, for his conscience told him

he had not deserved them. But he might well wish to settle differences

with the Pope while it was yet possible, he therefore had no desire

to refuse the hand apparently extended for reconciliation. Owing to

the uncertainty of his coming, his opponents resolved to be beforehand

at all events, and prepare the means for executing their projects.

For this it was certainly important to secure trusty adherents in

Florence, to entrust a soldier with the guidance of affairs, and to

take measures on the frontiers so as to follow up the advantage, if

the _coup_ succeeded, by advancing immediately an armed force. The

leader, who could only be selected from Riario’s intimate friends,

must at the same time make preparations in Florence. Giovan Batista

da Montesecco, a captain of Abruzzi in the service of the Count,

was the man who was considered suitable for the execution of this

plan.[225] He was not unknown to the Medici. On September 24, 1477,

he had communicated with them from Imola, regarding the soldiers of

Marradi, who had announced themselves for service with Riario.[226]

The first negotiation between the latter, Francesco de’ Pazzi, and

the _condottiere_, took place in the Archbishop’s residence after

Montesecco had sworn to betray nothing that might be confided to him.

Salviati revealed to him that it was in the matter of a revolution at

Florence that they counted on his support. When Montesecco, who was

apparently a sensible and quiet man, remarked that he was not his own

master, and could not undertake anything without the permission of the

Pope and his nephew, he was answered that everything was undertaken not

only by the consent of the latter, but precisely for the preservation

and strengthening of his position; for if things in Florence remained

as they were then, Riario’s rule would not be worth powder and shot on

account of Lorenzo’s enmity, which, after the Pope’s death, would set

everything in agitation to take from him his little state, as a quarrel

had long existed between the two. The captain only answered that he

should be ready for everything which should suffice to the honour and

advantage of the Count and themselves, but all depended on the first

step. Thus they parted to consult over the matter further on a suitable

occasion. This was soon found. The Archbishop and Montesecco met in

Riario’s house. A revolution in Florence, they said, was necessary,

in order to secure the Count from Lorenzo’s evil intentions; but this

revolution would be impossible if both Medici were not got rid of. The

families of Salviati and Pazzi were so influential that half Florence

would adhere to them; troops must be held ready near the frontiers in

order to advance immediately on the city. Montesecco expressed concern.

‘My lords,’ he said, ‘see what you are bringing upon yourselves.

Florence is no trifle, and, according to what I hear, Lorenzo has

powerful adherents.’ Riario replied, ‘Others say the contrary; they

are disinclined towards him, and the people would thank Heaven if

both brothers were made away with.’ ‘Gian Batista,’ interposed the

Archbishop, ‘you have never been in Florence, and we know better than

you how it is with Lorenzo; that is our affair. It is only necessary

to agree upon the method of proceeding. Above all, it is necessary to

warm Jacopo de’ Pazzi, who is like a block of ice. If we are certain

of him, we cannot doubt the result.’ ‘All very well,’ remarked the

captain, ‘but our master, the Pope, what will he say to the matter?’

‘Our master,’ replied the other two, ‘will always do what we advise

him, and he also is prejudiced against Lorenzo, and wishes this more

than anything.’ ‘Have you spoken with him about it?’ ‘Certainly, and

we shall so arrange it that he will speak to you about it also.’

Upon this, measures were debated as to the time for drawing troops

together in the Papal territories adjoining Florence, which were to be

employed in a given case against the city,and to support the projected

movements within her walls. Napoleone Orsini was to hold himself ready

in the territory of Todi and Perugia; Lorenzo Giustini, the enemy of

the Vitelli, in Città di Castello; Giovan Francesco da Tolentino in the

district of Imola.

Soon afterwards Montesecco was summoned to the Pope, and there, in the

presence of Francesco Salviati and Girolamo Riario, the Florentine

affair was discussed. In the collection of paintings in the Vatican, a

fresco may be seen (formerly in the old library hall, now transferred

to canvas) by the hand of Melozzo of Forli, representing Pope Sixtus

IV. on his throne, Bartolommeo Platina, the new keeper of his literary

treasures kneeling before him, in the background Girolamo Riario and

others of his family and court. The scene which now passed in the

Pope’s chamber was very different to this peaceful one. It was a

question of overthrowing the Medici and their Florentine government.

The Pope declared his consent to a revolution in the State, but he

demanded that it should not be a sanguinary one. And when Montesecco

remarked, ‘Holy Father, it is difficult to execute such an intention

without the death of Lorenzo and Giuliano, and several others perhaps,’

Sixtus replied, ‘In no case will I have the death of any one; it is not

my office to cause the death of a man. Lorenzo has behaved unworthily

and badly towards us, but I will not hear of his death, though I wish

for a revolution in the State.’ Girolamo Riario interposed, ‘We will

do our best that no one may fall a victim; should it, however, be

unavoidable, your Holiness will pardon him through whom it happens;’

on which the Pope answered, ‘You are a villain; I tell you I will have

no one die, but only the government overthrown. And to you, Giovan

Batista, I say that I wish the revolution to proceed in Florence and

the government to be taken out of the hand of Lorenzo, for he is a

violent and bad man, who pays no regard to us. If he were expelled,

we could do with the Republic as it seemed best, and that would be

very pleasing to us.’ ‘Your Holiness speaks the truth,’ said Riario

and the Archbishop. ‘If you have Florence in your power, after it has

come into the hands of others, your Holiness can soon prescribe laws

to half Italy, and everyone will be desirous to assure himself of your

friendship. Be then satisfied that we shall do all in our power to

attain this end.’ Whereupon Sixtus said, ‘I say again, I will not. Go

and do what you will, but no lives shall be lost.’ As he now dismissed

the three, he gave his consent to the employment of arms. Salviati said

in going away, ‘Holy Father, be satisfied that we guide the bark; we

will steer safely.’ The Pope answered, ‘I am content, but give heed to

the honour of the Holy See and the Count.’

After the audience the three repaired to Riario’s lodging, where the

latter and the archbishop came to the conclusion that without the

death of the two Medici, the thing could not succeed. A high aim could

not be reached with insignificant means. It was now resolved to make

preparations for executing their design. Francesco de’ Pazzi had, as

we have already seen, repaired to Florence, it was said on account of

business, but in fact to note the inclination of the people better,

and to sound his uncle Jacopo. Riario and Salviati now considered

it necessary to send Montesecco thither in order to make himself

better acquainted with persons and places. A pretext for the visit

was afforded by a dangerous illness of Carlo Manfredi of Faenza, a

part of whose possessions at his decease Riario wished to unite with

his own. This he pretended to wish to arrange with Lorenzo. Lorenzo

had no idea of what was passing, and seems, instead of hindering the

intentions of the Pope’s nephew in any way, to have, on the contrary,

embraced the opportunity of settling former differences with him by

furthering his plans and wishes. But Montesecco had yet another errand;

that of concerting with Jacopo de’ Pazzi and taking measures for the

intended warlike operations. The latter came to him at the inn—his

nephew Francesco happened to be in Lucca—where the captain delivered

to him letters from the archbishop and the count. But still Jacopo

did not show the slightest wish to enter into the matter. ‘I will have

nothing to do with the project,’ he declared. ‘They will only run into

danger. They wish to be masters of Florence, but I understand matters

better than they. Do not speak to me about it again, for I have heard

enough.’ But then, as Montesecco informed him of the conversation with

the Pope, he was undecided. ‘Go to Imola,’ he said, ‘and come again on

your return; Francesco will have returned in the meantime, and we can

consult further about the matter.’

It had thus been introduced, and Jacopo was half-won over. Montesecco

went to the Romagna to watch over the interests of Riario, and as

he met Lorenzo at Cafaggiuola on his return from Florence, he gave

the latter an account of his mission, and received from him repeated

assurances of his readiness to be useful to the count. In Lorenzo’s

company Montesecco rode towards the city, where he had another

conversation with the two Pazzi by night. Jacopo had allowed himself

to be persuaded by his nephew; but their views as to the execution of

the plot were very different, especially as to whether it were not

advisable to kill the brothers at once and in Florence itself. Both

gave it as their opinion that the archbishop must come to the city

under some pretext, in order to take part in the execution. Montesecco

now returned to Rome, where the resolution was taken at Riario’s that

Francesco Salviati should repair to Florence, but that the captain

should lead all the mercenaries of the count who could be spared

in Rome to Romagna, and hold himself ready. Various circumstances,

however, hindered the speedy decision. A chance absence of Carlo

Fortebraccio in Florence made it seem dangerous for the conspirators

to venture the blow at that moment. Then it was said that Lorenzo

intended to go to Rome at Easter, which caused fresh indecision. When

this did not happen, the conspirators recognised the necessity of

acting, in order not to expose a plot in which many were now initiated

to the danger of discovery. The amassing of troops at Imola must rouse

suspicion if they delayed longer.

It was in April 1478 that Francesco Salviati came to Florence in

order to execute an errand with reference to the affairs of Romagna.

Everything was talked over in the houses of the Pazzi and in their

villa at Montughi. The number of accomplices was so considerable that

we can hardly understand how the project never came to the hearing

of the Medici. A nephew of Girolamo Riario, Raffaello Sansoni, was

studying at the time at the university of Pisa. Sixtus IV. had

granted, on December 10, 1477, the cardinal’s purple to this youth of

sixteen, who was not exactly distinguished by brilliant intellectual

gifts, still less by learning. The young man, who henceforward bore

his mother’s name, began his long career as ecclesiastical prince,

a position for which he was but little suited, among circumstances

the memory of which was revived when he, as an aged man, was again

involved in an intrigue against the Medici. Girolamo caused his nephew

to be summoned to Florence, in order to employ him in the execution

of the plot as a tool without a will. The other instruments were of

a different kind. Jacopo Salviati followed the inspirations of his

brother, the archbishop, with whom two other relations were associated.

Jacopo Bracciolini, the son of Poggio, a clever literary man, forgot

the old connections of his father and his own with the Medici in order

to join with their enemies. He had come to Florence in the second half

of January, and delivered a letter from Riario[227] to Lorenzo, which

said that the writer had chosen this learned, virtuous, and upright

man for service with the young cardinal, to instruct the latter in

moral conduct, and begged Lorenzo to grant him full confidence in all

that regarded the aforesaid cardinal, and support where he needed it.

Of Antonio Maffei of Volterra, the brother of the learned Raffaello,

it is said that no personal motives led him to take part in it, but

sorrow over the misfortunes of his native city, of which he regarded

Lorenzo as the destroyer. Bernardo Bandini, the descendant of an

ancient family, son of a man who under King Ferrante had presided over

the first Court of Justice in Naples, is said to have been induced to

join by the ruinous state of his fortune. The clerk Stefano da Bagnone

had served Jacopo Pazzi as scribe, and was then pastor at Montemurlo,

in the territory of Pistoja, the castle which nearly sixty years

later was celebrated by a defeat of the Strozzi and their friends

in a battle against Cosimo de’ Medici, the second Duke of Florence.

Another accomplice was Napoleone Franzesi, of San Gemignano, belonging

to a family which had attained no enviable fame at the beginning of

the fourteenth century, through that Musciatto who, with Guillaume

de Nogaret, organised the attempt against Pope Boniface VIII., and

was also one of the most important tools in some of King Philip the

Fair’s dishonourable money transactions. All were ready to strike the

blow when the young cardinal was residing at the Pazzi villa, from

whence he kept up a friendly intercourse with Lorenzo and his brother,

and among other things recommended to the latter a priest for the

vacant dignity of the Prior of SS. Annunziata.[228] An invitation

of the Medici brothers to visit them at their villa, whose pillared

halls overlook the rich and beautiful country from a lovely hill in

the immediate neighbourhood of Fiesole, seemed to offer the suitable

opportunity for carrying out the conspiracy; but a delay ensued,

because an indisposition of Giuliano hindered him from taking part in

the festival, and the conspirators did not deem it advisable to seize

the brothers separately. It was then determined to proceed to action

on April 26. It was the Sunday before Ascension day. The cardinal was

made to announce his intention of visiting the Medici in their palace

in the city, and at the same time of being present at high mass in

the cathedral near by. He did not dream of the project in which a sad

though inactive part was thus assigned to him.

The brothers prepared to receive the Pope’s nephew worthily. The rich

art treasures of their house, silver-plate and costly furniture, were

exhibited in honour of their guest. A brilliant company was invited,

consisting of the ambassadors of Naples, Milan, and Ferrara, Marino

Tomacelli, Filippo Sagramoro, and Niccolò Bendedei, and various knights

such as Antonio della Stufa, Antonio Ridolfi, Bongianni Gianfigliazzi,

Luigi Guicciardini, Piero Betti, Bernardo Bongirolami.[229] With a

few companions, the archbishop and Montesecco being among them, the

cardinal rode from the villa to the city, the others, mostly in rich

dresses, followed on foot.[230] Giuliano was still unwell, and sent

a message to say that, if he did not appear at the banquet, he would

certainly not fail to be in the church. This news caused an alteration

in the plan; instead of attacking the brothers at the banquet, the

house of God was chosen for the scene of the murder, and the most

solemn moment, the elevation of the host, was to be the signal. But

another alteration was the result of the first. Giovan Batista da

Montesecco had, not without resistance it seems, declared himself ready

to deal the blow against Lorenzo, but he declined to desecrate the

church with bloodshed. As he persisted in his refusal, Antonio Maffei

and Stefano da Bagnone offered to take his place—two priests felt no

dread of that which a soldier declined to do. The ill-success of the

plot is principally to be ascribed to this circumstance. Francesco de’

Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini were to seize on Giuliano, the archbishop to

surround the palace of the Signoria, and Jacopo de’ Pazzi to proclaim

the freedom of the city. The cardinal had changed his dress at the

Medici’s house, and was just descending the staircase when he met

Lorenzo, who had already heard mass, but returned with his guest to

Sta. Maria del Fiore. The archbishop accompanied them to the church

door, and then withdrew under pretext of visiting his mother. All the

others entered the church. Within the choir, which is beneath the

dome of Brunellesco, the cardinal took his place opposite the altar,

his suite, the friends of the Medici, the accomplices in the plot,

churchmen and laity, stood partly in the choir, partly round it. The

mass and singing had already begun when the conspirators remarked that

Giuliano was missing. The two who had undertaken to murder him hastened

to the Medici’s house and persuaded him to follow them; taking him

between them, they ascertained that he wore no shirt of mail beneath

his doublet. Giuliano entered the choir, Lorenzo standing outside.

The change of the wafer was said to be the signal agreed upon. As the

priest elevated the host, Bernardo Bandini plunged a short sword into

the breast of Giuliano, who stood together with Giovanni Tornabuoni and

Francesco Nori. The wounded man made one step forward and then fell;

Francesco de’ Pazzi dealt him one blow after another with a dagger in

such blind fury that he severely wounded his own thigh. At the same

time Stefano and Maffei attacked Lorenzo, but, unaccustomed to deeds of

blood, they missed their aim. Maffei’s dagger, which was to pierce the

throat of Medici, only wounded him in the neck. With swift presence of

mind, the wounded man tore off his mantle, wrapped it round his left

arm, seized his dagger with the right hand, sprang into the choir, and

hurried past the altar to the sacristy. At the same moment Bandini,

seeing what had happened, rushed to Lorenzo, threw Francesco Nori, who

tried to interpose, to the ground,[231] but could not prevent others

springing to the assistance of the intended victim, who hastened with

him to the new sacristy, the bronze doors of which were closed by

Angelo Poliziano before the pursuers.

All this was the work of a moment. ‘Nothing but noise,’ writes Filippo

Strozzi, ‘prevailed in the church. I was just standing in conversation

with Messer Bongianni (Gianfigliazzi) when a general terror seized the

knights and all present. One fled here, another there; the followers of

Pazzi had all weapons in their hands.’ Only those who stood next the

choir could see what passed; those more distant only saw the tumult and

men running hither and thither. Some even thought that the dome was

about to fall in. The truth soon became clear. While the conspirators

fled in all directions, Guglielmo de’ Pazzi loudly asserting his

innocence, the friends of the Medici crowded together and hastened,

some to the choir, some to the sacristy, to surround Lorenzo. Several

members of the families Martelli and Tornabuoni were the first who

pressed into the church. Those in the sacristy were still uncertain how

things stood until Sigismundo della Stufa ascended the gallery of the

organ and saw their victorious friends.

The cardinal had taken refuge at the altar, where several ecclesiastics

surrounded him and led him to the old sacristy. He declared his

complete ignorance of the plot; two of the Magistracy of Eight, who

came up, conducted him to the palace in safety. Lorenzo now first

learnt the death of his brother; the corpse he did not see. A number of

friends accompanied him home.

Meanwhile, with a band among whom were several emigrants from Perugia,

the archbishop repaired to the palace of the Signoria, where the

Gonfaloniere, Cesare Petrucci, was dining with the prior. When the

latter was informed that the prelate wished to speak with him on urgent

matters, he rose and caused him to be led into his reception-room,

while Salviati’s companions entered an adjoining chamber of the

secretary’s in order to wait for the signal agreed upon. The Archbishop

began by saying he had a commission from the Pope which he must fulfil

with the Signoria; but his words were so confused and his demeanour

so uncertain, that the Gonfaloniere immediately suspected something

wrong, and his suspicions were increased by his visitor continually

looking towards the door as if he was expecting some information.

Petrucci deciding quickly, hastened out, met Jacopo Bracciolini coming

towards the door, seized him by the hair, threw him to the ground, and

called in a loud voice to the guard. When Salviati’s companions heard

the noise they would have come to his assistance, but were unable to

open the lock of the door, which was provided with a mechanism known

only to the household, in order to catch intruders. The whole palace

was alarmed. After a great deal of opposition, the archbishop and his

followers were taken prisoners; every corner was searched and the gates

shut. Even the kitchen utensils had to serve as defence. The square was

filled with uproar; adherents of the Pazzi broke open the palace gates

and pressed into the interior; but Petrucci and his men defended the

staircase to the great tower into which the prior had retreated, and

they succeeded in capturing some of the assailants and obliging others

to take to flight.

Jacopo de’ Pazzi had not, from the beginning, deceived himself as to

the difficulties of the undertaking. But it was he who showed the

most determination. He hastened to the square of the Signoria with a

company of about a hundred armed men, summoning the people to regain

their liberty. It was his men who succeeded in penetrating into the

square. But they were soon thrust out again, and none dared to approach

any more, as they were threatened with stones thrown down from the

battlements, this final attempt of the conspiracy was speedily ended.

The streets around were filled with men. ‘Palle! palle!’ ‘Death to the

traitors!’ This was the answer to Pazzi’s summons. Stones were hurled

against the band, who tried to keep the square occupied, but were

threatened on all sides. There was no time to be lost. The people

already began to hew down the armed men who tried to escape. Messer

Jacopo secured first the Porta la Croce, and then hastened to his

house, where his nephew Francesco, severely wounded by his own hand,

lay concealed in the bedchamber, after he had vainly tried to mount

on horseback and ride to the square. No one could stay; the streets

were fast filling; bleeding heads were carried about on pikes, with

wild cries for vengeance. He saw that all was lost, and two hours

after the occurrence, he rode with a band of his followers, through

the gate we have mentioned. As the people of their own accord executed

judgment, and killed even priests in Salviati’s suite on the square,

the cruel work began in the palace. No sooner had the Signoria heard

of Giuliano’s death, than they determined to hang Jacopo Bracciolini.

This was done before the eyes of the crowd, at a window of the

principal storey. Jacopo Salviati met with a like fate. Meanwhile,

Francesco de’ Pazzi had been discovered and dragged into the street.

He arrived at the palace half dead; it was a wonder that the furious

crowd had not torn him to pieces. But no word could be extracted from

him about the conspiracy and his accomplices; he expired at a window

with the expression of the wild passion which inspired him still

on his features. Beside him, the archbishop met a similar end in

his ecclesiastical robes; in his last agony he is said to have torn

Francesco’s breast with his teeth. The prisoners in the palace were

hewn down without mercy. In all the streets bleeding heads and torn

limbs were to be seen, the ghastly tokens of wild popular justice and

no less wild party hatred. Thus passed the Sunday before the Feast of

Ascension of 1478.

The following days things were no better. Many more of the suspected

were still discovered, and, guilty or not, killed. The number of

victims amounted to about eighty. Jacopo de’ Pazzi, with a little

band of armed men, was on the road to Romagna when he was detained by

the peasants of the village of Castagno, whom the news of events in

Florence had reached. This was in the neighbourhood of the Falterona,

where the Arno rises, after he had passed the Mugello and Casentino.

In vain he begged that they would kill him. They would not listen, but

gave him up to the Signoria. After a painful trial, he was hanged at

the palace windows; the palaces seem, indeed, to have been the scene of

executions. His body was interred in the family vault in Sta. Croce;

but the superstition of the people or the hatred of his opponents left

him as little rest there as in a grave in unconsecrated earth at the

town walls before the Porta della Giustizia, from which a crowd of boys

drew the half mouldering corpse and dragged it through the streets

with frightful jests in order to throw it into the Arno. As if he had

had an anticipation of his fate, the day before the execution of the

plot he put his property and business affairs in order, and satisfied

all those who had any claim on him. The whole family was ruined by

subsequent penal measures, which exceeded all bounds. Renato de’ Pazzi,

a quiet man devoted to study, and who had declined all share in it, was

punished by death because he had not disclosed the conspiracy. Some

others were executed or condemned to imprisonment in the fortress of

Volterra. Only Guglielmo, Lorenzo’s brother-in-law, escaped with an

exile that assigned to him a villa as a residence at a considerable

distance from Florence. We shall speak of the legal measures which

afflicted the family still further, later on.

The other partizans of the conspiracy fared no better.[232] Antonio

Maffei and Stefano da Bagnone had taken refuge in the Benedictine

abbey. For two days they were vainly sought for by crowds of people,

who when they discovered them, mutilated their noses and ears and

then killed them. The monks were preserved with difficulty from

ill-treatment. Giovan Batista da Montesecco was seized in flight on May

1. A long trial was begun of the man who was not groundlessly suspected

of knowing a good deal about the connections of the accomplices at

Rome. In this the judges were not deceived, for the revelations which

Batista made of the consultations of the Pazzi and the archbishop with

Pope Sixtus and Girolamo Riario, enable us to perceive the truth and

falsehood in the unmeasured accusations hurled against the Pope by the

Florentines, as they furnish the proper preface to the conspiracy as it

has been represented above. Had Pope Sixtus IV. played another part in

this story, and stooped to what was ascribed to him, Montesecco, who

must above all have sought to diminish his own guilt, would certainly

not have kept silence upon the subject. In spite of these revelations,

which bore the visible stamp of truth, which have been half taken

in their real sense and half arbitrarily construed, it has been the

fashion, even to the present day, to accuse the Pope of a share in

the guilt of the murder. That the evil effect of the revelations was

feared in Rome, is seen from a subsequent letter of the Florentine

ambassador, Pier Filippo Pandolfini, who advised their dissemination

in order to oppose the Roman accusations. On May 4, Montesecco was

beheaded in the court of the palace of the Podestà. Eighteen days later

Donato Acciaiuoli, Napoleone Orsini, and the Archbishop Rinaldo Orsini,

who had witnessed the bad effect produced in Rome by the trial and

execution, advised that Batista’s property should be restored to his

brother Leone, who was residing there.[233] Napoleone Franzesi fled

with the assistance of Piero Vespucci, who dearly paid for the aid he

afforded him. Bernardo Bandini, who had at first concealed himself in

the tower of the cathedral, reached Constantinople, was given up by

command of the Sultan, and in 1479 shared the fate of his accomplices

during Lorenzo’s absence. Antonio de’ Medici, a distant relation of

Cosimo’s line, had been sent to Constantinople to thank Mohammed II.,

and bring the prisoner home in chains. The deliverance of Bandini,

more, perhaps than any other circumstance, contributed to increase the

idea of Lorenzo’s greatness in the eyes of his fellow-citizens.

Lorenzo de’ Medici must have feared somewhat that his adherents would

go too far, rather than that they would do too little. The whole city

assisted him. Many who were, perhaps, disinclined in their hearts to

the family and their supremacy, showed themselves as their friends

when they knew how the wind blew. In the first moment a pole with a

decapitated head had been erected before the Medici’s house, partly

to serve as the signal for all to flock around one whose life had

been preserved in such a wonderful manner. A numerous crowd of people

soon filled the street, and all called for Lorenzo. Notwithstanding

his wound, he appeared, and was received with acclamations. In his

speech he first complained of the envy and hatred of those who,

instead of opposing him in open fight, attacked him unawares. His own

safety was nothing to him where it was a question of the dignity and

position of the State, for which he would be willing to give up his

position and submit to all. He was most sincerely grateful to those

who had protected and saved him; but the avenging interposition of the

people must now be restrained in order not to afford the enemies of

the Republic a pretext for complaints and attacks. Insurrections and

internal party-strife were bad, but some good results sprung therefrom.

When ill-intentioned citizens had the worst of it, secret evils were

disclosed; yet, in punishing and suppressing wrong-doing, they must not

exceed due measure, but reserve the fulness of their anger for foreign

foes who threatened the frontier. The words had their desired effect;

Lorenzo was famed for his moderation, while he might be certain that,

even without his aid, everything would happen which could promote his

aims.

When the wild justice of the crowd had sacrificed their victims,

and their passions had had time to calm in some degree, a decree of

the Signoria, May 23, promulgated by the Gonfaloniere Giacomo degli

Alessandri and the priors, disclosed the penal sentence against the

Pazzi.[234] The name and coat-of-arms of the family should cease to

exist; the localities distinguished by the former should be changed,

and the latter should be erased from all houses and churches; new names

and new insignia to be introduced into the register of the rebels, and

everyone punished who should even pronounce the old name. The property

of the family was confiscated. Whoever should marry into it should be

excluded from public offices. The old ceremony of the Colombina should

cease in respect to the family. Thus ran the sentence. Many of its

provisions were never carried out on account of their exaggeration, and

others only too well. The arms of the Pazzi—two dolphins in a field

covered with crosses—are still seen on many houses in the Borgo degli

Albizzi and elsewhere, which still partly belong to the family; the

name has remained with the beautiful chapel in the cloisters of Sta.

Croce; and the intersection of the streets at the Palazzo Quaratesi,

which once belonged to Messer Jacopo de’ Pazzi, is still popularly

termed the Palazzo della Congiura. But a considerable part of their

possessions fell into strange hands—this same palace, for instance,

and the villa of Montughi, which will be spoken of later.[235] Another

decree of the Signoria ordained, according to the custom in such cases,

that the sharers in the conspiracy should be painted on the wall of the

tower of the Podestà, as hanged men with their heads downwards.[236]

On the other hand, life-size statues of Lorenzo, with the head and

hands of wax, in his usual dress and strikingly resembling him, was

set up in SS. Annunziata and the convent church in Via San Gallo, as

well as in the Madonna degli Angeli below Assisi. Andrea del Verrocchio

furnished the drawing for the figures, which were executed by a clever

sculptor in wax called Orsini. The figure in Via San Gallo was attired

in the robes which Lorenzo had worn when he appeared in his wounded

state before the crowd.[237]

The solemn interment of Giuliano had taken place on the fourth day

following the deed in the church of San Lorenzo. His mortal remains

rest in the porphyry sarcophagus which had received those of his father

and uncle and were destined to contain his brother’s. The corpse showed

nineteen wounds. The grief at his loss was unfeigned, especially among

the young men, and many wore mourning. Giuliano de’ Medici left one

son, respecting whose birth and origin different reports have been

circulated. Many assert that he came into the world after his father’s

death. According to others, Antonio da San Gallo, the architect, is

said to have informed Lorenzo shortly afterwards that his brother had

a son, who was now about a year old, by a girl of a burgher family,

whose house was opposite his own in the Borgo Pinti. Lorenzo, so it

is said, repaired to the said house, and, listening to the entreaties

of the mother, took the child home with him and had him educated

with his own sons. When Giulio de’ Medici, which was the name of the

child, who afterwards became the head of the family, was raised by his

cousin Leo X. to the archbishopric of Florence, the Pope granted him a

dispensation for his lack of the legitimacy required by the canon. But

when, shortly afterwards, he received the red hat, witnesses appeared

who declared that his mother Fioretta, the daughter of one Antonio,

had been united to Giuliano by a marriage of conscience. In 1487

Lorenzo wrote a letter to the ambassadors in Rome, with the consent

of King Ferrante, to recommend the boy, then ten years old, for the

rich priorate of the knights of St. John in Capua, remarking that his

mother had been unmarried.[238] But in the time of Lorenzo de’ Medici

nothing else was known of Giulio de’ Medici than that he grew up with

his cousins a grave, well-educated boy. Later on, Florentine history

learned to know him only too well.