Death in Florence: the Medici, Savonarola and the Battle for the Soul of the Renaissance City

by Paul Strathern

  At the end of 1464, just months after taking over from his father, Piero decided to call in the Medici bank’s loans. This proved a catastrophic error. As a result, many merchants faced bankruptcy and anti-Medici sentiment began to spread amongst the influential families. Yet whilst the fortunes of the Medici bank had suffered, others had prospered – in particular, the ancient bank headed by Luca Pitti, who had begun to build himself a vast ostentatious palazzo in the Oltrarno district across the river from the main centre of the city. Although Pitti’s palazzo remained unfinished, it was evident that this grandiose residence was intended to dwarf all others in Florence, particularly the Palazzo Medici. The changing fortunes of the Medici meant that instead of petitioning at the Palazzo Medici, many now sought patronage at the Palazzo Pitti. The city was beginning to polarise into two opposing camps: the Party of the Hill (the Pitti faction, centred on its palazzo in the hilly Oltrarno) and the Party of the Plain (centred on the less resplendent Palazzo Medici on the flat ground north of the city centre).

  The Party of the Hill was backed by several powerful families, including the Acciaiuoli, the Soderini and more covertly the Neroni, all of whom had secretly nursed a grudge against the Medici since their rise to pre-eminence. (Indicatively, the members of the Strozzi family, who had been allowed by Piero to return from exile, refrained from joining.) In May 1465 400 citizens more or less closely associated with the Party of the Hill signed a petition calling for a return to the old republican method of elections and an end to the Medici manipulation of the names placed in the leather bags from which were chosen the new gonfaloniere and his Signoria, as well as other leading appointments in the government. This petition was even signed by Pierfrancesco de’ Medici, who was married to an Acciaiuoli. Piero de’ Medici ignored the petition, biding his time. Then, in March 1466, while the young Lorenzo was away in Rome, news came through that the Medici’s great ally, Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan, had died and been succeeded by his twenty-three-year-old son, the unpredictable Galeazzo Maria Sforza. Piero realised that, in case of trouble, he could no longer be certain of support from Milan.

  Meanwhile Luca Pitti and the Party of the Hill had already made secret plans for the overthrow of Piero de’ Medici, securing the support of Borso d’Este, Duke of Ferrara, who was on the point of despatching 1,300 cavalry across the Apennine mountains into Florentine territory. Such was the situation when Lorenzo returned from his mission to Rome in the summer of 1466.

  In the midst of a sweltering August, Piero became stricken with a particularly virulent attack of gout and was carried out of the city on a litter to recover amidst the cooler air of his villa at Careggi, accompanied by Lorenzo. Only now did Piero learn the full extent of the plotters’ plans to overthrow him. Realising the seriousness of the situation, he sent word to Milan, in the forlorn hope that Galeazzo Maria Sforza might come to his aid; then on the morning of 27 August, he prepared for his servants to carry him back to Florence at once, despatching Lorenzo ahead with orders to make ready for his arrival and the defence of the Palazzo Medici. As Lorenzo galloped down the road to Florence he was hailed by some peasants working in the fields and warned that a group of armed men was waiting down the road at the villa of Archbishop Neroni, the brother of Dietisalvi. Lorenzo realised that these men were planning to ambush Piero and assassinate him. He quickly galloped back to warn his father and together they took a cross-country track, enabling them to enter the city undetected through another gate.

  By afternoon Piero de’ Medici was installed in the Palazzo Medici, summoning his supporters throughout the city. At the same time the unexpected news reached Florence that Galeazzo Maria Sforza had despatched 1,500 cavalry from Milan. When the conspirators who had gathered at the Palazzo Pitti learned that Piero had returned to Florence, they were spurred into precipitate action. Acciaiuoli, Soderini and Neroni rode off to rally their men. Pitti, finding himself left alone and defenceless in his half-built palazzo, suddenly became suspicious of his fellow conspirators and panicked. Clambering onto his horse he rode pell-mell over the Ponte Vecchio, across the Arno and through the streets to the Palazzo Medici, where he abjectly pledged his alliegance to Piero. Unaware of how deeply Pitti had been involved in the plot to kill him, Piero graciously pardoned him, but made sure that Pitti remained in the Palazzo Medici.fn3

  By now the city was in uproar. Piero sent word next door to the residence of his cousin Pierfrancesco de’ Medici, saying that he needed 10,000 ducatsfn4 at once, in order to secure the city and provide for the approaching Milanese troops. Surprisingly, Pierfrancesco responded by giving him the money. His motives remain unclear. He certainly favoured a return to a more open republican government, but may have feared that the overthrow of his cousin would result in the demise of the Medici bank, and with it his own fortune. On the other hand, he may simply have feared for his life, with so many armed Medici supporters gathering at the neighbouring palazzo. On receiving the money, Piero despatched men throughout the city to buy up all the supplies of bread and wine. When the frightened citizenry had heard what was happening, many of them had begun flocking to the Palazzo Medici, where the supplies obtained by Piero’s men were freely distributed amongst them. The sight of this apparent popular rally of support for the Medici, along with news of the approaching troops from Milan, duly had their effect. The bands of armed men who had been riding through the streets attempting to drum up support for the conspirators now began to melt away through the side alleys. The Duke of Ferrara, hearing that his arrival would not be greeted by the expected popular uprising against the Medici, ordered his troops to turn about and retreat from Florentine territory before they became involved in any engagement with the Duke of Milan’s forces. The Medici had won the day, during the course of which Lorenzo had saved his father’s life.

  The leading conspirators amongst the Acciaiuoli, Neroni and Soderini families were soon rounded up, tried and sentenced to death. Once again Piero was minded to exercise compassion and commuted their sentences to permanent exile. This proved a serious mistake, as the conspirators gathered in Venice, where an army was raised to attack Florence. Fortunately Piero was able to rely upon the support of Milan, and also hired the crack condottierefn5 Federigo da Montefeltro with his mercenary army. Low-key hostilities would continue for a year before peace was declared and Florence was once again safe.

  Having achieved success in diplomacy, the seventeen-year-old Lorenzo was now learning the lessons and perils of statecraft at first hand at his father’s side. Preparation, decisive action (both personal and in winning over the people), together with good fortune, appeared to be the key factors: this was a lesson he would never forget.

  Despite his deep involvement in matters of state, Lorenzo still found time to indulge his ‘exuberant’ side. He wrote increasingly assured and eloquent poetry, and in the manner of the time began addressing poems to a beautiful woman with whom he had fallen in love. The object of his poems was Lucrezia Donati, who was generally accounted the most beautiful woman in Florence. Sources differ as to Lucrezia’s age, some putting this as low as twelve, others insisting that she was already married (at the time, such claims need not necessarily have been mutually exclusive). However, in the tradition of Dante and Beatrice, Petrarch and Laura, this was a chaste poetic love affair – platonic in fact, if not in tone:

  When I see her heavenly smile,13

  The love that lights her eyes

  Fires Cupid’s dart into my heart.

  As Lorenzo’s early English biographer William Roscoe so aptly put it, ‘Lucretia [sic] was the mistress of the poet, and not of the man.’14 Such public declaration of love to a woman who was possibly betrothed, if not actually married, might have been acceptable in poetic terms; had there been any sexual involvement, this would have involved outrage, scandal and vengeance. The teenage Lorenzo was in fact rehearsing more mature emotions, in much the same way as jousters of this era practised for actual combat. Indeed, when a public joust was held at this time i
n the Piazza Santa Croce, according to tradition the queen of the tournament was the most beautiful woman in the city, and Lucrezia Donati was duly appointed. One by one the contestants rode up to her place on the dais, making their obeisance with lowered lance, before riding against each other. In this contest Lorenzo not only saluted Lucrezia before the applauding crowds lining the piazza, but also carried her standard and wore her device on his armour; this would indeed be a test of Lorenzo’s mettle, for he was competing with some experienced veterans. The tournament, and Lorenzo’s part in it, would feature in an epic written by the Florentine poet Luigi Pulci, a member of the intellectual circle at the Palazzo Medici. Pulci’s The Joust of Lorenzo de’ Medici would take its place as one of the most popular heroic ballads of its day. Even so, in the interests of veracity, Pulci felt bound to mention that at one stage Lorenzo fell off his horse, though with poetic legerdemain he would manage to transform this incident into an example of Lorenzo’s valour. Lorenzo himself was under no such illusion about his role in the tournament, recording modestly in his journal: ‘Although neither my years nor my blows were very great, the first prize was awarded to me, a silver helmet with Mars as its crest.’15

  If Lorenzo was crowned in the customary fashion – on bended knee, as the queen of the tournament placed the helmet on his head – this would have been the closest he came to actual physical contact with Lucrezia Donati. Such jousts were all about display: no blood was spilled, there was little danger, and enthusiasm was all. Here Lorenzo would have learned another important lesson: the people of Florence were easily distracted from their troubles by the staging of such events, even though they recognised that his victory and his wearing of Lucrezia Donati’s device as an indication of his love for her were no more than a charade.

  In fact, by this time Lorenzo was actually betrothed to someone else, as a prelude to an arranged marriage. His mother had journeyed to Rome to inspect the prospective bride, Clarice Orsini, a member of one of Rome’s most distinguished and powerful aristocratic families, whose long pedigree included numerous cardinals and even two popes. Fortuitously, Lorenzo had seen Clarice during his trip to Rome, though without realising that she would soon be selected as his wife. This union was to be above all else political, as was indicated by the somewhat matter-of-fact tone adopted by Lorenzo’s mother Lucrezia, when she wrote from Rome to Piero, describing the woman they wished to secure as Lorenzo’s future bride. After mentioning Clarice Orsini’s ‘good height’,16 ‘nice complexion’ and ‘gentle manners’, Lorenzo’s mother went on to record: ‘Her throat is fairly elegant, but it seems to me a little meagre … Her bosom … appeared to me of good proportions. She does not carry her head proudly like our girls, but pokes it a little forward.’ Despite this dispassionate description, Lorenzo’s mother knew that the choice of an aristocratic Roman bride for Lorenzo was a significant and ambitious departure from tradition. Previously, the Medici had married into leading Florentine families such as her own; by marrying an Orsini they were asserting their right to aristocratic status, as well as gaining a foothold in the Roman hierarchy. Here was a public indication that the Medici wished to establish themselves as the permanent aristocratic rulers of Florence. As Machiavelli would perceptively remark: ‘he who does not want his fellow citizens as relatives wants them as slaves’.17

  The precise details of the Medici family ambitions were a closely guarded secret, traditionally passed on from father to son on his deathbed, a custom established by Cosimo de’ Medici’s father Giovanni di Bicci, the founder of the Medici bank. Giovanni di Bicci, in his wisdom, had advised Cosimo to remain modest, and not to interfere in politics. Cosimo had initially followed his father’s advice, but had soon understood that political power was the only way to protect his family and his fortune. Even so it was Cosimo, suspecting that the citizens of Florence would soon tire of the Medici, who had advised his son Piero to find an aristocratic Roman bride for young Lorenzo. If the Medici were driven from Florence, they would still have the highest connections in Rome.

  In June 1469 Clarice Orsini travelled to Florence and was duly married to Lorenzo de’ Medici. The church bells rang out, and for three days the city of Florence was given over to public feasting and various Medici-funded celebrations. The festivities were largely organised by Lorenzo himself, for by now his father was too ill to move, and it soon became clear that he was dying. Less than five months later, on 2 December, the church bells of Florence pealed for the death of the city’s ruler.

  Lorenzo recorded in a journal written some years later:

  On the second day after [my father’s] death, although I was still a young man, being twenty-one years of age,fn6 the principal men of the City and the State came to us in our house to console us and to encourage me to take care of the City and of the State, as my father and grandfather had done. This was against all my youthful instincts, and considering the great responsibility and danger involved, I accepted with reluctance. I did this solely to protect my friends and possessions, for it fares ill in Florence for anyone who is rich and does not control the State.18

  Lorenzo’s mistake about his age was forgivable, but in the light of the evidence his insistence upon his ‘reluctance’ to take office was pure window-dressing. Between 1 and 4 December (that is, in the days before the Florentine delegation asked him to take power), Lorenzo wrote no fewer than three letters to Galeazzo Maria Sforza, Duke of Milan, preparing the Medici family’s most powerful ally for the transition in Florence, as well as soliciting his continued support for the city and the Medici cause. Wary of Galeazzo Maria Sforza’s violent and unstable personality, Lorenzo made sure he did this in the most flattering and fawning fashion:

  I would like to declare myself as the most devoted servant of Your Excellency, and to recall the ancient devotion of our house and myself in particular toward Your Illustrious Lordship … while certain of having here the support of many good friends, it seems to me it would do little good without the favour and aid of Your Illustrious Lordship.19

  Although Lorenzo wrote in his journal that the death of his father ‘was greatly mourned by the entire city’,20 and spoke to Galeazzo Maria Sforza of ‘the great support of many good friends’ in Florence, this too was disingenuous. True, the city leaders had offered him the post of unofficial ruler, but they had certainly been pressed into doing so by the Medici faction. And in truth the passing of Piero had not been mourned by many outside this powerful and well-organised faction. Indeed, this Medici ‘succession’ would prove no foregone conclusion.

  Seizing on what was perceived to be a groundswell of anti-Medici sentiment, supporters of the Party of the Hill faction staged an uprising in the city of Prato some ten miles north-west of Florence. But to their chagrin this was followed by no popular uprising in Florence itself, and when the rebels heard that Lorenzo had ordered a swift military response, with the backing of the gonfaloniere and his Signoria, they quickly surrendered.

  At the start of his reign, Lorenzo confided to the Milanese ambassador that he wished to rule the city ‘in as civil a way as one can, as far as possible within the constitution’.21 Yet he now realised that if he was to remain in control of the city and protect the Medici wealth, he would have to take measures that tightened his hold over the electoral process, ensuring that those who were elected to powerful posts in the government always remained favourable to his rule. To this end, encouraged by Medici money, the Medici faction now evolved into an even more efficient and coercive party machine. The Council of One Hundred had been established by Cosimo de’ Medici just over a decade previously for the purpose of selecting suitable names to be placed in the leather bags from which were drawn the new gonfaloniere, his eight-man ruling Signoria and all senior posts in the government. The new Medici party machine now ensured that the Council of One Hundred was packed with even more Medici men. All this may have remained ‘within the constitution’, but it hardly encouraged the spirit of republican democracy upon which the city prided itself.<
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  In 1471 Pope Paul II died and was succeeded by Pope Sixtus IV. Lorenzo de’ Medici travelled to Rome to represent Florence at the coronation of the new pope and was graciously received as the ruler of Florence. However, Lorenzo was also present as the representative of the Medici commercial concerns, and this role he fulfilled with some success. Paul II had not only renewed the Medici bank’s monopoly operation of the Tolfa alum mines, but also reinstated the Medici as the papal bankers. To confirm this new relationship, the pope allowed Lorenzo to purchase a number of exquisite gems from his collection. Although Lorenzo is remembered as a great patron of the arts, in reality his personal preference seems to have been for gems, jewellery, cameos and the like.

  Some commentators have seen this proclivity as an indication that Lorenzo privately concurred with his grandfather’s opinion that the Medici would inevitably be driven from power within a few years. In case of an unexpected coup, such precious items could be quickly and easily transportable. There may have been some truth in this assessment, at least early in Lorenzo’s reign. However, his later treatment of his jewel collection suggests that, as the years went by, his premonitions became very much the opposite – tending indeed to the most grandiose fantasies concerning the future of the Medici family. Far from treating his jewels as assets that could be sold in time of need, he ‘desecrated’ them by claiming them as permanent Medici property: cameos, vases and even jewels were engraved with his name, usually in the form of ‘LAU.R.MED’.22 This marque has attracted much speculation. The first three letters were evidently the Latinised Lorenzo, and the last three Medici – but what of the R? Could this have stood for ‘king’: rex in Latin, re in Italian? Lorenzo appeared to be dreaming that future Medici would become kings, of Florence or elsewhere, and by these marques he wished to claim his place as first in such a royal line.