Episode 22: Triumphs and Missteps

Transcript

Speaking of Lorenzo, let’s catch up with him a few days after his father’s death. The members of the Medici party among Florence’s ruling class met in the hundreds and sent a delegation led by Tomasso Soderini to him, asking him to take up the mantle of his father and grandfather as the first citizen and unofficial leader of Florence. This was a degree of recognition even Lorenzo’s father Piero didn’t receive. In Lorenzo’s own words:

“Their proposal was naturally against my youthful instincts, and, considering that the burden and danger were great, I consented to it unwillingly. But I did so in order to protect our friends and property, since it fares ill in Florence with anyone who is rich but does not have any share in government.”

In his own history of the Medici, J.R. Hale casts doubt on this, saying that Lorenzo was being disingenuous. Honestly, I’m not as sure. Maybe Lorenzo is exaggerating or misremembering his exact feelings when he writes he was unwilling, but I don’t believe his feelings about being thrust into the role of the caretaker of Florence and the Medici bank weren’t mixed. I talked last time about how at least in his poetry Lorenzo expressed a yearning for a life in the countryside, away from the cutthroat politics of Florence. Likewise there’s what the twenty-year-old Lorenzo did once he stepped into his father’s role. Before, he had a reputation for womanizing at least among his friends, liked composing and singing songs with lewd lyrics, and attending festivals. Also he frequently watched and played the ball sports of calcio, basically an early version of football or soccer, and pallone, which is somewhat similar to tennis. After he became Florence’s first citizen, however, Lorenzo changed. He no longer caroused around town with his friends and his personal life became beyond suspicion, at least based on the sources we have. He knew he was much younger than either his grandfather or father when they came to power, and unlike them he never had a political office. Also, either instinctively or because he was warned by trusted advisors, he realized that Florence had a deep suspicion of youth in their leaders, especially since it smacked of hereditary rule. To put it simply, Lorenzo was well aware he had to grow up.

Still, it wasn’t that unnatural a transition. As we’ve seen, Lorenzo had long been learning how to be a patron to various clients and how to act in the public eye and on diplomatic occasions even as a young child. Similarly, he adapted to the new level of responsibility demanded of him. He had to oversee construction projects, organize religious and city festivals, meet foreign dignitaries, and attend committee meetings. Speaking as someone who has a pathologic hatred of meetings himself, this makes me admire Lorenzo even more than all the art patronage stuff. We can get a hint of how hard Lorenzo worked in a bunch of excerpts from his letters that he wrote. In this letter from January of 1479: “If what I am writing seems confused and without order, you must excuse me, I have been writing all morning and I still haven’t eaten.” In June 1488: “If I have left anything out, I will have to write again for now I am exhausted.” To his representative in Rome, Pietro Alamannni, in September 1489: “I have written all day and I am tired.” Nor did Lorenzo neglect his public role. His father Piero had mostly kept to the Medici Palace or to the family’s rural estates, both because of his willingness and because he was a genuine introvert. Although Lorenzo always had bodyguards and armed retainers with him, he walked the streets of Florence, something no signores around Italy or royals anywhere in Europe would have dared do.

Nor was he actually the absolute ruler of Florence, even though he was asked to be Florence’s leader. Lorenzo still had no title, no constitutional role, no army loyal to only him, and no political office. I like the way Judith Hook sums up what Lorenzo’s power and its limits actually were:

“He could only request, never order.”

It is true a lot of his family’s clients were in various levels of the city’s government from neighborhood councils up to the Signoria itself. It’s also true that the Medici bank meant the Medici enjoyed significant resources including money and international contacts. But this did mean Lorenzo’s role relied on navigating between the countless agendas of individuals, families, and governments without compromising his own position or blowing his political capital.

Lorenzo did have help from family, sort of. There was his cousin Pierfrancesco, the son of Cosimo’s brother. Like always, Pierfrancesco lacked much interest in politics, but he was also very rich. He still sat on his inheritance, which gave him half the shares in the Medici bank on top of a huge fortune that exceeded Lorenzo’s own. This is why early on in his career Lorenzo ended up heavily in debt to Pierfrancesco. This may be why Lorenzo decided Pierfrancesco should stop paying for conspiring with the Party of the Hill and let him back into politics. Pierfrancesco was chosen for a term to be one of the officials that selected candidates for the signore, served as an ambassador to King Ferrante of Naples, and was a member of the committee that oversaw the state’s own bank, the Monte di Pieta.

More reliable was Lorenzo’s brother, Giuliano. Here is a description of him from his tutor, the humanist scholar Angelo Polizziano:

“He was tall and sturdy with a large chest. His arms were rounded and muscular, his joints strong and big, his stomach flat, his thighs powerful, his calves rather full. He had bright lively eyes, with excellent vision, and his face was rather dark, with thick, rich black hair worn long and combed straight back from the forehead. He was skilled at riding and at throwing, jumping and wrestling, and prodigiously fond of hunting. Of great courage and steadfastness, he fostered piety and good morals. He was accomplished in painting and music and every sort of refinement. He had some talent for poetry, and wrote some Tuscan verses which were wonderfully serious and edifying. And he always enjoyed reading amatory verse. He was both eloquent and prudent, but not at all showy; he loved wit and was himself witty. He hated liars and men who hold grudges. Moderate in his grooming, he was nonetheless amazingly elegant and attractive.”

Giuliano was also free from his brother’s sense of overwhelming responsibility. When he started as a student at the University of Pisa, he wrote to his brother not about starting his studies, but dancing and jousting. Still, though, Giuliano had to play a role in diplomatic receptions and representing the family at government meetings. There are also hints that he chaffed at basically being his brother’s vice president. Tellingly, one of the plays Lorenzo wrote, “The Martyrdom of Saints John and Paul”, was a drama set in the court of Emperor Constantine and focused on a deadly struggle for power between Constantine’s sons. It has the lines: “Sometimes discord can spread / Even in brothers bound by love most deep.” Besides trying to expand Medici influence outside of Florence and the bank, this may have been part of the reason Lorenzo wanted his brother to join the Church and become a cardinal. As we will see, though, the Pope had other plans.

For now, though, let’s talk about the first threat Lorenzo faced: his own father’s lieutenant, Tomasso Soderini. Soderini’s enemies had tried taking him down with corruption charges, but he not only beat the wrap, he also succeeded in getting his rivals exiled. Now, Soderini and his friends’ next target would be Lorenzo himself. Soderini had learned well from the Party of the Hill. He wouldn’t try to set up an anti-Medici faction within the government, nor would he try to take out Lorenzo using what we might call extrajudicial means. Instead, he would first attempt to undermine Lorenzo’s foreign policy.

For overturning Lorenzo’s foreign policy, the crisis in Rimini had opened up an opportunity. It is true that as far as hot spots for war go, the crisis did thankfully cool itself down, thanks to Roberto Malatesta’s uncanny ability to murder his rivals to the throne, his stepmother Isotta and his infant half-brother. Well, allegedly murder. Keep note if you ever have to bring up a case where a sociopathic ruler actually stopped a war from happening. Roberto had also defeated papal forces, securing his hold over Rimini. The fact that they had come so close to war, though, did raise questions about Florence remaining in an alliance with Milan and Naples, especially when this triple alliance seemed to only help Milan’s goal to expand its influence over northern Italy and its unending rivalry with the Republic of Venice. Soderini became the spokesperson of a growing faction within the Medici party arguing that Florence should switch sides from Milan to Venice. He was supported by none other than cousin Pierfrancesco. Oh, Pierfrancesco, you scamp. Worse, it also seemed like King Ferrante of Naples himself was waffling.

Lorenzo played for time, convincing the priors not to commit to Naples until new negotiations with the Duke of Milan could unfold. It was a bit of a gamble, but Lorenzo had the winning hand. Talks between the King of Naples and Venice broke down, possibly because Venice didn’t really want an alliance with Naples but were instead hoping to put pressure on Florence to join their team. (That’s just my own speculation, though.) Not least because it turned out that he had been getting bribes from the King of Naples, Soderini came out of the whole fiasco humiliated. It was also a massive PR victory for Lorenzo’s new regime. Florentines celebrated by ringing bells and lighting bonfires on the streets. Then Duke Galeazzo Maria and his wife Bona of Savoy made an extravagant visit to Florence, attended by fifty men in livery, numerous adorned war-horses, huntsmen and falconers with five hundred pairs of hunting dogs, and a troop of five-hundred soldiers. Moralists complained that the duke and his soldiers ignored all the fasting rules of Lent, but otherwise it boosted Lorenzo’s profile.

Next, Soderini tried a new approach: rewire the government’s own mechanisms in favor of himself and Florence’s other great families. Against the advice of practically everyone except Soderini and his allies, Lorenzo considered giving his support to a constitutional reform that would have created a permanent government council of accoppiatori, the officers who determined who would be eligible for political office. Ostensibly this would shore up the Medici’s control over politicians. However, it would also create a new power base for Florence’s top families. In the end, though, the reform plan was smothered by the Cento.

Instead, Lorenzo successfully backed a law that made it so that 40 of the members of the Cento would hold their positions for life, making it easier for the Medici party to control the Cento. Also, the Cento’s legislative powers were expanded at the cost of the traditional assemblies. Meanwhile, as much as Lorenzo was neither the duke of Florence or a signore, the symptoms of growing Medici power were there. In 1473, a set of new sumptuary laws were passed, making it a crime punishable by fines for any family other than the Medici to show off their wealth in dress. Plus, the number of minor guilds were reduced from fourteen to five. This was something that would have sparked a city-wide revolt just fifty or so years ago. Now, however, in this new age where political power lied with patrons and their armies of clients instead of with guilds and their merchant and artisan members, no one made much of a fuss. No wonder a Milanese ambassador remarked,  “While before other citizens were honored and flattered just like Lorenzo, now everyone goes to him to recommend himself for election.”

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing in those early years. Even before the Medici a constant headache for Florence were the dangers posed by the towns and cities around Tuscany that they, one way or the other, made subservient. It wasn’t just that these towns could revolt against Florentine rule or even that political exiles from Florence could and did find a refuge there. It was that the upper classes of Tuscany were a close-knit group, and rebels in a town could easily find allies within Florence itself. The nightmare scenario was that someone could coordinate a rebellion on the streets of Florence and a town raising a militia to strike against Florence. This almost happened in April of 1470 when the city of Prato near Florence was almost taken over by a group of anti-Medici exiles. The city government of Prato was able to put down the attempted coup, but the exiles had allies within the walls of Florence who were ready to take arms at a moment’s notice.

Lorenzo was less lucky with what happened in Volterra, a mountaintop city in northern Tuscany. Volterra had a much smaller population than Florence and had been a subject-city of Florence since 1254, but it also had a more ancient and distinguished history. The area of Volterra had been inhabited continuously since before not just the Romans, but the Etruscans, since settlements there had been traced back as far as the Bronze Age, or more specifically the tenth century BCE. After the Etruscans did settle in central and northern Italy and before the rise of the Roman Empire, Volterra was one of the seven central city-states in the Etruscan federation. So, the idea that the Florentines were just a bunch of upstarts was deeply embedded in Volterra’s mindset. Adding to the tension was the fact that Volterra sat on top land rich in mineral deposits.

In fact, by Lorenzo’s time, a new deposit of alum was discovered and a mine was established. Alum was a mineral essential for textile manufacturing. The contract to open and run the mine was granted to a company of investors, all from Florence, Volterra, and Siena. The company’s head was Paolo Inghirami, a Volterran client of the Medici. In June of 1471, the government of Volterra voided the contract on a technicality and Paolo retreated back to Florence. Volterra might have even been acting in concert with anti-Medici interests in the Signoria, since a majority of anti-Medici priors were serving their term of office at the time. However, by the start of next year, a pro-Medici government came into office, and they promptly put together a committee headed by Lorenzo de’ Medici to deal with the Volterra problem.

Lorenzo sent Paolo back to Volterra, this time with an armed escort. The escort didn’t save Paolo from being attacked by armed peasants, goaded on by members of the city government. They killed him and then shoved his body out a window, which I guess technically means it wasn’t defenestration since he was dead before he fell out the window. Anyway, Paolo’s father-in-law was also assassinated. Things got even worse. The exiled leaders of the old Party of the Hill, named Jacopo Acciaiuli and Dietislavi Neroni, were in talks with the Volterrans. The government of Volterra was also making overtures to other Italian powers, including Florence’s own allies, Naples and Milan. Worse, the Duke of Mian, the same man who calls Lorenzo and Giuliano his brothers, left Florence twisting in the wind. According to surviving correspondence between the Duke and his representative in Florence, he didn’t want to pledge to support Florence against Volterra too soon, out of concern that if Lorenzo felt too secure he might reconsider his alliance with Milan.

Toward the end of April, war was formally declared. Lorenzo hired Federico de Montefeltro, the Duke of Urbino and a celebrated condottieri to lead a mercenary army against the city. Rather than siding with Volterra, Milan, Naples, and even the papacy all sent soldiers in support of Florence and against Volterra. When all was said and done, the Florentine army outnumbered the Volterrans and their own mercenaries almost six to one. Nobody except Florence’s ancient rival, the Republic of Siena, came to Volterra’s aid in the end.

Lying on top of a mountain with fortified walls, Volterra was one of the most secured communities in Italy. But it still had no chance against a horde of mercenaries and soldiers at its gates. On June 17, Volterra agreed to surrender in exchange for the protection of life and property.

Things would go smoothly and with hardly any more bloodshed. The gates were opened and, as promised, the invading army entered the city peacefully. But then, one of Volterra’s priors got into an argument with one of the mercenary captains they hired. As so often happened, the government of Volterra had overestimated how much they could pay their mercenaries. Their troops were hungry and lacking pay. And now, some haughty politician was telling them they’ll get paid when they get paid. We don’t know exactly what happened next, but basically, Volterra’s mercenaries revolted and starting wrecking and looting the city. And then, Montefeltro’s mercenaries joined them. Montefeltro might have put an end to it, but he was so busy admiring a rare manuscript of the Bible copied in multiple languages he didn’t notice what was happening until hours after the looting started.

When news of what happened reached Lorenzo, he was shocked. So shocked, in fact, that he went to Volterra personally and out of his own fortune and the Medici bank’s funds offered to pay to help rebuild the city and to pay compensation to Volterra’s citizens. He even oversaw the construction of a new fortress over the burnt out remains of the old bishop’s palace. Late in life, Lorenzo would call the looting of Montelfeltro his biggest blunder. Many historians, including a recent historian who wrote about the Medici, Mary Hollingsworth, have tended to agree.

But was it that much of a strike against Lorenzo himself? Although he couldn’t have predicted the looting, the argument Hollingsworth and others have put forward was that Lorenzo was wrong to use so much force against Volterra in the first place. But the main problem with this argument, I think, is that it forgets the nature of politics in Renaissance Europe and how important honor was. It is true that Lorenzo had a vindictive and vengeful personality, as we’ll see sooner or later, but Lorenzo’s client and publicly murdered. It is unlikely even more experienced leaders would have responded very differently at the time. Also it wasn’t just that Volterra was economically valuable to Florence. The real problem was that Volterra was a growing sore on Florence’s little empire. The longer the sore was allowed to fester, the more Florence’s enemies and even its allies would be tempted to exploit it. Judged outside our own modern ideas of human rights and self-determination for all political communities, I just can’t see what else Lorenzo could have done to at least salvage the situation. The genuine dismay he expressed over the incident and the fact he put so much money and effort into making amends was not something many of his contemporary rulers would have done.

In any case, in Lorenzo’s own time Volterra was seen as something of a humanitarian disaster – just less so because of the looting itself, which was still an accepted part of warfare, and more because it was a violation of an honorable peace. Still, Lorenzo’s popularity in Florence itself just grew even more. After all, he had successfully defended the city’s honor and its economic interests.

But the honeymoon period of Lorenzo’s reign on the Medici’s invisible throne was about to come to an end. See, Lorenzo was about to make a powerful enemy, an enemy who was not only relentless and determined to see Lorenzo destroyed, but one who saw himself as nothing less than God’s representative on Earth…