# CHAPTER II

CHAPTER II

Giuliano de' Medici slain--Lorenzo escapes--The archbishop Salviati
endeavors to seize the palace of the Signory--He is taken
and hanged--The enterprise of the conspirators entirely
fails--Manifestations of the Florentines in favor of Lorenzo de'
Medici--The conspirators punished--The funeral of Giuliano--The pope
and the king of Naples make war upon the Florentines--Florence
excommunicated--Speech of Lorenzo de' Medici to the citizens of
Florence.

The conspirators proceeded to Santa Reparata, where the cardinal and
Lorenzo had already arrived. The church was crowded, and divine service
commenced before Giuliano's arrival. Francesco de' Pazzi and Bernardo
Bandini, who were appointed to be his murderers, went to his house,
and finding him, they, by earnest entreaties, prevailed upon him to
accompany them. It is surprising that such intense hatred, and designs
so full of horror as those of Francesco and Bernardo, could be so
perfectly concealed; for while conducting him to the church, and after
they had reached it, they amused him with jests and playful discourse.
Nor did Francesco forget, under pretense of endearment, to press him in
his arms, so as to ascertain whether under his apparel he wore a cuirass
or other means of defense. Giuliano and Lorenzo were both aware of
the animosity of the Pazzi, and their desire to deprive them of the
government; but they felt assured that any design would be attempted
openly, and in conjunction with the civil authority. Thus being free
from apprehension for their personal safety both affected to be on
friendly terms with them. The murderers being ready, each in his
appointed station, which they could retain without suspicion, on account
of the vast numbers assembled in the church, the preconcerted moment
arrived, and Bernardo Bandini, with a short dagger provided for the
purpose, struck Giuliano in the breast, who, after a few steps, fell to
the earth. Francesco de' Pazzi threw himself upon the body and covered
him with wounds; while, as if blinded by rage, he inflicted a deep
incision upon his own leg. Antonio and Stefano, the priest, attacked
Lorenzo, and after dealing many blows, effected only a slight incision
in the throat; for either their want of resolution, the activity
of Lorenzo, who, finding himself attacked, used his arms in his own
defense, or the assistance of those by whom he was surrounded, rendered
all attempts futile. They fled and concealed themselves, but being
subsequently discovered, were put to death in the most ignominious
manner, and their bodies dragged about the city. Lorenzo, with the
friends he had about him, took refuge in the sacristy of the church.
Bernardo Bandini, after Giuliano's death, also slew Francesco Nori, a
most intimate friend of the Medici, either from some previous hatred or
for having endeavored to render assistance to Giuliano; and not content
with these murders, he ran in pursuit of Lorenzo, intending, by his own
promptitude, to make up for the weakness and inefficiency of the others;
but finding he had taken refuge in the vestry, he was prevented.

In the midst of these violent and fearful deeds, during which the uproar
was so terrible, that it seemed almost sufficient to bring the church
down upon its inmates, the cardinal Riario remained close to the altar,
where he was with difficulty kept in safety by the priests, until the
Signory, upon the abatement of the disturbance, could conduct him to
their palace, where he remained in the utmost terror till he was set at
liberty.

There were at this time in Florence some people of Perugia, whom party
feuds had compelled to leave their homes; and the Pazzi, by promising to
restore them to their country, obtained their assistance. The Archbishop
de' Salviati, going to seize the palace, together with Jacopo di Poggio,
and the Salviati, his friends, took these Perugini with him. Having
arrived, he left part of his people below, with orders that when they
heard a noise they should make themselves masters of the entrance, while
himself, with the greater part of the Perugini, proceeded above, and
finding the Signory at dinner (for it was now late), was admitted
after a short delay, by Cesare Petrucci, the Gonfalonier of Justice. He
entered with only a few of his followers, the greater part of them being
shut up in the cancelleria into which they had gone, whose doors were so
contrived, that upon closing they could not be opened from either
side, without the key. The archbishop being with the gonfalonier, under
pretense of having something to communicate on the part of the pope,
addressed him in such an incoherent and hesitating manner, that the
gonfalonier at once suspected him, and rushing out of the chamber to
call assistance, found Jacopo di Poggio, whom he seized by the hair
of the head, and gave into the custody of his attendants. The Signory
hearing the tumult, snatched such arms as they could at the moment
obtain, and all who had gone up with the archbishop, part of them being
shut up, and part overcome with terror, were immediately slain or thrown
alive out of the windows of the palace, at which the archbishop, the
two Jacopi Salviati, and Jacopodi Poggio were hanged. Those whom the
archbishop left below, having mastered the guard and taken possession of
the entrance occupied all the lower floors, so that the citizens, who in
the uproar, hastened to the palace, were unable to give either advice or
assistance to the Signory.

Francesco de' Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, perceiving Lorenzo's escape,
and the principal agent in the enterprise seriously wounded, became
immediately conscious of the imminent peril of their position. Bernardo,
using the same energy in his own behalf that had served him against the
Medici, finding all lost, saved himself by flight. Francesco, wounded as
he was, got to his house, and endeavored to get on horseback, for it had
been arranged they should ride through the city and call the people to
arms and liberty; but he found himself unable, from the nature of his
wound, and, throwing himself naked upon his bed, begged Jacopo de' Pazzi
to perform the part for which he was himself incapacitated. Jacopo,
though old and unaccustomed to such business, by way of making a last
effort, mounted his horse, and, with about a hundred armed followers,
collected without previous preparation, hastened to the piazza of the
palace, and endeavored to assemble adherents by cries of "people," and
"liberty;" but the former, having been rendered deaf by the fortune and
liberty of the Medici, the latter was unknown in Florence, and he
found no followers. The signors, who held the upper part of the palace,
saluted him with stones and threats. Jacopo, while hesitating, was met
by Giovanni Seristori, his brother-in-law, who upbraided him with the
troubles he had occasioned, and then advised him to go home, for the
people and liberty were as dear to other citizens as to himself.
Thus deprived of every hope, Lorenzo being alive, Francesco seriously
wounded, and none disposed to follow him, not knowing what to do, he
resolved, if possible, to escape by flight; and, accompanied by those
whom he had led into the piazza, left Florence with the intention of
going into Romagna.

In the meantime the whole city was roused to arms, and Lorenzo de'
Medici, accompanied by a numerous escort, returned to his house. The
palace was recovered from its assailants, all of whom were either
slain or made prisoners. The name of the Medici echoed everywhere, and
portions of dead bodies were seen borne on spears and scattered through
the streets; while everyone was transported with rage against the Pazzi,
and pursued them with relentless cruelty. The people took possession
of their houses, and Francesco, naked as they found him, was led to the
palace, and hanged beside the archbishop and the rest. He could not
be induced, by any injurious words or deeds, to utter a syllable, but
regarding those around with a steady look, he silently sighed. Guglielmo
de' Pazzi, brother-in-law to Lorenzo, fled to the latter's house, and
by his innocence and the intercession of his wife, Bianca, he escaped
death. There was not a citizen of any rank whatever who did not, upon
this occasion, wait upon Lorenzo with an offer of his services; so great
were the popularity and good fortune which this family had acquired by
their liberality and prudence. Rinato de' Pazzi was at his villa when
the event took place, and on being informed of it, he endeavored to
escape in disguise, but was arrested upon the road and brought to
Florence. Jacopo de' Pazzi was taken while crossing the mountains
of Romagna, for the inhabitants of these parts having heard what had
occurred, and seeing him in flight, attacked and brought him back to the
city; nor could he, though he frequently endeavored, prevail with them
to put him to death upon the road. Jacopo and Rinato were condemned
within four days after the murder of Giuliano. And though so many deaths
had been inflicted that the roads were covered with fragments of human
bodies, not one excited a feeling of regret, except that of Rinato; for
he was considered a wise and good man, and possessed none of the pride
for which the rest of his family were notorious. As if to mark the event
by some extraordinary circumstance, Jacopo de' Pazzi, after having
been buried in the tomb of his ancestors, was disinterred like an
excommunicated person, and thrown into a hole at the outside of the city
walls; from this grave he was taken, and with the halter in which he
had been hanged, his body was dragged naked through the city, and, as
if unfit for sepulture on earth, thrown by the populace into the Arno,
whose waters were then very high. It was an awful instance of the
instability of fortune, to see so wealthy a man, possessing the utmost
earthly felicity, brought down to such a depth of misery, such utter
ruin and extreme degradation. It is said he had vices, among which were
gaming and profane swearing, to which he was very much addicted; but
these seem more than balanced by his numerous charities, for he relieved
many in distress, and bestowed much money for pious uses. It may also
be recorded in his favor, that upon the Saturday preceding the death
of Giuliano, in order that none might suffer from his misfortunes, he
discharged all his debts; and whatever property he possessed belonging
to others, either in his own house or his place of business, he was
particularly careful to return to its owners. Giovanni Batista da
Montesecco, after a long examination, was beheaded; Napoleone Franzesi
escaped punishment by flight; Giulielmo de' Pazzi was banished, and
such of his cousins as remained alive were imprisoned in the fortress
of Volterra. The disturbances being over, and the conspirators punished,
the funeral obsequies of Giuliano were performed amid universal
lamentation; for he possessed all the liberality and humanity that could
be wished for in one of his high station. He left a natural son, born
some months after his death, named Giulio, who was endowed with that
virtue and felicity with which the whole world is now acquainted; and
of which we shall speak at length when we come to our own times, if
God spare us. The people who had assembled in favor of the Pazzi under
Lorenzo da Castello in the Val di Tavere, and under Giovan Francesco
da Tolentino in Romagna, approached Florence, but having heard of the
failure of the conspiracy, they returned home.

The changes desired by the pope and the king in the government of
Florence, not having taken place, they determined to effect by war what
they had failed to accomplish by treachery; and both assembled forces
with all speed to attack the Florentine states; publicly declaring that
they only wished the citizens to remove Lorenzo de' Medici, who alone
of all the Florentines was their enemy. The king's forces had already
passed the Tronto, and the pope's were in Perugia; and that the citizens
might feel the effect of spiritual as well as temporal weapons, the
pontiff excommunicated and anathematized them. Finding themselves
attacked by so many armies, the Florentines prepared for their defense
with the utmost care. Lorenzo de' Medici, as the enemy's operations
were said to be directed against himself alone, resolved first of all to
assemble the Signory, and the most influential citizens, in the
palace, to whom, being above three hundred in number, he spoke as
follows:--"Most excellent signors, and you, magnificent citizens, I know
not whether I have more occasion to weep with you for the events which
have recently occurred, or to rejoice in the circumstances with which
they have been attended. Certainly, when I think with what virulence of
united deceit and hatred I have been attacked, and my brother murdered,
I cannot but mourn and grieve from my heart, from my very soul. Yet when
I consider with what promptitude, anxiety, love, and unanimity of the
whole city my brother has been avenged and myself defended, I am not
only compelled to rejoice, but feel myself honored and exalted; for if
experience has shown me that I had more enemies than I apprehended, it
has also proved that I possess more warm and resolute friends than I
could ever have hoped for. I must therefore grieve with you for the
injuries others have suffered, and rejoice in the attachment you have
exhibited toward myself; but I feel more aggrieved by the injuries
committed, since they are so unusual, so unexampled, and (as I trust you
believe) so undeserved on our part. Think, magnificent citizens, to what
a dreadful point ill fortune has reduced our family, when among friends,
amidst our own relatives, nay, in God's holy temple, we have found
our greatest foes. Those who are in danger turn to their friends for
assistance; they call upon their relatives for aid; but we found ours
armed, and resolved on our destruction. Those who are persecuted, either
from public or private motives, flee for refuge to the altars; but where
others are safe, we are assassinated; where parricides and assassins are
secure, the Medici find their murderers. But God, who has not hitherto
abandoned our house, again saved us, and has undertaken the defense of
our just cause. What injury have we done to justify so intense desire of
our destruction? Certainly those who have shown themselves so much our
enemies, never received any private wrong from us; for, had we wished to
injure them, they would not have had an opportunity of injuring us. If
they attribute public grievances to ourselves (supposing any had been
done to them), they do the greater injustices to you, to this palace,
to the majesty of this government, by assuming that on our account you
would act unfairly to any of your citizens; and such a supposition, as
we all know, is contradicted by every view of the circumstances; for
we, had we been able, and you, had we wished it, would never have
contributed to so abominable a design. Whoever inquires into the truth
of these matters, will find that our family has always been exalted
by you, and from this sole cause, that we have endeavored by kindness,
liberality, and beneficence, to do good to all; and if we have honored
strangers, when did we ever injure our relatives? If our enemies'
conduct has been adopted, to gratify their desire for power (as would
seem to be the case from their having taken possession of the palace and
brought an armed force into the piazza), the infamous, ambitious, and
detestable motive is at once disclosed. If they were actuated by envy
and hatred of our authority, they offend you rather than us; for from
you we have derived all the influence we possess. Certainly usurped
power deserves to be detested; but not distinctions conceded for acts of
kindness, generosity, and magnificence. And you all know that our family
never attained any rank to which this palace and your united consent did
not raise it. Cosmo, my grandfather, did not return from exile with arms
and violence, but by your unanimous desire and approbation. It was not
my father, old and inform, who defended the government against so many
enemies, but yourselves by your authority and benevolence defended him;
neither could I, after his death, being then a boy, have maintained the
position of my house except by your favor and advice. Nor should we
ever be able to conduct the affairs of this republic, if you did not
contribute to our support. Therefore, I know not the reason of their
hatred toward us, or what just cause they have of envy. Let them direct
their enmity against their own ancestors, who, by their pride and
avarice, lost the reputation which ours, by very opposite conduct, were
enabled to acquire. But let it be granted we have greatly injured them,
and that they are justified in seeking our ruin; why do they come and
take possession of the palace? Why enter into league with the pope
and the king, against the liberties of this republic? Why break the
long-continued peace of Italy? They have no excuse for this; they ought
to confine their vengeance to those who do them wrong, and not confound
private animosities with public grievances. Hence it is that since their
defeat our misfortune is the greater; for on their account the pope and
the king make war upon us, and this war, they say, is directed against
my family and myself. And would to God that this were true; then the
remedy would be sure and unfailing, for I would not be so base a citizen
as to prefer my own safety to yours; I would at once resolve to ensure
your security, even though my own destruction were the immediate and
inevitable consequence. But as the wrongs committed by princes are
usually concealed under some less offensive covering, they have adopted
this plea to hide their more abominable purpose. If, however, you think
otherwise, I am in your hands; it is with you to do with me what you
please. You are my fathers, my protectors, and whatever you command me
to do I will perform most willingly; nor will I ever refuse, when you
find occasion to require it, to close the war with my own blood which
was commenced with that of my brother." While Lorenzo spoke, the
citizens were unable to refrain from tears, and the sympathy with which
he had been heard was extended to their reply, delivered by one of
them in the name of the rest, who said that the city acknowledged many
advantages derived from the good qualities of himself and his family;
and encouraged them to hope that with as much promptitude as they had
used in his defense, and in avenging his brother's death, they would
secure to him his influence in the government, which he should never
lose while they retained possession of the country. And that their deeds
might correspond with their words, they immediately appointed a number
of armed men, as a guard for the security of his person against domestic
enemies.