The House Of Medici

by Christopher Hibbert

  This was an attitude quite contrary to his elder brother’s plans. The Cardinal had not gone to all this trouble just to find the Medici a home. He himself returned to Florence with 1,500 troops, and entered his former palace in the full panoply of his rank with the air of a man who had returned to his native city in order to rule it.

  He seemed at first content to allow the republican institutions of the State to remain outwardly unchanged. But two days after his ceremonial entry into the city a demonstration was organized in the Piazza della Signoria which was filled with people shouting ‘Palle! Palle! Palle!’ and demanding a Parlamento. The request was granted; a Parlamento) was called; and power was handed to a Balìa of forty members, nearly all of them members of the Medicean party.

  Yet although the Florentines were to be left in no doubt that they now had a master, Cardinal Giovanni appeared ready to reassure them that his rule would not be severe, nor would their burdens be heavy. The significance of his personal device – an ox-yoke – was unmistakable; but the motto beneath it was ‘Jugum enim meum suave est’ – ‘Truly my yoke is easy’. Indeed, from the beginning, the Cardinal was careful to persuade the Florentines that the restoration of the Medici would lead to a return to the happy days of his father, not to the dismal interregnum of Savonarola. Entertainments and pageants were to be encouraged; the carnival songs, which Lorenzo had so much enjoyed and which Savonarola had so rigorously denounced, were now once more to be heard in the streets; and the presence in the city of the Cardinal’s kindly brother, Giuliano de’ Medici, was to be a pledge that the government would be understanding and humane.

  Less than six months after his family had been returned to power in Florence, the Cardinal was informed that his benefactor, Pope Julius II, was dying. Giovanni, now aged thirty-seven, was himself ill; but in order to attend the enclave he gave orders that he should be carried south to Rome in a litter.

  Exhausted by the journey, in great pain from a stomach ulcer and troubled by an anal fistula, he arrived in Rome on 6 March 1513. Weeping women, mourning the death of their patriotic Pope, were kissing the pontifical feet which had been left protruding from the grille of the mortuary chapel. The Cardinal had missed the opening ceremonies of the conclave, including the Mass of the Holy Spirit which, since St Peter’s was being reconstructed, was sung in the chapel of St Andrew, where the wind had howled through the cracks in the walls repeatedly extinguishing the candles on the altar. For several days Giovanni was too ill to get out of bed, submitting gloomily to the painful ministrations of his doctor, while the other cardinals, in little groups, argued and plotted. After a week, in order to force them to a decision, their daily meal was reduced to a single unappetising dish which, combined with the stale air of the building whose doors were locked and whose windows were sealed as custom directed, soon led to a decision.

  In the early discussions the name of Cardinal Giovanni de’ Medici had been little mentioned but as time went by he was admitted to be notably papabile. He was amiable and well liked, tactful, gregarious and approachable. He was relatively young, but had been a cardinal for nearly twenty-five years and so was not inexperienced. He took his religious duties seriously and fasted twice a week. He was evidently prepared to be ruthless when the interests of his family were threatened; but how many popes were not? Moreover, he was not in good health, so if his election proved ill-considered his Papacy might well be of no lengthy duration. The younger cardinals from ruling families such as Ippolito d’Este of Ferrara, Ghismondo Gonzaga of Mantua and Alfonso Petrucci of Siena were all anxious for the election of a man like themselves, rather than another rough peasant like Julius II who might march them off again on some tiresome campaign. Cardinal Francesco Soderini, Piero’s brother, naturally did not favour him; but Giovanni’s secretary, Bernardo Dovizi, gradually won Cardinal Soderini over by suggesting the possibility of a marriage between the Medici Cardinal’s nephew, Lorenzo, and some young lady from the Soderini palace. So, on 11 March, when the votes were taken out of the urn and counted by Cardinal Giovanni de’Medici himself as Senior Deacon, he was able to announce his own nomination. He did so with becoming modesty, announcing that he would, if the Sacred College approved the choice, be known as Leo X.

  The news of the election of a Medici pope was greeted by the Palleschi in Florence with the wildest excitement. For four days the celebrations continued to the constant clanging of bells, the explosion of fireworks and crackers, the boom of cannon fired from the surrounding hills, the lighting of bonfires fuelled with the furniture of former Piagnoni, the repeated drunken shouts of ‘Palle! Palle! Papa Leone! Palle! Palle!’ ‘In the Mercato Nuovo youths tore boards and planks from the establishments of the silk-merchants and the bankers, so that by next morning every single roof belonging to them was burned. If the authorities had not intervened, no doors or roofs in the whole area would have remained.’ On the ringhiera of the Palazzo della Signoria the citizens were offered sweet white wine from rows of gilded barrels; and in front of the Medici Palace trestle tables were piled with food to welcome a procession bearing the miraculous statue of the Virgin, arrayed in cloth of gold, from Impruneta.1

  In Rome the celebrations were more controlled, though the Sacro Possesso, the formal entry into the Vatican, was as splendid an occasion as the new Pope, who delighted in pageantry, could possibly have hoped for. It had to be admitted that Leo himself did not cut a very imposing figure. As he rode in the procession sitting side-saddle on a white Arab horse, it was noticed how his face, almost purple with the heat, ran with sweat despite the canopy of embroidered silk which was held over his head by eight Romans of distinguished birth. It was noticed, too, how corpulent he was, how vast his paunch, how fleshy his short neck, how fat the rolls beneath his chin, how bulging his weak eyes. Those whose duties brought them close to him were also distatesfully aware of the smell that now and again was emitted from the huge bottom on the saddle. Yet there was something endearing about the pleasure he so obviously took in the pageant; the nods of satisfaction he gave when his attendants read out to him the inscriptions on the triumphal columns which his own eyes did not enable him to see; the amiable expression with which he regarded the cheering onlookers to whom his chamberlains flung coins from their money-bags; the friendly smiles bestowed upon them when he gave them his papal benediction, raising the plump yet shapely white hands of which he was so proud though they were now encased in perfumed gloves sewn with pearls. His contentment was so transparent as to be infectious. The days of exile and poverty were over and he was about to enjoy the benefits of power and riches. ‘God has given us the Papacy,’ he is reported to have said to his brother, Giuliano. ‘Let us enjoy it.’

  Pope Leo’s determination to enjoy the Papacy did not, however, interfere with his equally determined ambition not only to make the House of Medici once more a dominating influence in Italian politics but also to drive the foreigner from Italian soil. To achieve the first of these aims he intended to form central Italy into a single strong state by uniting the duchies of Ferrara and Urbino, and by joining to them the cities of Parma, Modena and Piacenza. This new unified state was intended eventually to be placed under the rule of the Medici, perhaps under that of the Pope’s nephew, Lorenzo, Piero’s son, an ambitious, good-looking, energetic young man, who was now at the age of twenty sent to Florence as Leo’s representative in company with a secretary whose orders were to send daily reports to Rome upon his youthful master’s progress. At the same time, by diplomacy rather than by war, the Spaniards, who had helped the family to regain power in Florence, were to be driven out of Milan and the Kingdom of Naples. It might even be that the Kingdom of Naples would subsequently be given to Giuliano de’ Medici who, after his brother’s election as Pope, had been recalled from Florence to be created Gonfaloniere of the Church and who seemed prepared to embark on greater enterprises.

  It appeared to the Pope a promising augury for his intended policies when on the first day of 1515 Louis XII died, exhausted by t
he demands and antics of his energetic young English bride, Princess Mary, daughter of Henry VII. Louis was succeeded by Francis I, a youth whom Leo had high hopes of bringing under his influence, particularly after a marriage was arranged between Francis’s aunt, Princess Philiberte of Savoy, a sister of the widowed Duchess of Orleans, and the Pope’s charming brother Giuliano.

  The new French King, however, proved to be a far less pliable young man than the Pope had hoped. Tall, handsome and restless, Francis I was both intelligent and attractive, with a fixed determination to regain for France that influence in Italy which she had held for so short a time in the days of Charles VIII. Deeply perturbed by reports of Francis’s independence and of his ambitions in Italy, the Pope consulted his advisers, who in turn sought the advice of others, including Machiavelli. It was Machiavelli’s well-reasoned opinion that they should throw in their lot with the French; but the Pope hesitated to do so, and ultimately decided to ally himself with King Ferdinand of Spain, the Emperor and the Swiss.

  Undeterred by this alliance, of which he professed himself contemptuous, King Francis crossed the Alps and marched down into Piedmont with an army of nearly 100,000 men. Hastily the allies assembled their forces, a motley collection of Spaniards under Cadorna, Swiss mercenaries commanded by Matthew Schinner, the fierce Cardinal of Sion, and Florentines under the leadership of Lorenzo de’ Medici as Captain General and of Cardinal Giulio as Papal Legate. The Italians were not in the least anxious to fight; and after both Lorenzo and Giulio had entered into negotiations with Francis, his army brushed their troops aside and then defeated the Swiss with heavy loss of life at Marignano. Having disposed of his unworthy opponents, Francis despatched troops to occupy Milan and marched on to Bologna, where a conference was to be held with the Pope.

  The Pope left for Bologna by way of Florence. Here his nephew, Lorenzo, had now consolidated the Medici power. A few months before, Lorenzo had paid a visit to Rome, leaving Florence in the hands of his uncles, Jacopo Salviati and Piero Ridolfi. In Rome he had been authorized to adopt the title of Captain General of the Florentine Republic which the Signoria had obediently bestowed upon him on his return. Thereafter he had become increasingly authoritarian, requiring councils to meet in the Medici Palace rather than in the public places of government, rejecting the advice of the more moderate and experienced citizens while surrounding himself with young dandies as subservient as courtiers.

  A splendid reception for the Pope was prepared in Florence under the direction of Lorenzo and of Piero Ridolfi, who had been elected Gonfaloniere for the occasion. Two thousand men were put to work making decorations, obelisks, trophies and emblems, statues of classical gods and triumphal arches ornamented with classical quotations, at a total cost, so it was said, of 70,000 florins. Supervised by Jacopo Sansovino, Baccio Bandinelli and Andrea del Sarto, churches were turned into workshops, and houses were demolished to open up fresh vistas. The Piazza Santa Trinità was overshadowed by a huge castle resting on twenty-two columns, and the Mercato Nuovo by a painted obelisk fifty feet high. The Cathedral was given a temporary façade which

  made everybody marvel, with so many pictures and ornaments; and it was said that it was done as a model for the building of a permanent façade because it pleased everybody, so proud and lovely did it appear.

  Indeed, such transformations were being effected in Florence that when the Pope arrived rather earlier than expected he was asked not to enter the city straight away but to wait for a few days at the Gianfigliazzi villa at Marignolle until the preparations had been completed.2 Never a man either to disappoint his admirers or to decline an invitation to play an honoured role in a pageant, Leo readily agreed to the suggestion and left for Marignolle to wait until the last triumphal arch had been erected, the final screen had been painted and decorated with allegorical figures, and the beautiful façade of wood and plaster, painted by Andrea del Sarto and designed by Jacopo Sansovino, had been placed against the Cathedral’s western front.

  When all was ready, on St Andrew’s Day, 30 November 1515, the Pope, wearing a jewelled tiara and a dazzling cope, entered Florence through the Porta Romana accompanied by a huge train of attendants, men-at-arms and cardinals. At the sight of a bust of his father which had been erected on a screen by the church of San Felice and beneath which, through his spy-glass, he discerned the words, ‘This is my beloved Son’, the tears came to his eyes. He was also thinking, no doubt, of his sister Contessina who had recently died, a bereavement which gave her husband, the Gonfaloniere, an excuse to appear among the scarlet robes in a ‘black satin cloak lined with sable, not minding that in such an office and on such a day mourning should be suspended’. By the time he had proceeded down the Via Maggio, across the bridge of Santa Trinità and into the Piazza della Signoria, the Pope was smiling once more, raising his hands in benediction and nodding complacently as his attendants tossed silver coins towards the cheering crowds. Now and again he would halt the cavalcade to admire the decorations. In the Cathedral, where a raised platform had been erected in the nave so that the congregation could get a better view of him, he stood still in his white brocade rochet, crimson cape and skull cap, then turned from side to side before offering up his prayers.

  The Pope’s reception in Bologna was in sad contrast to this glorious day in Florence. He proceeded through the streets in a silence broken only by an occasional shout in support of the recently expelled Bentivogli, and waited at the Palazzo Pubblico for the arrival of the French King. When Francis arrived, very late, he curtly informed Giulio de’ Medici, who had been sent to meet him at the city gates, that he ‘cared not a jot for processions’ and wished to get down to the negotiations without delay. He greeted the Pope courteously enough, but it was soon plain that he had not come to bargain. He insisted on the surrender of the cities of Parma and Piacenza, which he claimed by right as conqueror of Milan. He also insisted that Reggio and Modena, which the Pope had recently acquired from the Emperor, should be handed back to France’s ally, Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara. Faced by the King’s uncompromising attitude, the Pope declined to abandon his known intention of ejecting Francesco Maria della Rovere from Urbino, and refused, for the moment, to lend any support to Francis’s plans for assuming power in Naples, protesting that this would be out of the question while King Ferdinand of Spain was still alive.

  It was not in the Pope’s nature, though, to provoke a quarrel. Eventually he undertook to restore Reggio and Modena to the Duke of Ferrara, though without any intention of abiding by the agreement; and he indicated that he might change his mind – as indeed he did change his mind – about ultimately helping Francis in his claim to Naples. He graciously created the King’s tutor a cardinal, and expressed profound satisfaction when, in return, Francis created Giuliano de’ Medici Duke of Nemours. He even smiled agreeably when Francis made the astonishingly importunate request that the Pope should present to him the marble group of Laocoön which, recently discovered in Rome, was one of the most prized treasures of the papal collection.3

  Outwardly complacent but, according to one of his companions, inwardly disgruntled by his unsatisfactory dealings with the French King, the Pope returned to Florence to find that the Arno was in flood, that the citizens were sullenly enduring a food shortage and that his brother was seriously ill with consumption at the Medici Palace. He had Giuliano moved to Fiesole, though there was little hope of his recovery there. He appeared ‘utterly shrunken and spent like an expiring candle’. The Pope visited him often, but their meetings were small comfort to Giuliano who, knowing of his brother’s intentions to oust Francesco Maria della Rovere from Urbino, begged him not to do so. Giuliano was fond of Della Rovere and his wife, Elisabetta, who had always been kind to him during the days of his exile. The Pope brushed his pleas aside. ‘Do not bother yourself with politics, dear Giuliano,’ he would say to him. ‘You must concentrate on getting well.’

  Giuliano grew rapidly worse, and on 17 March he died. He had no children by his wife, Philiberte o
f Savoy; but, like his uncle and namesake, he left an illegitimate child, Ippolito.

  A month before Giuliano’s death, the Pope had left Florence never to return. He had been recalled to Rome by the death of King Ferdinand of Spain, and the accession to power in Spain and Naples of the Archduke Charles. This supremely important event, which brought an end to the series of wars initiated by the League of Cambrai, gave Lorenzo and the Pope their opportunity to deal with the Duke of Urbino, which they had been reluctant to do while Ferdinand and Giuliano were both still alive.

  First of all a dreadful, half-forgotten scandal was raked up: five years before, the savage-tempered Duke had attacked and killed in a street in Ravenna his arch-enemy, Cardinal Francesco Alidosi. At the time a court of inquiry, of which the Pope himself had been a member, had decided that the Duke’s provocation by the unpleasant Alidosi – supposedly Julius II’s catamite – had been virtually irresistible. The Duke was now informed, however, that the murder, whether pardonable or not, made it impossible for him to hold Urbino any longer in the name of the Church. At the same time he was reminded of his refusal to comply with Pope Julius II’s request to assist in the restoration of the Medici to Florence and of his subsequent refusal to help to defend Italy against the invading army of King Francis I. He was summoned to Rome to explain his disgraceful conduct.

  When he declined to go, the Pope excommunicated him and Lorenzo de’ Medici marched out of Florence to take Urbino from him. Lorenzo experienced little trouble in doing so. The Duke was forced to flee from Mantua, and Lorenzo entered Urbino in May. Less than a year later, however, the dispossessed Duke returned with Spanish troops to take his Duchy back. The short but arduous campaigns in the mountainous districts of Urbino cost the Florentines and the Pope a great deal of money. They aroused lasting resentments and resulted in Lorenzo’s being so badly wounded by an arquebus that he was gradually to waste away both in body and in will. The Pope, however, was for the moment well satisfied. Lorenzo was proclaimed Duke of Urbino and Lord of Pesaro, and seemed well on the way to becoming master of that large, unified, Medici-dominated state in central Italy which Leo dreamed of creating.