APPENDIX III.
LORENZO’S LAST HOURS.
Book VI. Chapter VIII.
The interview of Savonarola and Lorenzo de’ Medici has given rise to a controversy which has never been definitively settled. The account of the monk’s biographers, Giovan Francesco Pico and Pacifico Burlamachi, cannot be reconciled with that given in Politian’s letter above referred to. This last has the air of containing a mitigated version of the facts, intended to efface the bad impression made by current reports of the matter; and the third exhortation put into the monk’s mouth by Politian—‘that he should endure death with patience’—sounds almost like a commonplace, considering the gravity of the moment and the characters of the interlocutors. C. F. Meier, in his History of Savonarola (p. 52, &c.), and Villari, in ‘La Storia di Girolamo Savonarola’ (i. 136), accept the version given by the Ferrarese monk’s earliest biographers, and Villari tries to establish it by a long note (p. 155-158). But this version contains great improbabilities. How should the dying man, who had just received the viaticum, make another confession? And what could Savonarola have meant by his famous third demand—what practical use or effect could he expect from it, or from the possible assent of the dying man? The story looks like an invention of the after-days of excitement. The doubts as to the authenticity of the books of Burlamachi and Pico, which, it is suspected, were fabricated in the convent of San Marco and adorned with these authors’ names, are of little consequence in this connection, as in any case the tradition was doubtless current among Savonarola’s contemporaries.
Bartolommeo Cerretani gives, in the third book of his MS. chronicle, the following account of Lorenzo’s last hours:—‘April 7, about the fifth hour, Lorenzo received the Lord’s Supper. As his illness was making such rapid progress, Messer Pier Leoni, otherwise an excellent physician, lost heart; other doctors were at once sent for, but it was too late. Feeling his end approaching, the sick man sent for his eldest son Piero, gave him divers exhortations, and then sent him away. About the twentieth hour he began to cry out: “I am dying and there is none to help me!” All hastened to him. He said he wanted to get up a little, and had himself lifted out of bed, but only to be laid down immediately. The pains were so violent that he lost consciousness. Those standing round him began to weep, for they thought he was dead. A Camaldulensian who was present took off his spectacles, and holding them to his mouth perceived that he still breathed. A restorative was given him and he came to himself. Then he called for his son again and spoke to him softly, so that none of the others heard. After that his condition rapidly grew worse, so that he gave up the ghost on the 8th, about the fourth hour of the evening, in the arms of a valet.’
The doctor who, though a learned man, certainly seems to have blundered in his judgment as to Lorenzo’s illness, put an end to his life next morning as has been related above (p. 461), by jumping into the well at the Martelli villa at San Gervasio before Porta Pinti.
Sannazzaro’s poem in terza rima (in Roscoe, Ap. lxxviii.) on the death of Piero Leoni attributes it to the instigation of Piero de’ Medici. The fragment beginning: ‘Fu trovato essere stato gettato in un pozzo’ &c., published in Fabroni (l. c. ii. 397) as being from some anonymous author in the Magliabecchiana, is borrowed from the Ricordi of Alamanno Rinuccini (p. cxlvi). Petrus Crinitus and Valerianus (De literatorum infelicitate) take it for granted that the doctor in his agitation took his own life; and Cerretani certainly indicates that Leoni, who a short time before had been in good hopes, lost his head. He states, moreover, that the Medici’s grooms threatened the life of the physician, who was, therefore, taken to San Gervasio, and that the report of his death by the violence of others was immediately spread, but was unfounded. Burcard in his defective report (p. 175) alludes to Piero de’ Medici’s complaint by saying that the fatal termination of the illness was to be attributed to wrong medical treatment, and raises a supposition that at Rome there was believed to have been a murder.
In May, Demetrius Chalcondylas wrote from Milan to Marcello Virgilio Adriani: ‘Thou hast announced to me two sad events; the flash of lightning which has struck the principal church of the city, occasioned so much ruin, and presaged so great evils; and the death of Lorenzo, the most famous man of our time, who was distinguished in so many ways. His decease causes me deep sorrow, not merely on account of the loss, which touches us all in no slight degree, but also on account of what I personally lose, who have always found him a kind patron. And to all this is added the sad and fearful death of Piero Leoni, which has shocked me more than anything for a long time past. Believe me, Marcello, this end casts a shadow over Lorenzo’s death, and is a dishonour to the family and to the whole city. For although thou, like others, writest that he threw himself into the well, yet it is difficult to convince thoughtful people that such a wise and learned man, who, as thou thyself also tellest me, treated Lorenzo in his illness with so much care, could have been seized with such madness as to choose so shameful a death.’ (Bandini, Collectio, &c., p. 22).
In Fabroni, l. c., and Roscoe, ‘Life of Leo X.’ (Ap. No. xxii.) will be found the letters written by Cardinal Giovanni to his brother after their father’s death. The first may be given here. The original is in the curious mixture of Latin and Italian sentences which was then still in vogue.
‘My beloved brother, now the only support of our house. What shall I write to thee, when only tears are left me? For when I consider that our father of blessed memory is taken from us, I am nearer weeping than speaking. What a father! None was kinder than he to his children; of this facts are witness. Therefore it is no wonder that I lament and can find no rest; and my only consolation is that I have thee, my brother, in our father’s place. It is for thee to command, for me to obey, and thy commands will always give me the greatest pleasure. Try me; nothing shall find me backward. But I beg thee, my Piero, be towards all, especially towards thine own people, as I wish thee, beneficent, kind, courteous, gracious; thereby all is obtained, all is preserved. Not because I mistrust thee do I remind thee of this, but because it is my duty. I am consoled and sustained by the concourse of mourners to our house, the universal sympathy, the mourning of the whole city, and other things which help to alleviate sorrow. But what consoles me above all is that I have thee, whom I trust more than my words are able to express. As to what thou wishest arranged with his Holiness, nothing has been done, as it seemed better to take another way, on which the ambassador will report to thee, and which seems as if it must lead more easily to the object. Rome, April 12, 1492.’
THE END.
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO. NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET