Soon afterwards Montesecco was summoned to the Pope, and there, in the presence of Francesco Salviati and Girolamo Riario, the Florentine affair was discussed. In the collection of paintings in the Vatican, a fresco may be seen (formerly in the old library hall, now transferred to canvas) by the hand of Melozzo of Forli, representing Pope Sixtus IV. on his throne, Bartolommeo Platina, the new keeper of his literary treasures kneeling before him, in the background Girolamo Riario and others of his family and court. The scene which now passed in the Pope’s chamber was very different to this peaceful one. It was a question of overthrowing the Medici and their Florentine government. The Pope declared his consent to a revolution in the State, but he demanded that it should not be a sanguinary one. And when Montesecco remarked, ‘Holy Father, it is difficult to execute such an intention without the death of Lorenzo and Giuliano, and several others perhaps,’ Sixtus replied, ‘In no case will I have the death of any one; it is not my office to cause the death of a man. Lorenzo has behaved unworthily and badly towards us, but I will not hear of his death, though I wish for a revolution in the State.’ Girolamo Riario interposed, ‘We will do our best that no one may fall a victim; should it, however, be unavoidable, your Holiness will pardon him through whom it happens;’ on which the Pope answered, ‘You are a villain; I tell you I will have no one die, but only the government overthrown. And to you, Giovan Batista, I say that I wish the revolution to proceed in Florence and the government to be taken out of the hand of Lorenzo, for he is a violent and bad man, who pays no regard to us. If he were expelled, we could do with the Republic as it seemed best, and that would be very pleasing to us.’ ‘Your Holiness speaks the truth,’ said Riario and the Archbishop. ‘If you have Florence in your power, after it has come into the hands of others, your Holiness can soon prescribe laws to half Italy, and everyone will be desirous to assure himself of your friendship. Be then satisfied that we shall do all in our power to attain this end.’ Whereupon Sixtus said, ‘I say again, I will not. Go and do what you will, but no lives shall be lost.’ As he now dismissed the three, he gave his consent to the employment of arms. Salviati said in going away, ‘Holy Father, be satisfied that we guide the bark; we will steer safely.’ The Pope answered, ‘I am content, but give heed to the honour of the Holy See and the Count.’
After the audience the three repaired to Riario’s lodging, where the latter and the archbishop came to the conclusion that without the death of the two Medici, the thing could not succeed. A high aim could not be reached with insignificant means. It was now resolved to make preparations for executing their design. Francesco de’ Pazzi had, as we have already seen, repaired to Florence, it was said on account of business, but in fact to note the inclination of the people better, and to sound his uncle Jacopo. Riario and Salviati now considered it necessary to send Montesecco thither in order to make himself better acquainted with persons and places. A pretext for the visit was afforded by a dangerous illness of Carlo Manfredi of Faenza, a part of whose possessions at his decease Riario wished to unite with his own. This he pretended to wish to arrange with Lorenzo. Lorenzo had no idea of what was passing, and seems, instead of hindering the intentions of the Pope’s nephew in any way, to have, on the contrary, embraced the opportunity of settling former differences with him by furthering his plans and wishes. But Montesecco had yet another errand; that of concerting with Jacopo de’ Pazzi and taking measures for the intended warlike operations. The latter came to him at the inn—his nephew Francesco happened to be in Lucca—where the captain delivered to him letters from the archbishop and the count. But still Jacopo did not show the slightest wish to enter into the matter. ‘I will have nothing to do with the project,’ he declared. ‘They will only run into danger. They wish to be masters of Florence, but I understand matters better than they. Do not speak to me about it again, for I have heard enough.’ But then, as Montesecco informed him of the conversation with the Pope, he was undecided. ‘Go to Imola,’ he said, ‘and come again on your return; Francesco will have returned in the meantime, and we can consult further about the matter.’
It had thus been introduced, and Jacopo was half-won over. Montesecco went to the Romagna to watch over the interests of Riario, and as he met Lorenzo at Cafaggiuola on his return from Florence, he gave the latter an account of his mission, and received from him repeated assurances of his readiness to be useful to the count. In Lorenzo’s company Montesecco rode towards the city, where he had another conversation with the two Pazzi by night. Jacopo had allowed himself to be persuaded by his nephew; but their views as to the execution of the plot were very different, especially as to whether it were not advisable to kill the brothers at once and in Florence itself. Both gave it as their opinion that the archbishop must come to the city under some pretext, in order to take part in the execution. Montesecco now returned to Rome, where the resolution was taken at Riario’s that Francesco Salviati should repair to Florence, but that the captain should lead all the mercenaries of the count who could be spared in Rome to Romagna, and hold himself ready. Various circumstances, however, hindered the speedy decision. A chance absence of Carlo Fortebraccio in Florence made it seem dangerous for the conspirators to venture the blow at that moment. Then it was said that Lorenzo intended to go to Rome at Easter, which caused fresh indecision. When this did not happen, the conspirators recognised the necessity of acting, in order not to expose a plot in which many were now initiated to the danger of discovery. The amassing of troops at Imola must rouse suspicion if they delayed longer.
It was in April 1478 that Francesco Salviati came to Florence in order to execute an errand with reference to the affairs of Romagna. Everything was talked over in the houses of the Pazzi and in their villa at Montughi. The number of accomplices was so considerable that we can hardly understand how the project never came to the hearing of the Medici. A nephew of Girolamo Riario, Raffaello Sansoni, was studying at the time at the university of Pisa. Sixtus IV. had granted, on December 10, 1477, the cardinal’s purple to this youth of sixteen, who was not exactly distinguished by brilliant intellectual gifts, still less by learning. The young man, who henceforward bore his mother’s name, began his long career as ecclesiastical prince, a position for which he was but little suited, among circumstances the memory of which was revived when he, as an aged man, was again involved in an intrigue against the Medici. Girolamo caused his nephew to be summoned to Florence, in order to employ him in the execution of the plot as a tool without a will. The other instruments were of a different kind. Jacopo Salviati followed the inspirations of his brother, the archbishop, with whom two other relations were associated. Jacopo Bracciolini, the son of Poggio, a clever literary man, forgot the old connections of his father and his own with the Medici in order to join with their enemies. He had come to Florence in the second half of January, and delivered a letter from Riario[227] to Lorenzo, which said that the writer had chosen this learned, virtuous, and upright man for service with the young cardinal, to instruct the latter in moral conduct, and begged Lorenzo to grant him full confidence in all that regarded the aforesaid cardinal, and support where he needed it. Of Antonio Maffei of Volterra, the brother of the learned Raffaello, it is said that no personal motives led him to take part in it, but sorrow over the misfortunes of his native city, of which he regarded Lorenzo as the destroyer. Bernardo Bandini, the descendant of an ancient family, son of a man who under King Ferrante had presided over the first Court of Justice in Naples, is said to have been induced to join by the ruinous state of his fortune. The clerk Stefano da Bagnone had served Jacopo Pazzi as scribe, and was then pastor at Montemurlo, in the territory of Pistoja, the castle which nearly sixty years later was celebrated by a defeat of the Strozzi and their friends in a battle against Cosimo de’ Medici, the second Duke of Florence. Another accomplice was Napoleone Franzesi, of San Gemignano, belonging to a family which had attained no enviable fame at the beginning of the fourteenth century, through that Musciatto who, with Guillaume de Nogaret, organised the attempt against Pope Boniface VIII., and was also one of the most important tools in some of King Philip the Fair’s dishonourable money transactions. All were ready to strike the blow when the young cardinal was residing at the Pazzi villa, from whence he kept up a friendly intercourse with Lorenzo and his brother, and among other things recommended to the latter a priest for the vacant dignity of the Prior of SS. Annunziata.[228] An invitation of the Medici brothers to visit them at their villa, whose pillared halls overlook the rich and beautiful country from a lovely hill in the immediate neighbourhood of Fiesole, seemed to offer the suitable opportunity for carrying out the conspiracy; but a delay ensued, because an indisposition of Giuliano hindered him from taking part in the festival, and the conspirators did not deem it advisable to seize the brothers separately. It was then determined to proceed to action on April 26. It was the Sunday before Ascension day. The cardinal was made to announce his intention of visiting the Medici in their palace in the city, and at the same time of being present at high mass in the cathedral near by. He did not dream of the project in which a sad though inactive part was thus assigned to him.
The brothers prepared to receive the Pope’s nephew worthily. The rich art treasures of their house, silver-plate and costly furniture, were exhibited in honour of their guest. A brilliant company was invited, consisting of the ambassadors of Naples, Milan, and Ferrara, Marino Tomacelli, Filippo Sagramoro, and Niccolò Bendedei, and various knights such as Antonio della Stufa, Antonio Ridolfi, Bongianni Gianfigliazzi, Luigi Guicciardini, Piero Betti, Bernardo Bongirolami.[229] With a few companions, the archbishop and Montesecco being among them, the cardinal rode from the villa to the city, the others, mostly in rich dresses, followed on foot.[230] Giuliano was still unwell, and sent a message to say that, if he did not appear at the banquet, he would certainly not fail to be in the church. This news caused an alteration in the plan; instead of attacking the brothers at the banquet, the house of God was chosen for the scene of the murder, and the most solemn moment, the elevation of the host, was to be the signal. But another alteration was the result of the first. Giovan Batista da Montesecco had, not without resistance it seems, declared himself ready to deal the blow against Lorenzo, but he declined to desecrate the church with bloodshed. As he persisted in his refusal, Antonio Maffei and Stefano da Bagnone offered to take his place—two priests felt no dread of that which a soldier declined to do. The ill-success of the plot is principally to be ascribed to this circumstance. Francesco de’ Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini were to seize on Giuliano, the archbishop to surround the palace of the Signoria, and Jacopo de’ Pazzi to proclaim the freedom of the city. The cardinal had changed his dress at the Medici’s house, and was just descending the staircase when he met Lorenzo, who had already heard mass, but returned with his guest to Sta. Maria del Fiore. The archbishop accompanied them to the church door, and then withdrew under pretext of visiting his mother. All the others entered the church. Within the choir, which is beneath the dome of Brunellesco, the cardinal took his place opposite the altar, his suite, the friends of the Medici, the accomplices in the plot, churchmen and laity, stood partly in the choir, partly round it. The mass and singing had already begun when the conspirators remarked that Giuliano was missing. The two who had undertaken to murder him hastened to the Medici’s house and persuaded him to follow them; taking him between them, they ascertained that he wore no shirt of mail beneath his doublet. Giuliano entered the choir, Lorenzo standing outside. The change of the wafer was said to be the signal agreed upon. As the priest elevated the host, Bernardo Bandini plunged a short sword into the breast of Giuliano, who stood together with Giovanni Tornabuoni and Francesco Nori. The wounded man made one step forward and then fell; Francesco de’ Pazzi dealt him one blow after another with a dagger in such blind fury that he severely wounded his own thigh. At the same time Stefano and Maffei attacked Lorenzo, but, unaccustomed to deeds of blood, they missed their aim. Maffei’s dagger, which was to pierce the throat of Medici, only wounded him in the neck. With swift presence of mind, the wounded man tore off his mantle, wrapped it round his left arm, seized his dagger with the right hand, sprang into the choir, and hurried past the altar to the sacristy. At the same moment Bandini, seeing what had happened, rushed to Lorenzo, threw Francesco Nori, who tried to interpose, to the ground,[231] but could not prevent others springing to the assistance of the intended victim, who hastened with him to the new sacristy, the bronze doors of which were closed by Angelo Poliziano before the pursuers.
All this was the work of a moment. ‘Nothing but noise,’ writes Filippo Strozzi, ‘prevailed in the church. I was just standing in conversation with Messer Bongianni (Gianfigliazzi) when a general terror seized the knights and all present. One fled here, another there; the followers of Pazzi had all weapons in their hands.’ Only those who stood next the choir could see what passed; those more distant only saw the tumult and men running hither and thither. Some even thought that the dome was about to fall in. The truth soon became clear. While the conspirators fled in all directions, Guglielmo de’ Pazzi loudly asserting his innocence, the friends of the Medici crowded together and hastened, some to the choir, some to the sacristy, to surround Lorenzo. Several members of the families Martelli and Tornabuoni were the first who pressed into the church. Those in the sacristy were still uncertain how things stood until Sigismundo della Stufa ascended the gallery of the organ and saw their victorious friends.
The cardinal had taken refuge at the altar, where several ecclesiastics surrounded him and led him to the old sacristy. He declared his complete ignorance of the plot; two of the Magistracy of Eight, who came up, conducted him to the palace in safety. Lorenzo now first learnt the death of his brother; the corpse he did not see. A number of friends accompanied him home.
Meanwhile, with a band among whom were several emigrants from Perugia, the archbishop repaired to the palace of the Signoria, where the Gonfaloniere, Cesare Petrucci, was dining with the prior. When the latter was informed that the prelate wished to speak with him on urgent matters, he rose and caused him to be led into his reception-room, while Salviati’s companions entered an adjoining chamber of the secretary’s in order to wait for the signal agreed upon. The Archbishop began by saying he had a commission from the Pope which he must fulfil with the Signoria; but his words were so confused and his demeanour so uncertain, that the Gonfaloniere immediately suspected something wrong, and his suspicions were increased by his visitor continually looking towards the door as if he was expecting some information. Petrucci deciding quickly, hastened out, met Jacopo Bracciolini coming towards the door, seized him by the hair, threw him to the ground, and called in a loud voice to the guard. When Salviati’s companions heard the noise they would have come to his assistance, but were unable to open the lock of the door, which was provided with a mechanism known only to the household, in order to catch intruders. The whole palace was alarmed. After a great deal of opposition, the archbishop and his followers were taken prisoners; every corner was searched and the gates shut. Even the kitchen utensils had to serve as defence. The square was filled with uproar; adherents of the Pazzi broke open the palace gates and pressed into the interior; but Petrucci and his men defended the staircase to the great tower into which the prior had retreated, and they succeeded in capturing some of the assailants and obliging others to take to flight.
Jacopo de’ Pazzi had not, from the beginning, deceived himself as to the difficulties of the undertaking. But it was he who showed the most determination. He hastened to the square of the Signoria with a company of about a hundred armed men, summoning the people to regain their liberty. It was his men who succeeded in penetrating into the square. But they were soon thrust out again, and none dared to approach any more, as they were threatened with stones thrown down from the battlements, this final attempt of the conspiracy was speedily ended. The streets around were filled with men. ‘Palle! palle!’ ‘Death to the traitors!’ This was the answer to Pazzi’s summons. Stones were hurled against the band, who tried to keep the square occupied, but were threatened on all sides. There was no time to be lost. The people already began to hew down the armed men who tried to escape. Messer Jacopo secured first the Porta la Croce, and then hastened to his house, where his nephew Francesco, severely wounded by his own hand, lay concealed in the bedchamber, after he had vainly tried to mount on horseback and ride to the square. No one could stay; the streets were fast filling; bleeding heads were carried about on pikes, with wild cries for vengeance. He saw that all was lost, and two hours after the occurrence, he rode with a band of his followers, through the gate we have mentioned. As the people of their own accord executed judgment, and killed even priests in Salviati’s suite on the square, the cruel work began in the palace. No sooner had the Signoria heard of Giuliano’s death, than they determined to hang Jacopo Bracciolini. This was done before the eyes of the crowd, at a window of the principal storey. Jacopo Salviati met with a like fate. Meanwhile, Francesco de’ Pazzi had been discovered and dragged into the street. He arrived at the palace half dead; it was a wonder that the furious crowd had not torn him to pieces. But no word could be extracted from him about the conspiracy and his accomplices; he expired at a window with the expression of the wild passion which inspired him still on his features. Beside him, the archbishop met a similar end in his ecclesiastical robes; in his last agony he is said to have torn Francesco’s breast with his teeth. The prisoners in the palace were hewn down without mercy. In all the streets bleeding heads and torn limbs were to be seen, the ghastly tokens of wild popular justice and no less wild party hatred. Thus passed the Sunday before the Feast of Ascension of 1478.
The following days things were no better. Many more of the suspected were still discovered, and, guilty or not, killed. The number of victims amounted to about eighty. Jacopo de’ Pazzi, with a little band of armed men, was on the road to Romagna when he was detained by the peasants of the village of Castagno, whom the news of events in Florence had reached. This was in the neighbourhood of the Falterona, where the Arno rises, after he had passed the Mugello and Casentino. In vain he begged that they would kill him. They would not listen, but gave him up to the Signoria. After a painful trial, he was hanged at the palace windows; the palaces seem, indeed, to have been the scene of executions. His body was interred in the family vault in Sta. Croce; but the superstition of the people or the hatred of his opponents left him as little rest there as in a grave in unconsecrated earth at the town walls before the Porta della Giustizia, from which a crowd of boys drew the half mouldering corpse and dragged it through the streets with frightful jests in order to throw it into the Arno. As if he had had an anticipation of his fate, the day before the execution of the plot he put his property and business affairs in order, and satisfied all those who had any claim on him. The whole family was ruined by subsequent penal measures, which exceeded all bounds. Renato de’ Pazzi, a quiet man devoted to study, and who had declined all share in it, was punished by death because he had not disclosed the conspiracy. Some others were executed or condemned to imprisonment in the fortress of Volterra. Only Guglielmo, Lorenzo’s brother-in-law, escaped with an exile that assigned to him a villa as a residence at a considerable distance from Florence. We shall speak of the legal measures which afflicted the family still further, later on.