The moment for decision had arrived. It was acknowledged in Florence that matters must come to a crisis one way or the other. A considerable part of the territory was in the enemy’s power, the valleys of the Chiana and Elsa terribly wasted. The chief portion of the army, demoralised by the late losses, was driven back the small distance of seven miles from the city. From one of the allies no active help could be expected, and the other was already in treaty with the enemy.
Since the defeat of Poggibonzi, Lorenzo could no longer deceive himself respecting the position of the Republic or his own. He knew that all sources of help were exhausted. He knew also that Florence could obtain peace without any difficulty if she would consent to sacrifice him, and he understood the position of affairs too well not to foresee the result of the struggle. During the whole course of the war, in which, being no warrior, he naturally held aloof, the best of the illustrious citizens who were devoted to him went as commissaries to the army, and gave him ample opportunities of studying the state of feeling at home, and the possibility of a compromise.
His industry had been great and various. On account of the sickness prevailing in Florence, which swept away thousands, he had, soon after the outbreak of hostilities, sent his wife and children first to Pistoja, and then to his villa Cafaggiuolo, under the protection of his uncle Giovanni Tornabuoni. This left him free to act as he liked, and he did not quit the city, where there was enough for him to do. Since the conspiracy, the administration of affairs was more than ever in his hands, for a constitution which had such a complicated machinery made a safe and consistent guidance more necessary than ever in those stormy times. During the first year of the war, notwithstanding the greater numbers of the enemy, they could still hope for success from the languid manner in which the contest was carried on. The second spring brought no decision, for the successful skirmish at Trasimene was more than outweighed by the occurrences in the Elsa valley. Lorenzo was forced to think of negotiation, if he would not expose himself to the danger of having to conclude a treaty disadvantageous to himself. For while so little was accomplished with weapons, there was not much more to be hoped for from diplomatic arrangements. The slight advance negotiations had made in Rome we have already seen. It was not to be expected that a more favourable result would occur, when the allies were at such decided disadvantage from a military point of view. They had never ceased to intrigue with Louis XI.; Milan through Carlo Visconti and Giovann’Andrea Cagnola, Florence through Francesco Gaddi, who belonged to a family which had always remained in friendly relations with the Medici. The French king was the only one who received these two members of the alliance with warmth—he had often differences with Venice. But he had other things to disturb his peace of mind, and the war in Picardy and in the Franche Comté with the heiress of Burgundy, and partly, also, the feuds in Milan and Piedmont, afforded him the wished-for opportunity of allowing his own intriguing spirit full play, whatever might be the end of negotiations with the Pope. During those negotiations he had a real pleasure in expressing his grudge against Sixtus IV. and King Ferrante. At the end of December 1478 he said to the Milanese ambassadors that he would himself head an enterprise against the Turks (the usual assurance and bait of princes in the fifteenth century) if Italy were in peace, ‘and especially if they had a Pope as he should be.’ ‘Upon this he indulged in a flood of evil words against the Pope, King Ferrante, and Count Girolamo, speaking for two hours with such a flow of words, that we were obliged to restrict ourselves to listening, and it seemed unadvisable to us to touch upon anything else.’ Even in the presence of Don Federigo d’Aragona, who was then in France, the king did not moderate his expressions ‘de mala natura’ against the Pope and Ferrante, the latter of whom he spared no humiliation. After having once said to the Neapolitan ambassador that his master interfered in matters more than he ought, he asked, ‘Your king, such as he is, do you then believe him to be King Alfonso’s son?’[283] Such things certainly could not surprise a sovereign who before a foreign ambassador could insult his own good and patient mother by saying he did not know whose son he was.
Nevertheless Louis XI. was resolved not to leave Milan and Florence to the will of their opponents. He remained firm to his old affection for the Medici. Even after he had resolved to leave the hands of Cecco Simonetta’s enemies free, whereby those who caballed with King Ferrante must cling to the rudder, he held firmly to Lorenzo. ‘For nothing in the world,’ wrote Philippe de Commines on October 3, 1479, from Plessis to an agent of the king in Italy, Pietro Palmieri, at a time when the Milanese affairs were still undecided—‘would the king allow the Florentines, and especially Lorenzo de’ Medici’s person, to come to harm. If they decided in the enemy’s favour at Milan, the king would assist the Florentines and Lorenzo with all the means in his power.’ In June the Pope had proposed to the French ambassador, who was still staying with him, to leave the settlement of their differences to a council composed of Edward IV., king of England, and a legate a latere. A courier was despatched to France, where an ambassador of Girolamo Riario was active against Lorenzo de’ Medici. The Milanese ambassador suspected that the French diplomatists in Rome were to be won by gold. But Louis XI. would know nothing of the matter; he answered that in case the position of umpire were offered to him, in conjunction with king Edward, he would perhaps accept it, although he was occupied enough. The joy at the advantage gained by the Florentines at Trasimene was cooled by the loss of the battle of Guinegate, near St. Omer, where, on August 7, Maximilian of Austria defeated the French. The president of the Toulouse parliament and head of the Roman embassy had returned shortly before. The king had received him very badly; Commines and others were obliged to mediate to obtain a hearing for him. The Pope represented himself as not disinclined for mediation, and Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere confirmed this, but for the present those in Rome attempted to prolong the matter in order to tire the Florentines. At the end of August a Papal plenipotentiary, Giovan Batista of Imola, came to the French court. Philippe de Commines received him by command of the king, who at first would hear nothing from him. The conference took place in the presence of Don Federigo d’Aragona.
Sixtus enumerated once more all the complaints which he had against Florence and Lorenzo. The principal cause of war, he said in the brief he had given to his ambassadors, was not to be sought for in the events of April 1478, but in what had preceded them, in the affairs of Città di Castello and Faenza, in the personal position of Lorenzo de’ Medici. He could not agree to the proposals of accommodation hitherto made. The restitution of the places taken would imply a self-accusation, as though he had begun an unjust war. He must demand a guarantee for the Sienese before his troops and those of the Neapolitans could evacuate the Florentine territory. A treaty respecting Genoa could only begin with the consent of the Genoese themselves. The Pope was nevertheless inclined to leave the decision to the king, with a reservation of the aforesaid points, and deliver up to him the occupied castles. Louis XI., by whom the ambassador was personally disliked on account of matters which had taken place formerly, received these advances very coldly. He suspected that the Pope wished to sow discord between him and the English king, who had already been publicly designated as umpire. He repeated his former demands, a formal abrogation of the spiritual interdicts, evacuation of the territory, and restitution of the fortresses.[284] The Papal negotiator departed with this unsatisfactory demand. Francesco Gaddi had been present at the whole of this interview; the Milanese ambassadors, summoned to Orleans from Paris, had arrived too late, but were acquainted with all that had taken place. Then followed the events unfavourable to the allies in the Elsa valley. Even if the Pope and Ferrante had intended to resume negotiations with France, it would have been impossible to expect any good result from them. Lorenzo de’ Medici was obliged to make a direct compromise with at least one of his enemies.
The choice of this one could not be difficult. If the Pope himself had been personally less irritated, the hatred of Girolamo Riario against the Medici, a hatred which still found vent in low intrigues[285] in the summer of 1479, would have made a negotiation difficult. It was otherwise with King Ferrante. He had done everything, military and diplomatic, to conduct the war with energy. The Duke of Calabria, who had hoped to fix himself as firmly in Tuscany as the Angevins once had done, had supplied the majority of the troops; the rising in Genoa, the attack on Pisa and the Lunigiana, were his work. In France no less than four Neapolitan ambassadors were active in persuading Louis XI., in which, however, they did not succeed. But Ferrante was acute enough to see that nothing but an agreement with Florence could calm Italy, and only the authority of a capable man, which Lorenzo showed himself to be more and more, could give permanence to this agreement, while the Papal policy was too changeful to offer security. Lorenzo had known for some time of the king’s inclination to treat. But it was distasteful to him to meet his advances, not because he suspected personal danger therein, but because he saw that an agreement with King Ferrante would have political results for Florentine affairs which must have seemed important to him. He said to himself that his position would be quite different if he could begin the treaty from a more favourable point, and only the powerful support of his allies could help him in this, especially the mediation of Lodovico Sforza, who, since he had become Duke of Bari, had entered into still closer connections with the ruling family in Naples, to which his sister belonged. With Lodovico, who was daily obtaining greater influence in Milan, Lorenzo now stood in constant communication direct and indirect. His opinion on the position of affairs is expressed most clearly in a letter which he sent to Girolamo Morelli at Milan, on September 25.[286] ‘The observations made,’ he says in this letter, after mentioning the proposals in regard to the Pazzi, ‘can only proceed from an ill opinion which is held there of our affairs; and although what has happened partly justifies that opinion, the matter does not stand as is believed there, but the unfavourable opinion is explained by a misunderstanding which you yourself hint at. I wish to impress this truth on Lord Lodovico, when I show him how our position will be strong or weak at his lordship’s will. For here at home there is not one who will raise a finger; and even if they do leave us there in the lurch, I have little fear respecting the direction of affairs. But I fear that if our forces cannot make head against the enemy, it will be necessary to take steps contrary to our freedom, and allow to others an influence in our government which will first of all be injurious to us, and then give others cause of alarm. If, therefore, apart from old friendship and good services, his lordship is of opinion that our preservation is of use to himself, he might take measures to this end, for I do not doubt for one instant that we shall only thus attain what we desire, if our enemies perceive that they can do nothing against us, while we have proofs enough of their will. Although I have received many friendly words from the Duke of Calabria for many months, and much encouragement to throw myself into the king’s arms, he attempting to show me that only in this manner can I save myself and the state, a penny from you would be worth more than a florin from the others. It is good that Lord Lodovico should know these things, and that if he wish to save us, he must take up the matter with more energy and act with more decision. If he does this, I have no anxiety respecting affairs here; if this, however, does not happen, he will see how it will be with our cause, and partly also with his own. For if nothing else should occur he will give into other people’s hands the reins of Italy, which are now in his, as I wrote to you in my long letter, which is so long that I do not believe he has read it in the midst of his many employments, and which I beg you to deliver to him again, for I have continually more than enough to do.’
In this letter the position of affairs was clearly indicated. But Lorenzo deceived himself when he hoped that Lodovico Sforza would agree to his views and seek to withdraw him from the necessity ‘of throwing himself into the king’s arms.’ Whether the will or ability were here wanting may remain a question. Lodovico approached the goal of his desires. His nephew, Gian Galeazzo, was crowned duke with great solemnity while yet in exile, on April 24, 1478, but the government had of course remained with his mother, from whose hands Lodovico now took it more completely, having at first employed a favourite of the duchess, a Ferrarese named Antonio Tassino, to make her agree to his plans. He soon became even to foreigners the lord of Milan. From his early years his subtle nature showed itself, although his character was only fully developed under the influences of the changing fortunes of his busy life.
Lodovico il Moro—a name which Sforza received in youth on account of his dark complexion, and continued to bear in later years, so that it became the war-cry of his partisans—was no ordinary man. Born at Vigevano on August 3, 1451, after his father had ascended the ducal throne, a circumstance from which he seemed inclined to claim a right of succession to the prejudice of an elder brother and his son, he was in his eight-and-twentieth year when he attained to power in Milan. Galeazzo Maria had never trusted his restless ambition, for indeed he never ceased to conspire in one way or the other till he was lord of Milan; and even then he continued to weave intrigues against enemies when he could not reach them otherwise, against friends when his plans crossed theirs. He could not live without plotting. An ally was never safe with him, and in time he wove a net which not only extended through Italy but through Europe, and in which he himself was taken. Of moral courage he was exceedingly destitute. ‘The aforesaid Lord Lodovico,’ says Philippe de Commines, ‘was very clever but very timid, and extremely subservient when afraid, of which I can speak fully from personal knowledge, as I have had much to do with him. He was besides destitute of truth and faith where he thought to gain an advantage by breaking his word.’ This passion for intrigue became his own ruin and that of his country and Italy, for the confidence which inspired him, his reliance upon fortune, whose son he called himself, and his measurement of matters according to a mere calculation of their advantage, darkened in time a perception which was otherwise not deficient in acuteness, while his entire want of moral consciousness falsified his judgment. This confidence he had never so naively expressed as in 1496, when, after Italy had been evacuated by the French, the Emperor Maximilian married to his niece, Venice allied to him, and Florence crippled, he fancied he held the fate of Italy in his hand. ‘The Duke of Milan boasts of having at present a chaplain, a condottiere, a chamberlain, and a courier, who are all at his service. The chaplain is Pope Alexander, the condottiere Maximilian, the chamberlain the Signoria of Venice, which freely expends what he orders, the courier the French king, who comes and goes at his good pleasure.’[287] ‘It is terrible to think of,’ adds our informant. He knew no scruples where there was a question of satisfying his selfishness. The slow torture inflicted on his unhappy nephew, and his treatment of his consort, are among the most fearful episodes of a time which abounded in wickedness. In order to attain to power he had employed other rebels; when his end was attained he discarded them, especially Roberto Sanseverino, and sought to make friends with the opposite party, hoping thus to render them harmless.
As a ruler, not to speak of his vivid interest in art and intellectual efforts generally, which he shared with most princes good or bad of his time, Lodovico Sforza had some praiseworthy qualities. He was neither a profligate like Galeazzo Maria, nor cruel from an inhuman pleasure in other people’s sufferings, nor a wild spendthrift like him. He was active, watchful, clever, considerate of the material welfare of the country which he carefully governed, fostering rather than exhausting her resources, while his own treasuries were always filled, so that he could dispose of considerable sums for political and military purposes. Commines, it is true, accuses him of fiscal oppression, and traces the popular discontent to this. ‘I have never seen more beautiful and fertile land than this duchy. If its master were content with drawing 500,000 ducats from it annually, his subjects would remain wealthy and the master would live in security, but Lord Lodovico makes from 650,000 to 700,000, which is a real piece of tyranny, so that the people only long for change.’[288] This is, however, only applicable to later times, and even then il Moro had always a strong party, which the misgovernment of the French strengthened, though they succeeded in expelling him with the help of his enemies from Milan. Giovan Pietro Cagnola, who belonged, indeed, to the unconditional adherents of the Sforzas, and dedicated his history to il Moro, is never tired of praising his wisdom and ripe judgment—how he had brought the state into such excellent order, how he had enlarged and enriched it in extent and respect, had cherished peace, regained Genoa without arms, and protected the country on the side of Switzerland.[289] He was vain, not of mere show like his brother, but of position and name, and he sunned himself in deceptive appearances of good fortune, when his praise resounded day and night in the people’s voice and the poet’s mouth as that of the dictator of the fate of Italy. His own unscrupulousness caused him to judge all others in the same light, and the times were such that he did not always deceive himself. He bought people in Rome as well as in France. Can we blame him from his point of view when a man like Commines, of so much higher intellectual standing, though stained with many of the sins of his century, mentions the bribing of Etienne de Vescq and other councillors of Charles VIII. with 8,000 ducats, with the cold remark, ‘If they were obliged to take money, they might have demanded more.’ Commines apparently was of the opinion that perjury was only wrong when it was unprofitable.
Many years afterwards, when his equally ambitious and no less clever consort, Beatrice d’Este, had been taken from him in the bloom of life—a loss which he felt severely even in political affairs—Lodovico il Moro drew up a political testament for his son and successor in case he should come to the government in early youth, respecting all branches of the administration.[290] ‘As our first command since all power and dominion are given by God, we wish and appoint that those who have to conduct the government after us, and be entrusted with the education of our son, should instruct him in religion and teach him to recognise his Creator as the giver of all good bestowed on him upon earth, as also that they should show him that, with the reservation of the respect due to his Papal Holiness as vicegerent of Christ, he has to consider the Holy Roman Empire as the authority set over him in all devotion and affection, especially the person of the Most Serene and unconquered Lord Maximilian, the Roman king, or in case he should no longer live, he who has succeeded him, for so commands our duty to His Majesty and the Holy Empire, through whose goodness we have obtained our dukedom.’