The magnificent Giostra, or Tournament, which Lorenzo celebrated a year before his accession to the Headship of the Republic was but the prelude to the exhibition of lavish hospitality such as Florentines, and the strangers within their gates, had never witnessed. Banquets, ballets and pageants succeeded one another in rapid succession. Church and national festivals gained splendour and circumstance unrivalled in any other city. Indeed the citizens, from the highest to the meanest, lived in a whirl of festivities—and they liked it well!
The visits of friendly princes and other distinguished personages were hailed with enthusiasm. Apparently there was no bottom to the Medici purse; but actually the Capo della Repubblica was playing rather fast and loose with his opulent patrimony. There came a day when the strain grew excessive, and Lorenzo was unable, had he been willing, to make advances to princely suitors, and he lived to repent his prodigality.
The first notable visitors were Duke Galeazzo Maria Sforza of Milan and his Duchess Bona, Princess of Savoy. The retinue which accompanied the sovereigns was gorgeous, and filled the people of Florence with amazement; but their wonder was tenfold greater when Lorenzo displayed still greater magnificence in their reception. Macchiavelli has attributed the vast increase in the luxurious habits of the citizens to this splendid hospitality.
Another remarkable demonstration was that which was made in 1471 upon the occasion of the succession of Cardinal Francesco delle Rovere to the Papal throne as Sixtus IV. Lorenzo, in person, headed the special embassy which was despatched from Florence to congratulate the new pontiff. The other principal members were Domenico de’ Martelli, Agnolo della Stufa, Bongianio de’ Gianfigliazzi, and Donato de’ Acciaiuolo. Whilst the mission and its wealth of offerings were received graciously by the Roman Court, Sixtus by no means extended a cordial welcome to Lorenzo. The request which he made for the bestowal of a Cardinal’s hat upon his brother, Giuliano, was refused somewhat brusquely, although, to be sure, the Pope did agree to the transfer of the custody of the finances of the Curia to the Medici bank, through the intervention of Messer Giovanni de’ Tornabuoni—Lorenzo’s uncle, a resident in Rome.
Lorenzo appears to have made, however, rather a favourable impression upon Sixtus, for he entered into negotiations concerning the sale of the costly jewels which had been collected by Pope Paul II. In the end Lorenzo purchased the cabinet and its contents, and made thereby a very excellent bargain.
During his sojourn in the Eternal City, Lorenzo acquired a number of precious antiques, rare manuscripts, and valuable works of art. Sixtus, noting his artistic tastes, sent him many handsome gifts, and promised, at his solicitation, to prevent the destruction of ancient buildings and monuments. They parted apparently excellent friends.
Giuliano’s Giostra was even more brilliant than that of Lorenzo, six years before. It was celebrated in honour of “La bella Simonetta,” with whom the impressionable young prince became daily more and more madly in love. Whether his infatuation went at all beyond the bounds of Platonic affection is doubtful. His lovely innamorata was the wife of his best friend, and his honour went for much in the loyal estimation of Giuliano. Besides this, his good mother’s influence in the cause of virtue and modesty was all-powerful with both her sons.
Strange to say, this romantic attachment stirred the jealousy of a very prominent citizen, no less a personage than Messer Francesco de’ Pazzi. He and his brothers declined the invitation to the Giostra, and abstained from participation in the general festivities. It was a case of race rivalry and of personal jealousy, but it meant much in the relations of the two families.
The efforts which Lorenzo continually made “to gain a firm footing in Florence”—as Francesco de’ Guicciardini has recorded—quite naturally were productive of opposition and animosity. The men who had placed him in power were again in two camps—those who were content with the status quo, and those who were not. The latter made less and less effort to conceal their real sentiments, and at length set about to question Lorenzo’s motives, and defeat his projects. He was a beau-ideal citizen, for, with all his love of show and circumstance, even in the fulness of his dignity and dominion, he knew how to retain and exhibit certain homely and simple traits, which were quite after the Florentine manner.
He met criticisms and oppositions with the very characteristic statement: “I will,” said he, “allow no man to put his foot on my throat!” This threat—for so it was accounted by those who wished to discredit him—was like a red gauntlet thrown down, and, later on, a hand—if not a foot—and a dagger, were at Lorenzo’s throat!