With an ever open eye to a goodly marriage portion, Messer Giovanni “Il Popolano” viewed the daughters of the Salviati with approval. That house was famous for its financial prominence—rivalling that of his own, and Messer Giacopo’s three girls were noted for good looks and clever brains. Whether love, or money, was the magnet, or whether the two ran together in double harness, young “Giovannino” took tight hold upon the reins, and he and Maria Salviati were betrothed in the autumn of 1517.
To be sure there was a difficulty about the new marital habitation, for a soldier upon active service has no settled home. Love, however, knows obstacles only to overcome them, and so, somehow or another, the young Madonna brought into the world, one wintry day in February—it was the nineteenth—1519, her first-born, a son. Cosimo they christened him, perhaps after his great ancestor Cosimo “Padre della Patria”— “Cosimonino.” When mother and child could be moved Giovanni sent them, for safety, into Florence, where they were lovingly welcomed by her parents, Messer Giacopo de’ Salviati and his wife Lucrezia, daughter of Lorenzo il Magnifico.
Pope Leo X., who had in his heart ambitious desires for the predominance of his House, not alone in Tuscany but throughout Italy, regarded the young soldier as one of his most trusty lieutenants. Designing, as he did, to create Giuliano,—later Duke of Nemours,—King of Naples and Southern Italy, and Lorenzo,—Duke of Urbino,—King of Lombardy and Northern Italy, he made Giovanni “delle Bande Nere” Commandant of the Papal armies.
Leo spent much time in Florence, having the Condottiere by his side, and using him as an envoy,—first to the King of France, and, then to the Emperor, in matrimonial negotiations which concerned Giuliano and Lorenzo. The imbroglio about the Duchy of Milan found him at the head of the Papal contingent of the Imperial army, but his success as commander was checked by a disastrous peace concluded by the Pope. The early years of young Cosimo’s life were critical in the affairs of Tuscany; a fierce struggle for the suzerainty of all Italy was being fought out between Francis I. and Charles V. The Pope, Clement VII.—Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici—who had succeeded Adrian VI. in 1523, sided with either party as suited his ambitions best. When favourable to the French, he handed over one division of the Papal army to the king, who confirmed Condottiere Giovanni de’ Medici in his command.
At Borgoforte he was shot in the knee, and again at Pavia, where Francis was routed and taken prisoner. The campaign continued and Giovanni was always in the front rank of battle until, outside Mantua, he was mortally wounded and died within the fortress, on 30th November, 1526, at the early age of twenty-nine.
An interesting little story concerns the first anniversary of Cosimo’s birth. His father dreamed, on the eve of that day, that he saw his son asleep in his cradle, and over his head he beheld a royal crown! In the morning he did not tell Madonna Maria what he had seen in the night-watches, but something prompted him to test the will of Providence. Accordingly he told his wife to take the precious little babe up to the balcony on the second floor of the Palazzo Salviati, in the Via del Corso.
“Throw down the child,” he cried from the street below. The Madonna refused, and rated her husband for his madness, but he insisted, and threatened so vehemently, that at last, in abject terror, she let go her hold of her babe. The boy leaped from her arms into the air, and, whilst the distracted mother uttered a wail of anguish, Giovanni deftly caught his little son in his arms. The child chortled merrily, as if enjoying his weird experience, and, inasmuch as he never so much as uttered the slightest cry of fear, the intrepid Condottiere felt perfectly reassured as to the auspicious presage of his dream.
“That’s all right,” he exclaimed, “my vision was no fantastic picture—my bonnie boy will live to be a prince—Prince of Florence!”
Madonna Maria, left so young a widow—she was only twenty-five—consecrated her life to the care of her young son—just eight years old—and, under her parental roof in the Via del Corso, she engaged some of the best teachers of the day to undertake his education. Cosimonino’s aptitude for military affairs and his taste for chemical studies soon made themselves apparent.
But the doting mother had a secret enemy, her child’s enemy indeed, an enemy so powerful, and by all accounts so relentless, that her life became a burden in her efforts to shield her boy from peril. That enemy was no less a person than the Pope!