'These preliminaries being adjusted, Girolamo wrote to his nephew, Cardinal Riario, then at Pisa, ordering him to obey whatever directions he might receive from the Archbishop. A body of two thousand men were destined to approach by different routes towards Florence, so as to be in readiness at the time appointed for striking the blow.
'Shortly afterwards the Archbishop requested the presence of the Cardinal at Florence, where he immediately repaired, and took up his residence at a seat of the Pazzi, about a mile from the city. It seems to have been the intention of the conspirators to have effected their purpose at Fiesole, where Lorenzo then had his country residence, to which they supposed he would invite the Cardinal and his attendants. Nor were they deceived in this conjecture, for Lorenzo prepared a magnificent entertainment on this occasion; but the absence of Giuliano, on account of indisposition, obliged the conspirators to postpone the attempt. Disappointed in their hopes, another plan was now to be adopted; and, on further deliberation, it was resolved, that the assassination should take place on the succeeding Sunday, in the Church of the Reparata, since called Santa Maria del Fiore, and that the signal for execution should be the elevation of the host. At the same moment, the Archbishop and others of the conspirators were to seize upon the palace or residence of the magistrates, whilst the office of Giacopo de Pazzi was to endeavour, by the cry of liberty, to incite the citizens to revolt.
'The immediate assassination of Giuliano was committed to Francesco de' Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, and that of Lorenzo had been entrusted to the sole hand of Montesicco. This office he had willingly undertaken, whilst he understood it was to be executed in a private dwelling, but he shrunk from the idea of polluting the House of God with so heinous a crime. Two ecclesiastics were, therefore, selected for the commission of a deed, from which the soldier was deterred by conscientious motives. These were, Stefano da Bagnone, the apostolic scribe, and Antonio Maffei.
'The young Cardinal having expressed a desire to attend divine service in the church of the Reparata, on the ensuing Sunday, being the 26th day of April, 1478, Lorenzo invited him and his suite to his house in Florence. He accordingly came with a large retinue, supporting the united characters of cardinal and apostolic legate, and was received by Lorenzo with that splendour and hospitality with which he was always accustomed to entertain men of high rank and consequence. Giuliano did not appear, a circumstance that alarmed the conspirators, whose arrangements would not admit of longer delay. They soon, however, learnt that he intended to be present at the church.—The service was already begun, and the cardinal had taken his seat, when Francesco de' Pazzi and Bandini, observing that Giuliano was not yet arrived, left the church and went to his house, in order to insure and hasten his attendance. Giuliano accompanied them, and as he walked between them, they threw their arms round him with the familiarity of intimate friends, but in fact to discover whether he had any armour under his dress; possibly conjecturing from his long delay, that he had suspected their purpose. At the same time, by their freedom and jocularity, they endeavoured to obviate any apprehensions which he might entertain from such a proceeding. The conspirators having taken their stations near their intended victims, waited with impatience for the appointed signal. The bell rang—the priest raised the consecrated wafer—the people bowed before it,—and, at the same instant, Bandini plunged a short dagger into the breast of Giuliano.—On receiving the wound, he took a few hasty steps and fell, when Francesco de' Pazzi rushed upon him with incredible fury, and stabbed him in different parts of his body, continuing to repeat his strokes even after he was apparently dead. Such was the violence of his rage, that he wounded himself deeply in the thigh. The priests who had undertaken the murder of Lorenzo were not equally successful. An ill-directed blow from Maffei, which was aimed at the throat, but took place behind the neck, rather roused him to his defence than disabled him. He immediately threw off his cloak, and holding it up as a shield in his left hand, with his right he drew his sword and repelled his assailants. Perceiving that their purpose was defeated, the two ecclesiastics, after having wounded one of Lorenzo's attendants, who had interposed to defend him, endeavoured to save themselves by flight. At the same moment Bandini, with his dagger streaming with the blood of Giuliano, rushed towards Lorenzo; but meeting in his way with Francesco Nori, a person in the service of the Medici, and in whom they placed great confidence, he stabbed him with a wound instantaneously mortal. At the approach of Bandini, the friends of Lorenzo encircled him and hurried him into the sacristy, where Politiano and others closed the doors, which were of brass. Apprehensions being entertained that the weapon which had wounded him was poisoned, a young man attached to Lorenzo sucked the wound. A general alarm and consternation took place in the church; and such was the tumult which ensued, that it was at first believed by the audience that the building was falling in; but no sooner was it understood that Lorenzo was in danger, than several of the youth of Florence formed themselves into a body, and receiving him into the midst of them, conducted him to his house, making a circuitous turn from the church, lest he should meet with the dead body of his brother.'
Through the subsequent scenes of this atrocious drama as our limits forbid to follow the author, and an abbreviated account would do little justice to his copiousness or pathos, let it suffice to say, that the immediate punishment inflicted on the conspirators, was such as might be expected from the revenge of an infuriate people. Even the Archbishop was hung from the windows of the palace, without being suffered to divest himself from his prelatical robes; nor ought it to be considered as a small aggravation of their punishment, to have after death been gibbeted for lasting infamy, by the pencil of such a villain as Andrea dal Castagno. Happy Julian! happier Lorenzo, whom the contemporary genius of Politiano has rescued from the equivocal memorial of Pollajuoli.
It is with regret, we must refer the reader to the work itself for the consequences that attended the defeat of this execrable attempt—the storm raised by the enraged Pontiff, who now launched excommunication on the quondam treasurer of the Holy See, as a son of iniquity and nursling of perdition;—the war which, at his instigation, the court of Naples commenced against the Republic, on their refusal to deliver up Lorenzo;—it's various success; with the result of that bold expedient by which Lorenzo at once put an end to the miseries of his country, and completely triumphed over all his enemies, we mean his visit to Ferdinand himself! At that moment his genius had attained the summit of his powers.
The fifth chapter treats of the studies of Lorenzo, and is executed with a degree of amore which developes to us the favourite studies of his historian, though from the penetration displayed in the management of all the other topics of his hero's character, it would be unjust to apply to him the motto of 'tractant fabrilia fabri,' or as Johnson has since expressed it, on talking of the political disputes of Milton with Salmasius and More, 'that let the subject of dispute be the rights of princes and of nations, it will, if treated by grammarians, end in grammatic squabbles.' The author is perfectly in place and time: if we be to consider Lorenzo as a poet, his right to that title was to be examined and established, and the chapter became, with great propriety, part of a treatise on poetry. After noticing the rise of Italian literature in the fourteenth century, it's subsequent degradation, it's revival in the fifteenth, and the rude attempts at restoring it, by Burchiello, Matteo Franco, and the three Pulci, that honour is conferred on Lorenzo: he is shown to have first, among his contemporaries, discriminated the true object, and expressed the real characteristics of poetry, in description, poetic comparison, and personification of material objects, of passions and affections; to have treated with success the prosopopœia. The sonnet, that favourite of Italy, is next discussed, and his claims to it's honours compared with those of Dante and Petrarca; his "Selve d'Amore," a poem in ottava rima; his new discovered poem of "Ambra;" of the Caccia col Falcone, his moral pieces, his sacred poems or orations, and Laude, or Lodi, are reviewed, and specimens admirably translated, or, to speak with more propriety, excelled, are annexed. We then proceed to his "Beoni," a piece of jocose satire in terza rima on drunkenness, of which the fragment produced and translated does at least as much honour to our author's vein of humour, as to his hero's; and after expatiating on the expedition with which he wrote, and many pertinent remarks on the "Improvisatori" of Italy, its drama, opera, and carnival songs, the chapter concludes with the opinion of the best contemporary critics, on the poetic powers of Lorenzo.
As the mutual limits of poetry and painting are so frequently confounded, it may not be improper to extract what our author says on the objects and characteristics of poetry. Vol. 1. p. 255.
'The great end and object of poetry, and consequently, the proper aim of the poet, is to communicate to us a clear and perfect idea of his proposed subject. What the painter exhibits by variety of colour, by light and shade, the poet expresses in appropriate language. The former seizes only the external form, and that only in a given attitude. The other surrounds his object, pierces it, and discloses its most hidden qualities. With the former, it is inert and motionless; with the latter, it lives and moves; it is expanded or compressed; it glares upon the imagination, or vanishes into air, and is as various as Nature herself.