The position occupied by women in the eyes of the law is somewhat more difficult to determine, but it may be said with certainty that they took no part in the public duties of life and seem to have manifested no yearnings in that direction. They did not vote or hold public office, and would no doubt have looked inquiringly and without comprehension at anyone who proposed such possibilities. Women were evidently being shielded and protected as much as possible; property was rarely held by them in their own names, and the laws appear to have been made for the men almost exclusively. It will be remembered, perhaps, that when Dante was banished from Florence, his wife was allowed to continue her residence in that city without molestation, and was even able to save much of their property from confiscation and devote it to the education of their children. Later on, when Carlo Strozzi was sent away in exile, his family was not disturbed in the least, and it was during his absence from the city that his daughter Maddalena was married to Luchino Visconti in the midst of most brilliant ceremonies. Guests were invited from all the north of Italy, there were horseraces and tournaments, and the whole function was one of great pomp and brilliancy. The brothers and grown sons of exiled citizens were never accorded such consideration, and it is but fair to assume that the popular sentiment of the time demanded this exceptional treatment for the women. At one time it was even held to be against the Florentine statutes to banish a woman; in 1497, at the time of a conspiracy to restore the banished Piero de' Medici to power, his sister, though proved to have conspired in equal measure with the men, was not given an equal measure of punishment; she was merely kept in seclusion for a period at the palace of Guglielmo de' Pazzi, and was then set at liberty through the influence of Francesco Valori, to whom it seemed unworthy to lay hands upon a woman.
In the midst of this exciting and excited world, it may well be imagined that the passions were strong and that women of charm and beauty were able to exercise no little influence upon the men who came within their power. Never, perhaps, in the history of modern civilization has the æsthetic instinct of a people been so thoroughly aroused as it was in Italy at this time, and the almost pagan love of beauty which possessed them led to many extravagances in their sentimental conceptions. As Lorenzo de' Medici was the most powerful and distinguished Italian of his time, so may he be termed its representative lover, for his excursions into the land of sentiment may be considered as typical of his day and generation. The first passion of his heart was purely subjective and artificial, the result of a forcing process which had been induced by the power of brotherly love. It so happened that Lorenzo's brother Giuliano, who was assassinated later by the Pazzi, loved, very tenderly, a lady named Simonetta, reputed to be the most beautiful woman in all Florence; so great was her fame that she was quite generally spoken of as la bella Simonetta, and the artist Botticelli, who had an eye for a pretty woman, has left us a portrait which vouches for her charms in no uncertain way. She was but a fragile flower, however, and died in the bloom of youth, mourned by her lover with such genuine grief that, with one impulse, all sought to bring him consolation. Letters of condolence were written in prose and verse, sonnets were fairly showered upon him, and Greek and Latin were used as often as Italian in giving expression to the universal sorrow. But how all this affected Lorenzo, and what inspiration it gave to his muse, he had best relate in his own words, for the tale is not devoid of romance, and he alone can do it justice:
"A young lady of great personal charm happened to die at Florence; and as she had been very generally admired and beloved, so her death was as generally lamented. Nor was this to be marvelled at, for she possessed such beauty and such engaging manners that almost every person who had any acquaintance with her flattered himself that he had obtained the chief place in her affections. Her sad death excited the extreme regret of her admirers; and as she was carried to the place of burial, with her face uncovered, those who had known her in life pressed about her for a last look at the object of their adoration, and then accompanied her funeral with their tears. On this occasion, all the eloquence and all the wit of Florence were exerted in paying due honors to her memory, both in verse and prose. Among the rest, I, also, composed a few sonnets, and, in order to give them greater effect, I tried to convince myself that I too had been deprived of the object of my love, and to excite in my own mind all those passions which might enable me to move the affections of others."
In this attempt to put himself in the place of another, Lorenzo de' Medici began to wonder how it would seem to have such grief to bear on his own account; and then his thoughts went still further afield, and he found himself speculating as to whether or not another lady could be found of the same merit and beauty as the lamented Simonetta. In the midst of the great number of those who were writing eulogistic poetry in this lady's honor, Lorenzo began to feel that the situation lacked distinction, and he was not slow to realize what great reputation might be acquired by the lucky mortal who could unearth another divinity of equal charm. For some time he tried in vain, and then suddenly success crowned his efforts, and he has told us in what manner. "A public festival was held in Florence, to which all that was noble and beautiful in the city resorted. To this I was brought by some of my companions (I suppose as my destiny led) against my will, for I had for some time past avoided such exhibitions; or if at times I had attended them, it proceeded rather from a compliance with custom than from any pleasure I experienced in them. Among the ladies there assembled, I saw one of such sweet and charming manners that I could not help saying, as I looked at her, 'If this person were possessed of the delicacy, the understanding, and the accomplishments of her who is lately dead, most certainly she excels her in the charm of her person.' Resigning myself to my passion, I endeavored to discover, if possible, how far her manners and conversation agreed with her appearance; and here I found such an assemblage of extraordinary endowments that it is difficult to say whether she excelled more in person or in mind. Her beauty was, as I have said before, astonishing. She was of a just and proper height. Her complexion was extremely fair, but not pale, blooming, but not ruddy. Her countenance was serious without being severe, mild and pleasant without levity or vulgarity. Her eyes were sparkling, but without indication of pride or conceit. Her whole figure was so finely proportioned that amongst other women she appeared with superior dignity, yet free from the least degree of formality or affectation. In walking or in dancing, or in other exercises which display the person, every motion was elegant and appropriate. Her sentiments were always just and striking and have furnished me material for some of my sonnets; she always spoke at the proper time, and always to the purpose, so that nothing could be added, nothing taken away.... To recount all her excellencies would far exceed my present limits, and I shall therefore conclude with affirming that there was nothing which could be desired in a beautiful and accomplished woman which was not in her most abundantly found. By these qualities, I was so captivated that not a power or faculty of my body or mind remained any longer at liberty, and I could not help considering the lady who had died as the star of Venus, which at the approach of the sun is totally overpowered and extinguished."
The name of this wondrous lady is carefully kept in the background by Lorenzo, but from other sources she is known to have been Lucrezia Donati, a lady of noble birth, celebrated for her goodness and beauty, and a member of that same Donati family to which Dante's wife belonged. At the time of this love affair, Lorenzo was about twenty, and the lady was somewhat older, but that made no difference to the young poet, who immediately began to exhibit all those symptoms which have become traditional in such maladies of the heart. He lost his appetite, grew pale, shunned the society of even his dearest friends, took long, solitary walks, and wrote many an ode and sonnet in honor of the fair Donati. But she was indeed a divinity rather than a friend, and his oft-expressed delight in her many charms was rather intellectual than emotional and passionate. She becomes for him, in truth, a very sun of blazing beauty, which he looks upon to admire, but the fire of the lover is entirely wanting. While it was no such mystic attachment as that professed by Dante for Beatrice, it no doubt resembles it from certain points of view, as, in each case, the lover has little actual acquaintance with the object of his affections. But there this comparison must end, for it has been explained how Dante derived a certain moral and spiritual benefit from his early brooding love, and in the more modern instance nothing of the kind is apparent. On the contrary, everything seems to show that Lorenzo was at an age when his "fancy lightly turned to thoughts of love," and, being of a poetic temperament, he amused himself by writing amorous poetry which came from the head and not the heart. The characteristic traits of this poetry, then, are grace and elegance, sonority and rhythm; it lacks sincerity and that impetuous flow of sentiment which is generally indicative of intense feeling. It cannot be denied, however, that he often reached a high plane; perhaps the following lines show him at his best:
"Quale sopra i nevosi ed alti monti
Apollo spande il suo bel lume adorno,
Tal' i crin suoi sopra la bianca gonna!
Il tempo e'l luogo non ch'io conti,
Che dov'è si bel sole è sempre giorno;