LORENZO DI PIERO DE’ MEDICI (continued 5)

Jo. Filius.[402]

In a letter to Jacopo Antiquario, Poliziano describes the malady from which Lorenzo had been suffering and then continues:

... The day before his death, being at his villa of Careggi, he grew so weak that all hope of his recovery vanished. Perceiving this, like a wise man he called for the confessor to purge himself of past sins. This same confessor told me afterwards that he marvelled to see with what courage and constancy Lorenzo prepared himself for death; how well he ordered all things pertaining thereunto, and with what faith and religious feeling he reflected on the world to come. Towards midnight while he was quietly meditating he was informed that the priest bearing the Holy Sacrament had arrived. Rousing himself he exclaimed, “It shall never be said that my Lord who created and saved me shall come to me—in my room—raise me, I beg of you, raise me quickly so that I may go and meet Him.” Saying this he raised himself as well as he could and, supported by his servants, advanced to meet the priest in the outer room. There crying he knelt down.

Poliziano gives a long prayer recited by Lorenzo and then continues:

These and other things he said sobbing, while all around cried bitterly. At length the priest ordered that he should be raised from the ground and carried to his bed, in order to receive the Viaticum in more comfort. For some time he resisted, but at last out of respect for the priest he consented. In bed repeating almost the same prayer, with much gravity and devotion he received the body and blood of Christ. Then he devoted himself to consoling his son Piero, for the others were not there, and exhorted him to bear this law of necessity with courage, feeling sure that the aid of Heaven would be vouchsafed to him, as it had been to himself in many and divers occasions, if he only acted wisely. Meanwhile your Lazarus, the doctor from Pavia, arrived, most learned as it seemed to me, but summoned too late to be of any use. Yet to do something he ordered various precious stones to be pounded together in a mortar for I know not what kind of medicine. Lorenzo thereupon asked the servants what the doctor was doing in his room and what he was preparing, and when I answered that he was composing a remedy to comfort his intestines he recognised my voice, and looking kindly as is his wont: “Oh Angiolo,” he said, “art thou here?” and raising his languid arms took both my hands and pressed them tightly. I could not stifle my sobs or stay my tears though I tried to hide them by turning my face away. But he showed no emotion and continued to press my hands between his. When he saw that I could not speak for crying, quite naturally he loosened my hands, and I ran into the adjoining room where I could give free vent to my grief and to my tears. Then drying my eyes I returned, and as soon as he saw me he called me to him and asked what Pico della Mirandola was doing. I replied that Pico had remained in town fearing to molest him with his presence. “And I,” said Lorenzo, “but for the fear that the journey here might be irksome to him would be most glad to see him and speak to him for the last time before I leave you all.” I asked if I should send for him. “Certainly, and with all speed,” answered he. This I did, and Pico came and sat by the bed, whilst I leaned against his knees in order to hear the languid voice of my lord for the last time. With what goodness, with what courtesy, I may say with what caresses, Lorenzo received him. First he asked his pardon for thus disturbing him, begging him to regard it as a sign of the friendship—the love—he bore him, assuring him that he died more willingly after seeing so dear a friend. Then introducing, as was his wont, pleasant and familiar sayings, he joked also with us. “I wish,” he said to Pico, “that death had spared me until your library had been complete.” Pico had hardly left the room when Fra Girolamo [Savonarola] of Ferrara, a man celebrated for his doctrine and his sanctity and an excellent preacher, came in. To his exhortations to remain firm in his faith and to live in future, if God granted him life, free from crime, or if God so willed it to receive death willingly, Lorenzo answered that he was firm in his religion, that his life would always be guided by it, and that nothing could be sweeter to him than death, if such was the divine will. Fra Girolamo then turned to go when Lorenzo said: “Oh Father, before going deign to give me thy benediction.” Bowing his head, immersed in piety and religion he repeated the words and the prayers of the friar, without paying any attention to the grief now openly shown of his attendants. It seemed that all, save Lorenzo, were going to die, so calm was he. He gave no signs of anxiety or of sorrow; even in that supreme moment he showed his usual strength of mind and his fortitude. The doctors who stood round, not to seem idle, worried him with their remedies and assistance. He submitted to everything they suggested, not because he thought it would save him, but in order not to offend any one, even in death. To the last he had such mastery over himself that he joked about his own death. Thus when given something to eat and asked how he liked it he replied: “As well as a dying man can like anything.” He embraced us all tenderly and humbly asked pardon if during his illness he had caused annoyance to any one. Then disposing himself to receive extreme unction he commended his soul to God. The Gospel containing the Passion of Christ was then read and he showed that he understood by moving his lips, or raising his languid eyes, or sometimes moving his fingers. Gazing upon a silver crucifix inlaid with precious stones and kissing it from time to time, he expired....—Fiesole, May 18, 1492.[403]

This is Poliziano’s account of the last hours of Lorenzo. The authority for the following by Fra Pacifico Cinozzi, is Fra Silvestro, the adherent of Savonarola who went to the stake with him, and who professed to have heard it from the lips of his master. To say the least it would be unusual for a dying man who had already confessed and received the Viaticum to wish to make a second confession, and to receive absolution from another priest. Again, had Savonarola left Careggi as described by Fra Pacifico, Lorenzo’s body would hardly have been carried to S. Marco before the funeral and the burial in S. Lorenzo.

“Now it pleased God that Lorenzo fell ill, and becoming worse and nigh unto death he sent for the said Father Fra Ieronimo, using these very words: ‘Go for the Father Fra Ieronimo, for I have never found one save him who was an honest friar.’ Thus going to Careggi, where Lorenzo was, he entered and after a few words Lorenzo said he desired to make his confession. Fra Ieronimo answered he was willing, but before hearing the confession he wished to mention three things, if these were acceded to no doubt whatever his salvation was assured. Lorenzo replied he was willing and would do what was asked. The Father said: ‘Lorenzo, it is needful for you to have great faith,’ and he answered: ‘Father, that I have.’ Fra Ieronimo then added the second: ‘Also it is needful that you restore what has been wrongfully taken.’ After reflecting for a while he answered: ‘Father, I will do so, or I will cause my heirs to do it if I cannot.’ The Father then said: ‘It is needful for you to give back to the Republic the liberty of the city, and to see that she returns to her ancient state.’ To these words he gave no reply. Thus the said Father departed without further confession, and not long after Lorenzo died. These words I heard from Fra Silvestro who died together with Fra Ieronimo; and I believe he knew and heard them from Father Fra Ieronimo.”[404]

Popular opinion in Florence at the time certainly seems to favour Poliziano’s account. Bartolommeo Cerretani, who noted events carefully in his chronicle, wrote on April 7, 1492: “About the fifth hour Lorenzo received the Sacraments.” A few days later Benedetto Dei wrote the following letter to his uncle, who was an adherent of the Medici and often went to foreign lands on their commercial business. Curious readers will find the discrepancies between the two narratives discussed in Creighton’s History of the Papacy, Villari’s Life and Times of Savonarola, and Horsburgh’s Lorenzo the Magnificent.

Bartolommeo Dei to his uncle Benedetto Dei, with Machiavelli in Ferrara

Dearest Uncle,—On Saturday last the 7th I wrote in answer to your letter giving you full accounts of our private affairs, of the house, and of everything, which I conclude you received. Giannotto was too busy to write, and probably will not even have time to-day, being so occupied with that business you know of; it is in danger in consequence of the sad event of which you have heard. I did not write to you before on account of the universal grief and tribulation, so that not only writing but even thinking about it was difficult. It is true that on Saturday I wrote you word that the Magnificent Lorenzo was at Careggi for change of air, not well, and in pain it was said. In the evening after my letter had gone it was reported that he had a slight fainting fit, but no one was alarmed, chiefly because of that accursed Maestro Piero Leoni of Spoleto, who to the very last insisted that he could not die of that malady. On Saturday arrived the doctor from Milan, who at once saw that he had been wrongly treated, and prepared many remedies, but it was too late. He ought to have had cold things and he was given hot. Finally on Sunday, after the fourth hour of night, according to the will of Him who rules the world, he quitted this life in the flower of his age, and most assuredly far too soon, to the great and bitter sorrow of the whole city; and with every reason, for no doubt we have lost the splendour not only of Tuscany but of all Italy. Every day we shall learn more what we have lost. As yet it cannot be calculated, but time will show.

The other terrible event is the insane death of Maestro Piero Leoni, who when he saw his lying science had deceived him, which some say was allied to necromancy, went out of his mind, and was taken to the house of the Martelli near by, that is to say at S. Gervasio, where he was well treated, and passed the night full of melancholy and without speaking or answering any one. In the early morning he called for a towel and washed his face at a well, and asked a peasant how deep the water was. He was left leaning against the edge, and a short time afterwards a woman went to draw water, and found him head downwards in the well; half of his body was above water. She gave the alarm, and then was seen the miserable end of a man of such erudition who had used his science ill.

This created a great stir among the people who were already much troubled by what had happened. But when it was proved that madness alone had impelled the deed accusations made by idle tongues ceased, and people said it served him right that he should have taken his own life. There was no bruise or hurt on the handsome body, and to those who saw, it was a sad spectacle. For a day it lay there by the well, and was then buried in a field like those who elect to die thus.

On Monday evening at one of the clock [an hour after sundown] the body of Lorenzo was borne by the Company of the Magi into the sacristy of S. Lorenzo in the coffin wherein it had been brought from Careggi the night before, with many torches and tapers. The next day, that is Tuesday, the 10th, the funeral took place without much pomp, as had always been the custom of their ancestors, without banners. There were but three Orders of friars and one of priests; in truth, great pomp could not be shown, for the greatest splendour would have been small for such a man. But wonderful was the number of citizens and nobles, in long black robes touching the ground, who came to do him honour; it was a fine spectacle, and touching to see such manifest signs of sadness and of sorrow.

The visits to Piero have been many of the whole city, and by common accord all agree in maintaining him in the position of his father. As a commencement a motion was carried by acclamation in the Council which is to be published on Monday, declaring that Piero is to be one of the Seventy in his father’s place, and is eligible for all offices, the Council of Eight, the Twelve procurators, the Accopiatori, the Operai of the Palace, and so on, which the Magnificent Lorenzo filled or might have filled, and this notwithstanding his being under age. It was a great thing and carried unanimously, and all united together to do him honour with the hope that he will be a worthy heir of all his father’s virtues.

Lorenzo lived forty-three years three months and six days, having been born on January 2, 1448.[405] He died so nobly and with such patience, understanding, and reverence towards God, as the most religious man and divine soul could show; with such holy words on his lips that he seemed another S. Jerome. God be merciful to him.—Florence, April 14, 1492. Your servant,

Bartolommeo Dei.[406]

Lorenzo was buried by the side of his brother Giuliano under the sarcophagus fashioned by Verrocchio for Cosimo and Piero in the Old Sacristy of S. Lorenzo, but in 1559 the coffins were removed and placed in a vault under the statue of the Madonna by Michelangelo in the New Sacristy. No epitaph, not even his name, marks the spot where the Magnificent Lorenzo lies. King Ferrante’s words when he heard of his death were prophetic: “This man has lived long enough for his own immortal fame, but not for Italy. God grant that now he is dead men may not attempt that which they dared not do while he was alive.”

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