the critical moments of 1433, and had drawn upon himself the enmity of those in power. He had afterwards been an active and vigilant administrator of money matters for the Papal curia, and had rivalled his elder brother in collecting literary treasures. He was only forty-five years old when he died in the autumn of 1440, at his villa at Careggi, leaving a son, Piero Francesco, who at first had a share in the mercantile business of his uncle, then parted from him, and lived aloof from all political matters in his native city, superintending the management of his large property. This Lorenzo was the founder of two lines which both fell into enmity with the elder branch. One of them ended with the murder of the first duke, the last illegitimate descendant of Cosimo’s line, while the other gave to Tuscany one of her most valiant warriors and seven rulers. Cosimo had two sons by Contessina de’ Bardi, Piero and Giovanni. The former was born in 1416, and carefully educated. At first there was an intention of giving him the daughter of the Count of Poppi, Francesco de Guidi, in marriage. But his father seems to have been fearful of allying himself with this old noble family, which would have brought him into connection with the lords of Romagna and Umbria, as well as with the house of the Roman prefects; connections which might have injured his position in a democratical community, not to mention the alliance of the Count of Poppi with the Visconti and Albizzi, which led to his ruin in 1440.
Piero de’ Medici married Lucrezia, daughter of Francesco Tornabuoni, of a distinguished Florentine family, a woman of extraordinary endowments, who will be often mentioned in the course of this history. As Cosimo’s elder son, who was sickly from his earliest youth, seemed to be incapable of taking his eminent and arduous position in city and state, the father built all his hopes on the younger son. He lost him, however, at the age of twenty-two, in the beginning of November 1463, not a year after he had buried his little son Cosimo, whom Maria Ginevra degli Alessandri had borne to him, and the loss of whom is said to have broken his father’s heart. The old man wandered inconsolable through the rooms: ‘This is a large house,’ he lamented, ‘for so small a family.’ Among those who addressed expressions of sympathy to him was Pope Pius II. ‘Not the departed one is the loser,’ replied Cosimo; ‘for what we call life is death, and that beyond is the true life; but who needed him are the losers.’[96] Thus there only remained to him the family of Piero, who, besides his two sons, had two daughters, Bianca and Nannina, who, the eldest in her grandfather’s lifetime, married into two Florentine families, the Pazzi and Rucellai. Besides his legitimate children, Cosimo had a natural son, Carlo, probably by Maddalena, a Circassian whom Giovanni Portinari had bought at Venice in the summer of 1427.[97]
He maintained great reserve in his whole manner of life. For a quarter of a century he was the almost absolute director of the State, but he never assumed the show of his dignity. Many works of art and virtù were to be seen in his house; but in style of living, retinue and horses, he was modest. The ruler of the Florentine State remained citizen, agriculturist, and merchant. In his appearance and bearing there was nothing which distinguished him from others; he was simple, moderate, accessible, friendly and familiar with the common people. ‘He understood agriculture thoroughly,’ remarked Vespasiano da Bisticci, ‘and talked about it as if he had never occupied himself with other matters. He laid out the garden of the brethren of San Marco, which had been waste land, and created something really beautiful. Thus it was with his own possessions; he everywhere superintended the planting, grafted and pruned with his own hand. When residing at Careggi, on account of a pestilence, he dedicated the hours of the morning to two worthy employments. Hardly was he up than he went into the vineyard, where he worked for two hours, just as Pope Boniface IX. did in the Vigne at the palace of the Vatican. When he returned home he read the moral writings of Gregory the Great. In the midst of all his employments he remembered every single plantation on his estates, and when his peasants came to him he conversed with them about them.’
He was a grave man, temperate in all enjoyments. Players, rioters, and jugglers found as little favour with him as those who displayed a luxury unsuited to their position. This, however, did not prevent him from granting free course at the banquets of the learned men who were about him, members of the Platonic Academy and others, to the hilarity and wit which the Florentines of that period were apt to flavour with licence as well as with Attic salt.
Of games he indulged in chess only, and this rarely, and not till after dinner. In his latter years he was very silent, and remained several hours without speaking. When his wife asked him the reason one day, he replied,’When you remove to your villa, you consider for a fortnight what you have to see about. Do you think I have not much to think of when about to exchange this life for another?’ In his speech he was witty, but cautious, and it was said of him that he liked to give ambiguous answers. He shrank from boasting, and said that there was a weed called envy, which must not be watered, but left to wither. But when he chose he could give sharp answers. When Rinaldo degli Albizzi, at the time of Visconti’s warlike preparations, on which the exile fixed his hopes, said to him that the hen was brooding, he answered, ‘It is difficult to brood outside the nest.’ And on the warning of other exiles, that he ought to take care, for they were awake, he replied that he believed it, for he must have banished sleep from them. His remarks were always to the purpose. When Pius II. was arming for the crusade, he said the Pope was an old man, and was attempting a youthful feat. He reproved many without using a hard expression. His counsels in political and personal affairs were always moderate and prudent. When one of his partisans, a man of small capabilities, was going to a foreign town as Podestà, and asked him for advice, he only answered: ‘Dress according to your position, and speak little.’ In this way he maintained his position and that of the State for so many years in the midst of difficult circumstances. As has been already said, there was something cynical in him. Nothing characterises him so much as the words which he once addressed to an influential man, who, differing in opinion, quarrelled with him, and complained of Cosimo’s being in his way. ‘You,’ he said, ‘pursue the infinite; I the finite. You plant your ladder in the air; I on the ground, in order not to fall instead of flying. If I am anxious for the honour and advantage of my house, if I wish that it may retain pre-eminence over yours, there is nothing in that which is not honourable and just, and no one will blame me because I prefer my interests to yours. You and I are like two great dogs, who spring upon one another, but then pause and sniff. As they both have teeth, each goes his own way. I advise you to look after your business; I will attend to mine.’
He did not deceive himself as to the difficulties which surrounded him, or as to the still greater hindrances with which his descendants would have to contend. The example of the heads of parties who had preceded him was not lost upon him. He knew, says Vespasian, that he owed his recall from exile to powerful friends, who did not intend to give up their position, and that it was not easy to keep on good terms with them except by temporising and making them believe that they were as powerful as he. Here he proved his great art. In all that he wished to carry out he managed to make it appear that it proceeded from others, not from him. He said that the greatest fault which he had been guilty of was not having begun to expend money ten years earlier; for now that he knew the character of his fellow-citizens, he foresaw that nothing would remain of his family and his house after fifty years except, the little that he had built; for after his death his descendants would find themselves in the midst of greater troubles than any that he had seen. He never spoke ill of others, and was very impatient when any one did so in his presence. His promises could be relied on, for he did more than he promised. His immense wealth enabled him to oblige many. His position was such a one that it was a proverbial expression to boasters, ‘So you think you are Cosimo de’ Medici?’ From his father he had inherited a fine property, which he considerably increased by industry, acuteness, and good fortune. He ruled the money market, not only in Italy, but throughout Europe. He had banks in all the western countries, and his experience and the excellent memory which never failed him, with his strong love of order, enabled him to guide everything from Florence, which he never quitted after 1438 except to go to the country. While he watched over his own advancement, all who were in business connection with him and conducted his banks abroad, enriched themselves also. Thus it was with the Tornabuoni in Rome, with the Portinari in Bruges, with the Benci, Sassetti, Spini, &c. Besides this, numerous citizens had money from him in their possession, as was revealed after his death. How much he was capable of in financial affairs was seen when Venice and King Alfonso united against Florence. By withdrawing credit from them, he forced them