Free Magnifico by Miles J. Unger

lines one can sense that Lucrezia softened Lorenzo’s harsh edges, soothing the feelings of those who had been brushed aside or ignored by her imperious son.

 

    Benozzo Gozzoli, Adoration of the Magi (detail of Lorenzo at center), Medici Palace, 1459 (Art Resource)

III. MASTER OF CEREMONY
    He for many reasons has great power
    Since his family can do much,
    Son of Piero and grandson of Cosimo.
    —ANONYMOUS ABOUT LORENZO, APRIL 1459
    HUNDREDS OF TORCHES BLAZED FROM SCONCES LINING the Via Larga, their flames shimmering on the fine white sand that had been layered over the paving stones, muffling the sharp clatter of hooves. As the sun sank behind the hills the benches along the palaces began to fill with people. Every window was crowded with men and women craning their necks to get a better view. Bright banners were draped over somber facades of rough stone: the red lily of the Florentine Republic, the gold crescents of the Piccolomini of Siena (now with the added keys and crown showing the elevation to the papal throne of one of their own, Aeneas Silvius, as Pius II), the greyhound stretched beneath a pine tree representing the Sforza of Milan, and, above all, the golden shield emblazoned with the red balls of the Medici.
    The torchlight cavalcade and ceremonial clash of arms was to be the crowning event of what had already been a memorable day. The city’s guest list on April 29, 1459, included not only Pope Pius II, surrounded by an entourage of scarlet-robed cardinals, but also the lords of Faenza, Forlì, and Rimini. Most important politically for Florence was the gracious attendance of the fifteen-year-old Galeazzo Maria Sforza, count of Pavia and eldest son of the duke of Milan. Hoping to project a mood of confidence and to astonish their visitors with an unparalleled display of wealth and refinement, the Signoria had arranged a variety of entertainments. The festivities had begun that morning with a joust at the Piazza Santa Croce, featuring the sons of Florence’s best families decked out in full ceremonial armor. This had been followed by a ball at the New Market with “[s]ixty young Florentine gentlemen, who were expert dancers, richly adorned with pearls and jewels, and many pretty maidens and girls.” For those who preferred stronger stuff, the priors had arranged what promised to be a gory spectacle in the Piazza della Signoria . Here a wooden stockade had been erected and filled with horses, cows, a wild boar, and two young buffalo. As the crowd roared, two lions—symbolizing the martial valor of the Florentine people—were set loose in what was supposed to be a sanguinary spectacle worthy of the Roman Colosseum. Disappointment soon followed as the lions, frightened by the shouting multitude, wandered about in a daze. “The preparations had been great, and the expenses large,” grumbled one eyewitness, “but the pleasure given was small.” Pope Pius, on whose behalf the show had been staged, was even less impressed. “They spent very little on entertaining the Pope,” he complained, “nor did they lay out much on lavish spectacles, though they brought lions into the piazza to fight with horses and other animals and arranged tournaments in which more wine was drunk than blood spilled.”
    For the Medici family it was important that the evening’s events compensate for the afternoon’s embarrassment. Not only was the setting, in the heart of the Golden Lion, meant to call attention to the family whose palace would form the backdrop to the nighttime parade, but the star of the whole affair was to be the ten-year-old Medici heir.
    It began with the steady rumble of drums and blare of flutes and trumpets from the Piazza San Marco. Thirty musicians soon wheeled into view. Close on their heels were the bannermen, who raised the personal standard of Lorenzo de’ Medici depicting a golden falcon caught in a net. Next, riding in formation, came an advance guard, richly dressed and mounted, consisting of