With his death, in 1492, as Benedetto Dei said, “The Splendour, not of Tuscany only, but of all Italy, disappeared.”

With the beginning of the sixteenth century dawned a new era.  Preliminary signs had appeared in the growth of wealth, in enfranchisement from primitive methods, and in the evolution of individualism.  Love of country and the ties of family life were loosened by the universal craving for self-indulgence and personal distinction.  Idleness, sensuality, and scepticism—­three baneful sisters—­gained the mastery, weakening the fabric of society, and leading on to the evil courses of tyrannicide.

“The gradual extinction of public spirit; the general deterioration of private character, and the exercise of unbridled lust and passion, are the livid hues which tinge with the purple of melancholy and the scarlet of tragedy the later pages of Florentine story.”

* * * * *

The direct line of Cosimo, “Il Padre della Patria,” the elder surviving son of Messer Giovanni di Averardo “Bicci” de’ Medici, ended with Caterina, Queen of France, the only legitimate child of Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, and last Capo della Repubblica of Florence; and Alessandro the Bastard, first Duke of Florence, the illegitimate son of Pope Clement VII.

The sovereignty of the Medici was maintained in the person of Cosimo, the only son of Condottiere Giovanni, “delle Bande Nere,” the great-grandson of Lorenzo, the younger of the two surviving sons of Messer Giovanni di Averardo “Bicci” de’ Medici.  The rule of the Medici Grand Dukes of Tuscany was carried on from Cosimo I. to Gian Gastone, seventh Grand Duke and last of his line, who died in 1737.

The Grand Duchy then passed to the house of Lorraine, and with a Napoleonic usurpation of eighteen years (1796-1814), it continued in the Lorraine family, as represented by the collateral Hapsburgs, till the year 1859.  In that year, King Vittorio Emmanuele of Piedmont and Sardinia, entered Florence, which, with all Italy, was united under the Royal Crown of the House of Savoy.

THE TRAGEDIES OF THE MEDICI

CHAPTER I

LORENZO—­“Il Magnifico.”

GIULIANO—­“Il Pensieroso.”

“Signori!” “Signori!”

Such was the stirring cry which resounded through the lofty Council Chamber of the famous Palazzo Vecchio that dull December day in the year 1469.

Never had such a title been accorded to any one in Florence, where every man was as good as, if not better than, his neighbour.  Foreign sovereigns, and their lieutenants, who, from time to time, visited the city and claimed toll and fealty from the citizens, had never been addressed as “Signori”—­“Lords and Masters.”  The “Spirito del Campanile” as it was called, was nowhere more rampant than in the “City of the Lion and Lily,” where everybody at all times seemed only too ready to disparage his fellow.