citinotes
The banker and the soldier

A Tale of two Enemies: The Guelfs and the Ghibellines
Florence’s rise to power was a relentless oscillation between war and peace, faith and betrayal, the lure of wealth and the edge of the sword. Unlike Venice, the “Most Serene Republic,” where a labyrinthine system of public surveillance quietly stifled any challenge to the ruling nobility, Florence offered no such stability. In this volatile city, no powerful man could feel truly secure. Threatened constantly by the specter of assassination or exile, even the richest citizens slept with a pouch of golden florins under one pillow and a dagger under the other.
As the Middle Ages waned, the city of Florence emerged from the ashes of a seemingly endless conflict between two rival factions: the Ghibellines and the Guelfs. The Ghibellines, backed by the Holy Roman Emperor, represented the old wealth of feudal lords, while the Guelfs, aligned with the Pope, championed the burgeoning class of bankers and traders—a dangerously rising power. Each time one faction gained the upper hand, they expelled their rivals from the city, burned their homes, and constructed new ones atop the ruins. This urban warfare left a lasting imprint on Florence’s skyline, defined by thin, towering stone structures of austere design, punctuated by small, narrow windows.
The Most Republican of Monarchies
In the late 13th century, the victorious Guelph faction sought to end the bloodshed and lay the foundations for a Republican State. Yet, the collective memory of the prolonged battles had sown a deep-seated mistrust within Florentine culture. To ensure stability, they crafted a political system designed to prevent any single individual or family from dominating the government. Rejecting monarchy, they established the Signoria, an executive council of nine members drawn from local guilds. To avoid the concentration of power, these officials served short terms of just two months, promoting a rotating system of governance.
Despite these safeguards, powerful families like the Medici often found ways to influence or control the government indirectly. Their rise to prominence stemmed from the brilliant business minds of their founding figures, particularly Giovanni di Bicci (1360–1429) and his son, Cosimo il Vecchio (1434–1464). Under Giovanni’s leadership, the Medici Bank expanded into key trade hubs such as Rome, Geneva, and Venice. His financial innovations, including the adoption of double-entry bookkeeping, provided superior financial control and transparency. Additionally, his strategy of offering a discretionary 8–12% bonus on deposit accounts to the pope and bishops not only attracted them as key clients, but also softened the stance of the Church on usury, securing both its patronage and political support.
Giovanni di Bicci wisely avoided politics, a stark contrast to his more ambitious son, Cosimo il Vecchio. Cosimo expanded the Medici Bank far beyond Italy, establishing branches in Bruges, Avignon, and London. He devoted a significant portion of his immense fortune—estimated at over $500 million in today’s terms—to financing religious art, seeking the Church’s forgiveness for his perceived sins. Through his patronage, Cosimo transformed Florence into the greatest cultural hub of its era, securing both his legacy and the repeated renewal of his seat in the Signoria.
Too Powerful to Be Secure: The Medici Paradox
Though careful to maintain a low profile, Cosimo’s pervasive influence over state affairs and public decisions unsettled the delicate balance of power among Florence’s oligarchs, earning him powerful enemies. In 1433, the rival Albizzi family, seeking to curb Medici dominance, accused Cosimo of conspiring against the Republic, resulting in his imprisonment in Palazzo Vecchio. However, Cosimo’s strong network of allies secured his release, led to the Albizzi family’s fall from power, and facilitated his triumphant return to Florence a year later.
The Medici reached the height of their power under Lorenzo the Magnificent (1449–1492), the grandson of Cosimo. His greatest rivals, the Pazzi family, decided that exile was no longer enough—Lorenzo and the Medici legacy had to be eradicated entirely. The stakes were so high that even Pope Sixtus IV joined the conspiracy. On April 26, 1478, during Easter Sunday Mass at the Florence Cathedral, the Pazzi conspirators launched their attack, aiming to kill both Lorenzo and his brother Giuliano. Lorenzo narrowly escaped, but Giuliano was fatally stabbed. While Lorenzo fled to safety, the conspirators were swiftly captured and executed, including several members of the Pazzi family. The failed assassination solidified Lorenzo’s control over Florence, allowing the Medici to strengthen their position, punish their enemies, and secure loyalty from allies—including the Pope, who ultimately reconciled with Lorenzo.
In 1494, just two years after Lorenzo’s death, his eldest son, Piero de’ Medici (1472-1503), was forced to flee Florence with his wife and children, fearing for their lives. The family’s possessions were looted, and many of their treasured works of art were seized or destroyed. The Medici remained in exile for nearly two decades before eventually returning to Florence and redirecting their efforts to reclaim their influence and power.
A Self-Destructive Blow to the Republic
The years of exile gave rise to a new, more ruthless generation of Medici, determined to maintain power not through economic diplomacy, but through overt political symbols that undermined the fragile Republic. Alessandro de’ Medici (1510–1537), scarcely a patron of the arts, commissioned one of the greatest Renaissance artists, Benvenuto Cellini, to create a coin bearing his imperial image. This act sparked outrage, as it broke with a centuries-old tradition in Florence that prohibited the portrait of any individual on its coinage. Later, Cosimo I de’ Medici (1519–1594) took the bold step of converting the city’s Palazzo della Signoria into a Ducal residence, adorning its walls with celebratory depictions of the Medici dynasty. Though he soon moved to the Palazzo Pitti, Cosimo kept the Palazzo Vecchio as a symbol of Medici power and the seat of government. Ironically, by aiding the Republic’s fall, the Medici unwittingly set the stage for their own decline. Their story has captivated numerous writers who visited Florence, fascinated by the rise and eventual fall of this powerful family.
The Rise and Fall of a Dynasty through the Lens of Iconic Authors
Alexandre Dumas (1802–1870), the renowned French author, embarked on an adventurous journey through Italy in the early 1840s as part of his broader European tour. His travels were driven by a profound fascination with Italian history, art, and culture, as well as a desire to draw inspiration for his literary works. Among the cities he visited, Florence held a particular allure for Dumas, celebrated as a cradle of Renaissance art and literature. He often described Florence as a city where the past came alive, vividly connecting him to the splendors of the Italian Renaissance.
In the first selected passage, Dumas reflects on the transformative era when Cosimo de’ Medici, a founding figure of the Medici dynasty, rose to power. It was a time of unparalleled artistic innovation, with visionaries such as Brunelleschi, Donatello, and Masaccio poised to redefine the boundaries of painting, sculpture, and architecture. In the second except, Dumas vividly recounts Cosimo’s imprisonment in the Palazzo Vecchio in 1433, during a period of intense political strife in Florence. Dumas emphasizes the dramatic tension of this moment, portraying Cosimo as a shrewd and resilient figure whose eventual exile marked the beginning of his triumphant return to power.
Aby Moritz Warburg (1866–1929) was a German art historian and cultural theorist, celebrated for founding the Warburg Institute. Born into a wealthy banking family in Hamburg, Warburg chose to forgo the family business, dedicating his life to the exploration of art, history, and the cultural symbolism embedded in images. Florence held a special significance for Warburg, serving as a pivotal focus of his research due to its role in the Italian Renaissance—a period he considered crucial for understanding the revival of classical antiquity in Western culture. Essais Florentins (Florentine Essays) collects Warburg’s studies and observations during his travels in Florence at the turn of the 20th century.
In the selected notes, Warburg examines the defining traits of a new kind of political leader emerging in Florence and other Republican cities in the early 16th century. He offers a nuanced portrait of Lorenzo the Magnificent, whom he regards as the quintessential example of this figure: a sophisticated blend of ambitious merchant, shrewd diplomat, and generous patron of the arts. Above all, Lorenzo epitomized the bon vivant, a man who embraced life with passion and vitality, embodying the spirit of his age.
Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527) was a Florentine diplomat, philosopher, historian, and writer, widely regarded as one of the most influential figures in Western political thought. Born in Florence during the Italian Renaissance, Machiavelli served as a senior official of the Florentine Republic, undertaking roles in diplomacy and military affairs. However, his political career abruptly ended in 1512 when the Medici family regained power, leading to his imprisonment and subsequent exile. These experiences, set against Florence’s turbulent political landscape, provided him with firsthand insights into the dynamics of power, shaping much of his later writing. Commissioned by Pope Clement VII (a Medici), History of Florence and of the Affairs of Italy (Istorie Fiorentine), written between 1520 and 1525, is an eight-book narrative chronicling Florence’s evolution from its earliest beginnings to its height under Lorenzo de’ Medici, “Lorenzo the Magnificent,” and ending with Lorenzo’s death in 1492.
In the selected passage, Machiavelli vividly recounts the dramatic assassination attempt on Lorenzo and his brother Giuliano during a packed Cathedral service. His depiction brims with intrigue and suspense, showcasing his gift for capturing the tension and complexity of political machinations.

The Salone dei Cinquecento is a grand hall in Florence’s Palazzo Vecchio, originally built in 1494 as a council chamber for 500 members of the Florentine Republic. Renowned for its monumental size and elaborate frescoes by Vasari, it serves as a stunning showcase of Renaissance art and Medici power.
Citinotes
chapter 1
Lorenzo the Magnificent
Under Lorenzo the Magnificent, a new type of political leader emerged, one equal to feudal and royal lords, but rooted in the urban merchant class. Even though Condottieri might have brandished their swords with ancient flair to tip the balance of power, it was still the keen merchant who held that balance steady: “e pari la bilancia ben tenere” (“and held the balance well”). Thanks to his merchant-driven policies, which he pursued on a grand scale, Lorenzo found little time for anything beyond maintaining peace in Italy and shielding the country from the invasions of war-prone, envious neighbors. […]
Lorenzo the Magnificent’s remarkable superiority lies in his exceptional intellectual prowess, characterized by its breadth and radiant intensity. He has the unique ability to honor the past with reverence, savor the present, and contemplate the future—all with the same vibrant energy. Through his education, he is a scholar reviving ancient knowledge; by temperament, a lively and popular poet; and by will and necessity, a wise, farsighted statesman.
Lorenzo’s ability to channel this continuous flow of intense and ever-renewed energy into a truly superior intellectual humanism owes much—indeed, not in small part—to the cultivation of his artistic temperament. His joyful and carefree participation in the festivals that enliven his era, whether as author, performer, or spectator, provides him with immediate physical relaxation. At the same time, his poetic works, particularly his popular songs that elevated the Italian language to a dignity equal to that of Latin, allow him to reach a higher level of pure spiritual freedom.
If Lorenzo was unable to lead an offensive, conquest-driven policy in the traditional sense, it was not solely due to any lack of skill. Rather, it was also the evolving nature of the State, which prevented conquest and instead required him to prudently manage the rich legacy of the past.
The age of Lorenzo lacked the solemn grandeur and monumental force of Dante’s era; however, in the Florence of the Magnificent, the significance of the arts was far greater than merely a final flourish from a circle of refined, world-weary men browsing an art sale, where abundance aims to stimulate passive attention, evoke desire, or encourage purchase. Instead, artistic creation and appreciation were integral phases of a single, organic cycle. This cycle’s ongoing intensity inspired the Florentines of the early Renaissance to view all human qualities as tools for the art of living, a joyous expansion of life, and to employ these qualities with purpose and intention.
Aby Warburg,
Essais Florentins, translated from German by Sybille Muller, Klincksieck, 1990

Detail of a fresco by Vasari depicting Lorenzo de’ Medici going to Naples to see King Ferdinand of Aragon. Lorenzo had dared to throw himself into the mouth of the wolf to try to reason Ferdinand of Aragon and try to end the war between Naples and the Florentines. Palazzo Vecchio features a long series of fabulous frescoes dedicated to the great Florentine ruler.

Lorenzo de’ Medici, known as “Lorenzo the Magnificent,” was a statesman and de facto ruler of Florence during the Italian Renaissance, celebrated for his political acumen and cultural patronage. He supported artists like Botticelli, Michelangelo, and Leonardo da Vinci, turning Florence into a thriving center of art and humanism.

Michelangelo’s Day and Night is one of four allegorical sculptures adorning the tomb of Giuliano de’ Medici in the Medici Chapels, symbolizing the passage of time and the cycle of life. Renowned for its dramatic realism and unfinished elements, it exemplifies Michelangelo’s mastery of conveying human emotion and movement, blending idealized beauty with raw, powerful expression.

The Studiolo in Palazzo Vecchio is a small, private study designed for Francesco I de’ Medici in the 16th century, showcasing his interests in art, science, and alchemy. Its walls are adorned with intricate paintings and gilded panels that conceal secret cabinets used to store rare objects, natural specimens, and treasures reflecting Francesco’s intellectual pursuits.
chapter 2
A banker with the heart of a soldier
The Riccardi Palace was built by Cosimo the Elder, the very one whom the homeland tried to banish twice, only to finally call him its “father”.
Cosimo arrived at one of those fortunate eras when everything within a nation blossoms simultaneously, when a man of genius finds every opportunity to rise to greatness. Indeed, the brilliant age of the Republic dawned with him; the arts flourished on all sides. Brunelleschi was raising his churches, Donatello carving his statues, Orcagna sculpting his porticoes, Masaccio adorning walls with his frescoes. In short, public prosperity, keeping pace with the progress of the arts, made Tuscany—situated between Lombardy, the Papal States, and the Venetian Republic—not only the most powerful but also the happiest land in Italy.
From then on, Cosimo adopted the same policy that we would later see his grandson, Lorenzo, follow: he returned to his trade, to his financial dealings, and to his monuments, leaving the task of vengeance to his supporters who now held power. The proscriptions dragged on so long, and the executions were so numerous, that one of his closest and most loyal confidants felt compelled to visit him and say that he was depopulating the city. Cosimo looked up from the exchange calculations he was working on, placed a hand on the shoulder of this messenger of clemency, gazed at him steadily, and with a faint, almost imperceptible smile, said: “I would rather depopulate it than lose it.” And the unyielding arithmetician returned to his figures.
And so he grew old—rich, powerful, honored—but struck within his own family by the hand of God. He had fathered several children with his wife, yet only one survived him. Thus, broken and infirm, he would be carried through the vast halls of his immense palace to inspect the sculptures, the gildings, and the frescoes. He would shake his head sadly and say, “Alas, alas! What a grand house for such a small family!”
A refuge for Greek scholars fleeing Constantinople, cradle of the Renaissance of arts in the 14th and 15th centuries, and now home to the sessions of the Accademia della Crusca, the Riccardi Palace was successively inhabited by Piero the Gouty and by Lorenzo the Magnificent, who retreated there after the Pazzi conspiracy, just as his grandfather had done after his own exile. Lorenzo bequeathed the palace, along with its immense collection of precious stones, antique cameos, splendid arms, and original manuscripts, to his son Piero, who did not earn the title of Piero the Gouty but instead the name Piero the Unfortunate.
Alexandre Dumas,
Une année à Florence, Dumont, 1841




The Medici Chapel frescoes, particularly the Procession of the Magi (1459) by Benozzo Gozzoli, depict a lavishly detailed procession winding through idyllic landscapes, celebrating the Medici’s wealth and influence. The fresco famously includes portraits of prominent figures like Cosimo de’ Medici, Piero the Gouty, and Lorenzo the Magnificent, subtly portraying them as part of the biblical narrative.
chapter 3
Murder in the church
The conspirators proceeded to Santa Reparata, where the cardinal and Lorenzo de’ Medici had already arrived. The church was crowded, and divine service commenced before Giuliano’s arrival. Francesco de’ Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, who were appointed to be his murderers, went to his house to search for him, and by earnest entreaties, prevailed upon him to accompany them.
It is surprising that such intense hatred and designs so full of horror as those of Francesco and Bernardo, could be so perfectly concealed; for while conducting him to the church, and after they had reached it, they amused him with jests and playful discourse.
Nor did Francesco forget, under pretense of endearment, to press him in his arms, so as to ascertain whether under his apparel he wore a cuirass or other means of defense. Giuliano and Lorenzo were both aware of the animosity of the Pazzi, and their desire to deprive them of the government; but they felt assured that any design would be attempted openly, and in conjunction with the civil authority. Thus being free from apprehension for their personal safety both affected to be on friendly terms with them.
The murderers being ready, each in his appointed station, which they could retain without suspicion, on account of the vast numbers assembled in the church, the preconcerted moment arrived, and Bernardo Bandini, with a short dagger provided for the purpose, struck Giuliano in the breast, who, after a few steps, fell to the earth. Francesco de’ Pazzi threw himself upon the body and covered him with wounds; while, as if blinded by rage, he inflicted a deep incision upon his own leg. Antonio and Stefano, the priest, attacked Lorenzo, and after dealing many blows, effected only a slight incision in the throat; for either their want of resolution, the activity of Lorenzo, who, finding himself attacked, used his arms in his own defense, or the assistance of those by whom he was surrounded, rendered all attempts futile.
They fled and concealed themselves, but being subsequently discovered, were put to death in the most ignominious manner, and their bodies dragged about the city. Lorenzo, with the friends he had about him, took refuge in the sacristy of the church.
Niccolo Machiavelli,
History Of Florence And Of The Affairs Of Italy: From The Earliest Times To The Death Of Lorenzo The Magnificent, W. Walter Dunne, 1901




The Cappella dei Principi in the Medici Chapels is a grand mausoleum designed to glorify the Medici dynasty, characterized by its opulent use of precious stones, polychrome marble, and intricate inlays. Its highlights include the dazzling pietra dura craftsmanship and the majestic dome, making it a stunning symbol of Medici wealth and artistic patronage.
chapter 4
Live and let die
Despite the upheaval brought about by the arrangements of Cosimo I, the Palazzo Vecchio still physically retains a memory of the republic: it is the Barberia Tower, where Cosimo the Elder was imprisoned. At the door of this tower, half a century later, during the Pazzi Conspiracy, the brave gonfaloniere Cesare Petrucci stood guard with a spear.
It was in this tower, now divided into a lumber room and converted into a wardrobe, that Cosimo the Elder surely spent the four worst days of his long life. During those four days, the fear of being poisoned by his enemies prevented him from taking any nourishment.
For, as Machiavelli says, many wished for his exile, but many also wanted him dead, while the rest remained silent either out of compassion or fear. The latter, by taking no side, prevented any resolution from being reached. Meanwhile, Cosimo had been locked away in a tower of the palace and entrusted to a jailer.
From the place where he was confined, this great citizen could hear the clamor of arms in the square and the eternal ringing of the bell tower calling the people to the balia. He feared both that he would be killed publicly and, even more so, that he would be struck down in the shadows.
That is why, fixating particularly on this last suspicion, he went four days without taking any food, except for a little bread he had brought with him. Then, noticing the fears of his prisoner, the jailer, who had been bringing him his dinner for four days untouched, approached him and looked at him, shaking his head sadly:
“You doubt me, Cosimo,” he said, “you fear being poisoned, and in that fear, you are allowing yourself to starve. It is a slight against my honor to think that I would lend my hand to such an infamy. I do not believe your life is seriously threatened, for, believe me, you have many friends both in this palace and outside it. But even if you were to lose it, rest assured regarding me, for I swear to you, it will take another hand than mine to take it away. I will never stain my hands with anyone’s blood, least of all yours; you have never done me any offense. So, reassure yourself; eat, and keep yourself alive for your friends and for the fatherland. Moreover, to further ease your mind, grant me the honor of joining you at your table each day, and I will eat first of all that you consume.”
At these words, Cosimo felt entirely comforted, and throwing himself around the neck of his jailer, he embraced him while weeping, swearing him eternal gratitude and promising to remember him if fortune ever allowed him the opportunity to regain his friendship.
Alexandre Dumas,
Une année à Florence, Dumont, 1841




The religious wall paintings in Palazzo Vecchio, particularly those in the Chapel of the Signoria, are exquisite examples of devotional art designed to reflect the piety and power of Florence’s rulers. These frescoes, attributed to Agnolo Bronzino, feature vibrant depictions of religious scenes such as the Lamentation of Christ, blending intricate detail, luminous colors, and profound spirituality to create a sense of sacred grandeur within the heart of the city’s political center.
Florence, capital city of wealth & power
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