was accustomed to wear. He accompanied them to the church, and approached the altar, the conspirators keeping close at his side, the two priests having likewise silently approached as near as possible to Lorenzo. At the fatal moment, the bell rang, the priest raised the consecrated wafer, the people flung themselves on their knees, and at the same instant Bandini plunged his dagger into Giuliano's bosom. The unfortunate young man staggered and fell; and Francesco de' Pazzi, throwing himself on his body, stabbed him again and again, even after he was dead, with such frantic violence that he inflicted a severe wound on himself. Meanwhile, one of the priests had aimed a blow at Lorenzo's throat, which merely scratching him roused him to instant defence. Twisting his cloak rapidly round his left arm for a shield, he drew his sword and kept back his assailants till his friends came to his assistance. The two priests, perceiving their failure, rushed through the crowd, and Bandini, having wrested his dagger from Giuliano's bosom, flew towards Lorenzo, and meeting Francesco Neri, a zealous adherent of the Medici, he gave him a blow, of which he instantly expired. Lorenzo's friends had no sooner rallied round him than they dragged him into the sacristy, and closed its brazen doors. Some fear being expressed that the dagger, which had slightly wounded his neck, might have been poisoned, a young man affectionately attached to him sucked the wound. All this had passed so rapidly that half of the congregation, unable to see what had passed, and hearing the frightful uproar, believed the roof was falling in, and made a general rush towards the doors; but no sooner did they learn the truth, than several of them formed themselves into a little phalanx, in the midst of which Lorenzo was safely conveyed to his home, while the news being rapidly spread by fugitives through the city, all Florence was aroused to arms. The Archbishop of Pisa had agreed to seize on the persons of the chief magistrates at the same time that the other conspirators should assassinate the Medici. Accordingly, he entered the public palace with his followers, and commissioning them to keep possession of the outer apartments, entered the room where the gonfaloniere and council were sitting. Here his courage failed; he knew not how to proceed; and his agitation was so manifest that the gonfaloniere became alarmed, rushed from the council chamber, and summoned his guards. The other magistrates seized whatever weapons came to hand; and the doors of the palace being secured, the conspirators were soon overpowered. By this time the news of Giuliano's murder reached the palace: the streets were filled with confusion, and the ringleaders of the conspiracy were put to death without ceremony. Francesco Pazzi, whose self-inflicted wound had obliged him to be carried home and placed in bed, was roughly dragged from it and hurried to execution. The archbishop was hung from the palace windows in his state robes; and only one of his followers escaped, who was found some days afterwards concealed behind the wainscot, perishing with hunger, and in consideration of his sufferings received his pardon. For many days the cry of " Balls, balls! Perish the traitors!" resounded through the streets as the populace paraded the city, in spite of the efforts of Lorenzo, who earnestly besought them to disperse, and leave to the magistrates the task of discovering and punishing the guilty, lest the innocent should be involved in destruction. The funeral of Giuliano was honoured by the tears of his fellow-citizens, and Lorenzo became more than ever the idol of the Florentines *. LORENZO THE MAGNIFICENT. SIXTUS the Fourth, instead of endeavouring to conceal his share in the Pazzi conspiracy, was so * Roscoe.-Machiavelli. enraged at its failure that he excommunicated Lorenzo, and allied himself with the King of Naples for the purpose of making war on Florence. As Lorenzo was the sole object of the pope's hatred, he was distressed at the thoughts of involving his countrymen in the horrors of war for a private quarrel; and summoning about three hundred of the citizens, he earnestly besought them, as the only means of preserving public tranquillity, to banish him from their territories. His selfdevotion was met by that of the Florentines, who with one voice declared their resolution of defending his life at the hazard of their own. Active preparations were now made for war, and the command of the Florentine forces was intrusted to Ercole d'Este, Duke of Ferrara. He was opposed by the Dukes of Urbino and Calabria, and his conduct of the war was extremely unfortunate. For two years his operations were undecisive, and violent dissensions prevailed among the inferior condottieri engaged by Florence. Lorenzo de' Medici was no soldier: he did not, however, lose courage in the midst of these reverses. Perceiving the resources of the state exhausted, its commerce destroyed, and its military forces unsuccessful, he became aware that some decisive measure was necessary, and during a temporary cessation of hostilities resolved to place himself in the hands of his enemy, the King of Naples, and either to induce him by persuasion and argument to make a separate peace with Florence, or devote himself a willing sacrifice to his country. In pursuance of this romantic and generous resolution, Lorenzo privately left Florence, and having reached a town at some miles' distance, he addressed a letter to the citizens, explaining his motives and intentions. "As I have had more honour and consideration among you," he wrote, "than my merits could claim, and perhaps more than have in our days been bestowed on any private citizen, I conceive myself more particularly bound than any other person to promote the interest of my country, even with the sacrifice of my life." Having despatched his letter, Lorenzo proceeded to Pisa, where he embarked for Naples. Alphonso the Magnanimous had been succeeded by his son Ferdinand, who inherited few of his i noble and generous qualities; nevertheless "there are minutes When a man's presence speaks in his own cause and Ferdinand could not behold a brave and honest man voluntarily throwing himself on his protection, and trusting in his good faith, without affording him a hospitable reception and granting him a |