rsini was dazzled at her wedding-feast
by the voluptuous splendour of the family which she entered.
The ceremony took place at Florence in 1469 and afforded an excuse for
lavish hospitality. The bride received her own guests in the garden of
the villa where she was to reign as mistress. Young married women
surrounded her, admiring the costliness of her clothing and preening
themselves in the rich attire which they had assumed for this great
occasion. In an upper {35} room of the villa the bridegroom's mother
welcomed her own friends of mature years, and listened indulgently to
the sounds of mirth that floated upward from the cloisters of the
courtyard. Lorenzo sat there with the great Florentines who had
assembled to honour his betrothal. The feast was served with solemnity
at variance with the wit and laughter that were characteristic of the
gallant company. The blare of trumpets heralded the arrival of dishes,
which were generally simple. The stewards and carvers bowed low as
they served the meats; their task was far from light since abundance
was the rule of the house of Medici. No less than five thousand pounds
of sweetmeats had been provided for the wedding, but it must be
remembered that the banquets went on continuously for several days, and
the humblest citizen could present himself at the hospitable boards of
the bridegroom and his kinsfolk. The country-folk had sent the usual
gifts, of fat hens and capons, and were greeted with a welcome as
gracious as that bestowed on the guests whose offerings were rings or
brocades or costly illuminated manuscripts.
After his marriage, Lorenzo was called upon to undertake a foreign
mission. He travelled to Milan and there stood sponsor to the child of
the reigning Duke, Galeazzo Sforza, in order to cement an alliance. He
gave a gold collar, studded with diamonds, to the Duchess of Milan, and
answered as became him when she was led to express the hope that he
would be godfather to all her children! It was Lorenzo's duty to act
as host when the Duke of Milan came to visit Florence. He was not
dismayed by the long train of attendants which followed the Duke, for
he knew that these richly-dressed warriors might be bribed to {36}
fight for his State if he conciliated their master. There were
citizens in Florence, however, who shrank from the barbaric ostentation
of their ally. They looked upon a fire which broke out in a church as
a divine denunciation of the m
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