plan for the equestrian statue became a mere memory, and no new projects were undertaken. The economic toll of civic improvement was beginning to strain the ducal finances. His faithful secretary of state, Cicco Simonetta, dealt with day-to-day business loyally and efficiently but, subservient to the duke, proposed no initiatives for saving or making money.
In the spring of 1474, fresh hopes for the establishment of a republic were aroused among the Milanesi when word spread that the duke had summoned the Council of Nine Hundred, a group of representatives elected throughout the duchy, to a special session. Except to swear loyalty to Galeazzo as duke in 1469, the council had not been convened for twenty-five years. The people of Milan interpreted the news as a sign that the duke had decided to adopt a more representational form of government, perhaps similar to that of their Savoyard neighbors. On April 13, the sense of anticipation was palpable as the councilors assembled in the Court of Arengo, the duke's official Milanese palace.
The representatives were bitterly disappointed. They were separated into sections, so no deputy from the outlying areas could speak with those from the city. They were not invited to discuss legislation, although two of the duke's brothers were present, should any deputy choose to make a private petition. Instead, they were handed a series of ducal decrees to be ratified without modification. The duke's real intentions were soon apparent. Most of these decrees were financial in nature and imposed, not in name but in fact, the most onerous and loathed tax of all, the
inquinto
âa fifth part added to existing taxes on the most basic staples: meat, bread, and wine. 2
The duke needed money to support his extravagant court and lifestyle. Always a self-indulgent man, Galeazzo made less and less effort to hide his excesses from his people and his family. He loved fine clothes and armor and had endless outfits made up for himself and his courtiers from the most costly materials. His hunts in the gardens of Pavia, specially stocked for each event, were also ruinously expensive. One year, the duke spent forty thousand ducats, the cost of the town of Imola, on jewels alone. 3
The Venetian ducat was the principal currency of the Renaissance era. Six to seven lire made up a ducat; each lira was composed of twenty soldi. A fifteenth-century laborer considered himself fortunate if he earned one ducat a year. As the citizens of Milan struggled to pay this heavy tax on their daily necessities out of such meager earnings, they came to resent Galeazzo's profligate spending.
Besides inciting indignation and envy with his display of sumptuous possessions, certain of the duke's personal excesses were becoming more audacious. He had once boasted that his greatest sin was lust and that he possessed it "in full perfection, for I have employed it in all the fashions and forms that one can do." 4 Wives, daughters, and sisters of other men were not safe from the duke's advances, and part of his private purse dealt with "personal affairs" (
certi nostri segreti
)âpayoffs to mistresses and dishonored girls.
In 1474, however, the thirty-year-old duke developed an all-consuming infatuation with Lucia Marliani, a noble nineteen-year-old deemed the "most beautiful woman in Milan." Lucia became Galeazzo's new mistress with the complicity of her husband, Ambrogio Raverti, a Milanese merchant who knew a good business opportunity when he saw it. Raverti received four thousand ducats in hush money from the duke and another four thousand to dower Lucia's sisters; Lucia herself was awarded a yearly allowance plus an expensive residence. The besotted duke made just one contractual stipulation: Lucia must not "intermingle herself with her husband in carnal bond without our special permission, nor to have it with any other man except our person." 5
At first the duke tried to keep this affair secret. But as he made extravagant
Krystal Shannan, Camryn Rhys