Politian formed a third, and was the dearest of Lorenzo's friends. He
was born at Monte Pulciano, a small town not far from Florence; he was
named Angelo, and his father was called Benedetto di Cini. The son
adopted the place of his birth for a surname, changing Pulciano into the
more euphonic appellation of Poliziano. He was born on the 24th of July,
1454: his father was poor, which occasioned him in his youth to call
himself Angelo Basso. Brought to Florence during his childhood, he
studied under the most celebrated scholars of the day, Cristofero
Landino, and Giovanni Agyropylo. It is uncertain whether he derived this
advantage from his father's care, or from the kindness of Lorenzo de'
Medici, as it is not known at what age he first became known to that
munificent patron. His own words are, "From boyhood almost I was brought
up in that asylum of virtue, the palace of the great Lorenzo de' Medici,
prince of his flourishing republic of Florence."[80] These words
coincide with the general idea, that at a very early age he attracted
the notice of Lorenzo by his poem entitled, "Giostra di Giuliano de'
Medici," written to celebrate the first tournament of Giuliano, as Luca
Pulci had composed another in honour of that of Lorenzo. This poem
consists of 1400 lines, and yet is left unfinished; breaking off at the
moment that the tournament is about to begin. It commences by an address
to Lorenzo, and then goes on to describe the youthful occupations of
Giuliano, his carelessness of female beauty, and the subduing of his
heart by the lovely Simonetta. A description of Venus and the island of
Cyprus is introduced: it concludes abruptly, as is often the case with
youthful attempts. Yet the beauty and variety of the ideas, and
smoothness and elegance of the versification, render it doubtful to
critics whether it was written at so early an age as fourteen. At least
it must cause regret that he afterwards applied himself to compositions
in Latin: for though his poetry in that language has a life and vigour
which distinguishes it from any other of his age, yet it must always
fall short of the genuine flow of thought, in which a poet so easily
indulges when he adopts his native tongue.
From the period that he took up his abode in Lorenzo's palace, he
received the instructions of the most celebrated men of the age, and his
progress showed his aptitude to learn. He enjoyed here also the society
of Lorenzo's accomplished mother, Lucretia Tornabuoni, a lover of
poetry, and herself a poetess. Lorenzo afterwards appointed him tutor to
his children; but he did not agree so well with Mona Clarice. When
Lorenzo was engaged in the hazardous war that disturbed the beginning
of his political life, he sent his wife and children to Pistoia, with
Politian as tutor, who wrote frequent letters to Lorenzo, with accounts
of the well-being and occupations of his family. "Piero," he writes,
"never leaves my side, nor I his. I should like to be useful to you in
greater things; but since this is entrusted to me, I willingly undertake
it."--"All your family are well. Piero studies moderately; and we wander
through the town to amuse ourselves. We visit the gardens, of which this
city is full, and sometimes the library of Maestro Zambino, where I have
found several good Greek and Latin books. Giovanni[81] rides on his pony
all day long, followed by numbers of people. Mona Clarice is well in
health; but takes pleasure in nothing but the good news she receives
from you, and seldom quits the house." In another letter he asks, that
more power may be given to him over the studies of the boys:--"As for
Giovanni, his mother employs him in reading the Psalter, which I by no
means commend. Whilst she declined interfering with him, it is wonderful
how he got on." Monna Clarice was not better pleased with the tutor than
he with her. She writes to her husband--"I wish you would not make me
the fable of Francho, as I was of Luigi Pulci; and that Messer Angelo
should not say that he remains in my house in spite of me. I told you,
that if you wished it, I was satisfied that he should stay, though I
have suffered a thousand impertinences from him. If it is your will, I
am patient; but I cannot believe that it should be so." Thus situated,
Politian lamented the absence of Madonna Lucretia from Pistoia, and
complained to her of the solitude he endured there. "I call it
solitude," he says, in a letter written at this time to Lucretia, "for
Monsignore shuts himself up in his room, with thought for his only
companion; and I always find him so sorrowful and anxious, that it
increases my melancholy to be with him: and when I remain alone, weary
of study, I am agitated by the thoughts of pestilence and war, regret
for the past and fear for the future; nor have I any one with whom to
share my reveries. I do not find my dear Mona Lucretia in her room, to
whom I could pour forth my complaints, and I die of ennui."[82]
At the age of twenty-nine, he was appointed to the professorship of
Greek and Latin eloquence in the university of Florence. Happy in the
friendship of his patron, his life was disturbed only by literary
squabbles, in which he usually conducted himself with forbearance and
dignity. He was held in high repute throughout Italy, and received
preferment in the church, and on one occasion was sent ambassador to the
papal court.
His life for many years was one of singular good fortune and happiness:
adversity ensued on the death of Lorenzo.
[Sidenote: 1492.
Ætat.
38.]
There is a long letter of his to Jacopo Antiquario[83], which describes
the last days of his beloved patron in affecting and lively terms. He
speaks of the counsels he gave his son, and his interview with his
confessor, during which he prepared himself for death with astonishing
calmness and fortitude. On one occasion he made some enquiry of the
servants, which Politian answered,--"Recognising my voice," he writes,
"and looking kindly on me, as he ever did, 'O Angelo,' said he, 'are you
there? and stretching out his languid arms, clasped tightly both my
hands. I could not repress my sobs and tears, yet, trying to conceal
them, I turned my face away; while he, without being at all agitated,
still held my hands: but when he found that I could not speak for
weeping, by degrees and naturally he set me free, and I hurried into the
near cabinet, and gave vent to my grief and tears."
The disasters that befel the Medici family after the death of Lorenzo,
are supposed to have broken Politian's heart. The presumption and
incapacity of Piero caused him and all who bore his name to be exiled.
The French troops at that time invaded Italy under Charles VIII.: they
entered Florence, and, in conjunction with the ungrateful citizens,
plundered and destroyed the palace of the Medici; and the famous
Laurentian library was dispersed and carried off in the tumult. Politian
had composed a pathetic Latin monody on Lorenzo.[84]
"Who from perennial streams shall bring,
Of gushing floods a ceaseless spring?
That through the day in hopeless woe,
That through the night my tears may flow.
As the reft turtle mourns his mate,
As sings the swan his coming fate,
As the sad nightingale complains,
I pour my anguish and my strains.
Oh! wretched, wretched past relief;
O grief! beyond all other grief!"
While singing these verses, after Lorenzo's death, afflicted at the sad
loss they commemorated, and by the adverse events which followed, a
spasm of grief seized him, his heart suddenly broke from excess of
feeling, and he died on the spot. He died on the 24th of September,
1494, having just completed his 40th year, and having survived his
illustrious friend little more than two years.