Soon after the commencement of the late insurrection, which, as it has
been already related, compelled Eugenius to provide for his safety by a
precipitate flight, the Roman populace proceeded to the election of seven
officers, to whom they delegated the most ample authority to enforce the
preservation of the public peace, and to promote the general welfare.
On the departure of the pontiff, these new magistrates found themselves
masters of the whole of the city except the castle of St. Angelo. They
immediately commenced the siege of this fortress; but their efforts
to reduce it were vain. In the mean time the troops of Sforza made
frequent incursions to the very gates of the city, spreading terror and
devastation through the surrounding territory. The garrison of the castle
also harrassed the citizens by daily sallies. Wearied and disheartened
by the inconveniences resulting from this concurrence of external and
internal warfare, the degenerate Romans, at the end of the fifth month
of the enjoyment of their delusive liberty, surrendered their principal
places of strength to Giovanni de’ Vitelleschi, bishop of Recanati, who
took possession of them in the name of the pontiff.[237]
Though the standard of revolt no longer waved defiance against
established government from the walls of Rome, and though the populace
seemed to be desirous of atoning by the humblest submission for the
outrages which they had lately committed, not only against the authority,
but also against the person of their sovereign, Eugenius did not yet
venture to revisit his capital. He wisely dreaded the effects of that
agitation which usually accompanies the subsiding of the stormy sea
of political contention. It was also the opinion of his counsellors,
that it was necessary to punish the ringleaders of the late revolt with
the utmost severity; and he perhaps thought that those princes act
consistently with the dictates of prudence, who, whilst they personally
interpose in the performance of beneficent and merciful actions,
delegate to inferior agents the odious task of inflicting the sanguinary
penalties of political vengeance. He accordingly instructed Vitelleschi
to take such measures as he should deem necessary for the extinction
of the latent sparks of rebellion. For the purposes of severity he
could not have selected a fitter instrument than Vitelleschi, a man of
haughty demeanour, a bigotted assertor of the rights of established
power, whose promptitude in action was guided by the dictates of a cool
head, and an obdurate heart. When the inhabitants of the pontifical
states were informed that their destiny was committed to the disposal
of this merciless ecclesiastic, they were struck dumb with fear;[238]
and suspicion and terror spread a gloom over the whole of the papal
dominions. No long space of time intervened before the threatening cloud
burst upon the heads of the Colonnas and their partizans. Vitelleschi,
personally assuming the command of a body of troops, laid siege to the
fortresses which sheltered the despairing remnant of rebellion. In the
course of a few weeks he took and sacked Castel Gandolfo, Sabello,
Borghetto, Alba, Città Lanuvie, and Zagarola. All the inhabitants of
these places who survived the carnage which occurred at their capture
he carried in chains to Rome. On his return to the capital he proceeded
to level with the ground the houses of the principal insurgents.
Determined by still severer measures to strike terror into the enemies
of the pontiff, he seized one of the ringleaders of the late revolt, and
after publicly exposing him to the horrible torture of having his flesh
torn with red hot pincers, he terminated his sufferings, by causing
him to be hanged in the Campo di Fiore. At the same time, with a view
of ingratiating himself with the populace, who dreaded the horrors of
approaching famine, he imported into the city an abundant supply of
provisions. By this alternate exercise of severity and conciliation,
he at length completely re-established the authority of the pontiff in
Rome.[239]
Fortune now began to dispense her favours to Eugenius with a liberal
hand. In the spring of the year 1435, Fortebraccio, having received
intelligence that Francesco Sforza had marched into Romagna to oppose
Piccinino, who was preparing to invade that district at the head of a
large body of troops, made a forced march, and surprising Leone Sforza,
who had been left at Todi with an army of one thousand horse and five
hundred foot, compelled him and the greater part of his forces to
surrender at discretion. His triumph was, however, but of short duration.
Whilst he was employed in the siege of Capo del Monte, he was attacked
by Alessandro Sforza, and after an obstinate engagement, in which he
received a mortal wound, his troops were entirely defeated. This event,
which rid Eugenius of a formidable and implacable foe, prepared the way
for a treaty of peace between him and his various enemies. The pontiff
derived considerable advantages from the terms of this treaty, in
consequence of which he regained possession of Imola and Bologna, and saw
Romagna freed from the miseries of war.[240]
On the second of February in this year Joanna, queen of Naples, died, by
her last will leaving the inheritance of her kingdom to Regnier of Anjou.
The claim of Regnier was, however, disputed by Alfonso of Arragon, who,
by virtue of the act of adoption which Joanna had annulled, asserted his
title to the Neapolitan crown. Whilst the kingdom of Naples was divided
and harrassed by these contending claimants, Eugenius ordered Vitelleschi
to take possession of certain towns situated on its frontiers, the
sovereignty of which had long been asserted, and occasionally enjoyed,
by the Roman pontiffs. Vitelleschi executed this commission with his
usual good fortune; and by the conquests which he made in the Neapolitan
territories, still farther extended the power of his master.[241]
Whilst the flames of war which had been kindled against Eugenius by the
machinations of the duke of Milan were thus gradually extinguished, the
members of the council of Basil proceeded with considerable diligence
in the execution of the difficult task which they had undertaken—the
reformation of the church in its head and members. After settling some
preliminary arrangements, with a view of facilitating the union of the
Greek and Latin churches, and promoting the conversion of the Jews,[242]
the assembled fathers proceeded to denounce against those priests who
disgraced their profession by keeping concubines, the penalty of the
forfeiture of their ecclesiastical revenues for the space of three
months; and the further penalty of deprivation in case they continued,
after solemn admonition, to persevere in their flagitious conduct.[243]
In a very long and particular decree they laid down wholesome regulations
for the decent solemnization of public worship; and strictly prohibited
the continuance of those sacrilegious buffooneries which it had been
customary in some countries to celebrate in the churches on Innocents’
day, or the feast of fools.[244] Eugenius perhaps felt no repugnance
to give his assent to these articles of reformation. But he could not
consider with complacency a decree of the ninth of June, whereby the
payment of annates, and of the first fruits of benefices, into the
pontifical treasury, was prohibited as an unlawful compliance with
a simoniacal demand.[245] This ordinance he naturally detested, as
tending materially to impair his revenues, and consequently to diminish
his power. The spirit of hostility against the undue influence of the
head of the church, which actuated the deliberations of the council,
was further manifested by a decree of the twenty-fifth of March, 1436,
whereby the pontiff was prohibited from bestowing the government of any
province, city, or territory appertaining to the church, on any of his
relatives, to the third generation inclusive.[246] These proceedings
evidently proved, that whatever benefits the synod of Basil might extend
to the general community of Christians, the successor of St. Peter was
likely to sustain considerable loss in consequence of its labours; and
Eugenius determined to seize the earliest opportunity of throwing off its
yoke.[247]
Whilst the power and activity of the pontiff’s enemies seemed to throw a
considerable degree of uncertainty upon the future destiny of the father
of the faithful, Poggio appears to have made preparations permanently
to fix his own residence in the Tuscan territory. With this view he
purchased a villa in the pleasant district of Valdarno. It appears from a
letter addressed by Beccatelli, of Palermo, to Alphonso, king of Naples,
that Poggio raised a part of the fund necessary for the making of the
purchase by the sale of a manuscript of Livy, written with his own hand,
and for which he obtained the sum of one hundred and twenty florins of
gold.[248] In the choice of the situation of his intended mansion, he was
guided by that love of rural retirement which is generally experienced
by men of contemplative minds, who are compelled by the nature of their
occupation to engage in the active scenes of society. To him who has been
distracted by the bustle and tumult of a court, whose spirits have been
jaded by the empty parade of pomp, and whose ingenuous feelings have been
wounded by the intrigues of ambition, the tranquil pleasures and innocent
occupations of a country life appear to possess a double charm.
Whilst Poggio was thus providing for himself a place of peaceful
retirement, he received from the administrators of the Tuscan government
a testimony of respect, equally honourable to the givers and to the
receiver. By a public act, which was passed in his favour, it was
declared, that whereas he had announced his determination to spend his
old age in his native land, and to dedicate the remainder of his days to
study; and whereas his literary pursuits would not enable him to acquire
the property which accrued to those who were engaged in commerce, he and
his children should from thenceforth be exempted from the payment of all
public taxes.[249]
The fortune of Poggio was, indeed, still very small, and consequently
his villa could not vie in splendour with the palaces of the Tuscan
aristocracy; but he wisely attempted to compensate by taste what he
wanted in magnificence. In pursuance of this design he rendered his
humble mansion an object of attention to the lovers of the liberal arts,
by the treasures of his library, and by a small collection of statues,
which he disposed in such a manner as to constitute a principal ornament
of his garden, and the appropriate furniture of an apartment which he
intended to dedicate to literary conversation.[250]
The study of ancient sculpture had long engaged the attention of Poggio,
who was not less diligent in rescuing its relics from obscurity, than in
searching for the lost writers of antiquity. During his long residence
in Rome, he assiduously visited the monuments of imperial magnificence,
which fill the mind of the traveller with awe, as he traverses the ample
squares and superb streets of the former mistress of the nations. The
ruins of these stupendous edifices he examined with such minute accuracy,
that he became familiarly acquainted with their construction, their use,
and their history.[251] Hence the learned men who had occasion to repair
to the pontifical court were solicitous to obtain his guidance in their
visits to these wonderful specimens of industry and taste.[252] Whenever
the avarice or the curiosity of his contemporaries prompted them to
search into the ruined magnificence of their ancestors, Poggio attended
the investigation, anxious to recover from the superincumbent rubbish
some of those breathing forms, the offspring of Grecian art, which the
refined rapacity of Roman generals had selected from amongst the spoils
of Greece, as ornaments worthy to adorn the temples and palaces of
the capital of the world. Nor did he confine these researches to the
precincts of Rome. The neighbouring district witnessed his zeal for the
restoration of the monuments of ancient sculpture. With this interesting
object in view, he visited Grotta Ferrata, Tusculo, Ferentino, Alba,
Arpino, Alatri, Ostia, and Tivoli.[253] Whilst he was fitting up his
villa, he had the good fortune to pass through Monte Cassino, at the
time when an antique bust of a female was discovered by some workmen,
who were employed in digging up the foundation of a house. This bust he
purchased and added to his collection, which already filled a chamber
in his mansion.[254] His inquiries after specimens of art were also
extended into distant countries. Being informed that one Francesco di
Pistoia was on the eve of embarking for Greece, he requested him with
the utmost earnestness to procure for him any relics of Grecian statuary
which he might be able to obtain in the course of his travels.[255]
At the same time he wrote to a Rhodian, of the name of Suffretus, a
celebrated collector of antique marbles, to inform him that he could not
bestow upon him a greater pleasure, than by transmitting to him one or
more of the pieces of sculpture which he might be able to spare out of
his well furnished gallery.[256] Suffretus, actuated by a noble spirit
of liberality, immediately on Francesco’s arrival in Rhodes, consigned
to his care three marble busts, one of Juno, another of Minerva, and the
third of Bacchus, said to be the works of Polycletus and Praxiteles,
and one statue of the height of two cubits, all which he destined for
Poggio.[257] The annunciation of this intelligence was received by
Poggio with the highest exultation. The names of such eminent artists as
Polycletus and Praxiteles raised, indeed, in his mind a prudent degree
of scepticism; but he dwelt with fond anticipation upon the pleasure
which he should experience on the arrival of the busts; and he instantly
assigned to each of his expected guests their proper stations in his
villa. “Minerva,” says he in a letter to Niccolo Niccoli, “will not, I
trust, think herself improperly situated beneath my roof—I will place
her in my library. I am sure Bacchus will find himself at home in my
house; for if any place is his appropriated residence, that place is my
native district, where he is held in peculiar honour. As to Juno, she
shall retaliate the infidelities of her straying husband by becoming my
mistress.”[258]
The busts in question arrived in safety at the place of their
destination;[259] but Francesco alleged that the statue had been stolen
out of the ship in which he returned from Greece.[260] Poggio strongly
suspected that the plunderer who had deprived him of this portion of his
expected treasure was no other than Francesco himself. In this suspicion
he was confirmed by his subsequent conduct. For this faithless agent
having been afterwards commissioned by Andreolo Giustiniano, a Genoese of
considerable learning, to convey to Poggio some antique busts, disposed
of this valuable deposit to Cosmo de’ Medici. Poggio did not tamely bear
this injury, but inveighed against the dishonesty of the Pistoian with
great bitterness in a letter which he addressed to Giustiniano.[261]
From this letter it appears, that in addition to his groups of ancient
statues, Poggio had adorned his villa by a collection of antique coins
and gems. To these pursuits he was instigated, not merely by the desire
of illustrating the classic authors by a reference to works of ancient
art, but also by an enthusiastic admiration of the sculptured wonders,
the productions of men endowed with superlative talents, who, rising
from individual to general nature, combined in their imaginations,
and embodied with their plastic hands, those finished forms which, as
it were, fill the mind of the spectator, and raise him to the exalted
idea of perfection.[262] On this subject he thus expressed himself in
a letter to Francesco di Pistoia. “I am struck with awe by the genius
of the artist, when I see the powers of nature herself represented in
marble. Different men are visited by different diseases. My infirmity is
an admiration of the works of excellent sculptors: for I cannot but be
affected with astonishment by the skill of the man who gives to inanimate
substance the expression of animation.”[263]
Whilst Poggio was thus occupied in adorning his rural residence, he
received a letter from one of his correspondents named Scipio, of
Ferrara, who requested him to give him his opinion upon the question,
whether Cæsar or Scipio Africanus were the greater man. The discussion of
subjects of this description may give scope to a display of historical
knowledge; but it is seldom productive of much utility. It is, perhaps,
a proper exercise for youth; but it is hardly worthy of the exertion of
talents matured by age. In compliance, however, with the wishes of his
friend, Poggio drew up an elaborate comparison between the two eminent
men in question, in the course of which he entered much in detail
into the history of their respective actions. After this induction of
particulars, he compressed his arguments into a general statement of his
opinion, that the youth of Scipio was distinguished by the purest morals,
whilst the early years of Cæsar were rendered infamous by his vices;
that the former, inspired with the spirit of patriotism, by his splendid
military achievements rescued his country from destruction; and that the
latter, prompted by ambition, too successfully exerted his extraordinary
talents to effect the subversion of the commonwealth—that consequently,
whilst Scipio was by no means inferior to Cæsar in the fame of his
military exploits, he was greatly his superior in virtue, which alone
constitutes the character of a truly great man.[264]
This dissertation on the comparative merits of Cæsar and Scipio is
ingenious and interesting; and in the pronunciation of his decision,
Poggio was certainly guided by the principles of sound morality. It might
reasonably have been expected, that an inquiry into the character of two
illustrious ancients would be productive of nothing but amusement and
instruction; and little did Poggio imagine that any of his contemporaries
would be inflamed with resentment by the freedom of his strictures
upon the accomplished vanquisher of Roman liberty. But his treatise
falling into the hands of Guarino Veronese, who at this time filled the
professor’s chair in the university of Ferrara, that renowned preceptor,
either actuated by intolerant zeal in defence of the reputation of Cæsar,
or influenced by a desire of paying his court to Leonello d’Este, who
had frequently declared himself an admirer of the dictator’s character,
composed a long answer to the inquiry of Poggio. The spirit and style of
this composition were by no means compatible with the friendly sentiments
which Guarino professed to entertain with regard to his antagonist. In
a kind of preface which he prefixed to it, he contemptuously bestowed
upon Poggio the appellation of Cæsaromastix, and asserted, that in
his attack upon the character of Cæsar, he was rather audacious than
brave.[265] Poggio was much displeased by this provocation, and lost no
time in replying to the unexpected strictures of the Ferrarese professor.
In this instance, however, he had the discretion to restrain his anger
within due bounds. Avoiding as much as possible any altercation with
Guarino, he addressed himself to Francesco Barbaro, in a long epistle,
in which he dilated his original arguments, and confirmed them by ample
authorities. In the introduction to this letter, he complained in a manly
strain of dignity of the conduct of Guarino, who had wantonly wounded
his feelings, by intermixing personal reflections in the discussion
of a literary question, on which all scholars were equally entitled
to unlimited freedom of opinion. In this defence of his sentiments,
Poggio exhibited much learning and acuteness, and evinced the skill of a
practised disputant. As Guarino did not prosecute the discussion of this
subject, it may be presumed that he felt due compunction for the breach
of friendship into which he had been inadvertently betrayed, and that,
overpowered by the superior abilities of his opponent, he shrunk from a
renewal of the combat. Guarino was not the only person whose displeasure
was excited by the preference given by Poggio to Scipio over Cæsar.
Another scholar of that age addressed a letter to Leonardo Aretino, in
the course of which, in vindicating the fair fame of the Dictator, he
characterizes his censor as a rash and foolish writer. To this second
antagonist, however, who from his initials C. A. is supposed to have been
Cyriac of Ancona, Poggio did not condescend to make a formal reply, but
contented himself with ridiculing him in a letter addressed to their
common friend Leonardo.[266]
Soon after the termination of this controversy, Poggio happily lost the
remembrance of the uneasiness occasioned by the mutual recrimination
of polemic disquisitions, in the tender assiduities of honourable
courtship. As he was now arrived at the advanced age of fifty-five, the
intemperate heat of his passions was allayed, and the remonstrances of
his friend, the cardinal of St. Angelo, on the subject of his unlicensed
amours, began to make an impression on his mind. He was also weary of
the unsettled state in which he had hitherto lived, and sighed for
the participation of those pure domestic comforts, which heighten the
pleasures, and alleviate the sorrows of human life. He accordingly sought
amongst the Tuscan ladies for a partner of his future fortunes. The
object of his research he found in Vaggia, the daughter of Ghino Manente
de’ Bondelmonti, a lady of a wealthy and honourable family, to whom he
was united in the latter end of the month of December, 1435.[267] From a
memorandum inserted in a diary kept by Manente, it appears, that he gave
Poggio together with his daughter the sum of six hundred florins[268] as
a marriage portion. Pecuniary affairs do not, however, appear to have
occupied much of the attention of the bridegroom, whose gallantry led
him to dwell with happy pride upon the most valuable of all dowries—the
beauty and virtues of his spouse. Previously to his taking the decisive
step of matrimony, Poggio deliberately weighed the probable advantages
and disadvantages which might arise from the disparity of the ages of
himself and Vaggia, who had not yet seen eighteen summers. The result
of his cogitations on this interesting topic he set forth in a Latin
dialogue on the question—“_An seni sit uxor ducenda_,” which he published
soon after his marriage. This dialogue, to which was originally prefixed
a dedicatory epistle from its author to Cosmo de’ Medici, is represented
as having taken place at a dinner given by Poggio, on occasion of his
entering into the holy state, to his friends Niccolo Niccoli and Carlo
Aretino. The former of these guests, in the freedom of conversation
over his wine, declares, with his habitual bluntness, that nothing but
insanity could have induced the founder of the feast, by encumbering
himself with matrimonial duties, to undertake a burden which wisdom
would avoid at any period of life, but which must be particularly
grievous to one, like Poggio, far advanced in years. In reply to this
sally of caustic humour Poggio protests that his experience of matrimony
by no means vindicates Niccolo’s opinion of that state, from which he
has hitherto derived nothing but satisfaction. Niccolo avers that he
hears with pleasure this declaration, to which he politely professes to
give full credence; but he at the same time maintains, that, regarding
the case of his friend as an exception to a general rule, he cannot,
abstractedly speaking, applaud the wisdom of a man, who, at the age of
fifty-five, enters upon a course of life quite alien from his former
habits. He then proceeds, in the style of an advocate arguing on one
side of a question, to enumerate all possible suppositions as to defects
in the character of the object of an old man’s choice as a partner for
the remainder of his life. She may be peevish and morose—She may be
intemperate, immodest, idle and sluttish—If she is a maiden and young, it
will be found on trial that the levity of youth will not harmonize with
the gravity of advanced years—If she be a widow, there is great hazard
lest she should entertain vivid recollections of the pleasures which
she enjoyed in her connexion with her former spouse—recollections which
will by no means operate to the advantage of her present husband. As to
the entering into an union with an aged woman, this would be of course
the feeble propping and sustaining the feeble—it would be a proceeding
productive of nothing but a doubling of infirmity and discomfort. For
a literary man to enter into a connexion which must trespass upon that
time which should be devoted to the cultivation of his mind were folly
indeed—to all which considerations must be added this most important one,
that if a man who marries late in life becomes the father of children,
he cannot expect to live to see the completion of that education which
he hopes may imbue his offspring with that useful knowledge and with
those virtuous dispositions which are requisite to secure their success
in the world. At his death, then, he will be oppressed by the painful
reflection, that he must leave the objects of his fond solicitude to the
discretion of guardians, who have been found in so many instances to be
careless or unfaithful in the discharge of their important trust. “I
am aware,” says Niccolo at the termination of his speech, “that in some
cases circumstances may be different from what I have represented them as
likely to be. You, Poggio, for instance, are fortunate if what you tell
us of your matrimonial experience is true—but yet I always have been, and
still am, of opinion, that safe counsels are to be preferred to hazardous
ones.”
When Poggio, smiling at these remarks of Niccolo, is preparing to reply
to them, he is interrupted by his friend Carlo, who begs from him
permission to undertake the management of the cause of the aged gentlemen
who become the votaries of Hymen; and, this being granted to him, he
begins his speech by making a personal attack upon Niccolo, who, he
alleges, has declined to enter into the married state by an unreasonable
timidity of spirit, and an unaccommodating austerity of temper. But
if all men were to follow his example, they would manifestly act in
disobedience to the first law of nature, which provides for the continued
propagation of the human species, and they would moreover grossly
neglect the duty which they owe to the state to which they belong, which
demands from them that succession of virtuous citizens by whom alone its
rights and liberties can be maintained. As to the cares and avocations
of matrimony breaking in upon literary occupations, Carlo reminds his
adversary that this was not the case with Plato, with Aristotle, with
Theophratus, Cato the elder, Cicero, and many others of the ancients
distinguished by the extent of their learning. Matrimony also, which
Niccolo has vilified as a species of servitude, preserves a man from that
licentiousness of conduct which is the worst kind of slavery in which
he can be enthralled. Moreover, if any elderly man be united to a young
woman, his wisdom will be a guide to her inexperience—his prudence will
teach her to restrain her appetites, and his example will in every case
afford her instruction and encouragement in the regulation of her conduct
in life.
On Niccolo’s appealing with a smile to the experience of Carlo himself,
and asking him whether he has not known old men who have been more
foolish than boys, and whether people of this description are not very
unsafe guides in the discharge of moral and political duties, the latter
replies that he pleads not on the behalf of foolish people of any
age; but that he is ready to assert as a general principle, that the
matrimonial union is singularly well adapted to promote the happiness of
an elderly man. Young folks, he says, are unable to regulate themselves;
much less are they qualified to govern others. What, then, will be
the consequence of an union of two parties, each of which is totally
inexperienced in the management of human affairs, but the pressure of
poverty, and its attendant train of miseries? But the man who is ripe in
years will support the weakness of his wife, and instruct her ignorance
in the ordering of their domestic concerns, and will abate in her the
effervescence of passion by the inculcation of the lessons of virtue.
Enlarging on these ideas, and more particularly analyzing Niccolo’s
objections to the marriage of men advanced in years, Carlo boldly
maintains, that it is expedient for a person of this description not
only to marry, but also to marry a young woman, whom he may mold like
wax to his will. As to sensual indulgences—whilst so many examples are
seen of the total abstinence from them which is practised in convents and
nunneries, why should any doubt be entertained, that a well-instructed
female will cheerfully submit to that restricted enjoyment of them which
circumstances may demand from her? As to the little likelihood of an aged
parent living to see his offspring settled in the world, Carlo demurs to
the fact, and asserts that longevity is fully as likely to follow upon
the temperance of mature age as upon the careless dissoluteness of youth.
“But granting,” says he, “that the remaining years of an old man are few
in number, will he not, nevertheless, derive the greatest pleasure from
his children, whom it will be a gratification to him to train to good
manners, at a period when they are much more disposed to revere their
parent, and to obey him, than they are likely to be when growing strength
and self-confidence shall have rendered them more independent of parental
controul?”
Fortifying his doctrine by the test of facts, Carlo appeals, in proof
of the soundness of the principles which he is maintaining, not only to
the domestic history of Cato the Elder and of Cicero, but still more
especially to that of Galeazzo Malatesta, who, having married a young
wife in the seventy-fourth year of his age, left behind him at his death
four sons, who became the most illustrious men of all Italy, and one of
whom, Carlo, was no less celebrated for his literary accomplishments than
for his prowess in war.—“These illustrious characters,” says he, “were,
indeed, virtuous by nature; but they were not a little indebted for the
renown which they obtained in their maturer years, to the instructions
which they received in their early youth from their father. The wise
exhortations of an aged parent have, in my opinion,” continues he, “great
efficacy in the right training of children—a greater efficacy, indeed,
than if they fell from the lips of persons of unripe years—for it is to
advanced age that we look for gravity and experience.” After enlarging
on this topic, Carlo draws from his reasonings the conclusion, that
both on public and on private grounds, it is expedient that elderly men
should quit the state of celibacy, and that they should marry youthful
wives. “It is,” he observes, “an unspeakable advantage in life, for a
man to have a partner to whom, as to a second self, he may communicate
his counsels and his joys, and who, by sympathizing in, may mitigate
his sorrows. Nor is it to be doubted,” says he, “that a wife of this
description will continue to love her husband as long as he loves her,
and as long as he maintains towards her that fidelity which is too often
violated by the impetuosity of youthful appetite.” He then proceeds to
controvert in their order the other positions of Niccolo, who, however,
is by no means converted from his original opinions on the subject
matter of the debate; but closes the conference, by charging Carlo with
uttering the sentiments which he has propounded merely for the sake of
flattering their host, in return for the good dinner which he has given
to his friends; and by characteristically professing that he will look to
himself, and take care not to suffer by imitating the follies of others.
This dialogue on the question _An seni sit uxor ducenda_ is one of
the most ingenious of Poggio’s compositions. It evinces its author’s
intimate acquaintance with life and manners; and at the same time, in the
lucidness of its arrangement and the dexterity of its argumentation, it
exhibits a specimen of no common rhetorical powers. In the course of the
conversation between the interlocutors Poggio indulges in the liveliness
of fancy; but he never transgresses the bounds of decorum. On the
contrary, though he introduces into the discussion some slippery topics,
he touches upon them with great delicacy; and it may be stated, greatly
to his honour, that, in the character of the advocate of matrimony, he
treats the female sex with marked respect, and represents woman not only
as gifted with great acuteness of intellect, but also as endowed with
dispositions which incline her, as a rational being, to listen with
deference to the lessons of wisdom and virtue. To which may be added,
that the diction of this dialogue is singularly correct, and that it
evinces, on the part of its author, a familiar acquaintance with the
phraseology of Cicero.[269]
Poggio’s resolution to correct the irregularity of his conduct, and to
enter into the state of lawful wedlock, most certainly merited high
commendation. It is to be hoped, however, that he experienced the keenest
remorse of self-accusation for his former licentiousness, when he found
that the commencement of his reformation was to be signalized by an act
of extreme unkindness. In order to prepare the way for his marriage,
he was obliged to dismiss a mistress who had borne him twelve sons and
two daughters. What distressing embarrassments crowd the train of vice;
and how powerfully are the benevolent feelings excited on the side of
virtue, when we see the object of licentious passion, after a connexion
of many years, in circumstances which seem to imply on her part fidelity
to her seducer, at length abandoned by him, and sent forth, perhaps in
poverty—certainly in agonizing mental distress—to encounter the taunts of
public scorn.[270]
If, however, we may give credit to Poggio’s account of the state of his
feelings on his entrance upon his new connexion, his felicity was not
interrupted by any painful reflections on the past, or by any uneasy
forebodings with respect to the future. In a letter to one of his English
friends, Nicholas Bilston, Archdeacon of Winchester, he thus expresses
himself on the subject of his marriage.
“Our epistolary intercourse, my dear father, has by my omission been
too long suspended. Do not, however, impute my silence to forgetfulness
of the obligations which your goodness has conferred upon me; for I
can assure you that a sense of your kindness is impressed upon my mind
in indelible characters. The fact is, that till lately, no event has
occurred in my history of sufficient importance to constitute the subject
of a letter. But I have now to announce to you a most important change
in my situation—a change, of which I hasten to give you the earliest
intelligence, in full confidence that you will participate in my joys.
You know that I have been hitherto uncertain what course of life to
pursue, and that I have long hesitated whether to adopt the secular or
the clerical character. To the ecclesiastical profession, however, I
must confess that I never felt any inclination. In this dubious state
of mind, I arrived at a period when it was absolutely requisite for me
to fix upon some settled plan for the regulation of my future conduct.
Determining, therefore, not to spend the remainder of my days in unsocial
solitude, I resolved to marry; and though now declining into the vale of
years, I have ventured to enter into the matrimonial union with a young
lady of great beauty, and possessed of all the accomplishments which
are proper for her sex. You will perhaps say, that I ought to have taken
this step at an earlier period. I confess it: but, as the old proverb
says, ‘better late than never;’ and you must remember that philosophers
assure us, that ‘_Sera nunquam est ad bonos mores via_.’ I might, indeed,
have changed my condition many years ago; but in that case I should not
have obtained my present spouse, a partner in all respects suited to my
manners and disposition, in whose agreeable converse I find a solace for
all my anxieties and cares. So richly is she endowed with virtues, that
she gratifies my most sanguine wishes. This circumstance is the source
of the greatest comfort to me; and I return thanks to God, who, having
continually been propitious to me, ‘has loved me even to the end,’ and
has bestowed upon me more than I could have wished. Well knowing your
regard for me, and duly sensible of the value of your friendship, I have
thought it my duty to acquaint you with my present circumstances, and to
make you a partaker in my pleasure. Farewell.”
This letter, which bears the date of the sixth of February, 1436, was
written in the course of that halcyon period, during the continuance of
which the fetters of matrimony are usually entwined with flowers, and
unmixed pleasure is supposed to be the almost certain portion of the
newly united pair. In the strictness of investigation, therefore, it
cannot be admitted as evidence of the happiness which Poggio enjoyed in
the married state. Hymeneal transports, however ardent, are proverbially
fleeting; and many a matrimonial union which has commenced in affection,
has been found productive of disgust. From various detached passages,
however, which occur in his future correspondence with his friends,
it appears that Poggio was not disappointed in his hopes of conjugal
felicity, and that his connexion with Vaggia was a source of comfort to
his declining years.
On the eighteenth of April, [A. D. 1436.] Eugenius quitted Florence, and
transferred the pontifical court to Bologna, whither he was accompanied
by Poggio, who soon after his arrival there, detailed his further
experience of the joys of wedded love in the following letter to the
cardinal of St. Angelo.
“You have frequently, most reverend father, exhorted me, both in
conversation and by letter, to adopt some settled course of life.
I have at length followed your advice. Two plans were proposed to
my consideration: to enter into the priesthood, or to pursue some
secular concern—To the ecclesiastical profession I always entertained
an invincible objection—I disliked solitude; and therefore, being
determined to enter upon civil life, I turned my mind to matrimony. I
do not deny that the clerical life is by many esteemed more peaceable
and tranquil than that which I have chosen. It is, indeed, generally
regarded as free from care, and as allowing the greatest scope to ease
and self-indulgence.—The opulence which it promises to confer is also a
powerful motive to impel men to the adoption of it—a much more powerful
one, indeed, than any considerations of a religious or moral nature. For
what numbers are there whose inquiry is directed after wealthy benefices
rather than after the rule of an upright life. It is deemed honourable
amongst mortals to excel others in pomp, to be flattered and courted by
the multitude, to abound in riches, which procure that outward splendour
which is generally thought to constitute dignity. And it is deemed still
more honourable to obtain these advantages without labour, and in a short
time. Hence the clergy, springing like mushrooms in an hour, are rapidly
advanced to the highest dignities. Thus it very frequently happens, that
you are obliged to venerate as a God, a man whom you have been accustomed
to despise as a mean, abject, ignoble, and ill-bred character. By one
word of the pontiff, the ignorant become, in the estimation of the
vulgar, learned; the stupid wise; the uninstructed accomplished—though at
the same time the real character of the men is precisely the same as it
was before.
“In addition to these considerations, I was well aware how important
is the dignified office of an ecclesiastic; and what a weight of
responsibility rests upon those who, by accepting benefices, undertake
the spiritual guidance of their fellow men; and I was deterred from
entering upon the clerical functions by the strictness of the precepts
which are inculcated by the ancient doctors of the church. For when I
was informed by these most holy men, whose works I had perused, to what
uses the wealth of the church ought to be appropriated—that he who does
not work, ought not to eat—and that the labourer in spiritual things
ought to be content with food and raiment; and when I was conscious that
I was unfit for the discharge of clerical duties; and when I knew that I
could obtain food and raiment by other, though certainly more laborious
means; I thought it advisable—not indeed to contemn the former pursuit,
but to adopt the latter, which seemed more suitable to my disposition.
That warfare is, I must confess, better and more illustrious in which men
can attain to a greater pitch of merit, provided they conduct themselves
according to the rules of religion and their office. But after maturely
examining my own strength and ability, I was afraid of engaging in a
field, in which I should incur the almost certain danger of basely
yielding to the adversary, or of falling in the combat, to the hazard of
my soul.
“Being determined therefore to employ myself in secular concerns, in
forming my matrimonial engagement, I adopted those principles which have
obtained the approbation of the wise and learned. For in the choice of
a wife, I was not influenced by riches, which render the generality of
men blind to their true interests—nor was I prompted by a wish to rise
to civil honours, or to strengthen my interest with the great. These are
objects of earnest desire to the multitude at large. But I was influenced
by different motives. In looking out for a partner for life, I looked
for honour, probity, virtue, which the wisest of men have declared to be
the most ample dower which a parent can bestow upon his child. Being,
then, well acquainted with the excellent dispositions, the modesty, and
the other characteristic virtues of a certain young lady of noble family,
who had not yet completed her eighteenth year, on her I fixed my choice.
The exemplariness of this lady’s manners was acknowledged by every body
who was acquainted with her; and the excellence of her character I
esteemed her most striking recommendation. Such indeed is her beauty,
that I cannot but occasionally reflect with seriousness on the disparity
of our years—however, as I knew that from her tender youth, she had
been educated in such a manner, that she had a still greater share of
good principles and of modesty, than of comeliness and grace of person,
I determined to make her my own. Nor have I repented of my resolution.
For so much does she daily rise in my esteem, that I continually give
thanks to God, who, in former times has always blessed me with more than,
on account of my sins, I could possibly deserve; and in bestowing upon
me so excellent a wife, has so bountifully provided for my comfort and
satisfaction, that there is nothing that I can wish for in addition to
his present mercies.
“Our friend Zucharo was accustomed to say, when he wished to commend some
exquisitely dressed dish, that it was so delicately seasoned that the
least alteration in its composition would spoil it. So say I of my wife.
There is nothing which I wish to be added to her character, nor any thing
which I wish to be taken away from it.
“I must now tell you the reason why I have been so late in writing to you
on this subject. It is a common observation, that there are few if any
married men who do not become weary of their wives in the course of a
year. The pontiff has allowed me six months for my period of probation.
The fifth month is now expired; and my wife daily grows upon my esteem,
and is daily more agreeable to me, and more compliant with my wishes.
Forming a conjecture as to the future from my experience of the past,
I am inspired by a confident expectation that I shall never repent of
having formed this connexion. I trust also that God will continue to me
his favour. For if he was propitious to me when I strayed from the path
of moral rectitude, I may reasonably hope, that since I have entered upon
the right way he will shower down his blessings upon me with a still
more liberal hand. But whatever may happen in the course of the changes
which take place in this sublunary world, I shall never repent of having
acted uprightly. I wished to communicate this intelligence to you, my
dear friend, in order that you might rejoice in my joy. I am sensible
that the gravity of your wisdom might claim a more weighty subject of
correspondence: but the wisest of men occasionally indulge themselves
with a little relaxation from serious pursuits. This relaxation I trust
you will experience in the perusal of my present epistle.”[271]
Guarino Veronese embraced the occasion of Poggio’s marriage to renew
the friendly intercourse with him which had been unhappily suspended
in consequence of their late dispute. He addressed him on this joyful
occasion in a congratulatory letter, to which Poggio replied with the
most cordial frankness. “In your epistle,” said he, “which I received
by the kindness of Francesco of Ferrara, I recognize my friend Guarino,
who was formerly inferior to no one in the testimonies of his affection
towards me. I am happy to find, that though your ability in maintaining
the intercourse of friendship may have been suspended, it is not lost.
I also am the same that I ever was—your most faithful friend. Be
assured that my regard for you has not suffered the least diminution.
A difference of opinion can never justify a breach of friendship. Our
late contention, in which we engaged for the purpose of exercising our
abilities in the bestowing of praise and the infliction of censure,
was highly commendable. The great men of antiquity adopted different
sides of the question in the senate and at the bar, without the least
infringement of the duties of friendship. It would indeed redound to
our disgrace, if the similarity of our studies, which is usually the
firmest bond of union, should dissolve that pleasing connection which has
subsisted for so long a space of time. The learned and justly renowned
Francesco Barbaro, during his late visit to Florence, intimated to me
his suspicions, that my friendly regard for you was somewhat diminished.
I told him that his suspicions were entirely groundless; that my esteem
for you was so far from being diminished, that it was increased—I
also promised to write to you. This promise I should certainly have
immediately fulfilled, had I not been prevented by the press of business
occasioned by the departure of the pontiff.
“Accept my thanks for your kind congratulation on the late change in
my condition. I hope I shall find it productive of perpetual comfort
and pleasure. For since, as Flaccus says, the virtue of parents is a
great dowry, I have had this alone in view, and have overlooked riches
and other recommendations, which the generality of men regard as
indispensably requisite to the happiness of the married state. Petronius
Arbiter asserts, that wisdom and beauty are rarely allied—but by the
favour of heaven, I am united to a wife, who, though she has not yet
completed her eighteenth year, and is distinguished by her beauty, is yet
more virtuous than she is fair, and comprehends in her character all the
graces which adorn the female sex. I trust, therefore, that I have made a
provision of comfort for my future years, though some of my friends say
that I am beginning a new art, at the time when I ought to be quitting
it. But it is never too late to do what is right and honest: and as good
poets take especial pains in polishing the last act of their play, I am
resolved to dedicate the remainder of my days to purity of conduct.”[272]
At this time, the Florentines and the Venetians, being at war with the
Duke of Milan, had engaged as their ally Giovan Francesco Gonzaga,
Marquis of Mantua; and whilst hostilities were carrying on between the
above mentioned parties, the eldest son of the Marquis, being an ardent
admirer of the character of Niccolo Piccinino, who held a station of
distinction in the Milanese army, had secretly quitted his father’s
house, and had entered into the service of the Duke for the purpose
of studying the art of war under the auspices of that celebrated
Condottiere. Gonzaga was so much irritated by this conduct of his son,
that he disinherited him, as being, by a species of desertion, guilty of
a capital crime. The young prince, whilst this judgment hung suspended
over his head, having been ordered by Piccinino to guard with a body
of troops the lines by which the town of Barga was beleaguered by the
Milanese forces, was wounded and taken prisoner in a battle which he
fought with Francesco Sforza, one of the commanders in the pay of the
Florentine republic. The repentant run-away having, on his recovery,
taken service under Sforza, and thus rejoined the standard of his native
country, applied to his father for forgiveness of his fault. But he
solicited for pardon in vain. Gonzaga, either indulging the natural
severity of his disposition, or fearing to excite the jealousy of the
Venetians, should he pass over so heinous a crime, turned a deaf ear to
the suit of the youthful warrior, and sternly refused to mitigate the
doom which he had pronounced upon him.
Deeply affected by this incident, Poggio, who was then with the
pontifical court at Bologna, wrote to the Marquis a long and elaborate
letter, in which he pleaded, with a zeal enlightened by the principles
of humanity, for an extension of mercy to the juvenile offender. In
this eloquent composition, after an appropriate introduction, in
which he touched upon the difficulty of the task of regulating human
conduct according to contingent circumstances, and the necessity of due
reflection for the proper discharge of moral duties, Poggio reminded
the Marquis, that, learned and prudent as he was justly accounted, yet
as a sovereign he was liable to be led astray by his passions, which
were likely to be fostered rather than restrained by the applause of
interested flatterers, whose constant object it is to prevent the voice
of reason from approaching the ears of men invested with power. This
remark he aptly illustrated by a reference to the history of Augustus
Cæsar, who, having repented of the severity with which he had treated his
delinquent daughter Julia, exclaimed in the bitterness of his feelings,
that he should not have conducted himself towards her with so much
harshness, had Marcus Agrippa and Mecænas been still living, who alone of
his courtiers dared freely to tell him the truth.
Poggio then proceeds, in the character of an honest adviser, to represent
to the Marquis, that it is the opinion of the most competent judges
of the actions of princes, that the punishment, which he professes to
be determined to inflict on his son, is more severe than just. The
delinquency of the prince involved no stain upon his honour. On the
contrary, it was occasioned by an excess of generous feeling. Why, then,
should he be subjected to a penalty befitting a traitorous conspirator,
or a fratricide? The Marquis may perhaps imagine that the example of
Brutus and that of Manlius Torquatus may be pleaded in defence of his
obduracy, but he begs him to remember that those illustrious Romans
did not avenge with the fatal axe their own wrongs, but those of the
republic. Becoming animated as he proceeds in the discussion of his
subject, Poggio, quitting the apologetic style, pronounces an eulogium
on the young Gonzaga, who, instead of devoting himself like a Sybarite
to the pleasures and the pastimes of a court, had, in pursuit of glory,
encountered the perils and the fatigues of war. Then, relating another
anecdote of the second of the Roman emperors, who, being consulted by
Titus Arrius, as to the punishment which he should inflict on his son,
who had been guilty of plotting against his life, had given it as his
opinion, that the offender should be banished, rather than put to death,
he maintains that the same principle which prompted Augustus to award a
mitigated penalty against a young man convicted of so atrocious a crime
as meditated parricide, should induce the Marquis to treat with lenity
the juvenile indiscretion of his son. Then appealing to the remorse and
penitence of the prince, he urges the offended father to receive the
returning prodigal with kindness; and, descending from the flights of
eloquence to the plain level of prudential consideration, he concludes
his letter by admonishing the Marquis, that if he should persevere in his
design of disinheriting his eldest born son, that son had proved by his
late conduct that he was too high spirited to submit to the threatened
indignity, and that, however submissive he might be during his father’s
life, the death of the Marquis would be the signal of a civil war, which
would lay waste the Mantuan territory, and which would only terminate
with the shameful victory of one of his children over the other, or with
the ruin of both.
When Poggio had finished the composition of this letter, he in the first
instance consigned it to the care of Vittorino da Feltre, a scholar of
high reputation, who then held the confidential office of preceptor to
the sons of Gonzaga, requesting him to watch for some favourable moment
for presenting it to his patron. This very precaution should seem to
intimate, that Poggio felt a latent consciousness that the liberty which
he was taking in assuming the office of a monitor, might possibly not be
very acceptable to the distinguished personage to whom his admonition was
addressed. And yet, such was the pride of scholarship in the fifteenth
century, that when, at the end of two months, his letter was returned to
him by Vittorino, with an intimation that Gonzaga declined receiving it,
Poggio addressed a second letter to the unrelenting father, protesting
that he had been influenced, in requesting his attention to wholesome
lessons of advice, not by any selfish motives, but by his zeal for the
welfare of a sovereign prince, from whom he unequivocally declared that
he thought himself entitled, in consideration of his good offices, to a
return of gratitude rather than of contempt. At the same time he wrote
to Vittorino, expostulating with him for the want of zeal, which he had
evinced with regard to the commission with which he had entrusted him;
and understanding that Carlo Brognolo, an intimate acquaintance of his,
resident at the Mantuan court, had endeavoured to induce the Marquis to
excuse the liberty which he had taken in writing to him, he wrote to him
also, thanking him for his friendly intentions; but at the same time
protesting, that he had only addressed the sovereign of Mantua by letter
in the manner in which, had an opportunity presented itself, he would
have addressed him personally, namely, in a style and tone becoming the
citizen of a free state.
There is reason to believe that the displeasure felt by the Mantuan
prince against the officious scribe was not deeply rooted or of long
duration; for it appears that Gonzaga, having come to Ferrara when the
council was assembled in that city in the year 1438, took occasion, in
the presence of a numerous audience, to speak of Poggio in terms of
respect and praise, for which honour the latter tendered to his Highness,
by letter, his grateful thanks.[273]
The literary reputation of Poggio now began to be very extensively
diffused, and his writings became an object of frequent inquiry among
the learned. Several eminent scholars had been so much gratified by the
perusal of some of his letters, which had accidentally fallen into their
hands, that they earnestly requested him to publish a collection of them.
This request could not but be highly gratifying to his feelings, and
he readily took the requisite steps to comply with it. He accordingly
desired Niccolo Niccoli, with whom, as being his most intimate friend, he
had maintained a constant correspondence, to select from his papers such
of his letters as were likely to reflect lustre on his character; and he
was engaged in arranging and correcting the materials for a small volume,
at the time when the pontifical court was transferred from Florence to
Bologna. On resuming his task in the latter city, he found that Niccolo
had neglected to transmit to him various letters which he had addressed
to him from France and Germany, and which he thought would be peculiarly
interesting to the public, as they contained an account of his successful
exertions in search of the lost writers of antiquity. Niccolo was not so
active as Poggio could have wished in procuring for him these necessary
documents. The letters in question were in all probability dispersed
in the hands of various persons, and of course he would experience
some delay and difficulty in collecting them. In fact they were never
recovered by Poggio, who completed from the materials which he had in
his own possession a volume[274] of his epistles, which he submitted to
the inspection of the public, dedicating it to the Canonico Francesco
Marescalco of Ferrara.[275] A copy of this volume is preserved amongst
the manuscripts of the Riccardi library in Florence.[276]
The transmission of his letters was one of his last acts of friendship
which Poggio requested from Niccolo Niccoli. Soon after the publication
of his epistles, he received the melancholy intelligence of the death of
this his earliest and steadiest friend. He was acutely sensible of the
serious loss which he had sustained by this event, which took place on
the 23rd of January, 1437; and in the ardour of his affection, he waited
with patience for the publication of some tribute of respect to the
memory of the deceased, which he thought might justly be demanded from
the multitude of learned men, on whom the numerous favours which they
had received from the hands of Niccolo imposed an imperious obligation
to celebrate his virtues.[277] In this expectation he was disappointed.
The scholars of Florence were, perhaps, of opinion, that panegyrics on
the living were more productive of profit than encomiums on the dead.
Offended by their tardiness, Poggio resolved, notwithstanding the urgency
and variety of his occupations, to rescue the name of his friend from
oblivion. He accordingly composed and published a funeral eulogium on
Niccolo Niccoli; being determined, as he said in a letter to Feltrino
Boiardo, to merit, at least, the praise which is due to the faithful
discharge of the offices of friendship.[278]
In his funeral oration on Niccolo, Poggio, adopting the character of the
orator appointed to address the public on the occasion of his obsequies,
introduced the eulogy of his deceased friend by the following exordium.
“If, citizens of Florence! it had been consistent with the dignity of
the Latin muses personally to address you on the present occasion, they
would not have delegated this office to another—they would themselves,
in the most copious and ornamented language, have celebrated the virtues
of their most excellent and praise-worthy child. But since those
whose transcendent majesty prevents them from exhibiting themselves to
the eyes of the public, commission their representatives to appear on
their behalf—though I know that there are many in this assembly, whose
learning, whose genius, and whose oratorical abilities are far superior
to mine, I have ventured to claim your attention—not with a view of
precluding the more enlightened efforts of others; but in hopes that,
whilst I thus discharge the imperious duties of friendship, my humble
exertions may lead the way to more splendid specimens of eloquence. And
should my powers fall far short of the merits of the deceased—should
I be unable to pay a tribute of respect in any degree adequate to the
services which I have received from him, you will, I trust, pardon me,
not merely in consideration of the mediocrity of my talents, but also in
consideration of the multitude of the virtues of our departed friend.
Abilities far superior to any which I possess are requisite to execute
the task of enumerating, in the brief space of time which is usually
allotted to these occasions, the numerous excellent qualities of the
deceased.—But why do I say deceased? Niccolo undoubtedly lives, and
will for ever live. He will be held in everlasting remembrance in the
minds of men, and he enjoys that immortality, which alone is deserving
of the name of life. We firmly believe, that his pure soul, freed from
every corporeal stain, no longer obnoxious to the contagion of sin, has
been at once exalted into heaven. For he was a man of the most upright
conduct, endued with singular modesty, during every period of his mortal
existence. Connecting the study of polite learning with that of the
sacred scriptures, he ascended from knowledge to practice, and rendered
his literary pursuits subservient to the regulation of his moral conduct.
In order that you may become more particularly acquainted with his
character, permit me to enter a little at large upon the subject of his
studies and learning, his moral qualities, and the uprightness of his
conversation. For the contemplation of the example of excellent men is a
powerful incitement to an imitation of their virtues.”
Pursuing the method thus pointed out, Poggio proceeded to give an account
of the education and early pursuits of his friend, and made honourable
mention of the good services which he had rendered to the cause of
literature. He next entered into a particular detail of his virtuous
dispositions, celebrating, with appropriate praise, his prudence, his
benevolence, his fortitude, his contempt of wealth, and the gravity of
his manners. At length, mentioning the serenity with which he met his
dissolution, he thus concluded. “Oh fatal day! bitter indeed to us; but
to him the happy termination of evils. At thy destiny, Niccolo, (for I
will once more address our departed friend) at thy destiny I rejoice,
for thou inhabitest the abodes of the pious, and art entered into the
mansions of eternal rest. It is for myself I grieve—on my own account I
lament this fatal day, which has deprived me of thy delightful converse,
of thy tender affection, which has robbed me of the fruit of my studies,
which has torn from me him whom I regarded as my friend and father, to
whom I was accustomed freely to communicate my cares, my thoughts, my
every word and deed. Justly is this day to be lamented by me, in which I
have lost the consolation of my sorrows, the alleviation of my griefs,
and the firmest support of my labours. No longer shall I be permitted
to converse with thee, to ask thy advice, to rely upon thy friendly
exertions. This consolation I will, however, retain; I will recall the
memory of past times, and whilst I imbibe the vital air, I will dwell on
thy sweet remembrance, and embrace thee in idea. The image of my friend
shall be perpetually present to my eyes; and since alas! he is numbered
amongst the silent dead, in the celebration of his virtues I will testify
the gratitude which I feel for the numerous acts of kindness which I have
experienced from him during his life.”[279]
The generality of scholars are not, perhaps, aware of the debt of
gratitude which they owe to Niccolo Niccoli. If, however, they derive
pleasure and improvement from the perusal of the classic authors of
Greece and Rome, they ought to hold him in respectful remembrance;
for to his liberality and to his industry, the recovery and diffusion
of many of the writings of the ancients may be justly ascribed. His
pecuniary assistance enabled Poggio to support the expenses which he
incurred in the course of his researches after neglected manuscripts;
his assiduous diligence in transcribing the works of the luminaries of
Grecian and Roman literature multiplied the copies of those exemplars
of true taste.[280] In the acquisition of books, he set no bounds to
his expenses; and the inconsiderateness of the zeal with which he added
to the stores of his library sometimes reduced him to the verge of
poverty.[281] His researches after the memorials of ancient genius were
not confined to manuscripts. Inspired by a love of the arts, he eagerly
availed himself of every opportunity which occurred, of purchasing
antique statues, coins and gems. So extensive was his collection of
these interesting relics of past magnificence, that Poggio asserts in
his funeral oration, that it exceeded the aggregate amount of all other
collections of the same kind.[282] He did not, like a literary miser,
morosely brood over the treasures of his library and his cabinet in
unsocial selfishness. His doors were always open to the learned, and
to those who entertained a desire to improve their understanding by
study. The ingenuous youths who wished to gain access to the fountains
of knowledge found in Niccolo a protector and a guide. Extending his
patronage of literature beyond the period of his mortal existence, by his
last will he bequeathed his library, which consisted of upwards of eight
hundred volumes, to the use of the public.[283]
It does not appear that he was the author of any literary work, except
a short treatise on the orthography of the Latin language, in which he
attempted to settle various disputed points on this subject, by the
authority of ancient inscriptions.[284] One of his contemporaries[285]
attributes his literary silence to the fastidiousness of his taste, which
led him to form in his own mind a standard of excellence, to which he
despaired of attaining in the practice of Latin composition. Leonardo
Aretino, in the irritation of his mind, occasioned by his unfortunate
quarrel with Niccolo, ascribed his declining to appear in the republic
of letters, in the character of an author, to his utter ignorance of the
Latin language.[286] But this is undoubtedly one of those calumnies in
which the scholars of that age indulged their spleen, without feeling the
slightest compunction of conscience. To say nothing of the commendations
of the literary acquirements of Niccolo, which occur in the writings
of his learned contemporaries, his ample library may be regarded as an
evidence of his scholarship. In modern times, the possession of an
extensive and valuable collection of books is not of itself a certain
proof of learning. But when it is considered that Niccolo had himself
transcribed many of the volumes which adorned the shelves of his library,
and that in the copies which he made of the Roman classics he divided the
respective subjects into chapters, and prefixed to these divisions an
abstract of their contents—what reason can there be to entertain doubts
of his literary abilities? Several of the ancient writings recovered by
Poggio abounded in errors, which Niccolo corrected in his transcripts;
and he was accustomed to settle the text of the Latin authors by the
comparison of various manuscripts. The execution of this task required
considerable learning, and in its performance he appears in the venerable
character of the parent of the useful art of verbal criticism.[287]
Restricting himself to the discharge of the higher duties of
benevolence, in the conferring of important favours, Niccolo
unfortunately neglected those lesser offices of good will, which, though
apparently trifling when considered individually, have in the aggregate
a considerable influence upon the comfort and happiness of human life.
He was prone to anger, quick in finding fault, and prompt in giving
utterance to his resentful feelings.[288] United with such a disposition,
the possession of the dangerous faculty of sarcastic wit was to Niccolo
a most serious misfortune;[289] as it too frequently betrayed him into
that provoking intemperance of speech which called into exercise the
forbearance of his friends, and excited the bitter enmity of those whose
pride or passion would not permit them occasionally to give way to his
sallies of peevishness. In consequence of the indulgence of his ill
humour, the honour which accrued to him from his exertions to induce
Manuel Crysoloras and Guarino Veronese to instruct the ingenuous youth
of Florence in the Greek language, is tarnished by his quarrels with
those eminent scholars, which, it is alleged, caused them to quit the
Tuscan capital in disgust. But if he was impetuous in his passion, he
was open to a conviction of his error, and listened with patience to
the admonitions of friendship. Those who were intimately acquainted
with his character pardoned his occasional fits of moroseness, in
consideration of the intrinsic generosity of his heart. Niccolo was of
a middling stature, inclined to corpulency, and in his countenance
there appeared a happy mixture of cheerfulness and gravity. His bodily
senses were remarkably acute, and he had cultivated them to a degree
of fastidiousness.[290] He was splendid in his dress; but this was the
extent of his luxury. His hall was not crowded by a numerous retinue of
servants. Contented with the ministration of Benvenuta alone, he did
not profess to astonish and gratify his visitors by the magnificence
of sumptuous banquets; but in his instructive conversation, and in the
perusal of the classic volumes which adorned his library, his literary
friends enjoyed that feast of reason which they could not meet with in
more superb abodes.