DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.19776#0109
VILLA MEDICI,
FLORENCE.
WHEN we stand on the terrace at Villa
Medici and think of the records there of
Lorenzo, we do not think, of the cruel
victor of Volterra, or of the destroyer
of Florentine liberty, but rather of the man who
was the dear friend and patron of the most
cultivated and refined minds of his day ; and of
all the Medicean villas, none was more intimately
interwoven than this one with the lives of the most
interesting of that group. Three men stand out,
interesting and distinguished, in that age of remark-
able personalities—Marsilio Ficino, the philosopher,
the refined, mystical thinker, whose delicate health
was combined with extraordinary literary activity.
He was a priest and secular teacher, and preached
very often, both in his own parish church and
in Florence. His pupils were devoted to him,
and he kept up a large correspondence with
them. His great work was the translation of
Plato, which no doubt had a deep influence on
the thought of the day. He made many other
translations, and left some original work and
a mass of very interesting correspondence with
such men as the Medici, Federigo da Montefeltro,
and Bembo.
In spite of all the honours paid him, he
remained simple and unpretending, loving a quiet
life, often melancholy, though with those he
loved he was cheerful and sympathetic. In his
later years he was a constant visitor of Lorenzo,
at one or other of his villas, and to his last hour
Lorenzo was attached to him, and describes him
as " Marsilio, whom heaven has filled with its
own especial grace." The man who was in
closest relation to Lorenzo was that Angelo
Poliziano whose name is so connected with Villa
Medici. He was commended to Lorenzo, while
still young, as the translator of the " Iliad." The
voung Head of the House became his friend, and
through all changes Poliziano loved him, till he
stood by his death-bed. He became a great
poet, and his verses, the " Stanzas," the " Sylvas,"
" Rusticus," are counted among the gems of
the Italian language.
The third of this delightful trio was Pico
della Mirandola, younger than the others and
leaving little of finished work behind him when
he died at two-and-thirty ; he yet has left the
impress of a personality that has defied time. His
is the most brilliant figure of that brilliant circle.
We are familiar with the description of his tall,
slender, well-knit form, and the handsome face
"from which something divine seemed to shine,"
his costly dress and abstruse learning, and the sim-
plicity and sweetness of character which drew all
hearts to him.
Those who climb to the fresh air of Villa
Medici will think with interest of Poliziano's
letter, written after Lorenzo had installed him
there, to Marsilio Ficino : " If the summer heat
oppress thee at Careggi, the cooler air of Fiesole
will be pleasant to thee. We have plenty of
water between the slopes of the hills, and while
gentle winds constantly refresh us, the glare of
the sun troubles us little. The neighbourhood
is thickly peopled, yet I find here the quiet that
suits me. But I will tempt thee with yet another
attraction. Pico sometimes wanders beyond the
limit of his own grounds, breaks in unexpectedly
on my solitude and carries me away from my shady
garden to his evening meal."
In the autumn of 1478 Lorenzo sent Polizianc
to Fiesole with his wife and children. Clarice
di Medici was a good and careful mother, and
Poliziano seems to have been a devoted tutor,
but the two did not get on. Poliziano was
bored with her, and longing to be again with
Lorenzo. " We get on as well as we can," lie
writes, after a time, " but I cannot escape a few
collisions." Presently matters came to an open
breach ; they had moved to Careggi, where
it rained every day. Poliziano sat by the fire in
dressing-gown and slippers, a prey to melancholy,
and only rousing himself to quarrel with his
employer's wife, who, not unnaturally, wished to
have a voice in teaching her children. So Lorenzo
sent him back to Fiesole, where he wrote Latin
verses on the view and the winding Arno.
He was a great believer in witches, and in
an address to his students lie says, " In the neigh-
bourhood of my little villa at Fiesole there is a
little brook, hidden by the shadow of the hillside,
and the women of the place sav that it is
a place of meeting for the witches." In the
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FLORENCE.
WHEN we stand on the terrace at Villa
Medici and think of the records there of
Lorenzo, we do not think, of the cruel
victor of Volterra, or of the destroyer
of Florentine liberty, but rather of the man who
was the dear friend and patron of the most
cultivated and refined minds of his day ; and of
all the Medicean villas, none was more intimately
interwoven than this one with the lives of the most
interesting of that group. Three men stand out,
interesting and distinguished, in that age of remark-
able personalities—Marsilio Ficino, the philosopher,
the refined, mystical thinker, whose delicate health
was combined with extraordinary literary activity.
He was a priest and secular teacher, and preached
very often, both in his own parish church and
in Florence. His pupils were devoted to him,
and he kept up a large correspondence with
them. His great work was the translation of
Plato, which no doubt had a deep influence on
the thought of the day. He made many other
translations, and left some original work and
a mass of very interesting correspondence with
such men as the Medici, Federigo da Montefeltro,
and Bembo.
In spite of all the honours paid him, he
remained simple and unpretending, loving a quiet
life, often melancholy, though with those he
loved he was cheerful and sympathetic. In his
later years he was a constant visitor of Lorenzo,
at one or other of his villas, and to his last hour
Lorenzo was attached to him, and describes him
as " Marsilio, whom heaven has filled with its
own especial grace." The man who was in
closest relation to Lorenzo was that Angelo
Poliziano whose name is so connected with Villa
Medici. He was commended to Lorenzo, while
still young, as the translator of the " Iliad." The
voung Head of the House became his friend, and
through all changes Poliziano loved him, till he
stood by his death-bed. He became a great
poet, and his verses, the " Stanzas," the " Sylvas,"
" Rusticus," are counted among the gems of
the Italian language.
The third of this delightful trio was Pico
della Mirandola, younger than the others and
leaving little of finished work behind him when
he died at two-and-thirty ; he yet has left the
impress of a personality that has defied time. His
is the most brilliant figure of that brilliant circle.
We are familiar with the description of his tall,
slender, well-knit form, and the handsome face
"from which something divine seemed to shine,"
his costly dress and abstruse learning, and the sim-
plicity and sweetness of character which drew all
hearts to him.
Those who climb to the fresh air of Villa
Medici will think with interest of Poliziano's
letter, written after Lorenzo had installed him
there, to Marsilio Ficino : " If the summer heat
oppress thee at Careggi, the cooler air of Fiesole
will be pleasant to thee. We have plenty of
water between the slopes of the hills, and while
gentle winds constantly refresh us, the glare of
the sun troubles us little. The neighbourhood
is thickly peopled, yet I find here the quiet that
suits me. But I will tempt thee with yet another
attraction. Pico sometimes wanders beyond the
limit of his own grounds, breaks in unexpectedly
on my solitude and carries me away from my shady
garden to his evening meal."
In the autumn of 1478 Lorenzo sent Polizianc
to Fiesole with his wife and children. Clarice
di Medici was a good and careful mother, and
Poliziano seems to have been a devoted tutor,
but the two did not get on. Poliziano was
bored with her, and longing to be again with
Lorenzo. " We get on as well as we can," lie
writes, after a time, " but I cannot escape a few
collisions." Presently matters came to an open
breach ; they had moved to Careggi, where
it rained every day. Poliziano sat by the fire in
dressing-gown and slippers, a prey to melancholy,
and only rousing himself to quarrel with his
employer's wife, who, not unnaturally, wished to
have a voice in teaching her children. So Lorenzo
sent him back to Fiesole, where he wrote Latin
verses on the view and the winding Arno.
He was a great believer in witches, and in
an address to his students lie says, " In the neigh-
bourhood of my little villa at Fiesole there is a
little brook, hidden by the shadow of the hillside,
and the women of the place sav that it is
a place of meeting for the witches." In the
( 97