When in 1491 he accepted the Patriarchate of Aquileia from the Pope without asking the consent of the Republic, this offence against law and precedent was punished by the senate with deprivation and banishment, and Barbaro died near Rome, of an infectious disease, in the summer of 1493, at the early age of thirty-three.[72] Of his many works, chiefly on Greek writers, none seem now to justify his reputation. His studies on Pliny’s ‘Natural History’ hold an honourable place among the critical investigations begun in his day, and his lively wit shines forth in his letters.
Ermolao came through Florence on his way to Rome in the spring of 1490. As Lorenzo de’ Medici was then at the baths of Vignone, his eldest son received the stranger with the honour due to his rank and the friendly relations between the families. Piero’s letter to his father has some literary as well as personal interest:[73] ‘Illustrious father,—By a letter from you which reached Ser Piero yesterday morning I was informed of your desires with respect to Messer Ermolao, who arrived yesterday after dinner. His arrival was, so to say, unexpected, and I only heard of it about an hour before. I went to meet him, as did four or five others, and he had to go first to the hotel, as his quarters were not yet ready, whither he afterwards came on foot. As soon as he had arrived, I went to him, according to your desire, to invite him to us, and to inquire how long he intended to stay. I invited him for to-day, and heard that it was his intention to remain only the one day, as he wants to travel to-morrow as far as Poggibonzi or some other place, so that he may reach Siena before noon on the following day. Whether he means to stay there I do not know. To-day he has been our guest, and I cannot say how much pleasure this has given him. Besides his suite, which consists of his brother (Luigi), a secretary of St. Mark, and a doctor, we invited the persons whom he wished to see; they were the Count della Mirandola, Messer Marsilio, and Messer Agnolo of Montepulciano, to whom, as we wished to have an inhabitant of the city and yet to keep within the circle of intimate friends and scholars, we added Bernardo Rucellai. Whether we did right I know not. After dinner I showed him the house, the coins, vases, sculptured stones—in short everything, including the garden (near San Marco), which he especially liked, though he does not seem to understand much about sculpture. The value and age of the coins interested him greatly; they were all astonished at the quantity of fine things. I cannot tell you much about him, except that he speaks very elegantly, as far as I can judge, and that he likes to show his reading by quoting the ancients, sometimes in Latin. His appearance is on the whole very good; he is temperate in all things, which is probably needful for him, as he seems to have a very delicate constitution. He is said to be an adroit man of business, which I rather doubt, as he seems to me somewhat ceremonious. He could not display greater friendship for you than he does, and I believe he means it. He received all the honour done him with much gratitude, not at all after the Venetian fashion; and indeed nothing but his dress shows him to be a Venetian. According to his own account, he has a great desire to see you, and he says he will willingly go out of his way to meet and salute you; which I think it my duty to mention, in case it should meet your views. He also says that he is commissioned by his Signoria to salute you. He has been honourably treated by the citizens, and received compensation for having to alight at the hotel. This morning, before he came to dinner, he presented himself to the Signoria, with complimentary greetings.’ That the learned Venetian fulfilled his intention of saluting Lorenzo on his way, we learn from Lorenzo himself, who wrote to his agent at Siena on May 15 as follows: ‘Ermolao was here early this morning, and continued his journey after staying a while with me.’[74]
When Ermolao Barbaro fell into disgrace with his own government, Lorenzo took his part warmly. Among other things he tried to persuade the Pope to give him the red hat, probably hoping that such a distinction would reconcile the Signoria to him. Ermolao’s father gratefully acknowledged his friend’s efforts. ‘This morning,’ wrote Poliziano to Lorenzo from Venice,[75] ‘I visited Messer Zaccheria Barbaro, and when I spoke of your favour he answered weeping, and as it seemed with a full heart. The sum of his discourse was this: he has no hope save in you. He made it clear to me that he is aware how much he owes you. Therefore carry out what you have planned, and keep a higher object in view.’ Greek clay vases, given to Poliziano for Lorenzo, were to prove the gratitude of the Procurator of St. Mark and the ex-ambassador. But the Signoria evidently did not approve of a stranger intermeddling in the affairs of one of their citizens; for when Luigi Barbaro received from his brother’s successor orders to return from Rome, he was told at the same time not to come through Florence.[76]
All plans and calculations were overthrown the following year by the death of Lorenzo and of the Pope, soon followed by that of Ermolao himself. That the offer of the cardinalate would hardly have altered the views of the senate as to the duty of an ambassador to receive nothing from a foreign sovereign without special permission, is shown by a parallel case which occurred in the next century, that of Marc’Antonio da Mula (Cardinal Amulio).
In the circle of Florentine scholars there was no brighter star than Giovanni Pico della Mirandola; and yet not one of them has left so little to justify the contemporary fame of this ‘Phœnix of spirits.’ Yet he was something more than a specimen of the sciolism and abstruse pedantry that sought to dazzle contemporaries without leaving anything solid or useful to posterity. Giovanni Pico fought manfully against the errors of his time, and promoted investigations on many subjects; but the results of his labours are not discoverable in the picture of the time as a whole, to which he contributed but a few traits, instead of producing a work of durable value that would have vividly represented the progress of science. Born and brought up in the highest circles of society, it is remarkable that with his quick and passionate temperament he devoted himself to scientific work, ardently and perseveringly, without any external inducement to do so. He comes forth like a meteor, in brilliant but momentary splendour. He was a younger son of Gian Francesco Pico, Lord of Mirandola and Count of Concordia, and Giulia Bojardo, daughter of Feltrino Count Of Scandiano, whose grandson Matteo Maria made himself famous as the author of ‘Orlando Innamorato.’ In his childhood Giovanni showed unusual quickness of perception and desire to learn, which was observed and encouraged by his mother. At fourteen he went to study canon law at the University of Bologna, after which he pursued philosophy and theology, languages and literature, at various universities, and soon displayed a talent for disputation. He was intended for holy orders, and while still almost a boy was seen, like Giovanni de’ Medici, in the dress of an Apostolic protonotary. He was not much over twenty when he came to Florence at the beginning of 1484. Recommended by his birth and connections, as well as by Ercole d’Este, whose sister Bianca was his sister-in-law, he became intimate with the Medici, and lived like a great man; at the same time he pursued his studies diligently, and formed friendships with Ficino, Landino, and Poliziano. The last has described him graphically and with a fair amount of truth. ‘Nature,’ he says, ‘appeared to have showered upon this man, or rather this hero, all gifts of body and mind. He was slender and well made, and something divine seemed to shine in his face. He was acute in perception, gifted with an excellent memory, indefatigable in study, clear and eloquent in expression. One doubted whether he shone most by his talents or his moral qualities. Versed in every branch of philosophy, favoured by his perfect knowledge of several languages, he showed himself sublime and above all praise.’
What distinguished the young scholar from all the other members of the Florentine circle except Marsilio Ficino—though it did not attract much attention till it brought him into difficulties with Rome—was his study of mediæval Jewish literature, to which he must have found special incitement at Florence.[77] For it was here that he began to study those Jewish mysteries which in Alexandria were first mixed up with the doctrines of the Bible, like Neoplatonism with the wisdom of the Athenians, and were developed under the name of Cabbalah into a lasting tradition of revelation. Following in the steps of Ficino, Giovanni Pico found the teachings of Christianity confirmed by those of Platonism; while the Jewish doctrines furnished him with stronger proofs, for what Ficino did not demonstrate from Platonism, Pico drew from the Jewish mysteries. He was quite right in recognising analogies not to be found in the Greek doctrines; but it is evident that he stood on ground where investigation and the play of fancy might bring him into danger; more especially as he included magic within the circle of his researches. It was nothing more than the natural magic which consists mainly in the contemplation of the powers of the heavenly bodies, but he stated in plain words his opinion that no science could afford us a clearer view of the divinity of Christ than magic and the Cabbalah.
It may easily be conceived what a sensation was made in Florence by a distinguished young man of such appearance, talents, and tendencies. His arrival occurred at a lucky moment. The end of the Ferrara war left a clear field for other than political affairs, and the reputation of Lorenzo de’ Medici had just then reached its zenith. The presence of Giovanni Pico gave a new distinction to his whole circle. He was one by himself. Ficino and Poliziano had shone by the early maturity of their talents, but to them study was the necessary object of their lives; while this youth of high rank, on whom everything smiled, rivalled them in perseverance and success and surpassed them in universality of knowledge. Soon after his arrival at Florence, in a letter to Lorenzo, he spoke highly of the poems which the latter wrote on Dante and Petrarca; but this does not prove that his judgment was sound, and it may, perhaps, not have greatly impressed Lorenzo himself, though it doubtless did him no harm in the Medicean circle. In 1485 he went to continue his studies at Paris, returning thence at the beginning of the next year. This year he was involved in two troublesome affairs, one of which—though injurious to his reputation—was only of a passing nature, but the other cast a shadow over the whole of his after-life, and put an end to the gaiety of his youth.
The eloquent disciple of the Platonic Academy suddenly found himself involved in a love adventure that was only too real. ‘Count Giovanni della Mirandola,’ wrote the Ferrarese envoy Aldovrandino Guidoni on May 12, 1486, to Duke Ercole,[78] ‘has been living for nearly two years in such splendour and in the enjoyment of such universal esteem as has hardly fallen to the lot of any one before in this city. A few days ago he gave out that he was going to Rome, and sent forward all his luggage. On his arrival at Arezzo, where resided a lady with whom he had a love affair—the beautiful wife of one Giuliano de’ Medici, engaged in the administration of taxes there—the said lady, according to previous agreement, left her husband’s house. She pretended to be going for a walk, but just outside the town she mounted behind the count. He had about twenty people with him, some on horseback, some on foot, besides two mounted bowmen. When the people saw the lady surrounded by this train there was an uproar. The storm-bell was rung and the count was followed in pursuit, which became so hot that the count was obliged to give up his fugitive. Every one of his suite that could be reached was killed and stripped in the mêlée, and many of the citizens also were left dead. Thanks to their good horses, the count and his chancellor got away to Marciano (in the valley of the Chiana), where they were arrested. The Ten, before whom the case was laid, at first gave orders to liberate the count and keep the chancellor, but afterwards they commanded both to be kept under arrest. Probably nothing will be done to him, but the chancellor—on whom the chief blame is laid—may come off badly, the more so as the matter concerns the wife of a Medici, who, though poor, is still one of the family. In truth, the count’s mishap is much to be regretted, for he used to be considered a saint as well as a man of learning, and now he has lost greatly in public opinion, though, indeed, love has brought many into like errors.’ Duke Ercole’s mediation was needless, as Pico was at once set free, and the good easy husband received back into his house the faithless wife, who pleaded forcible abduction. She was a rich young widow of low degree when he married her shortly before. Pico’s own remarks on the whole affair display his penitence. ‘His sin grieves him,’ he said of himself, ‘and he does not defend his conduct. He seems to deserve forgiveness just because he attempts no excuse. Nothing is weaker than man, nothing is mightier than love!’
The Roman affair was not so easily disposed of. After the adventure at Arezzo, Pico went to Rome, where, to establish the favourite Florentine thesis of an agreement between Platonism and Christianity, and the assistance to be derived from the former in combating heresy, he announced a public disputation on 900 questions, to which, besides philosophy and theology, law and natural science, magic and the Cabbalah, Arabia and Chaldæa, had contributed their quota. Thus the most brilliant intellects, sometimes even more than others, pay tribute to pedantry. The fruitful seed that lay buried in these investigations was in a great measure choked up with the dull rubbish from which the age was unable to free itself. Many of the affirmations of the young scholar (which might well seem questionable at that time) were impeached as contrary to the faith, and the disputation was stopped. On August 5, 1486, Innocent VIII. signed a brief against the theses put forth by Giovanni Pico, denouncing their author in no sparing terms. The long interval between the signature and the publication, which did not take place till December 15, instead of helping to smooth the difficulty, only increased it. The author of the controverted propositions—so his opponents maintained—being secretly informed of the papal decision, hastily wrote an apology for them, had it secretly printed in Naples, and pre-dated it, so that he should not appear to be defending assertions already condemned by the highest ecclesiastical authority. The accused denied this, and declared that he had only received the brief on January 6, 1487, on his journey to France. In any case, his written defence furnished his opponents with a pretext by which to set the Pope against him and cause him to receive a citation to Rome. It was even determined to arrest him, as we see from a letter addressed to the Pope from Siena, December 5, by the Bishop of Lucca, excusing the non-fulfilment of the papal orders on account of his absence from his see.[79]
The ‘Apology,’ dated May 31, 1486, is dedicated to Lorenzo de’ Medici. ‘God is my witness,’ says the author in the introduction, ‘that I dedicate this writing to thee, O Lorenzo, not as thinking it worthy of such a man, but because I have long known that I owe all I possess to thee. Whatever I am or may become is thine and will remain thine. I say less than I would, and my words are too cold to express the love and reverence which I have long felt and shall continue to feel for thee. To these feelings I am moved by the numerous proofs of favour that have proceeded rather from thy mind towards me than from thy position, and which are as rare as they are characteristic of thee. Receive this apology with kindness; the gift is small, but it is a testimony of my lasting devotion. If thou shouldst turn to it from the important affairs which claim thy attention, remember that it is a sketch rather than a work carefully thought out, a task imposed on me by others rather than chosen by myself, and that I present it to thee, not as a proof of talents and learning to which I am a stranger, but as a token, I repeat, of my entire devotion.’