Textual criticism was a work taken up less by foreigners than by Italians: in Rome, especially by Lorenzo Valla and Pomponio Leto; in Florence, by Landino, Poliziano, and Pico. Lorenzo not only encouraged those personally intimate with him to this work, but urged others to it, particularly the members of the Academy, which, having weathered the storms of Paul II.’s reign, flourished with renewed vigour under Sixtus IV., a Pope who felt no fear of the baptized heathens. Bartolommeo Platina, writing to Lorenzo[97] to recommend the Milanese sculptor Andrea Fusina, adds that the man felt assured of obtaining his desire if he, Platina, interceded for him. ‘Farewell, and believe me, thou hast few who love and honour thee like Platina.’ On March 30, 1488, Lorenzo wrote to Lanfredini on behalf of a friend of Pomponio Leto:[98] ‘Doubtless you know, at least by name, Pomponio, one of the most famous scholars in Rome, if not the very first, and a man much attached to me and our whole house, so that I am greatly desirous of doing him a favour.’
The art of studying manuscripts had first to be put on a sound basis. The rich harvest of discoveries was now almost at an end, a few objects of interest turning up only occasionally. Collectors had naturally enough given themselves up to delight in the prizes thus gained, without troubling themselves much about criticism. The necessity of criticism became more strongly felt and exercised as continued study of the old authors involved a stricter examination of the correctness of the manuscripts. At first people had been too much inclined to believe generally in their great age, and had been misled in individual cases by the chronological notes at the end of the codices. Often, as in the Medicean codex of the later books of the Annals of Tacitus, the date was fixed in the fourth Christian century, when in reality the parchments were written on by a later copyist. The corrupt state of the manuscripts called for correction, but the correction was mostly arbitrary. Coluccio Salutati, Leonardo Bruni, Francesco Barbaro, and others, sought to supply what was needed, but of rules they knew nothing. In this, above all, shines the transcendent merit of Poliziano; though even he indulged largely in conjecture, when in his youth he self-complacently fancied that his work on Catullus surpassed everything of the kind. Nor did he stand alone in this respect. Ermolao Barbaro in his edition of Pliny in 1492, Marullus in his critical works on Lucretius, confess how often they had had recourse to emendations of their own devising. But Poliziano thoroughly perceived that a secure basis was only to be obtained by a comparison of MSS. where more than one existed. When this was not the case he tried to get a foundation for his conjectures from notes and parallel passages. Many printed books from his library bear on their margins traces of this comparison of MSS., to which he alludes in one of his letters to Lorenzo.[99] The collection of critical studies which he published in 1489 under the title of ‘Miscellanea,’ at Lorenzo’s desire and with a dedication to him, is a lasting memorial of his learning and acumen. A painful impression is made by his dispute with Filelfo’s pupil Giorgio Merula,[100] the editor of ‘Plautus.’ This man had been invited to Milan by Ludovico il Moro, gave philosophical lectures there, and though previously an admirer of Poliziano, now professed to find errors and plagiarisms in his works. Sforza showed his good sense by trying to calm the irritation of the Florentine when appealed to by him.
Poliziano’s critical work on the correction of the text of Justinian’s ‘Corpus Juris’ holds an honourable place in the history of this subject. This famous copy of the Pandects was avowedly acquired by Pisa at the conquest of Amalfi, whither it had doubtless come as a gift from some Greek emperor, and on the overthrow of Pisa it was transferred to Florence. Poliziano’s views of its age and authorship may have been exploded by later criticism, but for the foundations of a better text than that of the later MSS., and the two editions printed from them, we still owe him thanks.[101]
While the Latin works of the humanists were being done into the vulgar tongue, the practice of translating Greek works into Latin was continued. Alamanno Rinuccini translated Plutarch’s ‘Lives’ and moral writings, as well as Philostratos’ ‘Life of Apollonius of Tyana,’ which excited special interest in an age much busied with the theologising philosophy of the later Greeks. Alessandro Bracci did the same for the histories of Appian, and Poliziano, as has been mentioned, translated those of Herodian for Innocent VIII. The movement, begun in Florence and Venice, had spread all over Italy. In the most palmy days of these studies the invention of printing produced in the whole world of letters a change, the possible extent of which was at once felt, though it could not yet be measured. Books had hitherto been things for the great and opulent, and not seldom were to be obtained only by personal labour. There were difficulties even in the highest circles. The spread of the new art produced not only a material increase of literary productions, but led naturally to an immense increase of criticism. In earlier times bitter complaints had been heard of the corruption of the texts. The few attempts that had been made to attain greater correctness now became a recognised branch of study. Every corrector was not indeed a Poliziano, a Barbaro, or a Merula. The last complains, in his edition of ‘Plautus’ of 1472, that learned and unlearned alike busied themselves with correcting books; a circumstance which limits the value of more than one editio princeps to its mere rarity, and explains the fact that many of the correctors of that time rivalled their predecessors the copyists in the arbitrariness of their proceedings. But even in the case of the learned the canons of criticism were by no means fixed.
It is remarkable that Florence, which, when printing was introduced into Italy, stood at the head of all literary movement, is by no means the first city that appears in the annals of typography. In 1465, three years after the capture of Mainz by Adolf of Nassau had scattered to the four winds the printers established there, two Germans set up the first printing-press in the Benedictine monastery at Subiaco, whence ere long it was removed to the house of the Massimi at Rome. Four years later Venice followed, then the Umbrian and other cities. In November, 1471, appeared the first book printed in Florence, the commentary of Servius on Virgil’s ‘Bucolics,’ which was followed in the following January by the ‘Georgics,’ and in October, 1472, by the ‘Æneid.’ But if the city fell behind many others in point of priority, this honour is due to her, that one of her sons cut and founded his own types, without needing the services of a foreigner. The goldsmith Bernardo Cennini was the first Italian who set himself up as an independent artist in this line.[102] Born in Florence, January, 1415, he was first a silk-weaver and then a goldsmith, and was concerned in the bronze doors of the Baptistery, and other great works. His art led him to manufacture types for printing. The inscription in the book printed by him, with the help of his sons Domenico and Pietro, the first as compositor, the second as corrector of the press,[103] shows that he was proud of the achievement: ‘To Florentine minds nought is arduous.’ The book shows an artistic mind in its form and typographical arrangement, but the round type is lacking in sharpness and evenness. The pecuniary result can scarcely have been worth the trouble and outlay. When we find that Cennini, after spending sixteen months on the production of the folio volume, pledged his house for a loan of 120 florins, we can understand why he returned to his old occupation, and why no other book printed by him is forthcoming. In course of time Bernardo Cennini, whose sight had suffered greatly, became consul of his guild, and died in 1483, twelve years after the attempt which brought him a name and somewhat tardy honours.
Next a German who had established himself in Florence, Johannes, son of Peter of Mainz, printed Boccaccio’s ‘Filocolo’ in 1472, and afterwards joined the typographical society which took its name from the Dominican nunnery at Ripoli.[104] Its local habitation is still shown in one of the schoolrooms of the educational institute named after the same in the Via della Scala. From this establishment, founded by the spiritual directors of the convent and connected with a type-foundry, issued first, in 1476, some lauds and prayers, then the ‘Commentary of Donatus’ and the ‘Legend of S. Catherine of Siena,’ which, both in the common form and in copies with illuminated initials, obtained a great circulation. This printing establishment, in which many both of the clergy and laity had a share, and in which the nuns were employed as compositors, produced a great deal of work during its short existence of eight years. In 1477 printing was begun by Nicolaus of Breslau, already mentioned; in 1478 he brought out the ‘editio princeps’ of Celsus, and three years later Landino’s ‘Dante.’ In 1481, Antonio Miscomini printed Savonarola’s ‘Triumphus Crucis,’ a proof of the increasing notice attracted by the eloquent and learned Dominican. Next came Ficino’s ‘Platonic Theology,’ and translation of ‘Plotinus.’ In 1488 the series of Greek books issued in Florence opened brilliantly with the ‘Homer,’ dedicated to Lorenzo’s eldest son. Chalcondylas undertook the correction, the difficulty of which called forth his remark, in the preface, that the text had been so corrupted by the carelessness of copyists that it was, so to say, impossible to find it entire in any codex, however old. The expenses were borne by Bernardo and Neri, sons of Tanai de’ Nerli, a noble citizen. Lorenzo Alopa of Venice is said to have printed the beautiful volume, which was soon followed by numerous others. The most celebrated Florentine family of typographers, that of the Giunta, did not begin their labours till Lorenzo de’ Medici had long been in his grave.
The extended use of typography had, however, as yet by no means diminished the value of manuscripts or put an end to the work of the copyists, while the need and difficulty of unearthing literary treasures was as great as ever. The explanation of this is to be found in the material perfection to which the art of the copyists had been brought, a perfection of which the proud consciousness was expressed in Vespasiano’s disdainful remark on printing. This branch of industry went on flourishing for many years, to disappear at last and leave scarcely a trace behind. One of the most brilliant, though not the most important, of the treasures of the Laurentiana, the works of St. Augustine in sixteen folio volumes full of miniatures and ornaments, was begun in the time of Piero de’ Medici and finished shortly before the death of Lorenzo (two of the volumes are dated 1491). It may not have been completed till the time of his second son, unless the escutcheon with the balls and the Triregnum points to Leo X. only as the possessor of the work and not as concerned in its execution.
In the diffusion of literary treasures, both of classical and modern works, and in the relations of the latter to the general public, who now for the first time became really acquainted with them, was brought about that great change which gives to this period double importance in the history of intellectual development. At Lorenzo’s death this revolution had hardly reached its first stage; but his keen vision perceived its growing importance when he observed that in the course of twenty-eight years Italy had come to take a more prominent share than other lands in the activity of the press. This showed, quite as much as the previous rapid development of Greek literature, that the country was ready to make an independent and profitable use of the gifts of foreign countries. The invention of printing and the discovery of America were in some degree the two great landmarks of Lorenzo’s life. The first created actual publicity, the second opened a new horizon to the world.
Never were manuscripts more eagerly collected and copied than in those days. The sum of the collections was not so great as in the days of Poggio and Leonardo Bruni; still the libraries were increasing everywhere. Greece, which had contributed so largely to enrich the West in the first half of the century, and after the fall of the Eastern empire, was still the principal mine. Witness the two journeys of Johannes Lascaris, the second of which, like that of Bernardo Michelozzi, was entirely devoted to searching the monastery of Mount Athos. Its results, as already stated, reached Florence after Lorenzo’s death. As early as 1472 Lorenzo had projected a building, probably near the palace in the Via Larga, destined to contain the great number of manuscripts collected by his grandfather, his father, and himself. This appears from a letter addressed to him by Vespasiano da Bisticci, in which the latter recalls their frequent conversations on the subject, and adds that such an undertaking would do great honour to Lorenzo as well as to the town; and that he had written about it to the Duke of Calabria, the Count of Urbino, and Alessandro Sforza, Lord of Pesaro, knowing how much pleasure it would give them. Doubtless the manifold cares and disturbances which prevented Lorenzo from imitating his grandfather in the number and splendour of his buildings hindered him from executing this plan in good time. Consequently at his premature death the library was but half finished. It is now impossible to make out even the site of the building, since it is uncertain whether it was the same chosen many years afterwards by his nephew Pope Clement VII. for the existing Mediceo-Laurentian library. We still possess the inventory of the private library of the Medici, drawn up in 1495, when the books were made over to the convent of San Marco. There they remained, through many vicissitudes, till 1508, when Cardinal Giovanni de’ Medici bought them and transferred them to Rome; after his death they returned to Florence, to form the chief part of the San Lorenzo collection.[105]
It may be imagined that many of Lorenzo’s fellow-citizens were his rivals in book-collecting. A fine library had once been formed by Piero de’ Pazzi, son of Andrea. Francesco and Angelo Gaddi followed his example, and the great public library of their native city contains many books once in their possession. Poliziano’s friend, the accomplished merchant Filippo Sassetti the elder, also made a large collection. The good custom of making special bequests to secure these literary treasures from dispersion was kept up. Boccaccio had done this, and Riccoli, Traversari, Cardinal Piero Corsini and others; and in like manner Ugolini Guigni, Bishop of Volterra, left his books to the Benedictine abbey at Florence.[106] In 1477, Jacopo Salvini, Bishop of Cortona, bequeathed his collection to Lorenzo de’ Medici.[107] The latter had literary correspondents everywhere. In 1476 we find him corresponding with the Milanese Gio. Francesco della Torre, who, with Maestro Bonaccorso of Pisa, had purchased the books of Andronikos Kallistos, when the latter purposed returning from Lombardy to his own home.[108] Giovanni Rossi of Candia, who had been employed by Cardinal Bessarion, was also made use of by Lorenzo, apparently to look after copies of manuscripts.[109] Among those more closely connected with him in later years, Poliziano, Pico, and Ermolao Barbaro took charge of the enrichment of his collection and that of the convent libraries of San Marco, Fiesole, and San Gallo. Ho said once to Poliziano, he wished that he and Pico could procure him so many books that his income would not suffice to buy them, and he should be obliged to pawn his household goods. He kept copyists in many places, especially at Padua, which, as the residence of so many great scholars and from its connection with the Levant through Venice, was a spot favourable to book collectors.