“The consciousness of innocence, and the remembrance of virtuous deeds, is the greatest source of consolation in adversity. He who can appeal to his own heart in proof of the uprightness of his intentions—he who can truly say that he has acted honourably both in his public and private capacity, that he has always studied the promotion of the general good, that he has assisted his friends with wholesome advice, and the poor with money; that he has hurt no one, not even those who had injured him—this man must be well prepared to endure the shock of adversity. A course of conduct, regulated by these principles, confers true and solid dignity. On this foundation you have established your character as a worthy man and an excellent citizen. Acting on these principles, you have risen to immortal glory. Wherever you go, that best of blessings, the testimony of a good conscience, will attend you; and the memory of your virtues will survive when you are laid in the grave.
“Now, since the retrospect of your past conduct affords you such a pure delight, you ought to feel yourself elated by conscious dignity: for on what can we justly pride ourselves, except on the reputation which we have acquired by our virtues? Since, then, you have so strong a fortress, in which you can take refuge in time of trouble, turn your attention to those things which accompany you in your exile, namely, your liberality, your prudence, your gravity, your upright intentions, your discernment, your attachment to your native country, for which you have always testified the utmost affection; and especially in the late civil broils to which you have fallen a victim. I need not remind you of your literary pursuits, which so signally contribute to the alleviation of sorrow, and to the strengthening of the mind by the examples and precepts of the most worthy men. For you know that philosophers of old have maintained, that the mind of the wise man is beyond the reach of the impulses of fortune, and that it mocks the efforts of external violence—that virtue is the chief good—and that all other possessions are blessings, or the contrary, according to the disposition of the possessor. But I do not require that you should be of the number of those faultless friends of wisdom, who have, perhaps, never existed, excepting in idea. I only hope that you will be found worthy to class with those, who, according to common acceptation, and the general course of human conduct, are reputed wise.
“And, in the first place, consider how far fortune has exercised her tyranny in your case. For, if you could divest yourself of the first impressions of grief, and coolly consider what she has taken away, and what she has left, you will find that you have sustained little injury—nay, that you have derived benefit from her caprice. She has banished you from your native country, which you have often voluntarily quitted—but she has restored to you your liberty, which you did not enjoy when you seemed to be the freest man in the state. She has deprived you of a certain specious appearance of dignity, and of the respect of the vulgar, who are always mistaken in their estimate of true felicity—but she has left you your children, your wife, your riches, your good health, and your excellent brother: and, surely, the pleasures which these blessings bestow upon you ought far to outweigh the mortification which you experience in consequence of your losses. She has taken away from you a kind of civic pomp, and a popularity full of trouble, labour, envy, anxiety, and continual cares. These honours many men eminent for their prudence have despised. Their loss may be a matter of sorrow to those who have endeavoured to convert them into a source of gain; but you, whom they involved in so much labour and difficulty, ought not to be concerned at being deprived of them, especially as they never were the objects of your desire or ambition. For you did not enter upon public offices with a view of promoting your own interest, or of increasing your importance, but with an ardent desire of doing good to the public. Fortune has restored you to real liberty. You were formerly, in fact, a mere slave. You could not follow your own inclinations, either in sleeping or waking, in eating or in taking exercise. Frequently were you prevented, by the imperious claims of public business, from assisting your friends, and indulging in the delights of retirement. Your time was at the disposal of others, and you were obliged to attend to every person’s sentiments. Many favours you were compelled to grant, in direct opposition to your own wishes, nay, even in opposition to the dictates of equity; and you were frequently reduced to the disagreeable necessity of practising the art of dissimulation. This change of fortune has, however, set you at liberty, for it has certainly restored to you the freedom of your will. It has also enabled you to put to the test the constancy of those who professed themselves your friends; and it has, moreover, called into exercise the steady fortitude of your soul. All your acquaintance had seen with how great politeness, gentleness, clemency, equity, and moderation, you conducted yourself in the season of prosperity—a season in which men who have attained to some eminence in wisdom have frequently been betrayed into evil. This new species of trial gives you an opportunity of showing the vigour with which you can struggle against the storms of adversity. Many can bear prosperity, who shrink before the impulse of misfortune. Others, who have shone conspicuously in the season of sorrow, have given way to the emotions of vanity and pride in the hour of their exaltation. But you we have beheld neither inflated by arrogance in prosperity, nor sunk into dejection by adversity. In either fortune, you have exhibited an example of the most unruffled equanimity.
“Let the following consideration support you in the midst of your trials—that you are not the first, and that you will not be the last man whose services to his country have been repaid by unmerited exile. History abounds in instances of excellent men, who have been cruelly persecuted by their ungrateful fellow citizens. They who cannot bear the splendour of another’s virtues are unwilling to look upon it. Envy is commonly the companion of glory—envy which always torments those who cannot attain to the eminence of honour; and instigates them to persecute with slander and malevolence the illustrious characters whose virtues they are unable to imitate. Hence it happens, that very few men of superlative talents escape the fury of civil tempests. The fear of giving offence deters me from dwelling upon the instances of this nature, which have occurred in modern times, and in our own republic. But whosoever examines the records of antiquity will find, that the odium excited by civil discord has occasioned the banishment of a considerable number of excellent citizens—and that, not in our country alone, but in other states of the greatest eminence. To say nothing of the Greeks and Barbarians, the Roman republic, even at the time when it is represented as having attained to the highest pitch of glory, was afflicted with this infirmity. A few examples will be sufficient to demonstrate the truth of my assertion. Which of his contemporaries was equal in valour, probity, and illustrious deeds to Furius Camillus? Yet, in consequence of the malevolence of the tribunes and the populace, he was compelled to retire into exile; at a time too when his country stood very much in need of his assistance. You well remember the important services rendered to the Roman commonwealth by Scipio Africanus; you recollect the moderation, continence, and gravity, which shone so conspicuously in the life of the illustrious conqueror of Hannibal—yet he too was driven from his native country by the rage of the tribunes. The uprightness and sanctity of P. Rutilius were the very causes of his banishment. When this man had an opportunity of returning to his country in consequence of Sylla’s victory, he had the honest pride to refuse to fix his residence in a state in which arms were superior to the laws. The villany of Clodius expelled M. T. Cicero, the saviour of his country, who is said to have been accustomed to boast, that he was carried back to Rome on the shoulders of all Italy. History has recorded the names of several other renowned men who have shared the same fate: but I have only mentioned these four, the consideration of whose destiny may prevent you from being surprised at your own misfortunes. I shall not pretend to maintain that you are equal to these exalted characters in fame and splendour—but this I will say, that, like them, you have experienced an ungrateful return for your good services to your fellow citizens; and that in one respect your glory is not at all inferior to theirs. For, in my opinion, you deserve to be held in everlasting remembrance for the deference which you paid to the decree of the magistrates, though you knew the doom which awaited you. For when, as it is commonly reported, you could have repelled the meditated injury by the assistance of your partizans, and the interference of the populace, you thought it better to submit to wrong, than to avert it by violence.[214] And as civil tumults never end in good, consulting for the quiet of your country, and the tranquillity of your fellow citizens, you prudently suffered this sudden storm to waste its fury on yourself and your connections, rather than endanger the republic by exciting the flame of war. By this conduct you have attained to the height—I say not of modern, but of ancient glory. For what is more laudable than that disposition which prompts a man to expose himself to the fury of the billows for the sake of the general safety? Under the influence of that virtue which prefers public to private good, other states have flourished, and the Roman republic attained to universal dominion.
“Protected then as you are by the most illustrious virtues, you ought not to complain. You ought to be thankful to fortune, which has called these virtues into exercise, and has summoned you to a contest, in which you will gain the highest commendation on earth, and eternal glory in heaven. These two things are the objects of the most ardent wishes of good men; for they are the meed of virtue. During the remainder of your life, then, enjoy the blessings which you still possess with a tranquil and peaceful mind; and in whatever land your lot may be cast, think that your country, the theatre of your dignity—the spot where you are called to exert your talents for the promotion of the public good.”[215]
Such were the counsels by which Poggio endeavoured to fortify the mind of his banished patron against the shafts of adverse fortune. His letter breathes the spirit of enlightened friendship, and his choice of topics of consolation evinces an accurate knowledge of the human heart. It may be reasonably conjectured, that Cosmo was highly gratified by this proof of his sincere attachment, and that he profited by his good advice. But the administration of wholesome counsel was not the only mode in which Poggio, on this occasion, testified his zeal in the cause of his persecuted benefactor. In the intercourses of friendship, his temperament disposed him strongly to sympathize with the resentment of those whom he regarded with sentiments of esteem and affection. Consequently the injuries sustained by Cosmo inspired him with the utmost degree of animosity against the family of the Albizzi, and all their partizans and abettors. This animosity against the enemies of his exiled friend, which he took no pains to disguise, soon involved him in a most violent quarrel with the celebrated Francesco Filelfo, who had been induced by the turbulence of his temper, to intermeddle in the political disputes which had for a long space of time disturbed the tranquillity of Florence, and to discharge the venom of his spleen against the house of Medici and all its adherents.
This extraordinary man was born at Tolentino, on the twenty-fifth of July, 1398. Having given early indications of a love of literature, he was sent to prosecute his studies in the university of Padua. In this seminary he made such an uncommon proficiency, that when he had attained the age of eighteen, he read lectures on eloquence to numerous audiences. The reputation which he had acquired by this early display of brilliant talents procured him an invitation to instruct the noble youth of Venice in polite literature. This invitation he readily accepted; and in the discharge of his public duties he acquitted himself so much to the satisfaction of his employers, that he was presented with the freedom of the state. In the course of a little time after his settlement in Venice, the seigniory testified their sense of his merits by appointing him to the office of secretary to the embassy which they usually maintained at Constantinople. This office he retained for the space of two years, at the end of which period he entered into the service of the Greek emperor, John Palæologus, who employed him in affairs of the greatest consequence. In the character of confidential agent or envoy of that monarch, he visited the courts of Amurath II. the Turkish sultan, and of Sigismund, emperor of Germany. During his residence at Constantinople he married Theodora, the daughter of a noble Greek, the celebrated John Crysoloras. In the year 1427 he quitted Constantinople and returned to Venice. As he had assiduously improved the opportunities which he had lately enjoyed of cultivating the knowledge of Grecian literature, he expected, on his return to his adopted country, to be hailed as the champion of science, and the restorer of learning.[216] But in this expectation he was disappointed. His name no longer possessed the charm of novelty. The interest which was occasioned on his first visit to Venice, by the circumstance of his filling the professor’s chair at so early an age, was naturally weakened by the lapse of nearly eight years; and in all probability the jealous aristocracy of the Venetian capital resented his quitting the service of their state for the honours and emoluments of the Byzantine court. These causes concurred to render his reception at Venice by no means flattering to his feelings. The mortification which he experienced on this occasion was heightened by the deplorable state of his finances, which the expenses of his increasing family had reduced to a very low ebb. From these circumstances of embarrassment he was relieved by the liberality of the citizens of Bologna, who invited him to read lectures on eloquence and moral philosophy in their university; and engaged to requite his services by an annual stipend of four hundred and fifty gold crowns. Readily accepting this invitation, he repaired to Bologna with all convenient speed. Soon after he had entered upon his new office, that city, which had lately revolted from Martin V., was doomed to suffer the horrors of a siege, in consequence of which literary pursuits were entirely suspended. Thus circumstanced, Filelfo began to feel no small degree of anxiety, not only concerning the means of his future support, but also for the safety of himself and his family. His uneasiness was, however, mitigated by the receipt of very friendly letters from Niccolo Niccoli and Pallas Strozza, urging him to quit Bologna, and exercise his talents for public instruction in Florence.[217] After a negociation of some length, he agreed to give lectures on the Greek and Roman classics, for the consideration of an annual salary of three hundred gold crowns, to be paid out of the revenues of the state. But when he had concluded this agreement, he experienced very considerable difficulties in effecting his departure from Bologna, which was closely invested by the pontifical army. These difficulties being at length overcome, he hastened to Florence, where he was received with every demonstration of respect, and commenced his labours with the utmost zeal.[218] The following sketch of his first lectures, which is preserved in the works of Ambrogio Traversari, demonstrates that in the execution of his engagement he exerted a most laudable degree of industry. At the dawn of day he explained and commented upon Cicero’s Tusculan questions, the first decad of Livy, Cicero’s treatise on Rhetoric, and Homer’s Iliad. After an interval of a few hours, he delivered extraordinary lectures on Terence, Cicero’s Epistles and Orations, Thucydides and Xenophon. In addition to this laborious course of instruction, he also daily read a lecture on Morals.[219] Such was the arduous task undertaken by Filelfo—a task which demanded the exertions of a literary Hercules. He was, however, animated to the endurance of toil by the number and dignity of his audience, which daily consisted of four hundred persons, many of whom were not less eminent for their literary acquirements, than for the rank which they held in the state.[220]
On Filelfo’s arrival in Florence, he found the inhabitants of that city divided into factions, and was by no means insensible of the difficulties which he had to encounter in endeavouring to avoid being involved in their disputes.[221] For the space of two years he seems to have acted with becoming discretion, and to have pursued his literary occupations without rendering himself subservient to the views of either party. His prudence was rewarded by an increase of his salary, which was augmented, towards the latter end of the year 1432, to the sum of three hundred and fifty gold crowns.[222] Unfortunately however for his peace of mind, he had not resided long at Florence, before he began to suspect that Niccolo Niccoli and Carlo Aretino, the latter of whom was one of the most accomplished of the Tuscan scholars, moved by envy of his literary fame, regarded him with sentiments of determined hostility. The irritable temper of Niccolo was indeed provoked by the supercilious pride of the new Coryphæus, who, without the least reserve of diffidence, assumed the high degree of eminence in the scale of importance to which he deemed himself entitled, and looked down upon the learned Florentines with undisguised disdain. Well knowing the intimacy which subsisted between Niccolo Niccoli and Cosmo de’ Medici, Filelfo took it for granted, that the latter would adopt the quarrels of his friend, and consequently apprehended that he had much to dread from the effects of his resentment. In this apprehension he was confirmed by the manifest coolness with which he was treated by Lorenzo, the brother of Cosmo; and he regarded the assurances which he received from the latter, that his suspicions with respect to himself were groundless, as a refinement of malice, intended to betray him into a fatal security.[223] His dread of the machinations of his enemies was also increased by a violent attack made upon him in the streets of Florence, by one Filippo, a noted assassin, by whom he was severely wounded in the face.[224]
Whilst Filelfo was brooding over his real or imagined wrongs, a contest arose between the two factions which divided the city of Florence, in consequence of a quarrel which had occurred between the houses of Soderini and Guzano.[225] On this occasion he publicly enlisted himself on the side of the aristocracy, and under the pretext of honest indignation against injustice, gratified his personal resentment, by publishing a poetical philippic against the factious disposition of the Florentine populace, into the commencement of which he introduced a violent attack upon the family of the Medici.[226] Not contented with this act of provocation, he afterwards turned the artillery of his wrath directly against Cosmo, whom he insulted in a satire against confidence in riches, in which he attempted to disguise the reproaches of malevolence in the garb of philosophic advice.