VILLA 
MEDICI, 
FLORENCE. 
HEN 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 
young 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 “ Sylve,” 
“ 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 
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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,” he 
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 he 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 say that it is 
a place of meeting for the witches.” In the 
