112 
L Ape Italianci. — No. XXIV. 
inutility, and pernicious consequences 
of war, and may adopt measures 
amongst themselves for accommodating 
their differences, removing the causes of 
contention, and securing the weaker 
from the stronger by regulations simi- 
lai to those by which the first inde¬ 
pendent inhabitants of the earth bound 
themselves together in a common law. 
In order to accomplish thisfimportant 
and salutary object, all that is requisite 
is, to instruct, to elevate, and to en¬ 
lighten the public mind until it wills 
it. No sooner will that take place, 
than the means will speedily be found 
for substituting the pacific authority of 
all for the violence and injustice of 
any; for establishing the dominion of 
leason over that of force, and enabling 
us to speak without hyperbole when we 
mention the civilized world. That in 
the course of events, and perhaps at no 
great distance, a time will arrive when 
war and bloodshed, as now engaged in 
and practised, will be abrogated aud 
prevented, it would be treason to hu¬ 
manity to doubt; and that this enor¬ 
mous and inveterate abuse—the curse 
of ages and the devourer of nations— 
will be consigned even to deeper exe¬ 
cration than any of those to which we 
have before referred, may equally be 
presumed. 
For the Monthly Magazine. 
L’APS ITALIANA. 
No- xxiv. 
Dov ; ape susurrando 
Nei mattutiui albori 
Vola susrgendo i rngiodesi umori. 
Guarini.' 
Where the bee at early dawn, 
Murmuring sips the dews of morn. 
ANGELO POLIZIANO. 
P ETRARCH died in 13J4; Boccac¬ 
cio in the year following; and the 
splendid dawn of Italian literature was 
suddenly overcast. The succeeding 
century was a period of discord and 
agitation, and the peaceful labours of 
the muses were suspended by the tu¬ 
mults of intestine war. At length the 
storms of political contention ceased, 
the last struggle of the Italian republics 
for liberty subsided, and the fair flowers 
of poetry began to peep forth in the 
genial sunshine of the petty courts 
which arose upon their ruins. One of 
the first harbingers of the season of re¬ 
vival, was the subject of our present 
memoir, Angelo Poliziano, or Politian, 
as he is usually called by English 
writers. He derived his name from 
[Sept. I. 
the place of his birth, Monte Puleiano. 
(Mons Politianus) in the territory of 
Florence, and was sent to that city at 
an early age for education. The faci¬ 
lity with which he acquired the learned 
languages, and his extraordinary pro¬ 
gress in classical literature, soon raised 
him into distinction, and recommended 
him to the notice of the Medici family, 
who, having rendered themselves mas¬ 
ters of the republic, sought to give 
eclat to their new sovereignty by a mu¬ 
nificent patronage of arts and sciences. 
Lorenzo appointed him his librarian, 
entrusted him with the education of his 
children, and made him an inmate of 
his own house—much to the annoyance 
mf his wife, who complained bitterly of 
his ill temper, unamiable manners, and 
monstrous nose. Smisurato* is the epi¬ 
thet applied to it by his biographer. 
TThen we add that liis neck was also 
awry, we shall be disposed to think the 
lady’s aversion in some degree excuse- 
able; but the .philosopher maintained 
his post in despite of her, till the death 
of his patron, which was soon followed 
b}? his own. Personal deformity is 
usually found to have an injurious 
effect upon the character. In vain do 
those who are afflicted with it seek to 
rescue themselves from unmerited op¬ 
probrium by intellectual distinction. 
The eminence to which they thus raise 
themselves only renders them more 
sensible to the ridicule with which they 
are assailed by envy or inconsideration ; 
while the respect which they obtain 
from men of more cultivated minds, 
affords them little consolation when 
considered as dictated 1 > 3 T good breed¬ 
ing and courtesy, rather than as the 
spontaneous result of natural feeling. 
Politian affords a striking illustration 
of this remark. Though renowned for 
his erudition—though patronised and 
courted by the first men of the age, he 
could not endure the scurrilities with 
which his literary antagonists, in de¬ 
fault of more legitimate weapons, at¬ 
tacked him. Instead of treating them 
with contempt, he condescended to the 
same disgraceful warfare. He lost his 
dignity and his temper; he became ir¬ 
ritable and discontented ; and his mind 
preying upon itself, he fell, soon after 
the death of his illustrious protector, 
into a state of nervous dejection, from 
which he never recovered, and which 
terminated his life in 1494, at the early 
age of forty. 
* Immense, immeasurable. 
But 
