The Poet Prince (21 page)

In the background I have painted the underground stream as it flows directly to Careggi, as that place is the home of the greatest learning and a refuge for those who would learn to open their eyes and attune their ears to the great truths. It emanates from the women of the bloodline as an artery of life and beauty to all of us with eyes to see and ears to hear.

I remain,
Alessandro di Filipepi, known as “Botticelli”

FROM THE SECRET MEMOIRS OF SANDRO BOTTICELLI

Montevecchio
1463

D
URING HIS STAYS
in Careggi, Lorenzo brought Lucrezia with him to Ficino’s adjacent retreat in Montevecchio, the small villa that Cosimo had built for him as the headquarters of the Platonic Academy. The academy was flourishing under Ficino’s guidance, becoming a solid educational facility for their Florentine colleagues who cared to study the classics in a relaxed social setting where true dialogue and debate could occur. Poets, philosophers, architects, artists, and scholars flocked to Ficino’s retreat each time he announced that he would hold a meeting of the academy. In between those events, Ficino used Montevecchio as a school for Lorenzo and sometimes Sandro, when the latter wasn’t in Florence apprenticing with Verrocchio. Sandro would be spending more time in Careggi, at Cosimo’s insistence, as the elder Medici wanted to expose Sandro to Fra Filippo’s particular techniques of artistic infusion. And while Sandro was being pushed to new levels of artistic achievement, Cosimo felt the time was right to add to his classical education as well.

Lucrezia Donati, whom they were all now referring to only as
Colombina, had convinced her parents that she was staying behind in Careggi so often to learn embroidery from Madonna Lucrezia along with the Medici daughters. Mona Lucrezia was renowned for her skill, and to have such an illustrious teacher was a feather in the cap of the Donati heiress. Her parents were far more concerned with their social status in town to worry overmuch about their daughter’s whereabouts. As long as they believed she was engaged in a suitable feminine pastime with other influential and respectable women, they would leave her alone.

Lorenzo, Sandro, and Colombina had, in fact, become quite the trinity, and they often spent time together before and after lessons. Sandro adored Colombina—everybody did, it seemed—and he sketched her often as inspiration for the various madonnas he was working on in the studio. Ficino’s own earlier resistance to Colombina had long since melted in the warmth of her brilliance and interest in the classics. Most of all, she was a natural at language. And Colombina brought out the best in Lorenzo, who worked even harder at his studies to impress her. To his credit, Lorenzo never ceased to encourage the girl and show his pride in her achievements, which were many and growing more frequent.

Ficino was fond of telling Colombina that if she had been born a man with such a quick mind and bold spirit, she would have ruled the world. Still, as one of Lorenzo’s unofficial guardians, he was careful not to encourage their commitment to each other beyond what was literally platonic. He referred to them as Apollo and Artemis, emphasizing their connection as brother and sister, as a duo who could bring light to Florence through the masculine sun and the feminine moon. He hoped that this continued emphasis would aid them in the future, when they would ultimately face the harsh realities of arranged marriages and political alliances that awaited wealthy Florentines. If they could find joy in their role as spiritual brother and sister, perhaps that energy could be channeled into their continued work together for their common cause in the Order, which he had no doubt that Colom
bina would embrace with extraordinary zeal once she was introduced
to it.

Sometimes Jacopo Bracciolini joined in the lessons. Lorenzo had known Jacopo since they were little boys, had jousted with him on ponies, wrestled in the mud while playing knights of the Crusades using broom handles as lances, and marched with him in parades. Jacopo had been the Master of the Cats in the Magi procession when the boys were both ten years of age; he had continued to develop his wicked sense of humor and insatiable need for attention through his teen years.

Sometimes he was truly funny, and at other times he was simply annoying. Sandro barely tolerated Jacopo, but Lorenzo valued him as a brother in spirit and defended him against Sandro’s barbs. Not only was Jacopo one of his oldest friends, but the boy’s father, Poggio, was a high-ranking member of the Order, after Cosimo. This fact alone made him family, and Lorenzo was highly protective of all aspects of family.

Colombina was kind to everyone, and despite the fact that Jacopo was forever the prankster and always up to some trick or joke at another’s expense, she had a soft spot for him. He craved attention, but he was also possessed of a brilliant mind and was capable of deep and insightful conversation. Jacopo once stuffed a tiny frog into the inkpot and exploded in laughter when the poor creature finally broke free, trailing little frog-shaped inkblots across Master Ficino’s important translations. But Jacopo could be entirely serious when discussing the glory of Florence and its importance in European history. The Bracciolinis were a storied and noble Florentine family, and Jacopo was proud of his heritage.

His presence, however, changed the chemistry of their little trinity, which was one of the reasons Sandro was annoyed by it. It was particularly noticeable today during Ficino’s lesson on Virgil’s
Eclogues.

“Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to love.” Ficino quoted the most famous of Virgil’s lines and asked each student to provide an interpretation of the idea behind it. Colombina explained that love was the greatest source of power in the universe. Lorenzo, not surprisingly, agreed with her and further discussed the contrast between
conquest and surrender. Jacopo, however, was having none of it and began twisting the words.

“Love conquers all fools; let us too surrender to nothing,” Jacopo quipped.

Young Bracciolini seemed particularly disruptive today, as if the lesson on love were a thorn in his side. Ficino grappled with him briefly but decided he was in no mood for the boy’s antics. There were stacks of translations waiting for him from Cosimo. Thus he dismissed his students early and took note as Jacopo dashed out past them all, without even looking back or saying good-bye.

Lorenzo was not so easily dismissed, however. He had been hounding Ficino to bring Colombina to meet the Master of the Order of the Holy Sepulcher for approval. Ficino knew it was inevitable, but with Cosimo growing weaker by the day, he had little time for anything other than completing the outstanding translations of ancient manuscripts for his patron and teaching Lorenzo. Cosimo had opened the Medici library to the scholars of Florence, the first time any private library had been opened to the public. And he wanted to add more manuscripts, translations of some of the rare Greek documents that had been unearthed on the many Medici missions of discovery through the Near East. Ficino was under pressure to accomplish these translations for Cosimo. The unspoken sentence between them was that Cosimo wanted to see them and read them himself, before he left this life for the
next.

Lorenzo had had an astrology lesson before the Virgil debacle, and it led him to ask Ficino to look at the aspects of this birth chart together with Colombina’s. Ficino grumbled about it good-naturedly but retrieved a valuable ephemeris while doing so, a gift from Cosimo. He paged through the enormous book, an encyclopedia that detailed
the placement of the planets, taking note of where the heavenly bodies were in the sky when both children were born. Scribbling the squiggles
and analyzing the numbers for some time, he finally made his pronouncement.

Ficino cleared his throat and grew very serious. Astrology was his passion, and his natural intensity increased when he discussed it in detail. A man of utter integrity, he also knew he must speak the truth of his findings despite his personal hesitation to do so.

“I see something here that is . . . unique. Your love for each other will only grow through time and last . . . an eternity. It is divine love. God-given. You were made, one for the other, by God. And no man—or woman—will ever be able to take that from the two of you.”

Lorenzo grabbed for Colombina’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her beautiful, long fingers impulsively. “I could have told you all of that without the aid of the stars.”

Colombina smiled at him but turned back to Ficino, suddenly serious. “You give us such beautiful news. Words about God, and about divine love that lasts forever. And yet you deliver it with sadness. Why, Maestro?”

Ficino reached out his hand to place a finger under her chin, tilting her head, like a sculptor preparing to work, before answering in his thoughtful, halting way. “Because, dear child, your love will not be supported by the circumstances you have both been born into. It—and you—will face many challenges in your lives. Lorenzo’s destiny . . .” He stopped as he looked down at one of the squiggles on the paper, then smeared the ink across it with the tip of his finger. “There are others who would make such decisions for you.”

Lorenzo’s earlier giddiness evaporated as he looked at his love with a new sadness.

“My father,” Colombina said simply.

“You are correct. And yet . . . I urge you to remember one thing, my children: what God has put together . . . no man can separate.”

With a heavy heart, Marsilio Ficino watched his most beloved pupils leave. He knew so much more than what he had imparted to the young lovers. But even in all his wisdom, he understood that there was something happening here that was larger than his education and ex
perience. There was only one man alive who could help them now, the only man who truly deserved to be called the Master.

Ficino grabbed his lightweight cape and went in search of Fra Francesco.

Marsilio Ficino did not have to search very far for Fra Francesco, as he was installed in his own little wing in Montevecchio and rarely ventured beyond the gardens, where he had installed an elegant labyrinth made of paving stones. Fra Francesco used the labyrinth as a walking prayer tool and also taught lessons within it. But today he was indoors in his study, as if he had been anticipating Ficino’s arrival.

“How is it possible that we did not know of this Donati girl?” Fra Francesco’s question to Ficino was not a reprimand, as that was not in his nature. It was a sincere, curious question.

Still, it irked Ficino that he hadn’t seen it earlier. Why hadn’t he thought to look at her astrological chart before? The stars were very clear.

“The Donati are traditionalists,” he replied. “They are not of our beliefs and would not welcome our teachings. They’re solid Catholics and would think that what we do is a serious aberration.”

“More’s the pity, given that their daughter is likely an Expected One. Are we sure they can’t be swayed?”

Ficino pulled himself up, surprised that Fra Francesco had made that pronouncement without even meeting the girl. The Master noticed and continued.

“It stands to reason that she is, given Lorenzo’s obsession with her. She is of a noble Tuscan family, an ancient one, and one that Dante married into. All ancient Tuscan families are bloodline, Marsilio; never forget that. All three of the great holy blood dynasties settled in Tuscany and Umbria, and it is the only place in Europe where that ever occurred. That is why this place is more exalted than any
other.”

“It’s also why there are so many blood feuds and family rivalries,” Ficino observed.

“Yes, yes, that is sadly true. But it is also what we are working to repair with all the intermarrying that we have sponsored. Whoever would have thought that the Albizzi and the Medici would ever unite into one family through marriage? And the Pazzi? But it is happening. Perhaps we can convince the Donati to give their daughter in marriage to Lorenzo.”

Ficino shook his head sadly. “We can try, but I do not have much optimism for success. Not because it is a blood feud. The Donati and the Medici are peaceful enough as neighbors, though the Donati are untrustworthy, I think. But it is their status that is the problem. They are elitists as well as Catholics. That is a difficult combination. For all that the Medici are one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Europe—”