o this inward development of the individual corresponds a new sort of
outward distinction--the modern form of glory.
In the other countries of Europe the different classes of society lived
apart, each with its own medieval caste sense of honour. The poetical
fame of the Troubadours and Minnesanger was peculiar to the knightly
order. But in Italy social equality had appeared before the time of the
tyrannies or the democracies. We there find early traces of a general
society, having, as will be shown more fully later on, a common ground
in Latin and Italian literature; and such a ground was needed for this
new element in life to grow in. To this must be added that the Roman
authors, who were not zealously studied, are filled and saturated with
the conception of fame, and that their subject itself--the universal
empire of Rome-- stood as a permanent ideal before the minds of
Italians. From henceforth all the aspirations and achievements of the
people were governed by a moral postulate, which was still unknown
elsewhere in Europe.
Here, again, as in all essential points, the first witness to be called
is Dante. He strove for the poet's garland with all the power of his
soul.33 As publicist and man of letters, he laid stress on the fact
that what he did was new, and that he wished not only to be, but to be
esteemed the first in his own walks.34 But in his prose writings he
touches also on the inconveniences of fame; he knows how often personal
acquaintance with famous men is disappointing, and explains how this is
due partly to the childish fancy of men, partly to envy, and partly to
the imperfections of the hero himself. And in his great poem he firmly
maintains the emptiness of fame, although in a manner which betrays
that his heart was not free from the longing for it. In Paradise the
sphere of Mercury is the seat of such blessed ones as on earth strove
after glory and thereby dimmed 'the beams of true love.' It is
characteristic that the lost souls in hell beg of Dante to keep alive
for them their memory and fame on earth, while those in Purgatory only
entreat his prayers and those of others for their deliverance.37 And in
a famous passage, the passion for fame--'lo gran disio dell'eccellenza'
(the great desire of excelling)--is reproved for the reason that
intellectual glory is not absolute, but relative to the times, and may
be surpassed and eclipsed by greater successors.
The new race of poet-scholars which arose soon after Dante quickly made
themselves masters of this fresh tendency. They did so in a double
sense, being themselves the most acknowledged celebrities of Italy, and
at the same time, as poets and historians, consciously disposing of the
reputation of others. An outward symbol of this sort of fame was the
coronation of the poets, of which we shall speak later on.
A contemporary of Dante, Albertinus Musattus or Mussatus, crowned poet
at Padua by the bishop and rector, enjoyed a fame which fell little
short of deification. Every Christmas Day the doctors and students of
both colleges at the University came in solemn procession before his
house with trumpets and, it seems, with burning tapers, to salute him
and bring him presents. His reputation lasted till, in 1318, he fell
into disgrace with the ruling tyrant of the House of Carrara.
This new incense, which once was offered only to saints and heroes, was
given in clouds to Petrarch, who persuaded himself in his later years
that it was but a foolish and troublesome thing. His letter 'To
Posterity' is the confession of an old and famous man, who is forced to
gratify the public curiosity. He admits that he wishes for fame in the
times to come, but would rather be without it in his own day. In his
dialogue on fortune and misfortune, the interlocutor, who maintains the
futility of glory, has the best of the contest. But, at the same time,
Petrarch is pleased that the autocrat of Byzantium knows him as well by
his writings as Charles IV knows him. And in fact, even in his
lifetime, his fame extended far beyond Italy. And the emotion which he
felt was natural when his friends, on the occasion of a visit to his
native Arezzo (1350), took him to the house where he was born, and told
him how the city had provided that no change should be made in it. In
former times the dwellings of certain great saints were preserved and
revered in this way, like the cell of St. Thomas Aquinas in the
Dominican convent at Naples, and the Portincula of St. Francis near
Assisi; and one or two great jurists so enjoyed the half-mythical
reputation which led to this honour. Towards the close of the
fourteenth century the people at Bagnolo, near Florence, called an old
building the 'Studio of Accursius' (died in 1260), but, nevertheless,
suffered it to be destroyed. It is probable that the great incomes and
the political influence which some jurists obtained as consulting
lawyers made a lasting impression on the popular imagination.
To the cult of the birthplaces of famous men must be added that of
their graves, and, in the case of Petrarch, of the spot where he died.
In memory of him Arqua became a favorite resort of the Paduans, and was
dotted with graceful little villas. At this time there were no 'classic
spots' in Northern Europe, and pilgrimages were only made to pictures
and relics. It was a point of honour for the different cities to
possess the bones of their own and foreign celebrities; and it is most
remarkable how seriously the Florentines, even in the fourteenth
century-- long before the building of Santa Croce--labored to make
their cathedral a Pantheon. Accorso, Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, and
the jurist Zanobi della Strada were to have had magnificent tombs there
erected to them. Late in the fifteenth century, Lorenzo il Magnifico
applied in person to the Spoletans, asking them to give up the corpse
of the painter Fra Filippo Lippi for the cathedral, and received the
answer that they had none too many ornaments to the city, especially in
the shape of distinguished people, for which reason they begged him to
spare them; and, in fact, he had to be content with erecting a
cenotaph. And even Dante, in spite of all the applications to which
Boccaccio urged the Florentines with bitter emphasis, remained sleeping
tranquilly in San Francesco at Ravenna, 'among ancient tombs of
emperors and vaults of saints, in more honorable company than thou, O
Florence, couldst offer him.' It even happened that a man once took
away unpunished the lights from the altar on which the crucifix stood,
and set there by the grave, with the words, 'Take them; thou art more
worthy of them than He, the Crucified One! ' (Franco Sacchetti, Novella
121.)
And now the Italian cities began again to remember their ancient
citizens and inhabitants. Naples, perhaps, had never forgotten its tomb
of Virgil, since a kind of mythical halo had become attached to the
name.
The Paduans, even in the sixteenth century, firmly believed that they
possessed not only the genuine bones of their founder, Antenor, but
also those of the historian Livy. 'Sulmona,' says Boccaccio, 'bewails
that Ovid lies buried far away in exile; and Parma rejoices that
Cassius sleeps within its walls.' The Mantuans coined a medal in 1257
with the bust of Virgil, and raised a statue to represent him. In a fit
of aristocratic insolence, the guardian of the young Gonzaga, Carlo
Malatesta, caused it to be pulled down in 1392, and was afterwards
forced, when he found the fame of the old poet too strong for him, to
set it up again. Even then, perhaps, the grotto, a couple of miles from
the town, where Virgil was said to have meditated, was shown to
strangers, like the 'Scuola di Virgilio' at Naples. Como claimed both
the Plinys for its own, and at the end of the fifteenth century erected
statues in their honour, sitting under graceful baldachins on the
facade of the cathedral.
History and the new topography were now careful to leave no local
celebrity unnoticed. At the same period the northern chronicles only
here and there, among the list of popes, emperors, earthquakes, and
comets, put in the remark, that at such a time this or that famous man
'flourished.' We shall elsewhere have to show how, mainly under the
influence of this idea of fame, an admirable biographical literature
was developed. We must here limit ourselves to the local patriotism of
the topographers who recorded the claims of their native cities to
distinction.
In the Middle Ages, the cities were proud of their saints and of the
bones and relics in their churches. With these the panegyrist of Padua
in 1450, Michele Savonarola, begins his list; from them he passes to
'the famous men who were no saints, but who, by their great intellect
and force (virtus) deserve to be added (adnecti) to the saints'--just
as in classical antiquity the distinguished man came close upon the
hero. The further enumeration is most characteristic of the time. First
comes Antenor, the brother of Priam, who founded Padua with a band of
Trojan fugitives; King Dardanus, who defeated Attila in the Euganean
hills, followed him in pursuit, and struck him dead at Rimini with a
chessboard; the Emperor Henry IV, who built the cathedral; a King
Marcus, whose head was preserved in Monselice; then a couple of
cardinals and prelates as founders of colleges, churches, and so forth;
the famous Augustinian theologian, Fra Alberto; a string of
philosophers beginning with Paolo Veneto and the celebrated Pietro of
Abano; the jurist Paolo Padovano; then Livy and the poets Petrarch,
Mussato, Lovato. If there is any want of military celebrities in the
list, the poet consoles himself for it by the abundance of learned men
whom he has to show, and by the more durable character of intellectual
glory, while the fame of the soldier is buried with his body, or, if it
lasts, owes its permanence only to the scholar. It is nevertheless
honorable to the city that foreign warriors lie buried here by their
own wish, like Pietro de' Rossi of Parma, Filippo Arcelli of Piacenza,
and especially Gattemelata of Narni (d. 1443), whose brazen equestrian
statue, 'like a Caesar in triumph,' already stood by the church of the
Santo. The author then names a crowd of jurists and physicians, nobles
'who had not only, like so many others, received, but deserved, the
honour of knighthood.' Then follows a list of famous mechanicians,
painters, and musicians, and in conclusion the name of a fencing-master
Michele Rosso, who, as the most distinguished man in his profession,
was to be seen painted in many places.
By the side of these local temples of fame, which myth, legend, popular
admiration, and literary tradition combined to create, the
poet-scholars built up a great Pantheon of worldwide celebrity. They made
collections of famous men and famous women, often in direct imitation
of Cornelius Nepos, the pseudo-Suetonius, Valerius Maximus, Plutarch
(Mulierum virtutes), Jerome (De viris illustribus), and others: or
they wrote of imaginary triumphal processions and Olympian assemblies,
as was done by Petrarch in his 'Trionfo della Fama,' and Boccaccio in
the 'Amorosa Visione,' with hundreds of names, of which three-fourths
at least belong to antiquity and the rest to the Middle Ages. By and by
this new and comparatively modern element was treated with greater
emphasis; the historians began to insert descriptions of character, and
collections arose of the biographies of distinguished contemporaries,
like those of Filippo Villani, Vespasiano Fiorentino, Bartolommeo I
Fazio, and lastly of Paolo Giovio.
The North of Europe, until Italian influence began to tell upon its
writers-- for instance, on Trithemius, the first German who wrote the
lives of famous men- -possessed only either legends of the saints, or
descriptions of princes and churchmen partaking largely of the
character of legends and showing no traces of the idea of fame, that
is, of distinction won by a man's personal efforts. Poetical glory was
still confined to certain classes of society, and the names of northern
artists are only known to us at this period in so far as they were
members of certain guilds or corporations.
The poet-scholar in Italy had, as we have already said, the fullest
consciousness that he was the giver of fame and immortality, or, if he
chose, of oblivion. Boccaccio complains of a fair one to whom he had
done homage, and who remained hard-hearted in order that he might go on
praising her and making her famous, and he gives her a hint that he
will try the effect of a little blame. Sannazaro, in two magnificent
sonnets, threatens Alfonso of Naples with eternal obscurity on account
of his cowardly flight before Charles VIII. Angelo Poliziano seriously
exhorts (1491) King John of Portugal to think betimes of his
immortality in reference to the new discoveries in Africa, and to send
him materials to Florence, there to be put into shape (operosius
excolenda), otherwise it would befall him as it had befallen all the
others whose deeds, unsupported by the help of the learned, 'lie hidden
in the vast heap of human frailty.' The king, or his humanistic
chancellor, agreed to this, and promised that at least the Portuguese
chronicles of African affairs should be translated into Italian, and
sent to Florence to be done into Latin. Whether the promise was kept is
not known. These pretensions are by no means so groundless as they may
appear at first sight; for the form in which events, even the greatest,
are told to the living and to posterity is anything but a matter of
indifference. The Italian humanists, with their mode of exposition and
their Latin style, had long the complete control of the reading world
of Europe, and till last century the Italian poets were more widely
known and studied than those of any other nation. The baptismal name of
the Florentine Amerigo Vespucci was given, on account of his book of
travels, to a new quarter of the globe, and if Paolo Giovio, with all
his superficiality and graceful caprice, promised himself immortality,
his expectation has not altogether been disappointed.
Amid all these preparations outwardly to win and secure fame, the
curtain is now and then drawn aside, and we see with frightful evidence
a boundless ambition and thirst after greatness, regardless of all
means and consequences. Thus, in the preface to Machiavelli's
Florentine history, in which he blames his predecessors Leonardo,
Aretino and Poggio for their too considerate reticence with regard to
the political parties in the city: 'They erred greatly and showed that
they understood little the ambition of men and the desire to perpetuate
a name. How many who could distinguish themselves by nothing
praiseworthy, strove to do so by infamous deeds! ' Those writers did
not consider that actions which are great in themselves, as is the case
with the actions of rulers and of States, always seem to bring more
glory than blame, of whatever kind they are and whatever the result of
them may be. In more than one remarkable and dreadful undertaking the
motive assigned by serious writers is the burning desire to achieve
something great and memorable. This motive is not a mere extreme case
of ordinary vanity, but something demonic, involving a surrender of the
will, the use of any means, however atrocious, and even an indifference
to success itself. In this sense, for example, Machiavelli conceives
the character of Stefano Porcari; of the murderers of Galeazzo Maria
Sforza (1476), the documents tell us about the same; and the
assassination of Duke Alessandro of Florence (1537) is ascribed by
Varchi himself to the thirst for fame which tormented the murderer
Lorenzino Medici. Still more stress is laid on this motive by Paolo
Giovio. Lorenzino, according to him, pilloried by a pamphlet of Molza,
broods over a deed whose novelty shall make his disgrace forgotten, and
ends by murdering his kinsman and prince. These are characteristic
features of this age of overstrained and despairing passions and
forces, and remind us of the burning of the temple of Diana at Ephesus
in the time of Philip of Macedon