Friend to Mankind Marsilio Ficino 1433-1499 E-Book

Marsilio Ficino

• Herausgeber: Shepheard Walwyn (Publishers) Ltd
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Seitenzahl: 373

Beschreibung

Eighteen essays re examine Ficino's life and work focusing on three essential aspects: his significance in his own times, his spreading influence throughout Europe and over subsequent centuries in many areas of thought and creativity, and his enduring relevance today. Translation of his major works from Latin enables a new generation to rediscover and share Ficino's vision of human potential.

Leseprobe

Friend to Mankind

Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499)

Friend to Mankind

Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499)

Michael ShepherdEDITOR

SHEPHEARD-WALWYN

© 1999 this edition Shepheard-Walwyn (Publishers) Ltd

© 1999 individual contributors

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the publisher, Shepheard-Walwyn (Publishers) Ltd

First published 1999 by

Shepheard-Walwyn (Publishers) Ltd

107 Parkway House, Sheen Lane

London SW14 8LS

www.shepheard-walwyn.co.uk

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-0-85683-184-3

Typeset by R E Clayton

Printed in Great Britain by St Edmundsbury Press

Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

Contents

Foreword

Introduction

MICHAEL SHEPHERD

Marsilio Ficino - A Man for All Seasons

ADRIAN BERTOLUZZI

A Man of Compassion

CLEMENT SALAMAN

In Praise of the One – Marsilio Ficino and Advaita

ARTHUR FARNDELL

Fellow Philosophers

LINDA PROUD

Ficino’s Influence in Europe

VALERY REES

Ficino on the Nature of Love and the Beautiful

JOSEPH MILNE

Ficino and Astrology

GEOFFREY PEARCE

Ficino and Portraiture

PAMELA TUDOR-CRAIG

Dean Colet

JENIFER CAPPER

Ficino and Shakespeare

JILL LINE

Music and Marsilio Ficino

JOHN STEWART ALLITT

Ficino on Law and Justice

LESLIE BLAKE

Translating Ficino

PATRICIA GILLIES

Marsilio Ficino: Magus and Cultural Visionary

THOMAS MOORE

Marsilio Ficino and Medicine

CHARLOTTE MENDES DA COSTA

A Little Lesson in ‘Counter-Education’: A Dialogue with the Ghost of Ficino on the Theme of Psychotherapy

NOEL COBB

Marsilio Ficino on Leadership

DAVID BODDY

Ficino’s Message to the Church Today

PETER SERRACINO-INGLOTT

Further Reading

The Contributors

Foreword

SINCE fluency in Latin and Greek has decreased during the 20th century, particularly in the English-speaking world, the very existence of this volume owes a great debt to those who have translated and written about Marsilio Ficino in English: first and foremost, to Paul Oskar Kristeller, who died aged 94 in 1999, and who was the leading authority in bringing Ficino back to the attention of philosophers. Then to Sears Jayne, whose 1944 translation of De Amore revealed the profound influence of Ficino’s doctrine of universal love on the arts and literature; to Carol Kaske and John Clarke for their translation of De Vita, Ficino’s most intriguing work for contemporary therapeutics; to Michael Allen, for his ongoing translations and researches into every aspect of Ficino’s thought, particularly the commentaries on Plato’s dialogues; and to the team working through Ficino’s twelve books of letters, which reveal the inspirational aspect of Ficino’s activities.

Gratitude, too, to the memory of Norah Fillingham, whose Christian devotion and inspired elegance of phrase gave wings to the English translation of the letters from the beginning.

Introduction

It is not for small things but for great that God created men, who, knowing the great, are not satisfied with small things. Indeed, it is for the limitless alone that He created men, who are the only beings on earth to have re-discovered their infinite nature and who are not fully satisfied by anything limited however great that thing may be.*

THIS passage, tucked away in a letter to one of his friends, offers the perfect introduction to Marsilio Ficino for those unfamiliar with his writings. It indicates why the 500th anniversary of his lifetime should be cause for celebration; and reason for his rediscovery as one of the great and timeless ‘friends of mankind’.

For he is one of those rare beings who seem to be born with the welfare of the whole human race as their prime concern; and he expresses this with love, authority, scholarship, poetic imagination and sublime eloquence.

Re-reading that quotation, we can perhaps begin to imagine – difficult historical exercise though this is – what it was like for men and women of his own time to hear such inspiring, expansive words for the first time. Their tone is not obviously Judaic, Greek, Roman, Christian or Islamic; yet it harmonises the transcendent teachings of all these traditions, and restates their universal message in a fresh and invigorating way; and with all the authority of personal experience.

It was writings such as this, from his villa at Careggi overlooking Florence – and personal contact too, for Ficino delivered sermons as a priest, gave lectures, supervised an academy, wrote letters and is said to have been loved by young and old in his day for his conversation – which helped to awaken those surging energies, in many fields of human interest and discovery, which we so marvel at and call the Renaissance.

The last half-century has yielded a considerable scholarly literature concerning Ficino (a guide to further reading will be found at the back of this volume), which has established his historical significance: first as translator of Plato and other philosophers from Greek; as highly influential commentator on these; as harmoniser of classical ‘paganism’ and Christianity; and whose writings led to the adoption of the belief in the immortality of the soul as Christian dogma; but beyond that, as a voice in his own right, a teacher of mankind, no less.

His influence can be traced – in England and in the idealistic New World as much as anywhere – through the succeeding centuries, as theologian and philosopher (though himself believing these two terms ultimately to be one), and poetic voice of transcendent love, human and divine; inspiring poets and artists with a new, many-layered language of imagination; and providing the new sciences with psychology – literally, the knowledge of the soul.

For those who wish to discover the golden thread of our Western tradition – which ultimately must be the tradition of truth itself – Ficino is an excellent point of entry. The image which fits him well is that of the hourglass: in the upper cup, the whole of the cultural inheritance of the Mediterranean from Egypt, Israel, Persia and beyond, Greece, Rome, Byzantium and Islam; and from medieval Europe itself. Then at the narrow neck of the hourglass, Ficino himself, filtering and discriminating grain by grain all this – word and truth, wisdom and speculation. And in the cup below, the fine tilth of culture which his work provided, a seed-bed for the work of others to come. Following up the authors cited and references in his letters, for instance (the easiest starting point, as he himself intended), can take one deep into this Western tradition and the unimaginable riches of the finest thought and the greatest minds.

This invitation to live a greater life was received with eager enthusiasm throughout Europe even during his lifetime, by kings, prelates, scholars and artists. But what of the present day? Has Marsilio Ficino anything to say to us today worth listening to? Can he still inspire us to believe ourselves greater than our thoughts?

It may come as a surprise to some readers that for a quarter of a century now, in the New World, Ficino has provided an inspiration and method for practising psychotherapists, and a spiritual guide in everyday living; notably in the books of Dr Thomas Moore. It is a merry thought that in America – named after the nephew of one of Ficino’s friends and correspondents – Ficino’s name is more widely known than in Europe at this time.

To return to this question of Ficino for today: the answer lies with the reader. Here is a test: on reading that quotation which heads this introduction, is there a warm response – whether ‘That’s true’ or ‘That’s what I’d like to believe’? If there is that warmth, it suggests two things in particular: that it was written from personal experience, not just from convenient idealist theory; and more, that our response proves that we ourselves already know this greatness, this unbounded nature, within ourselves. It is reminding us of what we are. As Ficino says elsewhere, we are essentially that which is greatest within us – which he calls the soul. All his writings are an invitation to all mankind, to live as that greater self; to think and act and love universally, as heirs of the whole Creation; and to find joy in this. His essential message is both profound and practical: the joy, the freedom, of seeking answers to all questions from the viewpoint of the unity of all things. As Ficino himself says, only the unlimited truly satisfies us.

This book of celebratory essays is written by some of those who have rediscovered Marsilio Ficino and have come to love him as a teacher and a friend; so its structure is relaxed and personal. But it aims to celebrate three aspects of Ficino’s value over five hundred years, as suggested above: his inspiration in his own times; his extending influence in subsequent centuries and in many directions; and most of all, his continuing practical relevance today. The essays follow this order.

Two mental images of the one Ficino may emerge from these essays; and they affect the mind in different ways. One is of Ficino the embodiment: the person, the actuality. As with his patron Cosimo de’ Medici, he appears on the scene at a crucial time; realises what needs to be done; does it; and then leaves the stage of history, his role fulfilled. The other image – almost an imageless image – is of Ficino the shared mind: the writings, the conversations we will never hear, the Ficino who lives on, to be rediscovered and to influence new generations in new ways. Adrian Bertoluzzi, who is currently working on a biography of Marsilio Ficino, provides here an account of Ficino the embodiment: the main events of his life, and the role he played in those vibrant and turbulent times. From the sober details of a quiet life emerges the quintessence of the Renaissance and of Ficino’s significance: one man in his microcosm studying the macrocosm, the whole Creation; the individual seeking the universal.

One virtue which the younger generation seems to be carrying into the new millennium is that of compassion – both for the planet and for its inhabitants. Compassion cannot be manufactured; it arises naturally out of observation and heartfelt understanding, and may then move toward contemplation, action or creative work. Clement Salaman in the second essay focusses on Ficino’s compassion, and shows how this compassion spread into all these areas so effectively.

One, Two, Three: Plato’s and Plotinus’ search for the One unity; the Eastern principle of non-dualism or advaita (or in Western theology, non-contradiction); and the Christian mystery of the Trinity: each of these presents a method and a challenge to the thinking of theologians, philosophers, mystics and anyone who takes up this adventure in thought. Arthur Farndell, a student of Ficino’s philosophy and of advaita, assembles Ficino’s most inspiring statements on unity, setting them out by theme and context, and translating some passages into English for the first time.

The names of Pico della Mirandola and Poliziano (Politian as he was often known in Britain) have both been celebrated over subsequent centuries as stars, young lions of the Renaissance – more so than Ficino; yet there is no modern biography of either at the moment of writing, and their letters – including those to Ficino himself, with all their inherent fascination – mostly await translation. Linda Proud brings these two young men out of the wings to share the spotlight along with Ficino as they did in their own times, giving a sense of the ferment of discussion and new ideas which must have gone on in Florence and beyond; played out against the turbulent backdrop of the times and the personal risks of murderous politics and the bonfires of heresy which attended new thinking. Indeed, both men died young, and some suspected poisoning. What emerges from this account is that ardent love of enquiry and truth which was their bond of friendship, and which must have been that much more intense at the time of the ‘new learning’.

With men of stature such as Marsilio Ficino it is easy, in the half-light of hindsight, to underestimate or overestimate them; to adulate them or to cut them down to our size. This is understandable. An effective philosopher will inspire equally in society, action, devotion and knowledge; and speak truth in different ‘voices’ according to his audience. This is so with Ficino; indeed, it was familiar practice in his day. In his writing we can hear sometimes a respectful regard for tradition, discriminating but uncritical; or close informative paraphrasing of the words of Augustine, Aquinas or – from his own translating – Plato, Plotinus, Hermes Trismegistus, pseudo-Dionysius, Proclus and others. In some treatises a closely argued ‘Aristotelian’ tone may be set against a transcendental ‘Platonic’ tone, which can be as much from his own experience and intuition as direct from Plato or the neo-Platonists. In the letters it is the voice of eternal unity, friendship and love, most often, with inspirational intent; which can rise to an exalted voice of ecstatic ‘divine frenzy’, where the poet and the seer meet. There is humour, levity, word-play and teasing too. To his superiors in the priesthood Ficino adopts the traditional tone of fulsome respect which we might term unctuous flattery (though with more than a touch of irony when his ‘superior’ is a 16-year old bishop or cardinal, or a scheming, warlike Pope); and to rulers and princes, an equally fulsome tone of unstinted praise. But this should not be misunderstood as ‘crawly’: Marsilio is speaking to the office itself in its power and duty, and to the man as he should be, whether priest or ruler. Beyond this he is speaking to the divine in all men, as his ‘friends in unity’. This is the most elevating aspect of Ficino’s letters.

Alas, we seldom have the written response to the letters – though research may yet find some. However, Valery Rees presents the evidence, beginning with a detailed account of the scene in Hungary, of the way in which Ficino’s correspondents and followers spread his ideas, thought and teaching through Europe. It is a fascinating story, even instructive, and which the subsequent essays follow up. Behind it all lies the abiding mystery: the power that launches and transmits such a renaissance.

For Ficino, philosophy, the love of wisdom, is essentially a practical matter, through the pursuit of which we can come to know our real selves, and rest the mind at last in that knowledge. In his Theologia Platonica he explains this process in terms of contemplation, by which the mind withdraws itself from the body, and from ‘all obstacles of the senses and fantasy’, and finds all the treasures of knowledge already there within itself. In his De Amore, his commentary on Plato’s Symposium which became greatly influential in its own right, Ficino expounds the role of love and beauty in this return of the soul to its divine self. Joseph Milne’s lucid and penetrating study presents Ficino’s views in both their Platonic and Christian context, and takes us to the very heart of Ficino’s teaching.

When Ficino embarked on his great harmonisation of Plato and Christianity, reason and revelation, he could have chosen to disregard as irrelevant those two extraordinary areas of thought: mythology and astrology. And he would have had Church authority for thus dismissing them from consideration. But in his unifying cosmic view, he chose to investigate both, to see what they would yield in observable or intuitive truth about the ‘heavens within’; with results which laid the ground for the development of psychology, the knowledge of the soul, as the later essays in this volume reveal. Geoffrey Pearce sets out Ficino’s views and pronouncements on astrology, in the context of his times. In this, Ficino’s letters are as valuable as his better-known treatises in providing clues as to his theory and practice. His guiding principle, as it was for Origen and others, was the correspondence, in a unified Creation, between the outer and the inner.

The first authorities in recent times to bring Ficino’s name back to general attention were art historians who were also philosophers: Professors Cassirer, Panofsky, Kristeller, Garin, Chastel, Wind, Saxl, Wittkower and Gombrich have all made distinguished contributions in this field. The many-layered language of the imagination which Ficino was to bequeath to artistic imagery can be seen prefigured in the most ‘playful’ of his letters: for instance, that short note to Phoebus (Febo) Capella of Venice in Volume 6 of the English translation, where Ficino brings together five levels of reference – physical or astronomical, astrological, mythological, celestial or psychological and personal – through his light-hearted word-play (as with Shakespeare later) and loving allusion. The possibilities that this opened up for visual artists are revealed by the great art galleries and private collections of the world in all their glory; from the most spiritually serious in intent to the most decoratively light-hearted. Pamela Tudor-Craig, whose study of Botticelli’s relationship to Ficino in her book The Secret Life of Paintings is deeply stimulating, focusses here on one aspect of Renaissance art less often discussed in philosophic context: the painted portrait in its most profound application, as the meeting of the specifically personal and the eternal in the living soul. (Were it not so hackneyed, a reproduction of Leonardo’s ‘Mona Lisa’ would be entirely appropriate here.)

1999 marks another 500th anniversary, curiously interlinked, even to the month, with Ficino’s death. In that month, October 1499, three great men, all just beginning their public careers, met in Oxford. John Colet was embarking on a series of public lectures on St Paul’s Epistles; he had written two letters to Marsilio Ficino, one of admiration for his writings, particularly The Letters, which had been published in Venice as recently as 1495; the second letter probably (he did not keep a copy) asking about the respective powers of intellect and will in the journey of the soul to God. Later, as Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, Colet was to preach mighty sermons in front of Henry VIII, Wolsey and the convocation of England’s priests. Desiderius Erasmus, the second of this trio, was to become the great Bible scholar of Europe; the third was Thomas More, destined to become Henry VIII’s adviser, friend, enemy and victim. In 1499 Colet and Erasmus were in their early thirties and More in his early twenties; they delighted in each other’s company, the more so as they all shared a sense of humour. In this we might see that unique quality of the English Renaissance, its blend of humour, humanism and humanity which reached its height in Shakespeare. These three men have become known as the ‘Oxford Reformers’. Bearing in mind the corruption of the Church and Papacy at the time, and Erasmus’ comment that Rome behaved ‘as if Christ were dead’, it would not be too far-fetched or fanciful to claim in that same spirit that Jesus Christ was resurrected in Oxford in 1499. Jenifer Capper sets Colet and Ficino and their relationship (Colet the only English correspondent of Ficino, though one or two others such as Grocyn and Linacre might have met him during their studies in Florence) in the context of their times and aims.

As the Renaissance spread by word of mouth and pen, and the oxygen of expanding awareness, through Europe from South to North, each nation, as international Latin declined, brought forth a national genius in its new native language – Luther, Rabelais, Cervantes, Hooft, Camoens, Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s debt to Ficino has been obscured for us by his sheer genius – transmuting philosophic gold into poetic gold with a lightning-swift intuitive understanding of the most profound thought which makes the term ‘influence’ almost irrelevant: the origin, the aim, the effect is one. Jill Line points to the direct parallels between Shakespeare’s philosophic poetry and Ficino’s poetic philosophy in an essay which illumines and deepens the study of both writers.

Ficino’s most expansive influence is to be seen in the arts, particularly the visual and literary arts. Less identifiable, but perhaps greater than has been realised, is his influence on music. He himself set great value on the use of music in healing - as did Pythagoras. He was a practising musician and extemporiser in song and on the lyre as well as confident theorist, as in his letter to Domenico Benivieni expounding the mathematical and philosophical basis of the modern octave. Alas, we know nothing of the practice; except that it was said to be effective. The authority of that letter, and the similar section on music in his Timaeus commentary, may have had a wide and immediate response, or a gradual one – we cannot be sure. Both treatises bear considerable contemplation, even today. Certainly the principle that musical harmony, like the soul, is the connection between the human and the divine, and therefore of universal and vital influence, must have struck home. Ficino’s rich language of imagination on several levels, combined with his emphasis on the cosmic harmony reflected in music, gives him a claim to be a significant figure in the birth of opera which followed the elaborate cosmic masques of Italian courts and, later, those of Inigo Jones and Ben Jonson for the English court. John Allitt pays tribute to the considerable influence which he believes Ficino to have had on music.

There is so much to learn – to rediscover, recognise, acknowledge, remember – in Ficino’s writings. It is thus a particular delight and encouragement to the translators of his letters and other works, when specialists of our own day find what he says to be relevant and inspiring. L.L.Blake highlights, from the point of view of a barrister and writer on law, Ficino’s personal pronouncements on the levels and aspects of law, and the relationship to justice. He links this to the contribution which the principles underpinning the Common Law of England can make in the current debate on Europe and sovereignty.

Few gain a more intimate acquaintance with the very thought of great writers and thinkers than those who are called upon to translate their words: a spiritual bond which takes the mind beyond language in order to find language. Ficino’s deep understanding of the thought of Plato and Plotinus and other Greek minds arose through his being the first translator of most of their works into Latin. The same spiritual bond has arisen between Ficino and his translators into English – not surprisingly, since his themes are above all friendship, love and unity. Patricia Gillies writes about the developing experience of translating Ficino’s letters, its subtleties and its spiritual rewards.

As mentioned earlier, Ficino’s name is more widely known in the United States than in Europe thanks to a quarter-century of practical application of his thought and vision to psychotherapy and daily life. This has gained a wide audience through the books of Dr Thomas Moore, such as Care of the Soul and The Planets Within, which have brought Ficino’s insights into the life and context of today. Dr Moore contributes from his experience an essay on Ficino as magus and cultural visionary; a splendid justification of this celebration of ‘Ficino 500’.

Ficino, the son of a doctor, also trained as a doctor and inherited the medieval tradition of linking astrology, music and medicine in the holistic pursuit of health. To this he brought his own cosmic view, and his Three Books on Life together with his other writings on these subjects deserve contemporary expert and open-minded study. Dr Charlotte Mendes da Costa contributes a fascinating survey of Ficino’s views and advice: as a practising doctor she finds much contemporary relevance which could stimulate further professional discussion. It is interesting that, all of five centuries on, we can begin once again to consider the links between the spiritual, the emotional, the mental and the physical in terms of professional practice. It is also tantalising that Ficino’s own practice of using music with medicine remains un-documented – a whole field of research awaits.

One authority on Ficino, Michael Allen, has pointed out that the 20th century has an affinity with the 15th in its open-mindedness. This has encouraged investigation of the practical relevance of Ficino’s insights in today’s world of the soul. Noel Cobb is one of the distinguished few in Britain who have paralleled the work of James Hillman and Thomas Moore in America over the last quarter-century in applying these insights to psychotherapy – or, to use Ficino’s more direct word, life, in particular the life of the soul. Noel Cobb contributes a richly imaginative dialogue between Ficino and a present-day practitioner of this soul-healing, which illuminates this fruitful collaboration over the centuries, bringing the past into the present in a way which would surely make Ficino himself rejoice.

Ficino travelled no further from Florence for most of his life than the hills around it; yet through his conversations, letters and books, he was in touch with kings and powerful rulers, popes and prelates, statesmen and politicians, lawyers, scholars, poets, musicians, writers and artists – decision-makers and creators, all leaders in their field. David Boddy, who meets many such leaders, and young potential leaders, in the course of his work, takes up the theme of leadership – on which Ficino offers such penetrating and uncompromising advice – and applies it to the world as it is today.

During the preparation of this volume, a major event occurred in the Western Church: Pope John Paul II issued his Encyclical Letter Fides et Ratio on faith and reason. How this would have rejoiced Ficino – on behalf of the whole of mankind! He lived in a time of extreme corruption in the Papacy and in the Church in general, as well as knowing the perils of the Inquisition and the burning of alleged heretics; but here is a Pope affirming that there is one absolute truth which philosophy and religion must meet together to seek; that every human being has an ‘implicit philosophy’, a desire placed in the human heart to know the truth; that this is the path by which we may come to know ourselves; and that we can come to that understanding through the things we know best, the things of everyday life. His Holiness calls philosophy ‘an indispensible help for the deeper understanding of faith’ and he frees our minds of any limiting ideas about signing up to some defined faith and dogma by indicating that real faith is a total surrender to the infinite and the absolute. His Holiness has a special word for Indian thought, in liberating the spirit from the ‘shackles of time and space’; and when he affirms that ‘The desire for knowledge is so great and it works in such a way that the human heart, despite its experience of insurmountable limitation, yearns for the infinite riches which lie beyond, knowing that there is to be found the satisfying answer to every question as yet unanswered’ – this evokes the same sound as that of Ficino’s statement which heads this introduction. The Reverend Professor Serracino-Inglott, who, like St Augustine, Marsilio Ficino and Pope John Paul, is both priest and philosopher, considers Ficino to be ‘an unacknowledged precursor in the formulation of much needed Christian concepts and attitudes in the world of today’; his resonant essay on Ficino’s message to the Church today establishes in the widest and most profound terms why we should be celebrating Marsilio Ficino as a man of this and the next millennium. It brings this volume to a fitting conclusion.

These essays reveal the vast scope of human – and divine – concerns which can arise from an acquaintance with Marsilio Ficino. Were the volume a full view of his significance, it would happily include longer essays from all its contributors; also ideally, at least three other areas of investigation. One, rather more historical but full of interest, is the way in which the vision of the loving unity of Creation held by Ficino and others who shared his vision, contributed to the development of modern science: how insight, speculation, even astrology and mythology, prepared the way for observation, hypothesis, experiment and discovery of physical and chemical laws. Copernicus, Brahe, Galileo, Kepler and Newton all figure in this story.

A second area, already touched on in these essays, is nearer home: the considerable influence of Ficino’s thought through centuries of English – and American – literature and theatre (to mention only one language and two nations among several). Most apparent is its transmutation by genius in Shakespeare, yet most difficult to pin down. The very profundity of Ficino’s vision makes it all the more elusive to us, its heirs. But it is worth investigation since, like all true study, it is ultimately a study of oneself. Thomas Traherne’s response, in his Centuries of Meditations, to this call to a universal view, with the need to pass on the recognition of this cosmic inheritance to children at an early age, is just one shining glory in our literature in which Ficino played a part.

The third area of interest would require a whole volume of itself. Fortunately, it has been very deeply researched in Professor Kristeller’s The Philosophy of Marsilio Ficino: to wit, the very core of Ficino’s thought and exposition, especially that most practical aspect which Kris-teller calls ‘internal experience’ or consciousness. Ficino’s Theologia Platonica represents his most fully developed teaching. Its theoretical and practical importance is shown by the fact that most of the ample quotations in Kristeller’s book are from the Theologia. So, for a sustained presentation of Ficino’s full view of Creation and the role of mankind in it-set down in eighteen ‘books’ at the age of 36-41 – readers are commended, until the Theologia is translated, to Kristeller’s volume. Michael Allen in his books and essays investigates the development of Ficino’s thought in his life subsequent to the Theologia – twenty-five years which saw Ficino’s translations of and commentaries on Synesius, Iamblicus, Psellus, Priscian, Porphyry, Proclus, Plotinus, Dionysius, Athenagoras and St Paul’s Epistles, among others; and his revised commentaries to Plato’s dialogues such as Philebus, Phaedrus and Sophist intended for his second edition of Plato in 1496.

A fourth area of interest could launch another renaissance in itself, matching that flowing from the work of Ficino, Pico and others, and continuing this: to harmonise the vast treasures of Vedic wisdom and the Sanskrit language with our Western tradition. The essays by Arthur Farndell and Joseph Milne hint at this; the translators of Ficino’s letters have frequently found that recourse to a Sanskrit dictionary and Dhatupatha have aided the penetration of Ficino’s etymologies and thought through language. It is not only the holy grail of prisca theologia which shines beyond this search: such study throws light on both Eastern and Western traditions. Experts have pointed out that Eastern languages are generally richer in their vocabulary for the mental and spiritual worlds than are Western; if this be so, an exciting field of research beckons.

Marsilio Ficino’s intellectual contribution to Western culture is vast, clearing blockages and opening up the mind. Spiritually, he revealed the path of personal development which, though inherent in all teachings, may for many have appeared closed. Indeed, it could be claimed that the 20th century could not have thought to discuss ‘self-realisation’ without the encouragement of Ficino to find the universal within the individual, and unity in diversity, in the 15th century. The 500th anniversary of Ficino’s lifetime – and also of his impact on the ‘Oxford Reformers’ – falls on the eve of the new millennium for Western mankind – arithmetically, at least. But if mankind is evolutionary, then, two thousand years after the birth of Christ and two-and-a-half thousand years after the glory that was Greece, ought we not to be surrounded by a mighty chorus of priests, philosophers, politicians, economists, lawyers, artists, scientists, psychologists, storytellers and all the media, reminding us of the greatness of the human race, and demanding of us that we confront this individual greatness within ourselves; in that hunger for the unlimited, that desire and pursuit of the whole of which Marsilio Ficino speaks so ardently?

This volume is a celebration of just one such voice: a voice of love, wisdom, authority, scholarship, poetic imagination and sublime eloquence, which still calls us to seek that greater life and know ourselves.

Finally, a brief personal testimony. The writer was studying one of Ficino’s letters – in a London Underground train, of all places – when he was suddenly overcome by the most profound spiritual illumination that he had yet experienced, full of detail and meaning, personal and universal; a view of the world from the eternal perfection of the soul itself. It left him in no doubt that Ficino’s voice holds the same power today as it did five hundred years ago; yet the interpretation was fresh and new. Such a spiritual illumination is surely one of the greatest gifts that any human being can ever pass on to another human being? As Ficino himself might put it, it is giving oneself back to oneself.

It is in this spirit that this volume of celebration is offered: to beloved Marsilio Ficino in his immortal self; to those many other established ‘friends of Marsilio’ old and new; and to generations of future friends yet to meet him. Vale atque Ave.

Michael ShepherdEditor

* Ficino, Letters, Vol 4, letter 6

Marsilio Ficino - A Man for All Seasons

ADRIAN BERTOLUZZI

Sow...this arid field of humankind with good will, and it will at length not only abound with fruit and vines, but also flow with milk and honey.*

IN THE bright firmament of the Italian Renaissance no luminary has suffered in recent times a more unmerited eclipse than Marsilio Ficino. Today in Florence anyone can freely admire the majestic grace of Brunelleschi’s cupola. Ficino left no such tangible testimony of his life’s work. The influence he bequeathed to posterity was celebrated under the sacrosanct names of Plato, Plotinus, Hermes Trismegistus and Dionysius the Areopagite. But during his lifetime which spanned sixty-six years Ficino was hailed as something of a legend in his own right; recognised as a philosopher, musician and doctor, a healer of souls; celebrated in poetry as a new Orpheus, who once wrote ‘May the well tempered lyre always be our salvation when we apply ourselves to it rightly’.1

Virtually all his writings were published in his lifetime including his correspondence in twelve books which is an impressive testimony to the wide circle of friends drawn to this ‘Marsyas’ of the Renaissance.2

Ficino clearly had all the makings of a master teacher: one word, one smile would suffice to soften the heart of even the most hardened sceptic. A magnetic personality; disarming in his forthrightness and simplicity of manners, vast in the breadth and scope of his learning; a prodigiously retentive memory. His charming innocence, universal compassion and thirst for true knowledge mark him out as a teacher in the great traditions of religious and philosophical sages who embrace the one universal truth.

At this time there was a concerted impulse to heal the divisions within society which had festered for so long. Ficino was indeed aware of two forces at work in society, the material and the spiritual; these spring from the nature of the soul which has a dual aspect. As he says in one letter, the soul is set on a horizon midway between the eternal and the temporal: ‘it is capable of rational power and action which lead up to the eternal but also of energies and activities which descend to the temporal’.3 When either of these two halves are ignored or neglected so that they appear to be at odds with one another, society tends inevitably to run down and become fragmented; divisions and rifts manifest with greater force and frequency. According to Ficino the remedy for this malaise is selfknowledge which brings these two aspects once more into clear focus and into accord: ‘thus the Delphic injunction “know thyself” is fulfilled and we examine everything else, whether above or beneath the soul, with deeper insight’. Ficino’s or rather Plato’s teachings provided this very insight; and with these two sides of man’s nature fully acknowledged again, a healing process was set in motion; equilibrium was being restored to society, and the very same century that had witnessed such acts of intolerance as the persecution of the Hussites and the burning at the stake of John Huss and Jerome of Prague, also saw the ending of the long schism which had divided the church between Avignon and Rome, and experienced a great outpouring of creativity in all the arts, that miraculous reawakening of the human spirit vividly described in Ficino’s own words as a golden age, one that brings forth golden minds in abundance, a spirit which is still present to us five hundred years on.

Marsilio Ficino was the second son of Diotifeci Ficino, who became a personal physician to Cosimo de Medici, head of the richest and most powerful family in Florence, bankers to a succession of Popes.

Cosimo was to play a crucial role in Ficino’s resolve to devote his life to philosophy. Himself a man of heroic resolve: as witnessed in his confrontation with the powerful Albizzi faction, his imprisonment, exile and triumphant return to Florence one year later (1434) as undisputed ruler. Adversity had made him single-minded and resolute: as Ficino would say, the spirit is tried and made strong in adversity as gold is purified in fire.4 Cosimo’s extraordinary love of the classical world, its art and literature, showed itself early in his life when he tried to visit the Holy Land in search of manuscripts. Later he would become one of the most discerning and generous patrons in history. But he was also drawn to philosophy. Ever since a providential meeting with the Byzantine philosopher Gemistos Plethon, regarded as the living embodiment of Plato himself, which took place at the Council of Florence in 1439, Cosimo was so fired by this philosopher’s account of Plato’s Academy and teachings, that it became his one overriding wish to restore Plato’s philosophy to Italy. An early meeting with Ficino when he was still a young boy had raised his expectations that here was someone who might have the potential to accomplish this task. It was his second and decisive meeting with Ficino, now a university student, that finally convinced Cosimo he had made the right judgment. Ficino had just embarked on a course in medicine, intending to make it his life’s career in deference to the wishes of his father, but in a dramatic intervention Cosimo recalled Ficino to the study of philosophy and the healing of souls. Ficino’s conversations with Cosimo on philosophy began from this time forward, and a deep bond of friendship based on mutual trust was forged between the two men. Cosimo was now taking a close interest in Ficino’s studies and even encouraged some of his early writings, including an introduction to Plato and his philosophy based mainly on Latin authors, but Cosimo advised Ficino to master the Greek language and ‘drink from the source’ before proceeding further with his study of Plato.

When Ficino had mastered Greek and had translated some key texts including the oracles of Zoroaster and the hymns of Orpheus, Cosimo commissioned Ficino to translate the whole of Plato (1462), giving him a volume containing Plato’s Dialogues in Greek; the Platonic Academy of Florence was set up at this time, probably to coincide with this commission. The real purpose of this so called Academy was to teach Plato’s philosophy as a way of life; gatherings of like-minded friends met within its walls, with Ficino defining true friendships as a fellowship between those men pursuing the same goal - the virtue of wisdom.

At about the same time a school modelled on the Athenian Lyceum where Aristotle taught was established under John Argyropoulos a disciple of Plethon’s. Its purpose seems to have been to study the writings of Aristotle as a preparation for the Platonic teachings. This venture also had Cosimo’s support.

Around 1463 Cosimo suddenly interrupted Ficino’s work on Plato, giving him a new commission, to translate a manuscript which had just come to light containing writings of Hermes Trismegistus, an Egyptian priest and sage, believed by ancient authors to have lived at the time of Moses, and to have imparted his secret teachings to Moses. Later these teachings had passed to the Greek Orpheus, whence they had also been handed on to Pythagoras and Plato. Ficino was convinced that the Hebrew and Greek wisdom sprang from a common ancestry.

Just before Cosimo’s death in 1464, Ficino presented him with his translation often of the shorter dialogues of Plato; and as if to mark this happy event, in a letter to Cosimo Ficino declared that the spirit of Plato, alive in his writings, had flown from Athens to Florence to be with Cosimo.5 On hearing these dialogues read to him for the first time Cosimo was overjoyed, realising that Plato’s philosophy had finally reached Italy.6

Cosimo’s son Piero, the ‘Gouty’ who succeeded him, was weak and ineffectual due to ill-health. The period he was in power was overshadowed by plots and instability, but Piero supported Ficino and remained loyal to the spirit of Cosimo. He encouraged Ficino to continue his work on Plato and to give public lectures on Plato’s philosophy which were held in the University. These lectures were important because they opened out the teachings for the first time to a wider audience. Ficino had almost completed a first draft of his translations of Plato on Piero’s death in 1469. But a further period of uncertainty followed whilst power was being transferred to his son Lorenzo de’ Medici. Ficino describes this time as one when ‘envious fortune’ interrupted his work on Plato.7 Uncertain whether the young Lorenzo would be capable of establishing his political authority and giving his full backing to the Academy, it seems Ficino visited Rome in search of potential new patrons. This coincided with a hotly debated controversy over the respective merits of Plato and Aristotle between Cardinal Bessarion and George of Trebizond. But Bessarion, a former pupil of Plethon’s and a staunch ally of Ficino’s, saved the day in his exemplary defence of Plato published in 1469. This work marked an important milestone in getting Plato’s moral teachings accepted as being in harmony with Christian values and as a powerful medium to educate society. Bessarion was a leading authority on Plato, being one of the few men in Italy to possess a volume of all his Dialogues in Greek, and he made full use of the new invention of printing recently introduced into Italy.

This prepared the stage for the next phase, expounding the spiritual heart of Plato’s philosophy within the Academy, which took place in Florence under the protection of Lorenzo de’ Medici. Lorenzo became a pillar of the Academy both in the financial support he gave and in his own active participation. This work of the Academy was to continue for the next twenty years under Ficino’s direction. Members included some of the closest friends and supporters of the Medici who were actively involved in government and this gave the Academy more authority and influence. In these early years of Lorenzo’s rule, activities of the Academy were conducted quite openly and meetings were held in the Medici villas; also under the auspices of a lay confraternity patronised by the Medici, the Confraternity of the Magi.

In his letters Ficino appears to endow Lorenzo with heroic qualities which acted as a reminder of those qualities he really possessed and which should be made manifest.8 At his best, according to Ficino, Lorenzo gave each of the three Graces their due: Venus – poetry and the arts; Juno – power and government; and Minerva – wisdom.9 But there were two sides to Lorenzo’s personality; on the one hand he was a gifted poet, diplomat and statesman, a promoter of fine causes; on the other he could be proud, ambitious and impulsive; negative qualities reflected in his choice of friends. Whereas in the early years of his rule Lorenzo devoted much time to the Academy and Ficino, as the business of government grew more demanding, and claimed more of his attention, this diminished and a rift of sorts developed between the two men. Lorenzo became estranged from Ficino especially in the period leading up to the Pazzi Conspiracy. Ficino’s close association with Lorenzo became the butt of slanderous jibes and insinuations from the pen of certain members of Lorenzo’s own court circle; the Academy was also under attack. Foremost among these was the satirical poet Luigi Pulci – the ‘flea’ a favourite with the Medici for the comic relief he provided at table. Pulci was a buffoon who liked pranks and stirring up trouble of all sorts. To him the serious study of philosophy was incomprehensible. Pulci wrote a gargantuan poem Morgante