In the days of his prosperity, Cosmo had been distinguished as the munificent patron of learned men. To them his doors were constantly open; and his purse was always ready to assist their efforts to promote the diffusion of literature. Poggio had long enjoyed the happiness of being honoured by his particular favour. The pleasing interchange of beneficence and gratitude, which had at an early period taken place between the learned secretary and the princely merchant of Florence, had been matured into the intimacy of the most cordial friendship. Poggio was not one of those sycophants who reserve their homage for the prosperous; and who, with the base foresight which is too frequently dignified with the name of prudence, studiously disengage themselves from the fortunes of a falling family. When he received information that his benefactor had been obliged to yield to the fury of his enemies, he experienced all the emotions of affectionate sympathy; and hastened to testify his undiminished regard for his persecuted friend in the following consolatory epistle. “Though the serious misfortune in which you are involved is too great to be alleviated by consolation, especially by such consolation as can be administered by one of my moderate abilities—yet, following the dictates of my affection for you, I had rather run the hazard of exposing the feebleness of my genius, than fail in the duty of friendship. It is said that trifling circumstances sometimes produce considerable effects in affairs of the greatest moment; and I may be permitted to indulge the hope, that this epistle may tend, in some small degree, to lighten the weight of your affliction. You have experienced the capriciousness of fortune, (for this goddess we may blame with impunity) and you are fallen from a station of considerable eminence. Now, though I have always observed that you are endowed with a strength of mind which enables you to regard with indifference afflictions which would overwhelm the generality of men, yet when I consider the magnitude of your misfortunes, I cannot but be apprehensive of the effect which they may have upon your feelings. If in your present circumstances you rise in the confidence of courage, superior to the assaults of fortune; if you have placed your independence upon the security of a pure conscience, rather than upon external good; and if you value the blessings of the present life at no higher a rate than is consistent with the dictates of true wisdom—I congratulate you on the acquisition of that happy constitution of mind which renders consolation unnecessary. If, on the other hand, in consequence of the natural frailty incident to humanity, this sudden change in your circumstances has disturbed the tranquillity of your temper, (and before this trial the constancy of the most illustrious men has been found to give way) you must have recourse to the principles of reason, which will suggest to you, that you have lost nothing which can