II.

Folio II.

a, ii,

Agostino Giustiniani, of the Order of Preachers The Dominicans, Bishop of Nebbio, to Jean, Bishop of Metz and Toul, and Cardinal of Lorraine of the Holy Roman Church, Greetings.

A large historiated decorative initial 'M'. Within the letter's frame, a scholar wearing a cap and academic robes is seated at a slanted wooden lectern (writing desk), engaged with an open book. The background features architectural elements. Your diligence, most sacred prelate, has moved and in a certain way bound me; for you never cease to track down the abstruse and hidden volumes of both the philosophers and the sacred writers. Thus, I give to you these lucubrations scholarly works produced by candlelight on Plato’s Timaeus by the ancient writer Chalcidius. I know for certain that the reading of Chalcidius will add much light to your primary studies, which are considered quite removed from common and vulgar matters. Indeed, this author treats all things with the dignity and weight the subjects deserve. Nor is there in him (to say everything in a single word) anything that should be either cut away or desired. It is clear, truly, that he was thoroughly acquainted with the various dogmas of all the ancient wise men. But above all, one can see how nobly, how unaffectedly, and with all passion removed he speaks of individual matters, being no more addicted to one school original: "familie," referring to philosophical sects like the Stoics or Peripatetics than another. So much so, that it has repeatedly come into doubt for me whether Chalcidius was a Hebrew or a Christian, as he seems to carry himself as a medium between both. Therefore, the majesty of this reading seemed to me to differ as much from the works of the younger writers as the books of the prophets differ from those of the orators. For you will see him excellently report on matters of astrology, geometry, music, and arithmetic; and indeed, he teaches most learnedly about chance, fortune, fate, providence, prescience, free will, foreknowledge, divination, eloquence, honor, kingship, legitimate education, and the greatest things to be attained by divine help. But he also discourses learnedly and eloquently on the elements, the heavens, the stars, comets, time, the "where," eternity, the soul, entelechy entelechia: the realization of potential or the vital principle that drives a living thing, prime matter—which he calls hyle original: "syluam," a Latinization of the Greek 'hyle' meaning wood or raw material after the manner of the Platonists—on mirrors, demons, angels, the Hebrew fathers, and on that which Moses wrote: "In the beginning original: "caput rerũ," literally 'at the head of things', God created the heaven and the earth." Chalcidius wrote these things one thousand, one hundred and thirty years ago to Hosius, Bishop of Cordoba, who presided over the Council of Sardica. Whence no small wonder seizes me that I could find neither the race nor the fatherland of the man, especially since his book was a most rare find. But I pray, most wise Prelate, do not suspect that I think this meager little gift is a return of gratitude for your supreme benefits toward me, when last year I visited your most illustrious brother, Antoine, Duke of Lorraine, at Neuville, a town of your jurisdiction, for the sake of greeting both you and him. For you (such was your kindness) received me with that liberality which most becomes those princes who draw their lineage from kings no less splendid than religious. For your ancestors were so illustrious in munificence, splendor, glory, and religion (to omit other things by which most famous men have paved their way to immortality) that they seem never to have yielded to any. This is abundantly declared by many other things, but especially by the recovery of Jerusalem from the hands of the Barbarians, and its possession for many years—certainly the most noble deed of all that Christians ever attempted. Following in their footsteps as the legitimate heirs of paternal virtues, you have so bound and obligated me to you by your munificence that I easily recognize I owe more to you than I can ever hope to repay at any time. For I am not of such dull wit that I do not perceive your magnificence on one hand, and the poverty of my own powers on the other. Therefore, I shall endeavor to do the only thing I can (as the saying goes): I will never allow the memory of your services toward me, which has now settled deep in my soul, to slip away through any forgetfulness. Farewell. At Paris, on the Calends of March March 1st, 1520.