Petrarch Expresses His Admiration for Classical Works

Around 1350, the Italian scholar and poet Francesco Petrarca, or Petrarch (1304–1374), proposed a new kind of education that centered on the study and emulation of the works of ancient Roman authors. In his view, the implementation of this program would produce a generation of young men capable of achievements unmatched in Europe for a thousand years. Petrarch and his followers came to be known as humanists, and their intellectual agenda had a profound influence on the art and ideas of their age.

[To Nicholas Sygeros]

I rejoice in possessing such a friend as you, wherever you may be. But your living voice, which could both rouse and sate my burning thirst for learning, no longer sounds in my ears. Without it your Homer is dumb to me, or rather I am deaf to him. Nevertheless I rejoice at his mere physical presence; often I clasp him to my bosom and say with a sigh: “O great man, how gladly would I hear you speak! But death has stopped one of my ears, and hateful remoteness has blocked the other.”1 Nevertheless I am very grateful to you for your magnificent gift.

I have long had a copy of Plato; it came to me from the west, rather remarkably. He was the prince of philosophers, as you know. I am not afraid that you, with your intelligence, will object, like certain scholastics, to this statement. Cicero himself would not object, nor Seneca nor Apuleius nor Plotinus, that great Platonist, nor in later times our Ambrose and Augustine.2 Now by your bounty the prince of Greek poets joins the prince of philosophers. Who would not rejoice and glory in housing such guests? I have indeed of both of them all that has been translated into Latin from their own tongue. But it is certainly a pleasure, though no advantage, to regard the Greeks in their own dress. Nor have the years robbed me of all hope of making progress in your language; after all, we see that Cato made great strides in Greek at a very advanced age.

If you want anything that I can provide, feel free to call upon me without hesitation. You will see that I call freely upon you. And since the success of prayer begets still bolder prayers, I ask you to send me, if available, a Hesiod; and send me, I beg, Euripides.

So farewell, worthiest of men. And since my name is well known in the west, not for my merits but by the favor of men or of fortune, may you be pleased to mention it among the illustrious men of the Oriental palace. Thus may the Emperor of Constantinople not disdain one whom the Roman Caesar3 cherishes.

[To Francesco Nelli]

I noticed in a letter of yours that you were pleased at my mixture of sacred and secular themes, and that you thought Saint Jerome would have been likewise pleased. You mention the charm of variety, the beauty of structure, the force of association. What can I reply? You must make your own judgments, and certainly you are not easily or commonly deceived, except that well-wishers readily err, and often are eager to do so.

But putting all this to one side, let me speak of myself and of my new but serious enthusiasm, which turns my thoughts and my writings to sacred literature. Let the supercilious laugh, who are revolted by the austerity of holy words, as the modest garb of a chaste matron repels those who are used to the flaunting colors of light women. I think that the Muses and Apollo will not merely grant me permission, they will applaud, that after giving my youth to studies proper to that age, I should devote my riper years to more important matters. Nor am I to be criticized, if I, who so often used to rouse by night to work for empty fame and celebrate the futile lauds of men, should now arise at midnight to recite the lauds of my creator, and devote the hours proper to quiet and repose to him who shall neither slumber nor sleep while he keepeth Israel; nor is he content with universal custodianship, but he watches over me personally and is solicitous for my welfare. I am clearly conscious of this, and all men capable of gratitude must feel the same. He cares for each individual as if he were forgetful of mankind en masse; and so he rules the mass as if he were careless of each individual. Thus I have it firmly in mind that if it be heaven’s will I shall spend the rest of my life in these studies and occupations. In what state could I better die than in loving, remembering, and praising him, without whose constant love I should be nothing, or damned, which is less than nothing? And if his love for me should cease, my damnation would have no end.

I loved Cicero, I admit, and I loved Virgil. I delighted in their thought and expression so far that I thought nothing could surpass them. I loved many others also of the troop of great writers, but I loved Cicero as if he were my father, Virgil as my brother. My admiration, my familiarity with their genius, contracted in long study, inspired in me such love for their persons that you may think it hardly possible to feel a like affection for living men. Similarly I loved, of the Greeks, Plato and Homer. When I compared their genius with that of our own masters I was often in despair of sound judgment.

But now I must think of more serious matters. My care is more for my salvation than for noble language. I used to read what gave me pleasure, now I read what may be profitable. This is my state of mind, and it has been so for some time. I am not just beginning this practice, and my white hair warns me that I began none too soon. Now my orators shall be Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, Gregory;4 my philosopher shall be Paul, my poet David.5 You remember that years ago, in the first eclogue of my Bucolicum carmen6 I contrasted him with Homer and Virgil, and I left the victory among them undecided. But now, in spite of my old deep-rooted habit, experience and the shining revelation of truth leave me in no doubt as to the victor. But although I put the Christian writers first, I do not reject the others. (Jerome said that he did so, but it seems to me from the imitative style of his writing that he actually approved them.) I seem able to love both groups at once, provided that I consciously distinguish between those I prefer for style and those I prefer for substance. Why should I not act the prudent householder, who assigns part of his furniture for use and another for ornament, who appoints some of his slaves to guard his son, and others to provide the son with sport? Both gold and silver are kinds of money, and you must know their value and not confound them. Especially since those ancient writers demand nothing of me except that I do not let them fall into oblivion. Happy that I have spent upon them my early studies, they now let me give all my time to more important matters.

6 Bucolicum carmen: A series of twelve poems written in Latin.

Since I had already come of myself to this conclusion, I shall now so act the more confidently thanks to your encouragement. If circumstances require, I shall practice, for style, Virgil and Cicero, and I shall not hesitate to draw from Greece whatever Rome may seem to lack. But for the direction of life, though I know much that is useful in the classics, I shall still use those counselors and guides to salvation, in whose faith and doctrine there can be no suspicion of error. First among them in point of merit will David always be to me, the more beautiful for his naivety, the more profound, the more vigorous, for his purity. I want to have his Psalter always at hand during my waking hours where I may steal a glance at it; and I want to have it beneath my pillow when I sleep and when I come to die. I think that such an outcome will be no less glorious for me than was the act of Plato, greatest of philosophers, in keeping the Mimes of Sophron7 under his pillow.

7 Mimes of Sophron: Sophron was the first writer of mimes, crude comedic performances.

Farewell, and remember me.

David Thompson, ed., Petrarch: A Humanist Among Princes (New York: Harper & Row, 1971), 132–133, 179–181.

READING AND DISCUSSION QUESTIONS