The Renaissance was a self-conscious intellectual movement. The realization that something new and unique was happening first came to writers in the fourteenth century, especially to the Italian poet and humanist Francesco Petrarch (frahn-CHEH-skoh PEH-trahrk) (1304–1374). For Petrarch, the barbarian migrations (see “Migrating Peoples” in Chapter 8) had caused a sharp cultural break with the glories of Rome and inaugurated what he called the “dark ages.” Along with many of his contemporaries, Petrarch sought to reconnect with the classical past, and he believed that such efforts were bringing on a new golden age of intellectual achievement.

Petrarch and other poets, writers, and artists showed a deep interest both in the physical remains of the Roman Empire and in classical Latin texts. The study of Latin classics became known as the studia humanitates, usually translated as “liberal studies” or the “liberal arts.” People who advocated it were known as humanists, and their program was known as humanism. Like all programs of study, humanism contained an implicit philosophy: that human nature and achievements, evident in the classics, were worthy of contemplation. Humanists did not reject religion; instead they sought to synthesize Christian and classical teachings, pointing out the harmony between them.

Families, religious brotherhoods, workers’ organizations, and other groups continued to have meaning in people’s lives, but humanists and other Renaissance thinkers increasingly viewed these groups as springboards to far greater individual achievement. They were especially interested in individuals who had risen above their background to become brilliant, powerful, or unique. Such individuals had the admirable quality of virtù (vir-TOO), which is not virtue in the sense of moral goodness, but the ability to shape the world around them according to their will. Humanists thought that their recommended course of study in the classics would provide essential skills for future diplomats, lawyers, military leaders, businessmen, and politicians, as well as for writers and artists. Just as Confucian officials did in Song China, they also taught that taking an active role in the world and working for the common good should be the aim of all educated individuals.

Humanists put their educational ideas into practice. They opened schools and academies in Italian cities and courts in which pupils began with Latin grammar and rhetoric, went on to study Roman history and political philosophy, and then learned Greek in order to study Greek literature and philosophy. These classics, humanists taught, would provide models of how to write clearly, argue effectively, and speak persuasively. Gradually humanist education became the basis for intermediate and advanced education for well-to-do urban boys and men.

Humanists disagreed about education for women. Many saw the value of exposing women to classical models of moral behavior and reasoning, but they also wondered whether a program of study that emphasized eloquence and action was proper for women, whose sphere was generally understood to be private and domestic. Humanists never established schools for girls, though through tutors or programs of self-study a few women did become educated in the classics. (See “Viewpoints 15.1: Lauro Quirini and Cassandra Fedele: Women and Humanist Learning.”)

Humanists looked to the classical past for political as well as literary models. The best-known political theorist of this era was Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527), who worked as an official for the city of Florence until he was ousted in a power struggle. He spent the rest of his life writing, and his most famous work is the short political treatise The Prince (1513). Using the examples of classical and contemporary rulers, The Prince argues that the function of a ruler (or a government) is to preserve order and security. The inability to do so would lead to disorder, which might end in civil war or conquest by an outsider, situations clearly not conducive to any people’s well-being. To preserve the state, a ruler should use whatever means necessary — brutality, lying, manipulation — but he should not do anything that would make the populace turn against him. Stealing or cruel actions done for a ruler’s own pleasure would lead to resentment and destroy the popular support needed for a strong, stable realm. “It is much safer for the prince to be feared than loved,” Machiavelli advised, “but he ought to avoid making himself hated.”1

The Prince is often seen as the first modern guide to politics in the West, though Machiavelli was denounced for writing it, and people later came to use the word Machiavellian to mean cunning and ruthless. Machiavelli put a new spin on the Renaissance search for perfection, arguing that ideals needed to be measured in the cold light of the real world.