Petrarch's Letters to Classical Authors

by Francesco Petrarca

I by no means intend to incriminate him whom I set out to defend, as so many do. I frankly admit the truth of all thou sayest. Still, I cannot listen calmly to thy complaint, when thou sayest that though Vergil is overladen and bedecked with thy spoils he nowhere deigns to make mention of thy name. Thou dost adduce the opposite case of Lucan (and with perfect right) who in grateful words acknowledges his indebtedness to the bard of Smyrna.[129] Let me add further instances in favor of thy side. Flaccus frequently refers to thee, and always in noble words; for on one occasion he exalts thee above the philosophers themselves, and on another he assigns to thee the most honored seat among the poets.[130] Naso mentions thee, and Juvenal, and Statius. But why should I rehearse the long list of those who make mention of thee? Practically not a single one of our authors has been thus forgetful.

Why then, thou wilt say, should I bear the ingratitude of him alone who deservedly should have been the most grateful of all? Before answering, let me heap coals of fire on thy wounded feelings. Do not by any mischance suppose that Vergil was similarly ungrateful to all. Know that he mentions—and not once merely—Musaeus and Linus and Orpheus; and what is more, that he pays the greatest deference to the poets Hesiod the Ascraean and Theocritus the Syracusan. Finally, he does not omit mention even of Varus and Gallus and of other contemporaries—a thing which jealousy would never have permitted, had he harbored such base feeling.

What now? Do I not seem to have aggravated the causes of that plaint which I had proposed to lessen or entirely to remove? Yes, if I were to stop at this point. But thou must hear me out. We must examine all the circumstances and bring to bear all our reasoning faculties, especially since we are to sit as judges.

Vergil naturally makes mention of Theocritus in the Bucolics, because he had taken him as his model; and likewise, in the appropriate place in the Georgics, he speaks of Hesiod.[131] And then thou wilt ask, “Why does he make no mention of me anywhere in his heroic poem, seeing that he had chosen me as his third model?” Believe me, Homer; had not wicked death prevented, Vergil would have given thee due honor, for he was the most gentle and modest of men, and (as we read) a man of irreproachable life. Others he honored when the opportunity presented itself and in those places where it suited his convenience. For thee, to whom he was most heavily in debt, he was reserving a place, not selected by circumstances, but destined and marked out after due deliberation. Which place, dost thou suppose? Which but the most distinguished and conspicuous? The end of his illustrious poem it was that he had reserved for thee. There he had destined to hail thee as his leader and in sonorous lines to exalt thy name to the stars. What place more worthy, I ask, in which to praise the leader of our journey? Thou hast good cause, therefore, for mourning the over-early death which cut off Vergil, and the Italian world shares thy grief; but thou canst have no grievances against thy friend.

I shall cite a very close and similar example to prove the truth of my previous remarks. Even as Vergil took thee as his model, so he in his turn was chosen by Papinius Statius, whom I have mentioned above, a man renowned not merely for his intellectual powers but also for the singular charm of his manners. And still he did not acknowledge the great leader of his genius until the end of his poetical journey. For, though he had already and in a less conspicuous place declared himself inferior to Vergil in style, it was only at the close that he openly and in good faith paid the full debt of his grateful soul to the author of the Aeneid.[132] If, then, death had untimely laid its hands upon Statius, Vergil also would have been unsung by his grateful follower, even as thou by him.

I should wish thee to be persuaded that it is as I say. For it is surely so, unless I am deceived by false signs; and even if it were otherwise, the more favorable of two opinions is the one to be preferred when in doubt. All the arguments I have advanced thus far are, of course, in extenuation of the chief works of Vergil. For if thou turnest thy attention to the short poems which are called his earlier works—clearly his first youthful efforts—thou wilt there find mention of thy name.[133]

It now remains for me to touch lightly upon the minor complaints scattered here and there throughout the body of thy letter. Thou grievest that thou hast been mangled and dismembered by thy imitators. It had needs be so, Homer. No man’s intellect was sufficiently vigorous to grasp thee whole. Thou dost wax indignant, moreover, that they should shower abuse upon thee though clothed in thy spoils.[134] Alas! it is only what thou must expect; no one can be particularly ungrateful except him who has previously been the recipient of a great boon. Thy next charge is that, whereas thy name was held in great honor by the early jurists and physicians, to their successors it has become a subject of mockery and contempt. Thou dost not observe how different the later generations are from the preceding. If they were of a like stamp, they would love and cherish the same things. Let thy indignation cease, and thy sorrow as well. On the contrary, take comfort in hoping for the best. To be in disfavor with the wicked and the ignorant is the first sign of virtue and intelligence. The radiance of thy genius is so brilliant that our weak sight cannot endure it. It is with thee as with the sun, for which it is not reckoned a disgrace but praise most high, that it conquers the vision of the weak and puts to flight the birds of night. Among the ancients, and indeed also among men of today—if any there are in whom there still lives even a small spark of our early nature—thou must be esteemed not merely a holy philosopher (as thou thyself sayest[135]) but greater and superior to any philosopher, as I have said above.[136] Thou dost cover a most beautiful philosophy with a very charming and transparent veil.

Assuredly thou canst have no concern for the disesteem in which thou art held by the monstrous men of today. Indeed, it is most earnestly to be desired that thou shalt continue to displease them, for this is the first step to glory. The second step is not to have one’s merits acknowledged. Dismiss therefore, I beg of thee, all care and sorrow, and return to that deserved seat of honor in the Elysian Fields which thou didst formerly hold and whence thou sayest thou wert driven by such trifling absurdities. It is not fitting that the composure of the sage should be dispelled by the affronts of fools. Otherwise what would be the result? What would ever put an end to the evil, since the Hebrew philosopher most verily hath said, “The number of fools is infinite”?[137] No truer word could have been spoken. Do not all the streets and homes and public squares attest it?

Thy next grievance is, to my mind, a cause for great joy and for sincere happiness, though thou seemest to be so enraged by it. Even sweets taste bitter to him who has a disordered stomach. Thou dost weep when it had been more appropriate to rejoice. Thou dost weep because our common friend (whom thou takest to be a Thessalian and whom I have always thought a Byzantine[138]) has compelled thee to enter within the walls of my flourishing native city, to live among strangers or (if thou dost insist) to live the life of an exile. Rest assured that he has done and is doing so in the greatest good faith and out of sincerest love for thee. By his labor he has commenced to endear himself to all who cherish thy name, and who, though few in number, still do exist. See to it, therefore, that thou dost not nourish any resentment against that very person to whom we—lovers all of thee—are giving thanks both in our name and in thine. If fortune befriend his undertaking, he will restore thee to us and to the Ausonian Muses, who have so long been seeking to know thee.

Cease wondering that the valley of Fiesole and the banks of the Arno can boast of but three who are thy friends. It is enough; it is much; yes, it is more than I had hoped for, to have found three Pierian spirits in a city so given over to Mammon. But do not despair. The city is a large and populous one; seek and thou wilt find a fourth. To these I should add a fifth—for he surely deserves it—him I mean whose brow was garlanded with the Penean or Alphean laurels. But I know not how it is that we have been deprived of him by the Babylon across the Alps. Does it seem to thee nothing wonderful to encounter five such men at one time and in one city? Seek elsewhere, and what hast thou? That famous Bologna for which thou dost sigh, most generous seat of learning as it is, can produce but one, though thou shouldst search it from end to end. Verona, boasts of two, and Sulmona of one. Also Mantua might vaunt of one, if his theological studies did not draw him away from earthly matters; for he has deserted thy ensigns and has ranged himself beneath those of Ptolemy. Wonderful to relate, Rome herself, the head and center of all things, has been drained of such citizens almost to a man. Perugia did have one who gave great promise of the future, but he neglected opportunities for developing his better self. He has abandoned not only Parnassus, but the Apennines and the Alps as well, and is now, in his old age, roaming about Spain, scratching away at parchments to earn his livelihood as a scribe. Other cities gave birth to other friends of thine, but all whom I became acquainted with have departed from this mortal habitation for that universal and eternal city.[139] This, then, is what I am leading up to: that thou shouldst not continue to complain of one who is indeed thy friend, since he has brought thee to a country boasting of only a few friends and admirers, it is true, but still of more such than thou wouldst find today in any other land.