Among the several classes I wrapped up last week at #SeumasU, was a very enjoyable reading group that looked together at Petrarch's letters. Petrarch writes beautiful Latin, the kind of Latin that makes you fall in love with a man through his letters. He's also witty, urbane, and funny.
The last letter we read was a response to Pandolfo Malatesta the Younger, who had (it seems) written to Petrarch for advice on whether to (re)marry. Petrarch thus gives the 14th century version of a 'Dear Abby'.1
Firstly, Petrarch pleads inexperience: whereas Pandolfo has been both married and single, Petrarch has only been single. Secondly, he recounts his method of deliberation: he consulted the ancient authors, modern writers (aka he went to the marriage section of his local bookstore), and considered his own feelings.
Then he begins his answer with this saying from 'Socrates', at least Socrates as recorded by Valerius Maximus2: "Whichever of the two you do, you will regret it."3
Ha! Indeed. Valerius' Socrates goes on to explain the disadvantages of both estates:
singleness: loneliness, bereftment, the ruin of your family line, some outsider will inherit; marriage: permanent anxiety, ceaseless quarrelling, the accounting of a dowry, the heavy haughtiness of in-laws, a mother-in-law’s blabbering, a would-be adulterer, and the uncertain outcome of children!
But Socrates' words don't just apply to whether you should marry or not, but in fact "the same can be said about a great part of human affairs."4 For most decisions in life, whichever you choose, most of human life sucks and therefore your choice will suck; and whether you get married or not, life is going to suck. Why? Petrarch says it’s because you're looking for happiness in all the wrong places. In life, Petrarch advises, there is "neither true rest nor any pure sweetness nor can there be any certain security.”5 Oof, way to bring us down to reality.
Petrarch then goes on to say, that since both courses of action are going to involve choosing between uncertain ends, as you can't foresee or guarantee the outcome, the best course is to choose virtue. Then, at least, you will have the reward of living virtuously.
Finally, though, Petrarch's advice takes a very non-modern turn. Everybody weighs up 'what is best', but 'what is best' depends on 'best for whom'. And what is best for one party isn't necessarily best for all, so how do you weigh up whose interests matter more? Here, Petrarch responds to an imagined comment, "I'm only considering myself - tell me what's best for me?"6 with a maxim from Plato (again, Plato via Cicero. So much of the received wisdom of the Greeks is found, accurately or spuriously, in the Romans) - You are not born for yourself, but for country and family and friends. In other words, you don't exist for your own benefit, but as a social being in a network of relations to others, and so you have to ask "what's good for others?"
Oh my, not modern at all Petrarch! And probably not directly helpful for my single readers who aren't 14th century Italian lords. How different, and radically so, is Petrarch's marriage advice to ours. Petrarch ends up saying, in sum, that Pandolfo should indeed get married, not because marriage is going to be good for him (in Petrarch's view he would be better off single], but because of his obligations to his family, lineage, and estate, which all require him to get married. Petrarch's overall view, which I think is right, is at its core, "you do not belong to yourself, and so you cannot live for yourself alone."
Well, Petrarch goes on to consider two other questions, both somewhat humorous to us moderns, "should you get a wife from nearby or far off?" and "is it better to marry a young first-timer, or a widow?" But I'll leave such questions aside for now, and commend to you the thought that you are not born for yourself, but for those around you.
This is letter 4.7 in volume 1 of Fantham’s ITRL edition.
Valerius Maximus, Facta et Dicta Memorabilia, 7.2 (ext) 1
utrum eorum fecisset, penitentiam acturum
idem magna de parte rerum humanarum similiter dici possit
nec requies vera nec mera dulcedo ailqua nec certa possit esse securitas
me solum respicio, michi consule