PETRARCH THE MAN 



eye was always turned inwards, he was always dissecting 

 himself and always publishing the results. Few people, 

 however, can indulge to such an extent in self-exposure 

 and retain the respect of their listeners. Not merely 

 because it appears to show vanity on the part of the 

 exhibitors, nor because, as Dante says, intimacy 

 cheapens a man, but because almost inevitably such 

 self-analysis is the result of morbid conditions. It is 

 quite unnecessary to assume that Petrarch was epilep- 

 tic, as did Lombroso, or an opium-eater, as has been 

 later suggested, or that he had suffered from diseases 

 which affected his brain; but to a certain extent he 

 really was a nervous invahd. Now, if a man is the 

 victim of an unhealthy, over-sensitive imagination, the 

 best thing he can do is to keep his thoughts to himself, 

 or else to use great tact and judgment in selecting which 

 ones he shall make known to the world. Some men can 

 be almost equally self-revealing and yet stand the test 

 successfully — Dante and Montaigne, for instance. 

 Other men, who suffer equally, are more reticent; 

 Samuel Johnson and Robert Louis Stevenson are 

 examples. Petrarch displayed all his weaknesses; but 

 it is evident that, in spite of defects which we can see so 

 clearly, the man must have possessed great personal 

 charm. He made many friends, and he kept them; 

 and it meant much for humanism that its apostle should 

 be able to play so brilliant a part in society. A man 

 who could make himself personally agreeable to persons 

 like Robert of Anjou, the Colonna family, and the 



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