Here in Italy Dante Alighieri is untouchable. He is the father of our literature and our entire language. Then, right below him, are Francesco Petrarca and Giovanni Boccaccio. They are also pillars of our culture, just not on the same level of Dante.
And yet, studying both Dante and Petrarch and now approaching Boccaccio, I have to be honest: Petrarch is so much better than Dante. For me at least.
And while this is completely personal, I think many people might relate with me. In this story I’d like to analyze why this is.
Dante is the man of certainty, Petrarch of doubt
Dante has no doubt whatsover about the nature of his love: Beatrice is manifestation of God itself and therefore the love for her is love for God, and therefore it is certain, pure and right. He is also loved back by Beatrice, because, as he made Francesca say in the Canto V, such love cannot be unreciprocated.
Petrarch, in full opposition, is full of doubt: is Laura (or rather his love for her) hurting him? Is it detaching him from God? Is his faith itself as strong as he thought?
Petrarch is more realist
Laura ages. Petrarch loves her anyway, but she is objectively aging and therefore losing her juvenile beauty. Laura is a woman, not an angel. And so the love for her is human, imperfect and not linked to faith or God.
Petrarch anayzes more coldly his relationship with Laura. They are two humans interacting and he’s fully aware of that, differently from Dante, which really seems to either forget that or ignore it in his writings.
Petrarch is modern and relatable
Petrarch is simply closer to us in many fields. In the Ascent of Mont Ventoux, which might look like a simple letter, Petrach welcomes us in his mind and soul and gives us an insight of his feelings, doubts, worries and difficulties.
Dante didn’t have problems, except for being noticed by Beatrice. But his faith in God was as strong as it could get, and so was his love.
Petrarch tells us he was going through rought times.
In the end, Petrarch is human
He directly refers to his readers in some sonets. He’s full of doubts and contradictions.
He has trouble making decisions, he’s stuck, indecisive; he knows it and he transfers it all on paper with words to talk to us.
So, while the language he uses might be monotone over hundreds of sonets and his vocabulary somewhat limited if compared to Dante, Petrarch is a read that I’ll always enjoy for how much he seems to be able to read into me, something that Dante just can’t do.
