Jacob Burckhardt’s Die Kultur der Renaissance in Italien (which is usually translated as The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy) was a fascinating read, though my recommendation comes with several caveats.

First, the reader should already be familiar with the basic contours of Italian history from 1200 to 1600 (more or less). From the first pages, Burckhardt assumes a general knowledge of Frederick II and his court, and his assumptions continue in this vein throughout the entire book, so that the reader who does not know Lodovico il Moro, or that Pope Pius II was born Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini, could get lost quickly in a sea of analysis that builds on this assumed knowledge.

Second, although Burckhardt’s work is still influential, it is a dated work. Like Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, the reader should be prepared to find assertions that subsequent scholarship has discredited, as well as the occasional antiquated notion. An example of the former is that Burckhardt attributes the failure of the Italian theatre to develop to the extent that it did in England or France to Spain’s hegemony over Italy and the effect of the dreaded Spanish Inquisition. Although Burckhardt’s chronological argument may hold – he notes that national theatres developed c. 1520 in most nations, and the Hispano-Austrian Empire of Charles V was by that time in control of most of Italy – the Inquisition was very weak in Italy and the “black legend” of the Inquisition has been thoroughly debunked, particularly with respect to its effects in Italy. An example of the latter (antiquated notions) likewise concerns the Inquisition, when Burckhardt attributes the persecution of the Inquisition to “non-European” blood flowing through the Spaniards’ veins. It would be amusing to see how he would have fit German militarism into that worldview had he been born later and lived to see the World Wars.

Despite these minor faults, however, the book paints a wonderful picture of the culture of Italy at a critical time in its development. The massive contradictions of the time period are legion: religion is mocked on the one hand, yet fanatics like Savonarola capture the minds of even the more progressive and educated Italians, while the less educated manage to combine a fervent piety with a casual sort of violence that can shock even the most jaded modern reader. Burckhardt tells the story of a peasant who rushed to confession, terrified because he had accidentally let two drops of milk fall into his mouth while making cheese on a fast day, and then almost as an afterthought explaining how he regularly robbed and murdered travelers.

Some of Burckhardt’s assessments are at odds with popular conceptions. For example, he had a much higher opinion of Pope Julius II than almost anyone whose works I have read, feeling that he helped to save the Papacy from secularization and corruption that the Borgias had spread. It seems he also exaggerates the extent of the Borgias’ crimes, perhaps taking the anti-Borgia propaganda of the time at face value. At the same time, though, he notes that the German Reformation likely saved the Papacy from a slow conversion to a secular state (and the potential consequences that might have had on the Catholic Church), and based on the evidence on this point he is probably right to a certain extent.

It is perhaps fitting that reading Burckhardt was, for me, similar to reading Nietzsche, as the two men were, if not exactly the best of friends, at least intellectually engaged with one another on an ongoing basis. I found myself skeptical at Burckhardt’s overreaching contentions for page after page, and then, suddenly, reading a passage that provided a flash of genius and insight that made the book worth reading again. I especially enjoyed the parts about the occult near the end.

The reader should understand that the book is written in a very idiosyncratic way. His overview of the culture of Italy is divided by topic, so there is no real “development” of a narrative or anything approaching one. Instead, the reader will hear everything that Burckhardt has to say about, say, the condotterie of Italy, and at another point, everything he wishes to say about the revival of antiquity. However, someone who approaches the book with this in mind, and who appreciates the nature of the work at hand, will likely find the book to be a most satisfying read.