No More Learning

"At Pozzuoli I saw the mountain of Falernus, celebrated for its grapes,
whence the famous Falernian wine. I saw likewise those enraged waves of
which Virgil speaks in his Georgics, on which Caesar put a bridle by the
mole which he raised there, and which Augustus finished. It is now
called the Dead Sea. I am surprised at the prodigious expense the Romans
were at to build houses in the most exposed situations, in order to
shelter them from the severities of the weather; for in the heats of
summer the valleys of the Apennines, the mountains of Viterbo, and the
woods of Umbria, furnished them with charming shades; and even the ruins
of the houses which they built in those places are superb. "

Our poet's residence at Naples was evidently disagreeable to him, in
spite of the company of his friends, Barrilli and Barbato. His
friendship with the latter was for a moment overcast by an act of
indiscretion on the part of Barbato, who, by dint of importunity,
obtained from Petrarch thirty-four lines of his poem of Africa, under a
promise that he would show them to nobody. On entering the library of
another friend, the first thing that struck our poet's eyes was a copy
of the same verses, transcribed with a good many blunders. Petrarch's
vanity on this occasion, however, was touched more than his anger--he
forgave his friend's treachery, believing it to have arisen from
excessive admiration. Barbato, as some atonement, gave him a little MS.
of Cicero, which Petrarch found to contain two books of the orator's
Treatise on the Academics, "a work," as he observes, "more subtle than
useful. "

Queen Giovanna was fond of literature. She had several conversations
with Petrarch, which increased her admiration of him. After the example
of her grandfather, she made him her chaplain and household clerk, both
of which offices must be supposed to have been sinecures. Her letters
appointing him to them are dated the 25th of November, 1343, the very
day before that nocturnal storm of which I shall speedily quote the
poet's description.

Voltaire has asserted that the young Queen of Naples was the pupil of
Petrarch; "but of this," as De Sade remarks, "there is no proof. " It
only appears that the two greatest geniuses of Italy, Boccaccio and
Petrarch, were both attached to Giovanna, and had a more charitable
opinion of her than most of their contemporaries.

Soon after his return from the tour to Baiae, Petrarch was witness to a
violent tempest at Naples, which most historians have mentioned, as it
was memorable for having threatened the entire destruction of the city.

The night of the 25th of November, 1343, set in with uncommonly still
weather; but suddenly a tempest rose violently in the direction of the
sea, which made the buildings of the city shake to their very
foundations. "At the first onset of the tempest," Petrarch writes to the
Cardinal Colonna, "the windows of the house were burst open. The lamp of
my chamber"--he was lodged at a monastery--"was blown out--I was shaken
from my bed with violence, and I apprehended immediate death. The friars
and prior of the convent, who had risen to pay their customary
devotions, rushed into my room with crucifixes and relics in their
hands, imploring the mercy of the Deity. I took courage, and accompanied
them to the church, where we all passed the night, expecting every
moment to be our last. I cannot describe the horrors of that dreadful
night; the bursts of lightning and the roaring of thunder were blended
with the shrieks of the people. The night itself appeared protracted to
an unnatural length; and, when the morning arrived, which we discovered
rather by conjecture than by any dawning of light, the priests prepared
to celebrate the service; but the rest of us, not having yet dared to
lift up our eyes towards the heavens, threw ourselves prostrate on the
ground. At length the day appeared--a day how like to night! The cries
of the people began to cease in the upper part of the city, but were
redoubled from the sea-shore. Despair inspired us with courage. We
mounted our horses and arrived at the port. What a scene was there! the
vessels had suffered shipwreck in the very harbour; the shore was
covered with dead bodies, which were tossed about and dashed against the
rocks, whilst many appeared struggling in the agonies of death.
Meanwhile, the raging ocean overturned many houses from their very
foundations. Above a thousand Neapolitan horsemen were assembled near
the shore to assist, as it were, at the obsequies of their countrymen. I
caught from them a spirit of resolution, and was less afraid of death
from the consideration that we should all perish together. On a sudden a
cry of horror was heard; the sea had sapped the foundations of the
ground on which we stood, and it was already beginning to give way. We
immediately hastened to a higher place, where the scene was equally
impressive. The young Queen, with naked feet and dishevelled hair,
attended by a number of women, was rushing to the church of the Virgin,
crying out for mercy in this imminent peril. At sea, no ship escaped the
fury of the tempest: all the vessels in the harbour--one only
excepted--sunk before our eyes, and every soul on board perished. "

By the assiduity and solicitations of Petrarch, the council of Naples
were at last engaged in debating about the liberation of Colonna's
imprisoned friends; and the affair was nearly brought to a conclusion,
when the approach of night obliged the members to separate before they
came to a final decision. The cause of this separation is a sad proof of
Neapolitan barbarism at that period. It will hardly, at this day, seem
credible that, in the capital of so flourishing a kingdom, and the
residence of a brilliant court, such savage licentiousness could have
prevailed. At night, all the streets of the city were beset by the young
nobility, who were armed, and who attacked all passengers without
distinction, so that even the members of the council could not venture
to appear after a certain hour. Neither the severity of parents, nor the
authority of the magistrates, nor of Majesty itself, could prevent
continual combats and assassinations.

"But can it be astonishing," Petrarch remarks, "that such disgraceful
scenes should pass in the night, when the Neapolitans celebrate, even in
the face of day, games similar to those of the gladiators, and with more
than barbarian cruelty? Human blood is shed here with as little remorse
as that of brute animals; and, while the people join madly in applause,
sons expire in the very sight of their parents; and it is considered the
utmost disgrace not to die with becoming fortitude, as if they were
dying in the defence of their religion and country. I myself, ignorant
of these customs was once carried to the Carbonara, the destined place
of butchery. The Queen and her husband, Andrew, were present; the
soldiery of Naples were present, and the people flocked thither in
crowds. I was kept in suspense by the appearance of so large and
brilliant an assembly, and expected some spectacle worthy of my
attention, when I suddenly heard a loud shout of applause, as for some
joyous incident. What was my surprise when I beheld a beautiful young
man pierced through with a sword, and ready to expire at my feet! Struck
with horror, I put spurs to my horse, and fled from the barbarous sight,
uttering execrations on the cruel spectators.

"This inhuman custom has been derived from their ancestors, and is now
so sanctioned by inveterate habit, that their very licentiousness is
dignified with the name of liberty.

"You will cease to wonder at the imprisonment of your friends in this
city, where the death of a young man is considered as an innocent
pastime. As to myself, I will quit this inhuman country before three
days are past, and hasten to you who can make all things agreeable to me
except a sea-voyage. "

Petrarch at length brought his negotiations respecting the prisoners to
a successful issue; and they were released by the express authority of
Andrew. Our poet's presence being no longer necessary, he left Naples,
in spite of the strong solicitations of his friends Barrilli and
Barbato. In answer to their request that he would remain, he said, "I
am but a satellite, and follow the directions of a superior planet;
quiet and repose are denied to me. "

From Naples he went to Parma, where Azzo Correggio, with his wonted
affection, pressed him to delay; and Petrarch accepted the invitation,
though he remarked with sorrow that harmony no longer reigned among the
brothers of the family. He stopped there, however, for some time, and
enjoyed such tranquillity that he could revise and polish his
compositions. But, in the following year, 1345, his friend Azzo, having
failed to keep his promise to Luchino Visconti, as to restoring to him
the lordship of Parma--Azzo had obtained it by the assistance of the
Visconti, who avenged himself by making war on the Correggios--he
invested Parma, and afflicted it with a tedious siege. Petrarch,
foreseeing little prospect of pursuing his studies quietly in a
beleaguered city, left the place with a small number of his companions;
but, about midnight, near Rheggio, a troop of robbers rushed from an
ambuscade, with cries of "Kill! kill! " and our handful of travellers,
being no match for a host of brigands, fled and sought to save
themselves under favour of night. Petrarch, during this flight, was
thrown from his horse. The shock was so violent that he swooned; but he
recovered, and was remounted by his companions. They had not got far,
however, when a violent storm of rain and lightning rendered their
situation almost as bad as that from which they had escaped, and
threatened them with death in another shape. They passed a dreadful
night without finding a tree or the hollow of a rock to shelter them,
and had no expedient for mitigating their exposure to the storm but to
turn their horses' backs to the tempest.

When the dawn permitted them to discern a path amidst the brushwood,
they pushed on to Scandiano, a castle occupied by the Gonzaghi, friends
of the lords of Parma, which they happily reached, and where they were
kindly received. Here they learned that a troop of horse and foot had
been waiting for them in ambush near Scandiano, but had been forced by
the bad weather to withdraw before their arrival; thus "_the pelting of
the pitiless storm_" had been to them a merciful occurrence. Petrarch
made no delay here, for he was smarting under the bruises from his fall,
but caused himself to be tied upon his horse, and went to repose at
Modena. The next day he repaired to Bologna, where he stopped a short
time for surgical assistance, and whence he sent a letter to his friend
Barbato, describing his misadventure; but, unable to hold a pen himself,
he was obliged to employ the hand of a stranger. He was so impatient,
however, to get back to Avignon, that he took the road to it as soon as
he could sit his horse. On approaching that city he says he felt a
greater softness in the air, and saw with delight the flowers that adorn
the neighbouring woods. Everything seemed to announce the vicinity of
Laura. It was seldom that Petrarch spoke so complacently of Avignon.

Clement VI. received Petrarch with the highest respect, offered him his
choice among several vacant bishoprics, and pressed him to receive the
office of pontifical secretary. He declined the proffered secretaryship.
Prizing his independence above all things, excepting Laura, he remarked
to his friends that the yoke of office would not sit lighter on him for
being gilded.

In consequence of the dangers he had encountered, a rumour of his death
had spread over a great part of Italy. The age was romantic, with a good
deal of the fantastical in its romance. If the news had been true, and
if he had been really dead and buried, it would be difficult to restrain
a smile at the sort of honours that were paid to his memory by the less
brain-gifted portion of his admirers. One of these, Antonio di Beccaria,
a physician of Ferrara, when he ought to have been mourning for his own
deceased patients, wrote a poetical lamentation for Petrarch's death.
The poem, if it deserve such a name, is allegorical; it represents a
funeral, in which the following personages parade in procession and
grief for the Laureate's death. Grammar, Rhetoric, and Philosophy are
introduced with their several attendants. Under the banners of Rhetoric
are ranged Cicero, Geoffroy de Vinesauf, and Alain de Lisle. It would
require all Cicero's eloquence to persuade us that his comrades in the
procession were quite worthy of his company. The Nine Muses follow
Petrarch's body; eleven poets, crowned with laurel, support the bier,
and Minerva, holding the crown of Petrarch, closes the procession.

We have seen that Petrarch left Naples foreboding disastrous events to
that kingdom. Among these, the assassination of Andrew, on the 18th of
September, 1345, was one that fulfilled his augury. The particulars of
this murder reached Petrarch on his arrival at Avignon, in a letter from
his friend Barbato.

From the sonnets which Petrarch wrote, to all appearance, in 1345 and
1346, at Avignon or Vaucluse, he seems to have suffered from those
fluctuations of Laura's favour that naturally arose from his own
imprudence. When she treated him with affability, he grew bolder in his
assiduities, and she was again obliged to be more severe. See Sonnets
cviii. , cix. , and cxiv.

During this sojourn, though he dates some of his pleasantest letters
from Vaucluse, he was projecting to return to Italy, and to establish
himself there, after bidding a final adieu to Provence. When he
acquainted his nominal patron, John Colonna, with his intention, the
Cardinal rudely taxed him with madness and ingratitude. Petrarch frankly
told the prelate that he was conscious of no ingratitude, since, after
fourteen years passed in his service, he had received no provision for
his future livelihood. This quarrel with the proud churchman is, with
fantastic pastoral imagery, made the subject of our poet's eighth
Bucolic, entitled Divortium. I suspect that Petrarch's free language in
favour of the Tribune Rienzo was not unconnected with their alienation.

Notwithstanding Petrarch's declared dislike of Avignon, there is every
reason to suppose that he passed the greater part of the winter of 1346
in his western Babylon; and we find that he witnessed many interesting
scenes between the conflicting cardinals, as well as the brilliant fetes
that were given to two foreign princes, whom an important affair now
brought to Avignon. These were the King of Bohemia, and his son Charles,
Prince of Moravia, otherwise called Charles of Luxemburg.

The Emperor Lewis of Bavaria, who had previously made several but
fruitless attempts to reconcile himself with the Church, on learning the
election of Clement VI. , sent ambassadors with unlimited powers to
effect a reconcilement; but the Pope proposed conditions so hard and
humbling that the States of the German Empire peremptorily rejected
them. On this, his Holiness confirmed the condemnations which he had
already passed on Lewis of Bavaria, and enjoined the Electors of the
empire to proceed to a new choice of the King of the Romans. "John of
Luxemburg," says Villani, "would have been emperor if he had not been
blind. " A wish to secure the empire for his son and to further his
election, brought him to the Pope at Avignon.

Prince Charles had to thank the Pontiff for being elected, but first his
Holiness made him sign, on the 22nd of April, 1346, in presence of
twelve cardinals and his brother William Roger, a declaration of which
the following is the substance:--

"If, by the grace of God, I am elected King of the Romans, I will fulfil
all the promises and confirm all the concessions of my grandfather Henry
VII. and of his predecessors. I will revoke the acts made by Lewis of
Bavaria. I will occupy no place, either in or out of Italy, belonging to
the Church. I will not enter Rome before the day appointed for my
coronation. I will depart from thence the same day with all my
attendants, and I will never return without the permission of the Holy
See. " He might as well have declared that he would give the Pope all his
power, as King of the Romans, provided he was allowed the profits; for,
in reality, Charles had no other view with regard to Italy than to make
money.

This concession, which contrasts so poorly with the conduct of Charles
on many other occasions, excited universal indignation in Germany, and a
good deal even in Italy. Petrarch exclaimed against it as mean and
atrocious; for, Catholic as he was, he was not so much a churchman as to
see without indignation the papal tiara exalted above the imperial
crown.

In July, 1346, Charles was elected, and, in derision, was called "the
Emperor of the Priests. " The death of his rival, Lewis of Bavaria,
however, which happened in the next year, prevented a civil war, and
Charles IV. remained peaceable possessor of the empire.

Among the fetes that were given to Charles, a ball was held at Avignon,
in a grand saloon brightly illuminated. Thither came all the beauties of
the city and of Provence. The Prince, who had heard much of Laura,
through her poetical fame, sought her out and saluted her in the French
manner.

Petrarch went, according to his custom, to pass the term of Lent at
Vaucluse. The Bishop of Cavaillon, eager to see the poet, persuaded him
to visit his recluse residence, and remained with Petrarch as his guest
for fifteen days, in his own castle, on the summit of rocks, that seemed
more adapted for the perch of birds than the habitation of men. There is
now scarcely a wreck of it remaining.

It would seem, however, that the Bishop's conversation made this
retirement very agreeable to Petrarch; for it inspired him with the idea
of writing a "Treatise on a Solitary Life. " Of this work he made a
sketch in a short time, but did not finish it till twenty years
afterwards, when he dedicated and presented it to the Bishop of
Cavaillon.

It is agreeable to meet, in Petrarch's life at the shut-up valley, with
any circumstance, however trifling, that indicates a cheerful state of
mind; for, independently of his loneliness, the inextinguishable passion
for Laura never ceased to haunt him; and his love, strange to say, had
mad, momentary hopes, which only deepened at their departure the
returning gloom of despair. Petrarch never wrote more sonnets on his
beloved than during the course of this year. Laura had a fair and
discreet female friend at Avignon, who was also the friend of Petrarch,
and interested in his attachment. The ideas which this amiable
confidante entertained of harmonizing success in misplaced attachment
with honour and virtue must have been Platonic, even beyond the feelings
which Petrarch, in reality, cherished; for, occasionally, the poet's
sonnets are too honest for pure Platonism. This lady, however, whose
name is unknown, strove to convince Laura that she ought to treat her
lover with less severity. "She pushed Laura forward," says De Sade, "and
kept back Petrarch. " One day she recounted to the poet all the proofs of
affection, and after these proofs she said, "You infidel, can you doubt
that she loves you? " It is to this fair friend that he is supposed to
have addressed his nineteenth sonnet.

This year, his Laura was seized with a defluxion in her eyes, which made
her suffer much, and even threatened her with blindness. This was enough
to bring a sonnet from Petrarch (his 94th), in which he laments that
those eyes which were the sun of his life should be for ever eclipsed.
He went to see her during her illness, having now the privilege of
visiting her at her own house, and one day he found her perfectly
recovered. Whether the ophthalmia was infectious, or only endemic, I
know not; but so it was, that, whilst Laura's eyes got well, those of
her lover became affected with the same defluxion. It struck his
imagination, or, at least, he feigned to believe poetically, that the
malady of her eyes had passed into his; and, in one of his sonnets, he
exults at this welcome circumstance. [J] "I fixed my eyes," he said, "on
Laura; and that moment a something inexpressible, like a shooting star,
darted from them to mine. This is a present from love, in which I
rejoice. How delightful it is thus to cure the darling object of one's
soul! "

Petrarch received some show of complacency from Laura, which his
imagination magnified; and it was some sort of consolation, at least,
that his idol was courteous to him; but even this scanty solace was
interrupted. Some malicious person communicated to Laura that Petrarch
was imposing upon her, and that he was secretly addressing his love and
his poetry to another lady under a borrowed name. Laura gave ear to the
calumny, and, for a time, debarred him from her presence. If she had
been wholly indifferent to him, this misunderstanding would have never
existed; for jealousy and indifference are a contradiction in terms. I
mean true jealousy. There is a pseudo species of it, with which many
wives are troubled who care nothing about their husbands' affection; a
plant of ill nature that is reared merely to be a rod of conjugal
castigation. Laura, however, discovered at last, that her admirer was
playing no double part. She was too reasonable to protract so unjust a
quarrel, and received him again as usual.

I have already mentioned that Clement VI. had made Petrarch Canon of
Modena, which benefice he resigned in favour of his friend, Luca
Christino, and that this year his Holiness had also conferred upon him
the prebend of Parma. This preferment excited the envy of some persons,
who endeavoured to prejudice Ugolino de' Rossi, the bishop of the
diocese, against him. Ugolino was of that family which had disputed for
the sovereignty of Parma with the Correggios, and against whom Petrarch
had pleaded in favour of their rivals. From this circumstance it was
feared that Ugolino might be inclined to listen to those maligners who
accused Petrarch of having gone to Avignon for the purpose of
undermining the Bishop in the Pope's favour. Petrarch, upon his
promotion, wrote a letter to Ugolino, strongly repelling this
accusation. This is one of the manliest epistles that ever issued from
his pen. "Allow me to assure you," he says, "that I would not exchange
my tranquillity for your troubles, nor my poverty for your riches. Do
not imagine, however, that I despise your particular situation. I only
mean that there is no person of your rank whose preferment I desire; nor
would I accept such preferment if it were offered to me. I should not
say thus much, if my familiar intercourse with the Pope and the
Cardinals had not convinced me that happiness in that rank is more a
shadow than a substance. It was a memorable saying of Pope Adrian IV. ,
'that he knew no one more unhappy than the Sovereign Pontiff; his throne
is a seat of thorns; his mantle is an oppressive weight; his tiara
shines splendidly indeed, but it is not without a devouring fire. ' If I
had been ambitious," continues Petrarch, "I might have been preferred to
a benefice of more value than yours;" and he refers to the fact of the
Pope having given him his choice of several high preferments.

Petrarch passed the winter of 1346-47 chiefly at Avignon, and made but
few and short excursions to Vaucluse. In one of these, at the beginning
of 1347, when he had Socrates to keep him company at Vaucluse, the
Bishop of Cavaillon invited them to his castle. Petrarch returned the
following answer:--

"Yesterday we quitted the city of storms to take refuge in this harbour,
and taste the sweets of repose. We have nothing but coarse clothes,
suitable to the season and the place we live in; but in this rustic
dress we will repair to see you, since you command us; we fear not to
present ourselves in this rustic dress; our desire to see you puts down
every other consideration. What matters it to us how we appear before
one who possesses the depth of our hearts? If you wish to see us often
you will treat us without ceremony. "

His visits to Vaucluse were rather infrequent; business, he says,
detained him often at Avignon, in spite of himself; but still at
intervals he passed a day or two to look after his gardens and trees. On
one of these occasions, he wrote a pleasing letter to William of
Pastrengo, dilating on the pleasures of his garden, which displays
liveliness and warmth of heart.

Petrarch had not seen his brother since the latter had taken the cowl in
the Carthusian monastery, some five years before. To that convent he
paid a visit in February, 1347, and he was received like an angel from
heaven. He was delighted to see a brother whom he loved so much, and to
find him contented with the life which he had embraced. The Carthusians,
who had heard of Petrarch, renowned as the finest spirit of the age,
were flattered by his showing a strong interest in their condition; and
though he passed but a day and a night with them, they parted so
mutually well pleased, that he promised, on taking leave, to send them a
treatise on the happiness of the life which they led. And he kept his
word; for, immediately upon his return to Vaucluse, he commenced his
essay "_De Otio Religioso_--On the Leisure of the Religious," and he
finished it in a few weeks. The object of this work is to show the
sweets and advantages of their retired state, compared with the
agitations of life in the world.

From these monkish reveries Petrarch was awakened by an astounding
public event, namely, the elevation of Cola di Rienzo to the tribuneship
of Rome. At the news of this revolution, Petrarch was animated with as
much enthusiasm as if he had been himself engaged in the enterprise.
Under the first impulse of his feelings, he sent an epistolary
congratulation and advice to Rienzo and the Roman people. This letter
breathes a strongly republican spirit. In later times, we perceive that
Petrarch would have been glad to witness the accomplishment of his
darling object--Rome restored to her ancient power and magnificence,
even under an imperial government. Our poet received from the Tribune an
answer to his epistolary oration, telling him that it had been read to
the Roman people, and received with applause. A considerable number of
letters passed between Petrarch and Cola.

When we look back on the long connection of Petrarch with the Colonna
family, his acknowledged obligations, and the attachment to them which
he expresses, it may seem, at first sight, surprising that he should
have so loudly applauded a revolution which struck at the roots of their
power. But, if we view the matter with a more considerate eye, we shall
hold the poet in nobler and dearer estimation for his public zeal than
if he had cringed to the Colonnas. His personal attachment to _them_,
who were quite as much honoured by _his_ friendship as _he_ was by
_theirs_, was a consideration subservient to that of the honour of his
country and the freedom of his fellow-citizens; "for," as he says in his
own defence, "we owe much to our friends, still more to our parents, but
everything to our country. "

Retiring during this year for some time to Vaucluse, Petrarch composed
an eclogue in honour of the Roman revolution, the fifth in his Bucolics.
It is entitled "La Pieta Pastorale," and has three speakers, who
converse about their venerable mother Rome, but in so dull a manner,
that, if Petrarch had never written better poetry, we should not,
probably, at this moment, have heard of his existence.

In the midst of all this political fervour, the poet's devotion to Laura
continued unabated; Petrarch never composed so many sonnets in one year
as during 1347, but, for the most part, still indicative of sadness and
despair. In his 116th sonnet, he says:--

"Soleo onde, e 'n rena fondo, e serivo in vento. "
I plough in water, build on sand, and write on air.

If anything were wanting to convince us that Laura had treated him,
during his twenty years' courtship, with sufficient rigour, this and
other such expressions would suffice to prove it. A lover, at the end of
so long a period, is not apt to speak thus despondingly of a mistress
who has been kind to him.

It seems, however, that there were exceptions to her extreme reserve. On
one occasion, this year, when they met, and when Petrarch's eyes were
fixed on her in silent reverie, she stretched out her hand to him, and
allowed him to detain it in his for some time. This incident is alluded
to in his 218th sonnet.

If public events, however, were not enough to make him forget his
passion for Laura, they were sufficiently stirring to keep his interest
in them alive. The head of Rienzo was not strong enough to stand the
elevation which he had attained.
Petrarch had hitherto regarded the
reports of Rienzo's errors as highly exaggerated by his enemies; but the
truth of them, at last, became too palpable; though our poet's
charitable opinion of the Tribune considerably outlasted that of the
public at large.

When the papal court heard of the multiplied extravagances of Rienzo,
they recovered a little from the panic which had seized them. They saw
that they had to deal with a man whose head was turned. His summonses
had enraged them; and they resolved to keep no measures with him.
Towards the end of August, 1347, one of his couriers arrived without
arms, and with only the symbol of his office, the silver rod, in his
hand. He was arrested near Avignon; his letters were taken from him and
torn to pieces; and, without being permitted to enter Avignon, he was
sent back to Rome with threats and ignominy. This proceeding appeared
atrocious in the eyes of Petrarch, and he wrote a letter to Rienzo on
the subject, expressing his strongest indignation at the act of outrage.

[Illustration: COAST OF GENOA. ]

Petrarch passed almost the whole of the month of September, 1347, at
Avignon. On the 9th of this month he obtained letters of legitimation
for his son John, who might now be about ten years old. John is
entitled, in these letters, "a scholar of Florence. " The Pope empowers
him to possess any kind of benefice without being obliged, in future, to
make mention of his illegitimate birth, or of the obtained dispensation.
It appears from these letters that the mother of John was not married.
He left his son at Verona under the tuition of Rinaldo di Villa Franca.
Before he had left Provence in this year, for the purpose of visiting
Italy, he had announced his intention to the Pope, who wished to retain
him as an honour to his court, and offered him his choice of several
church preferments. But our poet, whose only wish was to obtain some
moderate benefice that would leave him independent and at liberty,
declined his Holiness's _vague_ offers. If we consider that Petrarch
made no secret of his good wishes for Rienzo, it may seem surprisingly
creditable to the Pontiff's liberality that he should have even
_professed_ any interest in the poet's fortune; but in a letter to his
friend Socrates, Petrarch gives us to understand that he thought the
Pope's professions were merely verbal. He says: "To hold out treasures
to a man who demands a small sum is but a polite mode of refusal. " In
fact, the Pope offered him _some_ bishopric, knowing that he wanted
only _some_ benefice that should be a sinecure.

If it be asked what determined him now to leave Avignon, the
counter-question may be put, what detained him so long from Italy? It
appears that he had never parted with his house and garden at Parma; he
hated everything in Avignon excepting Laura; and of the solitude of
Vaucluse he was, in all probability, already weary.

Before he left Avignon, he went to take leave of Laura. He found her at
an assembly which she often frequented. "She was seated," he says,
"among those ladies who are generally her companions, and appeared like
a beautiful rose surrounded with flowers smaller and less blooming. " Her
air was more touching than usual. She was dressed perfectly plain, and
without pearls or garlands, or any gay colour. Though she was not
melancholy, she did not appear to have her wonted cheerfulness, but was
serious and thoughtful. She did not sing, as usual, nor speak with that
voice which used to charm every one. She had the air of a person who
fears an evil not yet arrived. "In taking leave of her," says Petrarch,
"I sought in her looks for a consolation of my own sufferings. Her eyes
had an expression which I had never seen in them before. What I saw in
her face seemed to predict the sorrows that threatened me. "

This was the last meeting that Petrarch and Laura ever had.

Petrarch set out for Italy, towards the close of 1347, having determined
to make that country his residence for the rest of his life.

Upon his arrival at Genoa he wrote to Rienzo, reproaching him for his
follies, and exhorting him to return to his former manly conduct. This
advice, it is scarcely necessary to say, was like dew and sunshine
bestowed upon barren sands.

From Genoa he proceeded to Parma, where he received the first
information of the catastrophe of the Colonna family, six of whom had
fallen in battle with Rienzo's forces. He showed himself deeply affected
by it, and, probably, was so sincerely. But the Colonnas, though his
former patrons, were still the enemies of a cause which he considered
sacred, much as it was mismanaged and disgraced by the Tribune; and his
grief cannot be supposed to have been immoderate. Accordingly, the
letter which he wrote to Cardinal Colonna on this occasion is quite in
the style of Seneca, and more like an ethical treatise than an epistle
of condolence.

It is obvious that Petrarch slowly and reluctantly parted with his good
opinion of Rienzo. But, whatever sentiments he might have cherished
respecting him, he was now doomed to hear of his tragic fall.

The revolution which overthrew the Tribune was accomplished on the 15th
of December, 1347. That his fall was, in a considerable degree, owing
to his faults, is undeniable; and to the most contemptible of all
faults--personal vanity. How hard it is on the great mass of mankind,
that this meanness is so seldom disjoined from the zeal of popular
championship! New power, like new wine, seems to intoxicate the
strongest heads. How disgusting it is to see the restorer of Roman
liberty dazzled like a child by a scarlet robe and its golden trimming!
Nevertheless, with all his vanity, Rienzo was a better friend to the
republic than those who dethroned him. The Romans would have been wise
to have supported Rienzo, taking even his foibles into the account. They
re-admitted their oligarchs; and, if they repented of it, as they did,
they are scarcely entitled to our commiseration.

Petrarch had set out late in 1347 to visit Italy for the fifth time. He
arrived at Genoa towards the end of November, 1347, on his way to
Florence, where he was eagerly expected by his friends. They had
obtained from the Government permission for his return; and he was
absolved from the sentence of banishment in which he had been included
with his father. But, whether Petrarch was offended with the Florentines
for refusing to restore his paternal estate, or whether he was detained
by accident in Lombardy, he put off his expedition to Florence and
repaired to Parma. It was there that he learned the certainty of the
Tribune's fall.

From Parma he went to Verona, where he arrived on the evening of the
25th of January, 1348. His son, we have already mentioned, was placed at
Verona, under the tuition of Rinaldo di Villa Franca. Here, soon after
his arrival, as he was sitting among his books, Petrarch felt the shock
of a tremendous earthquake. It seemed as if the whole city was to be
overturned from its foundations. He rushed immediately into the streets,
where the inhabitants were gathered together in consternation; and,
whilst terror was depicted in every countenance, there was a general cry
that the end of the world was come. All contemporary historians mention
this earthquake, and agree that it originated at the foot of the Alps.
It made sad ravages at Pisa, Bologna, Padua, and Venice, and still more
in the Frioul and Bavaria. If we may trust the narrators of this event,
sixty villages in one canton were buried under two mountains that fell
and filled up a valley five leagues in length. A whole castle, it is
added, was exploded out of the earth from its foundation, and its ruins
scattered many miles from the spot. The latter anecdote has undoubtedly
an air of the marvellous; and yet the convulsions of nature have
produced equally strange effects. Stones have been thrown out of Mount
AEtna to the distance of eighteen miles.

The earthquake was the forerunner of awful calamities; and it is
possible that it might be physically connected with that memorable
plague in 1348, which reached, in succession, all parts of the known
world, and thinned the population of every country which it visited.
Historians generally agree that this great plague began in China and
Tartary, whence, in the space of a year, it spread its desolation over
the whole of Asia. It extended itself over Italy early in 1348; but its
severest ravages had not yet been made, when Petrarch returned from
Verona to Parma in the month of March, 1348. He brought with him his son
John, whom he had withdrawn from the school of Rinaldo di Villa Franca,
and placed under Gilberto di Parma, a good grammarian. His motive for
this change of tutorship probably was, that he reckoned on Parma being
henceforward his own principal place of residence, and his wish to have
his son beside him.

Petrarch had scarcely arrived at Parma when he received a letter from
Luchino Visconti, who had lately received the lordship of that city.
Hearing of Petrarch's arrival there, the Prince, being at Milan, wrote
to the poet, requesting some orange plants from his garden, together
with a copy of verses. Petrarch sent him both, accompanied with a
letter, in which he praises Luchino for his encouragement of learning
and his cultivation of the Muses.

The plague was now increasing in Italy; and, after it had deprived
Petrarch of many dear friends, it struck at the root of all his
affections by attacking Laura. He describes his apprehensions on this
occasion in several of his sonnets. The event confirmed his melancholy
presages; for a letter from his friend Socrates informed him that Laura
had died of the plague on the 1st of April, 1348. His biographers may
well be believed, when they tell us that his grief was extreme. Laura's
husband took the event more quietly, and consoled himself by marrying
again, when only seven months a widower.

Petrarch, when informed of her death, wrote that marginal note upon his
copy of Virgil, the authenticity of which has been so often, though
unjustly, called in question. His words were the following:--

"Laura, illustrious for her virtues, and for a long time celebrated in
my verses, for the first time appeared to my eyes on the 6th of April,
1327, in the church of St. Clara, at the first hour of the day. I was
then in my youth. In the same city, and at the same hour, in the year
1348, this luminary disappeared from our world. I was then at Verona,
ignorant of my wretched situation. Her chaste and beautiful body was
buried the same day, after vespers, in the church of the Cordeliers. Her
soul returned to its native mansion in heaven. I have written this with
a pleasure mixed with bitterness, to retrace the melancholy remembrance
of 'MY GREAT LOSS. ' This loss convinces me that I have nothing
now left worth living for, since the strongest cord of my life is
broken. By the grace of God, I shall easily renounce a world where my
hopes have been vain and perishing. It is time for me to fly from
Babylon when the knot that bound me to it is untied. "

This copy of Virgil is famous, also, for a miniature picture expressing
the subject of the AEneid; which, by the common consent of connoisseurs
in painting, is the work of Simone Memmi. Mention has already been made
of the friendly terms that subsisted between that painter and our poet;
whence it may be concluded that Petrarch, who received this precious MS.
in 1338, requested of Simone this mark of his friendship, to render it
more valuable.

When the library of Pavia, together with the city, was plundered by the
French in 1499, and when many MSS. were carried away to the library of
Paris, a certain inhabitant of Pavia had the address to snatch this copy
of Virgil from the general rapine. This individual was, probably,
Antonio di Pirro, in whose hands or house the Virgil continued till the
beginning of the sixteenth century, as Vellutello attests in his article
on the origin of Laura. From him it passed to Antonio Agostino;
afterwards to Fulvio Orsino, who prized it very dearly. At Orsino's
death it was bought at a high price by Cardinal Federigo Borromeo, and
placed in the Ambrosian library, which had been founded by him with much
care and at vast expense.

Until the year 1795, this copy of Virgil was celebrated only on account
of the memorandum already quoted, and a few short marginal notes,
written for illustrations of the text; but, a part of the same leaf
having been torn and detached from the cover, the librarians, by chance,
perceived some written characters. Curiosity urged them to unglue it
with the greatest care; but the parchment was so conglutinated with the
board that the letters left their impression on the latter so palely and
weakly, that the librarians had great difficulty in making out the
following notice, written by Petrarch himself: "Liber hic furto mihi
subreptus fuerat, anno domini mcccxxvi. , in Kalend. Novembr. , ac deinde
restitutus, anno mcccxxxvii. , die xvii. Aprilis, apud Aivino. "

Then follows a note by the poet himself, regarding his son: "Johannes
noster, natus ad laborem et dolorem meum, et vivens gravibus atque
perpetuis me curis exercuit, et acri dolore moriens vulneravit, qui cum
paucos et laetos dies vidisset in vita sua, decessit in anno domini 1361,
aetatis suae xxv. , die Julii x. seu ix. medio noctis inter diem veneris et
sabbati. Rumor ad me pervenerat xiiio mensis ad vesperam, obiit autem
Mlni illo publico excidio pestis insolito, quae urbem illam, hactenus
immunem, talibus malis nunc reperit atque invasit. Rumor autem primus
ambiguus 8vo. Augusti, eodem anno, per famulum meum Mlno redeuntem,
mox certus, per famulum Domni Theatini Roma venientem 18me. mensis
ejusdem Mercurii, sero ad me pervenit de obitu Socratis mei amici,
socii fratrisque optimi, qui obiisse dicitur Babilone seu Avenione, die
mense Maii proximo. Amisi comitem ac solatium vitae meae. Recipe Xte Ihu,
hos duos et reliquos quinque in eterna tabernacula tua. "[K] He alludes
to the death of other friends; but the entire note is too long to be
quoted, and, in many places, is obscured by contractions which make its
meaning doubtful.

The perfect accordance of these memoranda with the other writings of the
poet, conjoined with historical facts, show them incontestably to have
come from the hand of Petrarch.

The precious MS. of Virgil, containing the autograph of Petrarch, is no
longer in Italy. Like many other relics held sacred by the Italians, it
was removed by the French during the last conquest of Italy.

Among the incidents of Petrarch's life, in 1348, we ought to notice his
visits to Giacomo da Carrara, whose family had supplanted the Della
Scalas at Padua, and to Manfredi Pio, the Padrone of Carpi, a beautiful
little city, of the Modenese territory, situated on a fine plain, on the
banks of the Secchio, about four miles from Correggio. Manfredi ruled it
with reputation for twenty years. Petrarch was magnificently received by
the Carraras; and, within two years afterwards, they bestowed upon him
the canonicate of Padua, a promotion which was followed in the same year
by his appointment to the archdeaconry of Parma, of which he had been
hitherto only canon.

Not long after the death of Laura, on the 3rd of July of the same year,
Petrarch lost Cardinal Colonna, who had been for so many years his
friend and patron. By some historians it is said that this prelate died
of the plague; but Petrarch thought that he sank under grief brought on
by the disasters of his family. In the space of five years the Cardinal
had lost his mother and six brothers.

Petrarch still maintained an interest in the Colonna family, though that
interest was against his own political principles, during the good
behaviour of the Tribune. After the folly and fall of Rienzo, it is
probable that our poet's attachment to his old friends of the Roman
aristocracy revived. At least, he thought it decent to write, on the
death of Cardinal Colonna, a letter of condolence to his father, the
aged Stefano, who was now verging towards his hundredth year. Soon after
this letter reached him, old Stefano fell into the grave.

The death of Cardinal Colonna was extremely felt at Avignon, where it
left a great void, his house having been the rendezvous of men of
letters and genius. Those who composed his court could not endure
Avignon after they had lost their Maecenas. Three of them were the
particular friends of Petrarch, namely, Socrates, Luca Christine and
Mainardo Accursio. Socrates, though not an Italian, was extremely
embarrassed by the death of the Cardinal. He felt it difficult to live
separated from Petrarch, and yet he could not determine to quit France
for Italy. He wrote incessantly the most pressing letters to induce our
poet to return and settle in Provence. Luca and Mainardo resolved to go
and seek out Petrarch in Italy, in order to settle with him the place on
which they should fix for their common residence, and where they should
spend the rest of their lives in his society. They set out from Avignon
in the month of March, 1349, and arrived at Parma, but did not find the
poet, as he was gone on an excursion to Padua and Verona. They passed a
day in his house to rest themselves, and, when they went away, left a
letter in his library, telling him they had crossed the Alps to come and
see him, but that, having missed him, as soon as they had finished an
excursion which they meant to make, they would return and settle with
him the means of their living together. Petrarch, on his return to
Parma, wrote several interesting letters to Mainardo. In one of them he
says, "I was much grieved that I had lost the pleasure of your company,
and that of our worthy friend, Luca Christino. However, I am not without
the consoling hope that my absence may be the means of hastening your
return. As to your apprehensions about my returning to Vaucluse, I
cannot deny that, at the entreaties of Socrates, I should return,
provided I could procure an establishment in Provence, which would
afford me an honourable pretence for residing there, and, at the same
time, enable me to receive my friends with hospitality; but at present
circumstances are changed. The Cardinal Colonna is dead, and my friends
are all dispersed, excepting Socrates, who continues inviolably attached
to Avignon.

"As to Vaucluse, I well know the beauties of that charming valley, and
ten years' residence is a proof of my affection for the place. I have
shown my love of it by the house which I built there. There I began my
Africa, there I wrote the greater part of my epistles in prose and
verse, and there I nearly finished all my eclogues. I never had so much
leisure, nor felt so much enthusiasm, in any other spot. At Vaucluse I
conceived the first idea of giving an epitome of the Lives of
Illustrious Men, and there I wrote my Treatise on a Solitary Life, as
well as that on religious retirement. It was there, also, that I sought
to moderate my passion for Laura, which, alas, solitude only cherished.
In short, this lonely valley will for ever be pleasing to my
recollections. There is, nevertheless, a sad change, produced by time.
Both the Cardinal and everything that is dear to me have perished. The
veil which covered my eyes is at length removed. I can now perceive the
difference between Vaucluse and the rich mountains and vales and
flourishing cities of Italy. And yet, forgive me, so strong are the
prepossessions of youth, that I must confess I pine for Vaucluse, even
whilst I acknowledge its inferiority to Italy. "

Whilst Petrarch was thus flattering his imagination with hopes that were
never to be realized, his two friends, who had proceeded to cross the
Apennines, came to an untimely fate. On the 5th of June, 1349, a
servant, whom Petrarch had sent to inquire about some alarming accounts
of the travellers that had gone abroad, returned sooner than he was
expected, and showed by his face that he brought no pleasant tidings.
Petrarch was writing--the pen fell from his hand. "What news do you
bring? " "Very bad news! Your two friends, in crossing the Apennines,
were attacked by robbers. " "O God! what has happened to them? " The
messenger replied, "Mainardo, who was behind his companions, was
surrounded and murdered. Luca, hearing of his fate, came back sword in
hand. He fought alone against ten, and he wounded some of the
assailants, but at last he received many wounds, of which he lies almost
dead. The robbers fled with their booty. The peasants assembled, and
pursued, and would have captured them, if some gentlemen, unworthy of
being called so, had not stopped the pursuit, and received the villains
into their castles. Luca was seen among the rocks, but no one knows what
is become of him. " Petrarch, in the deepest agitation, despatched fleet
couriers to Placenza, to Florence, and to Rome, to obtain intelligence
about Luca.

These ruffians, who came from Florence, were protected by the Ubaldini,
one of the most powerful and ancient families in Tuscany. As the murder
was perpetrated within the territory of Florence, Petrarch wrote
indignantly to the magistrates and people of that State, intreating them
to avenge an outrage on their fellow citizens. Luca, it appears, expired
of his wounds.

Petrarch's letter had its full effect. The Florentine commonwealth
despatched soldiers, both horse and foot, against the Ubaldini and their
banditti, and decreed that every year an expedition should be sent out
against them till they should be routed out of their Alpine caverns. The
Florentine troops directed their march to Monte Gemmoli, an almost
impregnable rock, which they blockaded and besieged. The banditti issued
forth from their strongholds, and skirmished with overmuch confidence in
their vantage ground. At this crisis, the Florentine cavalry, having
ascended the hill, dismounted from their horses, pushed forward on the
banditti before they could retreat into their fortress, and drove them,
sword in hand, within its inmost circle. The Florentines thus possessed
themselves of Monte Gemmoli, and, in like manner, of several other
strongholds. There were others which they could not take by storm, but
they laid waste the plains and cities which supplied the robbers with
provisions; and, after having done great damage to the Ubaldini, they
returned safe and sound to Florence.

While Petrarch was at Mantua, in February, 1350, the Cardinal Guy of
Boulogne, legate of the holy see, arrived there after a papal mission to
Hungary. Petrarch was much attached to him. The Cardinal and several
eminent persons who attended him had frequent conversations with our
poet, in which they described to him the state of Germany and the
situation of the Emperor.

Clement VI. , who had reason to be satisfied with the submissiveness of
this Prince, wished to attract him into Italy, where he hoped to oppose
him to the Visconti, who had put themselves at the head of the Ghibeline
party, and gave much annoyance to the Guelphs. His Holiness strongly
solicited him to come; but Charles's situation would not permit him for
the present to undertake such an expedition. There were still some
troubles in Germany that remained to be appeased; besides, the Prince's
purse was exhausted by the largesses which he had paid for his election,
and his poverty was extreme.

It must be owned that a prince in such circumstances could hardly be
expected to set out for the subjugation of Italy. Petrarch, however,
took a romantic view of the Emperor's duties, and thought that the
restoration of the Roman empire was within Charles's grasp. Our poet
never lost sight of his favourite chimera, the re-establishment of Rome
in her ancient dominion. It was what he called one of his principles,
that Rome had a right to govern the world. Wild as this vision was, he
had seen Rienzo attempt its realization; and, if the Tribune had been
more prudent, there is no saying how nearly he might have approached to
the achievement of so marvellous an issue. But Rienzo was fallen
irrecoverably, and Petrarch now desired as ardently to see the Emperor
in Italy, as ever he had sighed for the success of the Tribune. He wrote
to the Emperor a long letter from Padua, a few days after the departure
of the Cardinal.

"I am agitated," he says, "in sending this epistle, when I think from
whom it comes, and to whom it is addressed. Placed as I am, in
obscurity, I am dazzled by the splendour of your name; but love has
banished fear: this letter will at least make known to you my fidelity,
and my zeal. Read it, I conjure you! You will not find in it the insipid
adulation which is the plague of monarchs. Flattery is an art unknown to
me.