No More Learning

Grown old, I wish to
pass in it my last years. "

The sight of his romantic hermitage, of the capacious grotto which had
listened to his sighs for Laura, of his garden, and of his library, was,
undoubtedly, sweet to Petrarch; and, though he had promised Boccaccio to
come back to Italy, he had not the fortitude to determine on a sudden
return. He writes to one of his Italian friends, "When I left my native
country, I promised to return to it in the autumn; but time, place, and
circumstances, often oblige us to change our resolutions. As far as I
can judge, it will be necessary for me to remain here for two years. My
friends in Italy, I trust, will pardon me if I do not keep my promise to
them. The inconstancy of the human mind must serve as my excuse. I have
now experienced that change of place is the only thing which can long
keep from us the _ennui_ that is inseparable from a sedentary life. "

At the same time, whilst Vaucluse threw recollections tender, though
melancholy, over Petrarch's mind, it does not appear that Avignon had
assumed any new charm in his absence: on the contrary, he found it
plunged more than ever in luxury, wantonness, and gluttony. Clement VI.
had replenished the church, at the request of the French king, with
numbers of cardinals, many of whom were so young and licentious, that
the most scandalous abominations prevailed amongst them. "At this time,"
says Matthew Villani, "no regard was paid either to learning or virtue;
and a man needed not to blush for anything, if he could cover his head
with a red hat. Pietro Ruggiero, one of those exemplary new cardinals,
was only eighteen years of age. " Petrarch vented his indignation on this
occasion in his seventh eclogue, which is a satire upon the Pontiff and
his cardinals, the interlocutors being Micione, or Clement himself, and
Epi, or the city of Avignon. The poem, if it can be so called, is
clouded with allegory, and denaturalized with pastoral conceits; yet it
is worth being explored by any one anxious to trace the first fountains
of reform among Catholics, as a proof of church abuses having been
exposed, two centuries before the Reformation, by a Catholic and a
churchman.

At this crisis, the Court of Avignon, which, in fact, had not known very
well what to do about the affairs of Rome, were now anxious to inquire
what sort of government would be the most advisable, after the fall of
Rienzo. Since that event, the Cardinal Legate had re-established the
ancient government, having created two senators, the one from the house
of Colonna, the other from that of the Orsini. But, very soon, those
houses were divided by discord, and the city was plunged into all the
evils which it had suffered before the existence of the Tribuneship.
"The community at large," says Matthew Villani, "returned to such
condition, that strangers and travellers found themselves like sheep
among wolves. " Clement VI. was weary of seeing the metropolis of
Christianity a prey to anarchy. He therefore chose four cardinals, whose
united deliberations might appease these troubles, and he imagined that
he could establish in Rome a form of government that should be durable.
The cardinals requested Petrarch to give his opinion on this important
affair. Petrarch wrote to them a most eloquent epistle, full of
enthusiastic ideas of the grandeur of Rome. It is not exactly known what
effect he produced by his writing on this subject; but on that account
we are not to conclude that he wrote in vain.

Petrarch had brought to Avignon his son John, who was still very young.
He had obtained for him a canonicate at Verona. Thither he immediately
despatched him, with letters to Guglielmo di Pastrengo and Rinaldo di
Villa Franca, charging the former of these friends to superintend his
son's general character and manners, and the other to cultivate his
understanding. Petrarch, in his letter to Rinaldo, gives a description
of John, which is neither very flattering to the youth, nor calculated
to give us a favourable opinion of his father's mode of managing his
education. By his own account, it appears that he had never brought the
boy to confide in him. This was a capital fault, for the young are
naturally ingenuous; so that the acquisition of their confidence is the
very first step towards their docility; and, for maintaining parental
authority, there is no need to overawe them. "As far as I can judge of
my son," says Petrarch, "he has a tolerable understanding; but I am not
certain of this, for I do not sufficiently know him. When he is with me
he always keeps silence; whether my presence is irksome and confusing to
him, or whether shame for his ignorance closes his lips. I suspect it is
the latter, for I perceive too clearly his antipathy to letters. I
never saw it stronger in any one; he dreads and detests nothing so much
as a book; yet he was brought up at Parma, Verona, and Padua. I
sometimes direct a few sharp pleasantries at this disposition. 'Take
care,' I say, 'lest you should eclipse your neighbour, Virgil. ' When I
talk in this manner, he looks down and blushes. On this behaviour alone
I build my hope. He is modest, and has a docility which renders him
susceptible of every impression. " This is a melancholy confession, on
the part of Petrarch, of his own incompetence to make the most of his
son's mind, and a confession the more convincing that it is made
unconsciously.

In the summer of 1352, the people of Avignon witnessed the impressive
spectacle of the far-famed Tribune Rienzo entering their city, but in a
style very different from the pomp of his late processions in Rome. He
had now for his attendants only two archers, between whom he walked as a
prisoner. It is necessary to say a few words about the circumstances
which befell Rienzo after his fall, and which brought him now to the
Pope's tribunal at Avignon.

Petrarch says of him at this period, "The Tribune, formerly so powerful
and dreaded, but now the most unhappy of men, has been brought hither as
a prisoner. I praised and I adored him. I loved his virtue, and I
admired his courage. I thought that Rome was about to resume, under him,
the empire she formerly held. Ah! had he continued as he began, he would
have been praised and admired by the world and by posterity. On entering
the city," Petrarch continues, "he inquired if I was there. I knew not
whether he hoped for succour from me, or what I could do to serve him.
In the process against him they accuse him of nothing criminal. They
cannot impute to him having joined with bad men. All that they charge
him with is an attempt to give freedom to the republic, and to make Rome
the centre of its government. And is this a crime worthy of the wheel or
the gibbet? A Roman citizen afflicted to see his country, which is by
right the mistress of the world, the slave of the vilest of men! "

Clement was glad to have Rienzo in his power, and ordered him into his
presence. Thither the Tribune came, not in the least disconcerted. He
denied the accusation of heresy, and insisted that his cause should be
re-examined with more equity. The Pope made him no reply, but imprisoned
him in a high tower, in which he was chained by the leg to the floor of
his apartment. In other respects he was treated mildly, allowed books to
read, and supplied with dishes from the Pope's kitchen.

Rienzo begged to be allowed an advocate to defend him; his request was
refused. This refusal enraged Petrarch, who wrote, according to De Sade
and others, on this occasion, that mysterious letter, which is found in
his "Epistles without a title. " It is an appeal to the Romans in behalf
of their Tribune. I must confess that even the authority of De Sade does
not entirely eradicate from my mind a suspicion as to the spuriousness
of this inflammatory letter, from the consequences of which Petrarch
could hardly have escaped with impunity.

One of the circumstances that detained Petrarch at Avignon was the
illness of the Pope, which retarded his decision on several important
affairs. Clement VI. was fast approaching to his end, and Petrarch had
little hope of his convalescence, at least in the hands of doctors. A
message from the Pope produced an imprudent letter from the poet, in
which he says, "Holy father! I shudder at the account of your fever;
but, believe me, I am not a flatterer. I tremble to see your bed always
surrounded with physicians, who are never agreed, because it would be a
reproach to the second to think like the first. 'It is not to be
doubted,' as Pliny says, 'that physicians, desiring to raise a name by
their discoveries, make experiments upon us, and thus barter away our
lives. There is no law for punishing their extreme ignorance. They learn
their trade at our expense, they make some progress in the art of
curing; and they alone are permitted to murder with impunity. ' Holy
father! consider as your enemies the crowd of physicians who beset you.
It is in our age that we behold verified the prediction of the elder
Cato, who declared that corruption would be general when the Greeks
should have transmitted the sciences to Rome, and, above all, the
science of healing. Whole nations have done without this art. The Roman
republic, according to Pliny, was without physicians for six hundred
years, and was never in a more flourishing condition. "

The Pope, a poor dying old man, communicated Petrarch's letter
immediately to his physicians, and it kindled in the whole faculty a
flame of indignation, worthy of being described by Moliere. Petrarch
made a general enemy of the physicians, though, of course, the weakest
and the worst of them were the first to attack him. One of them told
him, "You are a foolhardy man, who, contemning the physicians, have no
fear either of the fever or of the malaria. " Petrarch replied, "I
certainly have no assurance of being free from the attacks of either;
but, if I were attacked by either, I should not think of calling in
physicians. "

His first assailant was one of Clement's own physicians, who loaded him
with scurrility in a formal letter. These circumstances brought forth
our poet's "Four Books of Invectives against Physicians," a work in
which he undoubtedly exposes a great deal of contemporary quackery, but
which, at the same time, scarcely leaves the physician-hunter on higher
ground than his antagonists.

In the last year of his life, Clement VI. wished to attach our poet
permanently to his court by making him his secretary, and Petrarch,
after much coy refusal, was at last induced, by the solicitations of
his friends, to accept the office. But before he could enter upon it, an
objection to his filling it was unexpectedly started. It was discovered
that his style was too lofty to suit the humility of the Roman Church.
The elevation of Petrarch's style might be obvious, but certainly the
humility of the Church was a bright discovery. Petrarch, according to
his own account, so far from promising to bring down his magniloquence
to a level with church humility, seized the objection as an excuse for
declining the secretaryship. He compares his joy on this occasion to
that of a prisoner finding the gates of his prison thrown open. He
returned to Vaucluse, where he waited impatiently for the autumn, when
he meant to return to Italy. He thus describes, in a letter to his dear
Simonides, the manner of life which he there led:--

"I make war upon my body, which I regard as my enemy. My eyes, that have
made me commit so many follies, are well fixed on a safe object. They
look only on a woman who is withered, dark, and sunburnt. Her soul,
however, is as white as her complexion is black, and she has the air of
being so little conscious of her own appearance, that her homeliness may
be said to become her. She passes whole days in the open fields, when
the grasshoppers can scarcely endure the sun. Her tanned hide braves the
heats of the dog-star, and, in the evening, she arrives as fresh as if
she had just risen from bed. She does all the work of my house, besides
taking care of her husband and children and attending my guests. She
seems occupied with everybody but herself. At night she sleeps on
vine-branches; she eats only black bread and roots, and drinks water and
vinegar. If you were to give her anything more delicate, she would be
the worse for it: such is the force of habit.

"Though I have still two fine suits of clothes, I never wear them. If
you saw me, you would take me for a labourer or a shepherd, though I was
once so tasteful in my dress. The times are changed; the eyes which I
wished to please are now shut; and, perhaps, even if they were opened,
they would not _now_ have the same empire over me. "

In another letter from Vaucluse, he says: "I rise at midnight; I go out
at break of day; I study in the fields as in my library; I read, I
write, I dream; I struggle against indolence, luxury, and pleasure. I
wander all day among the arid mountains, the fresh valleys, and the deep
caverns. I walk much on the banks of the Sorgue, where I meet no one to
distract me. I recall the past. I deliberate on the future; and, in this
contemplation, I find a resource against my solitude. " In the same
letter he avows that he could accustom himself to any habitation in the
world, except Avignon. At this time he was meditating to recross the
Alps.

Early in September, 1352, the Cardinal of Boulogne departed for Paris,
in order to negotiate a peace between the Kings of France and England.
Petrarch went to take his leave of him, and asked if he had any orders
for Italy, for which he expected soon to set out. The Cardinal told him
that he should be only a month upon his journey, and that he hoped to
see him at Avignon on his return. He had, in fact, kind views with
regard to Petrarch. He wished to procure for him some good establishment
in France, and wrote to him upon his route, "Pray do not depart yet.
Wait until I return, or, at least, until I write to you on an important
affair that concerns yourself. " This letter, which, by the way, evinces
that our poet's circumstances were not independent of church promotion,
changed the plans of Petrarch, who remained at Avignon nearly the whole
of the months of September and October.

During this delay, he heard constant reports of the war that was going
on between the Genoese and the Venetians. In the spring of the year
1352, their fleets met in the Propontis, and had a conflict almost
unexampled, which lasted during two days and a tempestuous night. The
Genoese, upon the whole, had the advantage, and, in revenge for the
Greeks having aided the Venetians, they made a league with the Turks.
The Pope, who had it earnestly at heart to put a stop to this fatal war,
engaged the belligerents to send their ambassadors to Avignon, and there
to treat for peace. The ambassadors came; but a whole month was spent in
negotiations which ended in nothing. Petrarch in vain employed his
eloquence, and the Pope his conciliating talents. In these
circumstances, Petrarch wrote a letter to the Genoese government, which
does infinite credit to his head and his heart. He used every argument
that common sense or humanity could suggest to show the folly of the
war, but his arguments were thrown away on spirits too fierce for
reasoning.

A few days after writing this letter, as the Cardinal of Boulogne had
not kept his word about returning to Avignon, and as he heard no news of
him, Petrarch determined to set out for Italy. He accordingly started on
the 16th of November, 1352; but scarcely had he left his own house, with
all his papers, when he was overtaken by heavy falls of rain. At first
he thought of going back immediately; but he changed his purpose, and
proceeded as far as Cavaillon, which is two leagues from Vaucluse, in
order to take leave of his friend, the Bishop of Cabassole. His good
friend was very unwell, but received him with joy, and pressed him to
pass the night under his roof. That night and all the next day it rained
so heavily that Petrarch, more from fear of his books and papers being
damaged than from anxiety about his own health, gave up his Italian
journey for the present, and, returning to Vaucluse, spent there the
rest of November and the whole of December, 1352.

Early in December, Petrarch heard of the death of Clement VI. , and this
event gave him occasion for more epistles, both against the Roman court
and his enemies, the physicians. Clement's death was ascribed to
different causes. Petrarch, of course, imputed it to his doctors.
Villani's opinion is the most probable, that he died of a protracted
fever. He was buried with great pomp in the church of Notre Dame at
Avignon; but his remains, after some time, were removed to the abbey of
Chaise Dieu, in Auvergne, where his tomb was violated by the Huguenots
in 1562. Scandal says that they made a football of his head, and that
the Marquis de Courton afterwards converted his skull into a
drinking-cup.

It need not surprise us that his Holiness never stood high in the good
graces of Petrarch. He was a Limousin, who never loved Italy go much as
Gascony, and, in place of re-establishing the holy seat at Rome, he
completed the building of the papal palace at Avignon, which his
predecessor had begun. These were faults that eclipsed all the good
qualities of Clement VI. in the eyes of Petrarch, and, in the sixth of
his eclogues, the poet has drawn the character of Clement in odious
colours, and, with equal freedom, has described most of the cardinals of
his court. Whether there was perfect consistency between this hatred to
the Pope and his thinking, as he certainly did for a time, of becoming
his secretary, may admit of a doubt. I am not, however, disposed to deny
some allowance to Petrarch for his dislike of Clement, who was a
voluptuary in private life, and a corrupted ruler of the Church.

Early in May, 1353, Petrarch departed for Italy, and we find him very
soon afterwards at the palace of John Visconti of Milan, whom he used to
call the greatest man in Italy. This prince, uniting the sacerdotal with
the civil power, reigned absolute in Milan. He was master of Lombardy,
and made all Italy tremble at his hostility. Yet, in spite of his
despotism, John Visconti was a lover of letters, and fond of having
literary men at his court. He exercised a cunning influence over our
poet, and detained him. Petrarch, knowing that Milan was a troubled city
and a stormy court, told the Prince that, being a priest, his vocation
did not permit him to live in a princely court, and in the midst of
arms. "For that matter," replied the Archbishop, "I am myself an
ecclesiastic; I wish to press no employment upon you, but only to
request you to remain as an ornament of my court. " Petrarch, taken by
surprise, had not fortitude to resist his importunities. All that he
bargained for was, that he should have a habitation sufficiently distant
from the city, and that he should not be obliged to make any change in
his ordinary mode of living. The Archbishop was too happy to possess him
on these terms.

Petrarch, accordingly, took up his habitation in the western part of the
city, near the Vercellina gate, and the church of St. Ambrosio. His
house was flanked with two towers, stood behind the city wall, and
looked out upon a rich and beautiful country, as far as the Alps, the
tops of which, although it was summer, were still covered with snow.
Great was the joy of Petrarch when he found himself in a house near the
church of that Saint Ambrosio, for whom he had always cherished a
peculiar reverence. He himself tells us that he never entered that
temple without experiencing rekindled devotion. He visited the statue of
the saint, which was niched in one of the walls, and the stone figure
seemed to him to breathe, such was the majesty and tranquillity of the
sculpture. Near the church arose the chapel, where St. Augustin, after
his victory over his refractory passions, was bathed in the sacred
fountain of St. Ambrosio, and absolved from penance for his past life.

All this time, whilst Petrarch was so well pleased with his new abode,
his friends were astonished, and even grieved, at his fixing himself at
Milan. At Avignon, Socrates, Guido Settimo, and the Bishop of Cavaillon,
said among themselves, "What! this proud republican, who breathed
nothing but independence, who scorned an office in the papal court as a
gilded yoke, has gone and thrown himself into the chains of the tyrant
of Italy; this misanthrope, who delighted only in the silence of fields,
and perpetually praised a secluded life, now inhabits the most bustling
of cities! " At Florence, his friends entertained the same sentiments,
and wrote to him reproachfully on the subject. "I would wish to be
silent," says Boccaccio, "but I cannot hold my peace. My reverence for
you would incline me to hold silence, but my indignation obliges me to
speak out. How has Silvanus acted? " (Under the name of Silvanus he
couches that of Petrarch, in allusion to his love of rural retirement. )
"He has forgotten his dignity; he has forgotten all the language he used
to hold respecting the state of Italy, his hatred of the Archbishop, and
his love of liberty; and he would imprison the Muses in that court. To
whom can we now give our faith, when Silvanus, who formerly pronounced
the Visconti a cruel tyrant, has now bowed himself to the yoke which he
once so boldly condemned? How has the Visconti obtained this truckling,
which neither King Robert, nor the Pope, nor the Emperor, could ever
obtain? You will say, perhaps, that you have been ill-used by your
fellow-citizens, who have withheld from you your paternal property. I
disapprove not your just indignation; but Heaven forbid I should believe
that, righteously and honestly, any injury, from whomsoever we may
receive it, can justify our taking part against our country. It is in
vain for you to allege that you have not incited him to war against our
country, nor lent him either your arm or advice. How can you be happy
with him, whilst you are hearing of the ruins, the conflagrations, the
imprisonments, the deaths, and the rapines, that he spreads around him? "

Petrarch's answers to these and other reproaches which his friends sent
to him were cold, vague, and unsatisfactory. He denied that he had
sacrificed his liberty; and told Boccaccio that, after all, it was less
humiliating to be subservient to a single tyrant than to be, as he,
Boccaccio, was, subservient to a whole tyrannical people. This was an
unwise, implied confession on the part of Petrarch that he was the slave
of Visconti. Sismondi may be rather harsh in pronouncing Petrarch to
have been all his life a Troubadour; but there is something in his
friendship with the Lord of Milan that palliates the accusation. In
spite of this severe letter from Boccaccio, it is strange, and yet,
methinks, honourable to both, that their friendship was never broken.

Levati, in his "_Viaggi di Petrarca_," ascribes the poet's settlement at
Milan to his desire of accumulating a little money, not for himself, but
for his natural children; and in some of Petrarch's letters, subsequent
to this period, there are allusions to his own circumstances which give
countenance to this suspicion.

However this may be, Petrarch deceived himself if he expected to have
long tranquillity in such a court as that of Milan. He was perpetually
obliged to visit the Viscontis, and to be present at every feast that
they gave to honour the arrival of any illustrious stranger. A more than
usually important visitant soon came to Milan, in the person of Cardinal
Egidio Albornoz, who arrived at the head of an army, with a view to
restore to the Church large portions of its territory which had been
seized by some powerful families. The Cardinal entered Milan on the 14th
of September, 1353. John Visconti, though far from being delighted at
his arrival, gave him an honourable reception, defrayed all the expenses
of his numerous retinue, and treated him magnificently. He went out
himself to meet him, two miles from the city, accompanied by his nephews
and his courtiers, including Petrarch. Our poet joined the suite of
Galeazzo Visconti, and rode near him. The Legate and his retinue rode
also on horseback. When the two parties met, the dust, that rose in
clouds from the feet of the horses, prevented them from discerning each
other. Petrarch, who had advanced beyond the rest, found himself, he
knew not how, in the midst of the Legate's train, and very near to him.
Salutations passed on either side, but with very little speaking, for
the dust had dried their throats.

Petrarch made a backward movement, to regain his place among his
company. His horse, in backing, slipped with his hind-legs into a ditch
on the side of the road, but, by a sort of miracle, the animal kept his
fore-feet for some time on the top of the ditch. If he had fallen back,
he must have crushed his rider.
Petrarch was not afraid, for he was not
aware of his danger; but Galeazzo Visconti and his people dismounted to
rescue the poet, who escaped without injury.

The Legate treated Petrarch, who little expected it, with the utmost
kindness and distinction, and, granting all that he asked for his
friends, pressed him to mention something worthy of his own acceptance.
Petrarch replied: "When I ask for my friends, is it not the same as for
myself? Have I not the highest satisfaction in receiving favours for
them? I have long put a rein on my own desires. Of what, then, can I
stand in need? "

After the departure of the Legate, Petrarch retired to his _rus in
urbe_. In a letter dated thence to his friend the Prior of the Holy
Apostles, we find him acknowledging feelings that were far distant from
settled contentment. "You have heard," he says, "how much my peace has
been disturbed, and my leisure broken in upon, by an importunate crowd
and by unforeseen occupations. The Legate has left Milan. He was
received at Florence with unbounded applause: as for poor me, I am again
in my retreat. I have been long free, happy, and master of my time; but
I feel, at present, that liberty and leisure are only for souls of
consummate virtue. When we are not of that class of beings, nothing is
more dangerous for a heart subject to the passions than to be free,
idle, and alone. The snares of voluptuousness are _then_ more dangerous,
and corrupt thoughts gain an easier entrance--above all, love, that
seducing tormentor, from whom I thought that I had now nothing more to
fear. "

From these expressions we might almost conclude that he had again fallen
in love; but if it was so, we have no evidence as to the object of his
new passion.

During his half-retirement, Petrarch learned news which disturbed his
repose. A courier arrived, one night, bringing an account of the entire
destruction of the Genoese fleet, in a naval combat with that of the
Venetians, which took place on the 19th of August, 1353, near the island
of Sardinia. The letters which the poet had written, in order to
conciliate those two republics, had proved as useless as the
pacificatory efforts of Clement VI. and his successor, Innocent.
Petrarch, who had constantly predicted the eventual success of Genoa,
could hardly believe his senses, when he heard of the Genoese being
defeated at sea. He wrote a letter of lamentation and astonishment on
the subject to his friend Guido Settimo. He saw, as it were, one of the
eyes of his country destroying the other. The courier, who brought these
tidings to Milan, gave a distressing account of the state of Genoa.
There was not a family which had not lost one of its members.

Petrarch passed a whole night in composing a letter to the Genoese, in
which he exhorted them, after the example of the Romans, never to
despair of the republic. His lecture never reached them. On awakening in
the morning, Petrarch learned that the Genoese had lost every spark of
their courage, and that the day before they had subscribed the most
humiliating concessions in despair.

It has been alleged by some of his biographers that Petrarch suppressed
his letter to the Genoese from his fear of the Visconti family. John
Visconti had views on Genoa, which was a port so conveniently situated
that he naturally coveted the possession of it. He invested it on all
sides by land, whilst its other enemies blockaded it by sea; so that the
city was reduced to famine. The partizans of John Visconti insinuated to
the Genoese that they had no other remedy than to place themselves under
the protection of the Prince of Milan. Petrarch was not ignorant of the
Visconti's views; and it has been, therefore, suspected that he kept
back his exhortatory epistle from his apprehension, that if he had
despatched it, John Visconti would have made it the last epistle of his
life. The morning after writing it, he found that Genoa had signed a
treaty of almost abject submission; after which his exhortation would
have been only an insult to the vanquished.

The Genoese were not long in deliberating on the measures which they
were to take. In a few days their deputies arrived at Milan, imploring
the aid and protection of John Visconti, as well as offering him the
republic of Genoa and all that belonged to it. After some conferences,
the articles of the treaty were signed; and the Lord of Milan accepted
with pleasure the possession that was offered to him.

Petrarch, as a counsellor of Milan, attended these conferences, and
condoled with the deputies from Genoa; though we cannot suppose that he
approved, in his heart, of the desperate submission of the Genoese in
thus throwing themselves into the arms of the tyrant of Italy, who had
been so long anxious either to invade them in open quarrel, or to enter
their States upon a more amicable pretext. John Visconti immediately
took possession of the city of Genoa; and, after having deposed the doge
and senate, took into his own hands the reins of government.

Weary of Milan, Petrarch betook himself to the country, and made a
temporary residence at the castle of St. Columba, which was now a
monastery. This mansion was built in 1164, by the celebrated Frederick
Barbarossa. It now belonged to the Carthusian monks of Pavia. Petrarch
has given a beautiful description of this edifice, and of the
magnificent view which it commands.

Whilst he was enjoying this glorious scenery, he received a letter from
Socrates, informing him that he had gone to Vaucluse in company with
Guido Settimo, whose intention to accompany Petrarch in his journey to
Italy had been prevented by a fit of illness. Petrarch, when he heard of
this visit, wrote to express his happiness at their thus honouring his
habitation, at the same time lamenting that he was not one of their
party. "Repair," he said, "often to the same retreat. Make use of my
books, which deplore the absence of their owner, and the death of their
keeper" (he alluded to his old servant). "My country-house is the temple
of peace, and the home of repose. "

From the contents of his letter, on this occasion, it is obvious that he
had not yet found any spot in Italy where he could determine on fixing
himself permanently; otherwise he would not have left his books behind
him.

When he wrote about his books, he was little aware of the danger that
was impending over them. On Christmas day a troop of robbers, who had
for some time infested the neighbourhood of Vaucluse, set fire to the
poet's house, after having taken away everything that they could carry
off. An ancient vault stopped the conflagration, and saved the mansion
from being entirely consumed by the flames. Luckily, the person to whose
care he had left his house--the son of the worthy rustic, lately
deceased--having a presentiment of the robbery, had conveyed to the
castle a great many books which Petrarch left behind him; and the
robbers, believing that there were persons in the castle to defend it,
had not the courage to make an attack.

As Petrarch grew old, we do not find him improve in consistency. In his
letter, dated the 21st of October, 1353, it is evident that he had a
return of his hankering after Vaucluse. He accordingly wrote to his
friends, requesting that they would procure him an establishment in the
Comtat. Socrates, upon this, immediately communicated with the Bishop of
Cavaillon, who did all that he could to obtain for the poet the object
of his wish. It appears that the Bishop endeavoured to get for him a
good benefice in his own diocese. The thing was never accomplished.
Without doubt, the enemies, whom he had excited by writing freely about
the Church, and who were very numerous at Avignon, frustrated his
wishes.

After some time Petrarch received a letter from the Emperor Charles IV.
in answer to one which the poet had expedited to him about three years
before. Our poet, of course, did not fail to acknowledge his Imperial
Majesty's late-coming letter. He commences his reply with a piece of
pleasantry: "I see very well," he says, "that it is as difficult for
your Imperial Majesty's despatches and couriers to cross the Alps, as it
is for your person and legions. " He wonders that the Emperor had not
followed his advice, and hastened into Italy, to take possession of the
empire. "What consoles me," he adds, "is, that if you do not adopt my
sentiments, you at least approve of my zeal; and that is the greatest
recompense I could receive. " He argues the question with the Emperor
with great force and eloquence; and, to be sure, there never was a
fairer opportunity for Charles IV. to enter Italy. The reasons which his
Imperial Majesty alleges, for waiting a little time to watch the course
of events, display a timid and wavering mind.

A curious part of his letter is that in which he mentions Rienzo.
"Lately," he says, "we have seen at Rome, suddenly elevated to supreme
power, a man who was neither king, nor consul, nor patrician, and who
was hardly known as a Roman citizen. Although he was not distinguished
by his ancestry, yet he dared to declare himself the restorer of public
liberty. What title more brilliant for an obscure man! Tuscany
immediately submitted to him. All Italy followed her example; and Europe
and the whole world were in one movement. We have seen the event; it is
not a doubtful tale of history. Already, under the reign of the Tribune,
justice, peace, good faith, and security, were restored, and we saw
vestiges of the golden age appearing once more. In the moment of his
most brilliant success, he chose to submit to others. I blame nobody. I
wish neither to acquit nor to condemn; but I know what I ought to think.
That man had only the title of Tribune. Now, if the name of Tribune
could produce such an effect, what might not the title of Caesar
produce! "

Charles did not enter Italy until a year after the date of our poet's
epistle; and it is likely that the increasing power of John Visconti
made a far deeper impression on his irresolute mind than all the
rhetoric of Petrarch. Undoubtedly, the petty lords of Italy were fearful
of the vipers of Milan. It was thus that they denominated the Visconti
family, in allusion to their coat of arms, which represented an immense
serpent swallowing a child, though the device was not their own, but
borrowed from a standard which they had taken from the Saracens. The
submission of Genoa alarmed the whole of Italy. The Venetians took
measures to form a league against the Visconti; and the Princes of
Padua, Modena, Mantua, and Verona joined it, and the confederated lords
sent a deputation to the Emperor, to beg that he would support them; and
they proposed that he should enter Italy at their expense. The
opportunity was too good to be lost; and the Emperor promised to do all
that they wished. This league gave great trouble to John Visconti. In
order to appease the threatening storm, he immediately proposed to the
Emperor that he should come to Milan and receive the iron crown; while
he himself, by an embassy from Milan, would endeavour to restore peace
between the Venetians and the Genoese.

Petrarch appeared to John Visconti the person most likely to succeed in
this negotiation, by his eloquence, and by his intimacy with Andrea
Dandolo, who governed the republic of Venice. The poet now wished for
repose, and journeys began to fatigue him; but the Visconti knew so well
how to flatter and manage him, that he could not resist the proposal.

At the commencement of the year 1354, before he departed for Venice,
Petrarch received a present, which gave him no small delight. It was a
Greek Homer, sent to him by Nichola Sigeros, Praetor of Romagna. Petrarch
wrote a long letter of thanks to Sigeros, in which there is a remarkable
confession of the small progress which he had made in the Greek
language, though at the same time he begs his friend Sigeros to send him
copies of Hesiod and Euripides.

A few days afterwards he set out to Venice. He was the chief of the
embassy. He went with confidence, flattering himself that he should find
the Venetians more tractable and disposed to peace, both from their fear
of John Visconti, and from some checks which their fleet had
experienced, since their victory off Sardinia. But he was unpleasantly
astonished to find the Venetians more exasperated than humbled by their
recent losses, and by the union of the Lord of Milan with the Genoese.
All his eloquence could not bring them to accept the proposals he had to
offer. Petrarch completely failed in his negotiation, and, after passing
a month at Venice, he returned to Milan full of chagrin.

Two circumstances seem to have contributed to render the Venetians
intractable. The princes with whom they were leagued had taken into
their pay the mercenary troops of Count Lando, which composed a very
formidable force; and further, the Emperor promised to appear very soon
in Italy at the head of an army.

Some months afterwards, Petrarch wrote to the Doge of Venice, saying,
that he saw with grief that the hearts of the Venetians were shut
against wise counsels, and he then praises John Visconti as a lover of
peace and humanity.

After a considerable interval, Andrea Dandolo answered our poet's
letter, and was very sarcastic upon him for his eulogy on John Visconti.
At this moment, Visconti was arming the Genoese fleet, the command of
which he gave to Paganino Doria, the admiral who had beaten the
Venetians in the Propontis. Doria set sail with thirty-three vessels,
entered the Adriatic, sacked and pillaged some towns, and did much
damage on the Venetian coast. The news of this descent spread
consternation in Venice. It was believed that the Genoese fleet were in
the roads; and the Doge took all possible precautions to secure the
safety of the State.

But Dandolo's health gave way at this crisis, vexed as he was to see the
maiden city so humbled in her pride. His constitution rapidly declined,
and he died the 8th of September, 1354. He was extremely popular among
the Venetians. Petrarch, in a letter written shortly after his death,
says of him: "He was a virtuous man, upright, full of love and zeal for
his republic; learned, eloquent, wise, and affable. He had only one
fault, to wit, that he loved war too much. From this error he judged of
a cause by its event. The luckiest cause always appeared to him the most
just, which made him often repeat what Scipio Africanus said, and what
Lucan makes Caesar repeat: 'Haec acies victum factura nocentem. '"

If Dandolo had lived a little longer, and continued his ethical theory
of judging a cause by its success, he would have had a hint, from the
disasters of Venice, that his own cause was not the most righteous. The
Genoese, having surprised the Venetians off the island of Sapienza,
obtained one of the completest victories on record. All the Venetian
vessels, with the exception of one that escaped, were taken, together
with their admiral. It is believed that, if the victors had gone
immediately to Venice, they might have taken the city, which was
defenceless, and in a state of consternation; but the Genoese preferred
returning home to announce their triumph, and to partake in the public
joy. About the time of the Doge's death, another important public event
took place in the death of John Visconti. He had a carbuncle upon his
forehead, just above the eyebrows, which he imprudently caused to be
cut; and, on the very day of the operation, October 4th, 1354, he
expired so suddenly as not to have time to receive the sacrament.

John Visconti had three nephews, Matteo, Galeazzo, and Barnabo. They
were his heirs, and took possession of his dominions in common, a few
days after his death, without any dispute among themselves. The day for
their inauguration was fixed, such was the superstition of the times, by
an astrologer; and on that day Petrarch was commissioned to make to the
assembled people an address suited to the ceremony. He was still in the
midst of his harangue, when the astrologer declared with a loud voice
that the moment for the ceremony was come, and that it would be
dangerous to let it pass. Petrarch, heartily as he despised the false
science, immediately stopped his discourse. The astrologer, somewhat
disconcerted, replied that there was still a little time, and that the
orator might continue to speak. Petrarch answered that he had nothing
more to say. Whilst some laughed, and others were indignant at the
interruption, the astrologer exclaimed "that the happy moment was come;"
on which an old officer carried three white stakes, like the palisades
of a town, and gave one to each of the brothers; and the ceremony was
thus concluded.

The countries which the three brothers shared amongst them comprehended
not only what was commonly called the Duchy, before the King of Sardinia
acquired a great part of it, but the territories of Parma, Piacenza,
Bologna, Lodi, Bobbio, Pontremoli, and many other places.

There was an entire dissimilarity among the brothers. Matteo hated
business, and was addicted to the grossest debaucheries. Barnabo was a
monster of tyranny and cruelty. Petrarch, nevertheless, condescended to
be godfather to one of Barnabo's sons, and presented the child with a
gilt cup. He also composed a Latin poem, on the occasion of his godson
being christened by the name of Marco, in which he passes in review all
the great men who had borne that name.

Galeazzo was very different from his brothers. He had much kindliness of
disposition. One of his greatest pleasures was his intercourse with men
of letters. He almost worshipped Petrarch, and it was his influence that
induced the poet to settle at Milan. Unlike as they were in
dispositions, the brothers, nevertheless, felt how important it was that
they should be united, in order to protect themselves against the
league which threatened them; and, at first, they lived in the greatest
harmony. Barnabo, the most warlike, was charged with whatever concerned
the military. Business of every other kind devolved on Galeazzo. Matteo,
as the eldest, presided over all; but, conscious of his incapacity, he
took little share in the deliberations of his brothers. Nothing
important was done without consulting Petrarch; and this flattering
confidence rendered Milan as agreeable to him as any residence could be,
consistently with his love of change.

The deaths of the Doge of Venice and of the Lord of Milan were soon
followed by another, which, if it had happened some years earlier, would
have strongly affected Petrarch. This was the tragic end of Rienzo. Our
poet's opinion of this extraordinary man had been changed by his later
conduct, and he now took but a comparatively feeble interest in him.
Under the pontificate of Clement VI. , the ex-Tribune, after his fall,
had been consigned to a prison at Avignon. Innocent, the succeeding
Pope, thought differently of him from his predecessor, and sent the
Cardinal Albornoz into Italy, with an order to establish him at Rome,
and to confide the government of the city to him under the title of
senator. The Cardinal obeyed the injunction; but after a brief and
inglorious struggle with the faction of the Colonnas, Rienzo perished in
a popular sedition on the 8th of October, 1354.

War was now raging between the States of the Venetian League and Milan,
united with Genoa, when a new actor was brought upon the scene. The
Emperor, who had been solicited by one half of Italy to enter the
kingdom, but who hesitated from dread of the Lord of Milan, was
evidently induced by the intelligence of John Visconti's death to accept
this invitation. In October, 1354, his Imperial Majesty entered Italy,
with no show of martial preparation, being attended by only three
hundred horsemen. On the 10th of November he arrived at Mantua, where he
was received as sovereign. There he stopped for some time, before he
pursued his route to Rome.

The moment Petrarch heard of his arrival, he wrote to his Imperial
Majesty in transports of joy. "You are no longer," he said, "king of
Bohemia. I behold in you the king of the world, the Roman emperor, the
true Caesar. " The Emperor received this letter at Mantua, and in a few
days sent Sacromore de Pomieres, one of his squires, to invite Petrarch
to come and meet him, expressing the utmost eagerness to see him.
Petrarch could not resist so flattering an invitation; he was not to be
deterred even by the unprecedented severity of the frost, and departed
from Milan on the 9th of December; but, with all the speed that he could
make, was not able to reach Mantua till the 12th.

The Emperor thanked him for having come to him in such dreadful weather,
the like of which he had scarcely ever felt, even in Germany. "The
Emperor," says Petrarch, "received me in a manner that partook neither
of imperial haughtiness nor of German etiquette. We passed sometimes
whole days together, from morning to night, in conversation, as if his
Majesty had had nothing else to do. He spoke to me about my works, and
expressed a great desire to see them, particularly my 'Treatise on
Illustrious Men. ' I told him that I had not yet put my last hand to it,
and that, before I could do so, I required to have leisure and repose.
He gave me to understand that he should be very glad to see it appear
under his own patronage, that is to say, dedicated to himself. I said to
him, with that freedom of speech which Nature has given me, and which
years have fortified, 'Great prince, for this purpose, nothing more is
necessary than, virtue on your part, and leisure on mine. ' He asked me
to explain myself. I said, 'I must have time for a work of this nature,
in which I propose to include great things in a small space. On your
part, labour to deserve that your name should appear at the head of my
book. For this end, it is not enough that you wear a crown; your virtues
and great actions must place you among the great men whose portraits I
have delineated. Live in such a manner, that, after reading the lives of
your illustrious predecessors, you may feel assured that your own life
shall deserve to be read by posterity. '

"The Emperor showed by a smile that my liberty had not displeased him, I
seized this opportunity of presenting him with some imperial medals, in
gold and in silver, and gave him a short sketch of the lives of those
worthies whose images they bore. He seemed to listen to me with
pleasure, and, graciously accepting the medals, declared that he never
had received a more agreeable present.

"I should never end if I were to relate to you all the conversations
which I held with this prince. He desired me one day to relate the
history of my life to him. I declined to do so at first; but he would
take no refusal, and I obeyed him. He heard me with attention, and, if I
omitted any circumstances from forgetfulness or the fear of being
wearisome, he brought them back to my memory. He then asked me what were
my projects for the future, and my plans for the rest of my life. 'My
intentions are good,' I replied to him, 'but a bad habit, which I cannot
conquer, masters my better will, and I resemble a sea beaten by two
opposite winds,' 'I can understand that,' he said; 'but I wish to know
what is the kind of life that would most decidedly please you? ' 'A
secluded life,' I replied to him, without hesitation. 'If I could, I
should go and seek for such a life at its fountain-head; that is, among
the woods and mountains, as I have already done. If I could not go so
far to find it, I should seek to enjoy it in the midst of cities. '

"The Emperor differed from me totally as to the benefits of a solitary
life. I told him that I had composed a treatise on the subject. 'I know
that,' said the Emperor; 'and if I ever find your book, I shall throw it
into the fire. ' 'And,' I replied, 'I shall take care that it never falls
into your hands. ' On this subject we had long and frequent disputes,
always seasoned with pleasantry. I must confess that the Emperor
combated my system on a solitary life with surprising energy. "

Petrarch remained eight days with the King of Bohemia, at Mantua, where
he was witness to all his negotiations with the Lords of the league of
Lombardy, who came to confer with his Imperial Majesty, in that city, or
sent thither their ambassadors. The Emperor, above all things, wished to
ascertain the strength of this confederation; how much each principality
would contribute, and how much might be the sum total of the whole
contribution. The result of this inquiry was, that the forces of the
united confederates were not sufficient to make head against the
Visconti, who had thirty thousand well-disciplined men. The Emperor,
therefore, decided that it was absolutely necessary to conclude a peace.
This prince, pacific and without ambition, had, indeed, come into Italy
with this intention; and was only anxious to obtain two crowns without
drawing a sword. He saw, therefore, with satisfaction that there was no
power in Italy to protract hostilities by strengthening the coalition.

He found difficulties, however, in the settlement of a general peace.
The Viscontis felt their superiority; and the Genoese, proud of a
victory which they had obtained over the Venetians, insisted on hard
terms. The Emperor, more intent upon his personal interests than the
good of Italy, merely negotiated a truce between the belligerents. He
prevailed upon the confederates to disband the company of Count Lando,
which cost much and effected little.