The
Cardinal was fond of his conversation, but sometimes rallied the poet on
his enthusiasm for his native Italy.
Cardinal was fond of his conversation, but sometimes rallied the poet on
his enthusiasm for his native Italy.
Petrarch
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. I have to offer you only complaints and regrets. You have forgotten
us. I say more--you have forgotten yourself in neglecting Italy. We had
high hopes that Heaven had sent you to restore us our liberty; but it
seems that you refuse this mission, and, whilst the time should be spent
in acting, you lose it in deliberating.
"You see, Caesar, with what confidence an obscure man addresses you, a
man who has not even the advantage of being known to you. But, far from
being offended with the liberty I take, you ought rather to thank your
own character, which inspires me with such confidence. To return to my
subject--wherefore do you lose time in consultation? To all appearance,
you are sure of the future, if you will avail yourself of the present.
You cannot be ignorant that the success of great affairs often hangs
upon an instant, and that a day has been frequently sufficient to
consummate what it required ages to undo. Believe me, your glory and the
safety of the commonwealth, your own interests, as well as ours, require
that there be no delay. You are still young, but time is flying; and old
age will come and take you by surprise when you are at least expecting
it. Are you afraid of too soon commencing an enterprise for which a long
life would scarcely suffice?
"The Roman empire, shaken by a thousand storms, and as often deceived by
fallacious calms, places at last its whole hopes in you. It recovers a
little breath even under the shelter of your name; but hope alone will
not support it. In proportion as you know the grandeur of the
undertaking, consummate it the sooner. Let not the love of your
Transalpine dominions detain you longer. In beholding Germany, think of
Italy. If the one has given you birth, the other has given you
greatness. If you are king of the one, you are king and emperor of the
other. Let me say, without meaning offence to other nations, that here
is the head of your monarchy. Everywhere else you will find only its
members. What a glorious project to unite those members to their head!
"I am aware that you dislike all innovation; but what I propose would be
no innovation on your part. Italy is as well known to you as Germany.
Brought hither in your youth by your illustrious sire, he made you
acquainted with our cities and our manners, and taught you here the
first lessons of war. In the bloom of your youth, you have obtained
great victories. Can you fear at present to enter a country where you
have triumphed since your childhood?
"By the singular favour of Heaven we have regained the ancient right of
being governed by a prince of our own nation. [L] Let Germany say what
she will, Italy is veritably your country * * * * * Come with haste to
restore peace to Italy. Behold Rome, once the empress of the world, now
pale, with scattered locks and torn garments, at your feet, imploring
your presence and support! " Then follows a dissertation on the history
and heroes of Rome, which might be wearisome if transcribed to a modern
reader. But the epistle, upon the whole, is manly and eloquent.
A few days after despatching his letter to the Emperor, Petrarch made a
journey to Verona to see his friends. There he wrote to Socrates. In
this letter, after enumerating the few friends whom the plague had
spared, he confesses that he could not flatter himself with the hope of
being able to join them in Provence. He therefore invokes them to come
to Italy, and to settle either at Parma or at Padua, or any other place
that would suit them. His remaining friends, here enumerated, were only
Barbato of Sulmona, Francesco Rinucci, John Boccaccio, Laelius, Guido
Settimo, and Socrates.
Petrarch had returned to Padua, there to rejoin the Cardinal of
Boulogne. The Cardinal came back thither at the end of April, 1350, and,
after dispensing his blessings, spiritual and temporal, set out for
Avignon, travelling by way of Milan and Genoa. Petrarch accompanied the
prelate out of personal attachment on a part of his journey.
The
Cardinal was fond of his conversation, but sometimes rallied the poet on
his enthusiasm for his native Italy. When they reached the territory of
Verona, near the lake of Guarda, they were struck by the beauty of the
prospect, and stopped to contemplate it. In the distance were the Alps,
topped with snow even in summer. Beneath was the lake of Guarda, with
its flux and reflux, like the sea, and around them were the rich hills
and fertile valleys. "It must be confessed," said the Legate to
Petrarch, "that your country is more beautiful than ours. " The face of
Petrarch brightened up. "But you must agree," continued the Cardinal,
perhaps to moderate the poet's exultation, "that ours is more tranquil. "
"That is true," replied Petrarch, "but we can obtain tranquillity
whenever we choose to come to our senses, and desire peace, whereas you
cannot procure those beauties which nature has lavished _on us_. "
Petrarch here took leave of the Cardinal, and set out for Parma. Taking
Mantua in his way, he set out from thence in the evening, in order to
sleep at Luzora, five leagues from the Po. The lords of that city had
sent a courier to Mantua, desiring that he would honour them with his
presence at supper. The melting snows and the overflowing river had made
the roads nearly impassable; but he reached the place in time to avail
himself of the invitation. His hosts gave him a magnificent reception.
The supper was exquisite, the dishes rare, the wines delicious, and the
company full of gaiety. But a small matter, however, will spoil the
finest feast. The supper was served up in a damp, low hall, and all
sorts of insects annoyed the convivials. To crown their misfortune an
army of frogs, attracted, no doubt, by the odour of the meats, crowded
and croaked about them, till they were obliged to leave their unfinished
supper.
Petrarch returned next day for Parma. We find, from the original
fragments of his poems, brought to light by Ubaldini, that he was
occupied in retouching them during the summer which he passed at Parma,
waiting for the termination of the excessive heats, to go to Rome and
attend the jubilee. With a view to make the journey pleasanter, he
invited Guglielmo di Pastrengo to accompany him, in a letter written in
Latin verse. Nothing would have delighted Guglielmo more than a journey
to Rome with Petrarch; but he was settled at Verona, and could not
absent himself from his family.
In lieu of Pastrengo, Petrarch found a respectable old abbot, and
several others who were capable of being agreeable, and from their
experience, useful companions to him on the road. In the middle of
October, 1350, they departed from Florence for Rome, to attend the
jubilee. On his way between Bolsena and Viterbo, he met with an accident
which threatened dangerous consequences, and which he relates in a
letter to Boccaccio.
"On the 15th of October," he says, "we left Bolsena, a little town
scarcely known at present; but interesting from having been anciently
one of the principal places in Etruria. Occupied with the hopes of
seeing Rome in five days, I reflected on the changes in our modes of
thinking which are made by the course of years. Fourteen years ago I
repaired to the great city from sheer curiosity to see its wonders. The
second time I came was to receive the laurel. My third and fourth
journey had no object but to render services to my persecuted friends.
My present visit ought to be more happy, since its only object is my
eternal salvation. " It appears, however, that the horses of the
travellers had no such devotional feelings; "for," he continues, "whilst
my mind was full of these thoughts, the horse of the old abbot, which
was walking upon my left, kicking at my horse, struck me upon the leg,
just below the knee. The blow was so violent that it sounded as if a
bone was broken. My attendants came up. I felt an acute pain, which made
me, at first, desirous of stopping; but, fearing the dangerousness of
the place, I made a virtue of necessity, and went on to Viterbo, where
we arrived very late on the 16th of October. Three days afterwards they
dragged me to Rome with much trouble. As soon as I arrived at Rome, I
called for doctors, who found the bone laid bare. It was not, however,
thought to be broken; though the shoe of the horse had left its
impression. "
However impatient Petrarch might be to look once more on the beauties of
Rome, and to join in the jubilee, he was obliged to keep his bed for
many days.
The concourse of pilgrims to this jubilee was immense. One can scarcely
credit the common account that there were about a million pilgrims at
one time assembled in the great city. "We do not perceive," says
Petrarch, "that the plague has depopulated the world. " And, indeed, if
this computation of the congregated pilgrims approaches the truth, we
cannot but suspect that the alleged depopulation of Europe, already
mentioned, must have been exaggerated. "The crowds," he continues,
"diminished a little during summer and the gathering-in of the harvest;
but recommenced towards the end of the year. The great nobles and ladies
from beyond the Alps came the last. "
[Illustration: BRIDGE OF SIGHS,--VENICE. ]
Many of the female pilgrims arrived by way of the marshes of Ancona,
where Bernardino di Roberto, Lord of Ravenna, waited for them, and
scandal whispered that his assiduities and those of his suite were but
too successful in seducing them. A contemporary author, in allusion to
the circumstance, remarks that journeys and indulgences are not good for
young persons, and that the fair ones had better have remained at home,
since the vessel that stays in port is never shipwrecked.
The strangers, who came from all countries, were for the most part
unacquainted with the Italian language, and were obliged to employ
interpreters in making their confession, for the sake of obtaining
absolution. It was found that many of the pretended interpreters were
either imperfectly acquainted with the language of the foreigners, or
were knaves in collusion with the priestly confessors, who made the poor
pilgrims confess whatever they chose, and pay for their sins
accordingly. A better subject for a scene in comedy could scarcely be
imagined. But, to remedy this abuse, penitentiaries were established at
Rome, in which the confessors understood foreign languages.
The number of days fixed for the Roman pilgrims to visit the churches
was thirty; and fifteen or ten for the Italians and other strangers,
according to the distance of the places from which they came.
Petrarch says that it is inconceivable how the city of Rome, whose
adjacent fields were untilled, and whose vineyards had been frozen the
year before, could for twelve months support such a confluence of
people. He extols the hospitality of the citizens, and the abundance of
food which prevailed; but Villani and others give us more disagreeable
accounts--namely, that the Roman citizens became hotel-keepers, and
charged exorbitantly for lodgings, and for whatever they sold. Numbers
of pilgrims were thus necessitated to live poorly; and this, added to
their fatigue and the heats of summer, produced a great mortality.
As soon as Petrarch, relieved by surgical skill from the wound in his
leg, was allowed to go out, he visited all the churches.
After having performed his duties at the jubilee, Petrarch returned to
Padua, taking the road by Arezzo, the town which had the honour of his
birth. Leonardo Aretino says that his fellow-townsmen crowded around
him with delight, and received him with such honours as could have been
paid only to a king.
In the same month of December, 1350, he discovered a treasure which made
him happier than a king. Perhaps a royal head might not have equally
valued it. It was a copy of Quintilian's work "De Institutione
Oratoria," which, till then, had escaped all his researches. On the very
day of the discovery he wrote a letter to Quintilian, according to his
fantastic custom of epistolizing the ancients. Some days afterwards, he
left Arezzo to pursue his journey. The principal persons of the town
took leave of him publicly at his departure, after pointing out to him
the house in which he was born. "It was a small house," says Petrarch,
"befitting an exile, as my father was. " They told him that the
proprietors would have made some alterations in it; but the town had
interposed and prevented them, determined that the place should remain
the same as when it was first consecrated by his birth. The poet related
what had been mentioned to a young man who wrote to him expressly to ask
whether Arezzo could really boast of being his birthplace. Petrarch
added, that Arezzo had done more for him as a stranger than Florence as
a citizen. In truth, his family was of Florence; and it was only by
accident that he was born at Arezzo. He then went to Florence, where he
made but a short stay. There he found his friends still alarmed about
the accident which had befallen him in his journey to Rome, the news of
which he had communicated to Boccaccio.
Petrarch went on to Padua. On approaching it, he perceived a universal
mourning. He soon learned the foul catastrophe which had deprived the
city of one of its best masters.
Jacopo di Carrara had received into his house his cousin Guglielmo.
Though the latter was known to be an evil-disposed person, he was
treated with kindness by Jacopo, and ate at his table. On the 21st of
December, whilst Jacopo was sitting at supper, in the midst of his
friends, his people and his guards, the monster Guglielmo plunged a
dagger into his breast with such celerity, that even those who were
nearest could not ward off the blow. Horror-struck, they lifted him up,
whilst others put the assassin to instant death.
The fate of Jacopo Carrara gave Petrarch a dislike for Padua, and his
recollections of Vaucluse bent his unsettled mind to return to its
solitude; but he tarried at Padua during the winter. Here he spent a
great deal of his time with Ildebrando Conti, bishop of that city, a man
of rank and merit. One day, as he was dining at the Bishop's palace, two
Carthusian monks were announced: they were well received by the Bishop,
as he was partial to their order. He asked them what brought them to
Padua. "We are going," they said, "to Treviso, by the direction of our
general, there to remain and establish a monastery. " Ildebrando asked
if they knew Father Gherardo, Petrarch's brother. The two monks, who did
not know the poet, gave the most pleasing accounts of his brother.
The plague, they said, having got into the convent of Montrieux, the
prior, a pious but timorous man, told his monks that flight was the only
course which they could take: Gherardo answered with courage, "Go
whither you please! As for myself I will remain in the situation in
which Heaven has placed me. " The prior fled to his own country, where
death soon overtook him. Gherardo remained in the convent, where the
plague spared him, and left him alone, after having destroyed, within a
few days, thirty-four of the brethren who had continued with him. He
paid them every service, received their last sighs, and buried them when
death had taken off those to whom that office belonged. With only a dog
left for his companion, Gherardo watched at night to guard the house,
and took his repose by day. When the summer was over, he went to a
neighbouring monastery of the Carthusians, who enabled him to restore
his convent.
While the Carthusians were making this honourable mention of Father
Gherardo, the prelate cast his eyes from time to time upon Petrarch. "I
know not," says the poet, "whether my eyes were filled with tears, but
my heart was tenderly touched. " The Carthusians, at last discovering who
Petrarch was, saluted him with congratulations. Petrarch gives an
account of this interview in a letter to his brother himself.
Padua was too near to Venice for Petrarch not to visit now and then that
city which he called the wonder of the world. He there made acquaintance
with Andrea Dandolo, who was made Doge in 1343, though he was only
thirty-six years of age, an extraordinary elevation for so young a man;
but he possessed extraordinary merit. His mind was cultivated; he loved
literature, and easily became, as far as mutual demonstrations went, the
personal friend of Petrarch; though the Doge, as we shall see, excluded
this personal friendship from all influence on his political conduct.
The commerce of the Venetians made great progress under the Dogeship of
Andrea Dandolo. It was then that they began to trade with Egypt and
Syria, whence they brought silk, pearls, the spices, and other products
of the East. This prosperity excited the jealousy of the Genoese, as it
interfered with a commerce which they had hitherto monopolized. When the
Venetians had been chased from Constantinople by the Emperor Michael
Paleologus, they retained several fortresses in the Black Sea, which
enabled them to continue their trade with the Tartars in that sea, and
to frequent the fair of Tana. The Genoese, who were masters of Pera, a
suburb of Constantinople, would willingly have joined the Greeks in
expelling their Italian rivals altogether from the Black Sea; and
privateering hostilities actually commenced between the two republics,
which, in 1350, extended to the serious aspect of a national war.
The winter of that year was passed on both sides in preparations. The
Venetians sent ambassadors to the King of Arragon, who had some
differences with the Genoese about the Island of Sardinia, and to the
Emperor of Constantinople, who saw with any sensation in the world but
delight the flag of Genoa flying over the walls of Pera. A league
between those three powers was quickly concluded, and their grand,
common object was to destroy the city of Genoa.
It was impossible that these great movements of Venice should be unknown
at Padua. Petrarch, ever zealous for the common good of Italy, saw with
pain the kindling of a war which could not but be fatal to her, and
thought it his duty to open his heart to the Doge of Venice, who had
shown him so much friendship. He addressed to him, therefore, the
following letter from Padua, on the 14th of March, 1351:--
"My love for my country forces me to break silence; the goodness of your
character encourages me. Can I hold my peace whilst I hear the symptoms
of a coming storm that menaces my beloved country? Two puissant people
are flying to arms; two flourishing cities are agitated by the approach
of war. These cities are placed by nature like the two eyes of Italy;
the one in the south and west, and the other in the east and north, to
dominate over the two seas that surround them; so that, even after the
destruction of the Roman empire, this beautiful country was still
regarded as the queen of the world. I know that proud nations denied her
the empire of the land, but who dared ever to dispute with her the
empire of the sea?
"I shudder to think of our prospects. If Venice and Genoa turn their
victorious arms against each other, it is all over with us; we lose our
glory and the command of the sea. In this calamity we shall have a
consolation which we have ever had, namely, that if our enemies rejoice
in our calamities, they cannot at least derive any glory from them.
"In great affairs I have always dreaded the counsels of the young.
Youthful ignorance and inexperience have been the ruin of many empires.
I, therefore, learn with pleasure that you have named a council of
elders, to whom you have confided this affair. I expected no less than
this from your wisdom, which is far beyond your years.
"The state of your republic distresses me. I know the difference that
there is between the tumult of arms and the tranquillity of Parnassus. I
know that the sounds of Apollo's lyre accord but ill with the trumpets
of Mars; but if you have abandoned Parnassus, it has been only to fulfil
the duties of a good citizen and of a vigilant chief. I am persuaded, at
the same time, that in the midst of arms you think of peace; that you
would regard it as a triumph for yourself, and the greatest blessing you
could procure for your country. Did not Hannibal himself say that a sure
peace was more valuable than a hoped-for victory! If truth has extorted
this confession from the most warlike man that ever lived, is it not
plain that a pacific man ought to prefer peace even to a certain
victory? Who does not know that peace is the greatest of blessings, and
that war is the source of all evils?
"Do not deceive yourself; you have to deal with a keen people who know
not what it is to be conquered. Would it not be better to transfer the
war to Damascus, to Susa, or to Memphis? Think besides, that those whom
you are going to attack are your brothers. At Thebes, of old, two
brothers fought to their mutual destruction. Must Italy renew, in our
days, so atrocious a spectacle?
"Let us examine what may be the results of this war. Whether you are
conqueror or are conquered, one of the eyes of Italy will necessarily be
blinded, and the other much weakened; for it would be folly to flatter
yourself with the hopes of conquering so strong an enemy without much
effusion of blood.
"Brave men, powerful people! (I speak here to both of you) what is your
object--to what do you aspire? What will be the end of your dissensions?
It is not the blood of the Carthaginians or the Numantians that you are
about to spill, but it is Italian blood; the blood of a people who would
be the first to start up and offer to expend their blood, if any
barbarous nation were to attempt a new irruption among us. In that
event, their bodies would be the bucklers and ramparts of our common
country; they would live, or they would die with us. Ought the pleasure
of avenging a slight offence to carry more weight with you than the
public good and your own safety? Let revenge be the delight of women. Is
it not more glorious for men to forget an injury than to avenge it? to
pardon an enemy than to destroy him?
"If my feeble voice could make itself heard among those grave men who
compose your council, I am persuaded that you would not only _not_
reject the peace which is offered to you, but go to meet and embrace it
closely, so that it might not escape you. Consult your wise old men who
love the republic; they will speak the same language to you that I do.
"You, my lord, who are at the head of the council, and who govern your
republic, ought to recollect that the glory or the shame of these events
will fall principally on you. Raise yourself above yourself; look into,
examine everything with attention. Compare the success of the war with
the evils which it brings in its train. Weigh in a balance the good
effects and the evil, and you will say with Hannibal, that an hour is
sufficient to destroy the work of many years.
"The renown of your country is more ancient than is generally believed.
Several ages before the city of Venice was built, I find not only the
name of the Venetians famous, but also that of one of their dukes. Would
you submit to the caprices of fortune a glory acquired for so long a
time, and at so great a cost? You will render a great service to your
republic, if, preferring her safety to her glory, you give her incensed
and insane populace prudent and useful counsels, instead of offering
them brilliant and specious projects. The wise say that we cannot
purchase a virtue more precious than what is bought at the expense of
glory. If you adopt this axiom, your character will be handed down to
posterity, like that of the Duke of the Venetians, to whom I have
alluded. All the world will admire and love you.
[Illustration: VICENZA. ]
"To conceal nothing from you, I confess that I have heard with grief of
your league with the King of Arragon. What! shall Italians go and
implore succour of barbarous kings to destroy Italians? You will say,
perhaps, that your enemies have set you the example. My answer is, that
they are equally culpable. According to report, Venice, in order to
satiate her rage, calls to her aid tyrants of the west; whilst Genoa
brings in those of the east. This is the source of our calamities.
Carried away by the admiration of strange things, despising, I know not
why, the good things which we find in our own climate, we sacrifice
sound Italian faith to barbarian perfidy. Madmen that we are, we seek
among venal souls that which we could find among our own brethren.
"Nature has given us for barriers the Alps and the two seas. Avarice,
envy, and pride, have opened these natural defences to the Cimbri, the
Huns, the Goths, the Gauls, and the Spaniards. How often have we recited
the words of Virgil:--
"'Impius haec tam culta novalia miles habebit,
Barbarus has segetes. '
"Athens and Lacedemon had between them a species of rivalship similar to
yours: but their forces were not by any means so nearly balanced.
Lacedemon had an advantage over Athens, which put it in the power of the
former to destroy her rival, if she had wished it; but she replied, 'God
forbid that I should pull out one of the eyes of Greece! ' If this
beautiful sentiment came from a people whom Plato reproaches with their
avidity for conquest and dominion, what still softer reply ought we not
to expect from the most modest of nations!
"Amidst the movements which agitate you, it is impossible for me to be
tranquil. When I see one party cutting down trees to construct vessels,
and others sharpening their swords and darts, I should think myself
guilty if I did not seize my pen, which is my only weapon, to counsel
peace. I am aware with what circumspection we ought to speak to our
superiors; but the love of our country has no superior. If it should
carry me beyond bounds, it will serve as my excuse before you, and
oblige you to pardon me.
"Throwing myself at the feet of the chiefs of two nations who are going
to war, I say to them, with tears in my eyes, 'Throw away your arms;
give one another the embrace of peace! unite your hearts and your
colours. By this means the ocean and the Euxine shall be open to you.
Your ships will arrive in safety at Taprobane, at the Fortunate Isles,
at Thule, and even at the poles. The kings and their people will meet
you with respect; the Indian, the Englishman, the AEthiopian, will dread
you. May peace reign among you, and may you have nothing to fear! '
Adieu! greatest of dukes, and best of men! "
This letter produced no effect. Andrea Dandolo, in his answer to it,
alleges the thousand and one affronts and outrages which Venice had
suffered from Genoa. At the same time he pays a high compliment to the
eloquence of Petrarch's epistle, and says that it is a production which
could emanate only from a mind inspired by the divine Spirit.
During the spring of this year, 1351, Petrarch put his last finish to a
canzone, on the subject still nearest to his heart, the death of his
Laura, and to a sonnet on the same subject. In April, his attention was
recalled from visionary things by the arrival of Boccaccio, who was sent
by the republic of Florence to announce to him the recall of his family
to their native land, and the restoration of his family fortune, as well
as to invite him to the home of his ancestors, in the name of the
Florentine republic. The invitation was conveyed in a long and
flattering letter; but it appeared, from the very contents of this
epistle, that the Florentines wished our poet's acceptance of their
offer to be as advantageous to themselves as to him. They were
establishing a University, and they wished to put Petrarch at the head
of it. Petrarch replied in a letter apparently full of gratitude and
satisfaction, but in which he by no means pledged himself to be the
gymnasiarch of their new college; and, agreeably to his original
intention, he set out from Padua on the 3rd of May, 1351, for Provence.
Petrarch took the road to Vicenza, where he arrived at sunset. He
hesitated whether he should stop there, or take advantage of the
remainder of the day and go farther. But, meeting with some interesting
persons whose conversation beguiled him, night came on before he was
aware how late it was. Their conversation, in the course of the evening,
ran upon Cicero. Many were the eulogies passed on the great old Roman;
but Petrarch, after having lauded his divine genius and eloquence, said
something about his inconsistency. Every one was astonished at our
poet's boldness, but particularly a man, venerable for his age and
knowledge, who was an idolater of Cicero. Petrarch argued pretty freely
against the political character of the ancient orator. The same opinion
as to Cicero's weakness seems rather to have gained ground in later
ages.
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. I have to offer you only complaints and regrets. You have forgotten
us. I say more--you have forgotten yourself in neglecting Italy. We had
high hopes that Heaven had sent you to restore us our liberty; but it
seems that you refuse this mission, and, whilst the time should be spent
in acting, you lose it in deliberating.
"You see, Caesar, with what confidence an obscure man addresses you, a
man who has not even the advantage of being known to you. But, far from
being offended with the liberty I take, you ought rather to thank your
own character, which inspires me with such confidence. To return to my
subject--wherefore do you lose time in consultation? To all appearance,
you are sure of the future, if you will avail yourself of the present.
You cannot be ignorant that the success of great affairs often hangs
upon an instant, and that a day has been frequently sufficient to
consummate what it required ages to undo. Believe me, your glory and the
safety of the commonwealth, your own interests, as well as ours, require
that there be no delay. You are still young, but time is flying; and old
age will come and take you by surprise when you are at least expecting
it. Are you afraid of too soon commencing an enterprise for which a long
life would scarcely suffice?
"The Roman empire, shaken by a thousand storms, and as often deceived by
fallacious calms, places at last its whole hopes in you. It recovers a
little breath even under the shelter of your name; but hope alone will
not support it. In proportion as you know the grandeur of the
undertaking, consummate it the sooner. Let not the love of your
Transalpine dominions detain you longer. In beholding Germany, think of
Italy. If the one has given you birth, the other has given you
greatness. If you are king of the one, you are king and emperor of the
other. Let me say, without meaning offence to other nations, that here
is the head of your monarchy. Everywhere else you will find only its
members. What a glorious project to unite those members to their head!
"I am aware that you dislike all innovation; but what I propose would be
no innovation on your part. Italy is as well known to you as Germany.
Brought hither in your youth by your illustrious sire, he made you
acquainted with our cities and our manners, and taught you here the
first lessons of war. In the bloom of your youth, you have obtained
great victories. Can you fear at present to enter a country where you
have triumphed since your childhood?
"By the singular favour of Heaven we have regained the ancient right of
being governed by a prince of our own nation. [L] Let Germany say what
she will, Italy is veritably your country * * * * * Come with haste to
restore peace to Italy. Behold Rome, once the empress of the world, now
pale, with scattered locks and torn garments, at your feet, imploring
your presence and support! " Then follows a dissertation on the history
and heroes of Rome, which might be wearisome if transcribed to a modern
reader. But the epistle, upon the whole, is manly and eloquent.
A few days after despatching his letter to the Emperor, Petrarch made a
journey to Verona to see his friends. There he wrote to Socrates. In
this letter, after enumerating the few friends whom the plague had
spared, he confesses that he could not flatter himself with the hope of
being able to join them in Provence. He therefore invokes them to come
to Italy, and to settle either at Parma or at Padua, or any other place
that would suit them. His remaining friends, here enumerated, were only
Barbato of Sulmona, Francesco Rinucci, John Boccaccio, Laelius, Guido
Settimo, and Socrates.
Petrarch had returned to Padua, there to rejoin the Cardinal of
Boulogne. The Cardinal came back thither at the end of April, 1350, and,
after dispensing his blessings, spiritual and temporal, set out for
Avignon, travelling by way of Milan and Genoa. Petrarch accompanied the
prelate out of personal attachment on a part of his journey.
The
Cardinal was fond of his conversation, but sometimes rallied the poet on
his enthusiasm for his native Italy. When they reached the territory of
Verona, near the lake of Guarda, they were struck by the beauty of the
prospect, and stopped to contemplate it. In the distance were the Alps,
topped with snow even in summer. Beneath was the lake of Guarda, with
its flux and reflux, like the sea, and around them were the rich hills
and fertile valleys. "It must be confessed," said the Legate to
Petrarch, "that your country is more beautiful than ours. " The face of
Petrarch brightened up. "But you must agree," continued the Cardinal,
perhaps to moderate the poet's exultation, "that ours is more tranquil. "
"That is true," replied Petrarch, "but we can obtain tranquillity
whenever we choose to come to our senses, and desire peace, whereas you
cannot procure those beauties which nature has lavished _on us_. "
Petrarch here took leave of the Cardinal, and set out for Parma. Taking
Mantua in his way, he set out from thence in the evening, in order to
sleep at Luzora, five leagues from the Po. The lords of that city had
sent a courier to Mantua, desiring that he would honour them with his
presence at supper. The melting snows and the overflowing river had made
the roads nearly impassable; but he reached the place in time to avail
himself of the invitation. His hosts gave him a magnificent reception.
The supper was exquisite, the dishes rare, the wines delicious, and the
company full of gaiety. But a small matter, however, will spoil the
finest feast. The supper was served up in a damp, low hall, and all
sorts of insects annoyed the convivials. To crown their misfortune an
army of frogs, attracted, no doubt, by the odour of the meats, crowded
and croaked about them, till they were obliged to leave their unfinished
supper.
Petrarch returned next day for Parma. We find, from the original
fragments of his poems, brought to light by Ubaldini, that he was
occupied in retouching them during the summer which he passed at Parma,
waiting for the termination of the excessive heats, to go to Rome and
attend the jubilee. With a view to make the journey pleasanter, he
invited Guglielmo di Pastrengo to accompany him, in a letter written in
Latin verse. Nothing would have delighted Guglielmo more than a journey
to Rome with Petrarch; but he was settled at Verona, and could not
absent himself from his family.
In lieu of Pastrengo, Petrarch found a respectable old abbot, and
several others who were capable of being agreeable, and from their
experience, useful companions to him on the road. In the middle of
October, 1350, they departed from Florence for Rome, to attend the
jubilee. On his way between Bolsena and Viterbo, he met with an accident
which threatened dangerous consequences, and which he relates in a
letter to Boccaccio.
"On the 15th of October," he says, "we left Bolsena, a little town
scarcely known at present; but interesting from having been anciently
one of the principal places in Etruria. Occupied with the hopes of
seeing Rome in five days, I reflected on the changes in our modes of
thinking which are made by the course of years. Fourteen years ago I
repaired to the great city from sheer curiosity to see its wonders. The
second time I came was to receive the laurel. My third and fourth
journey had no object but to render services to my persecuted friends.
My present visit ought to be more happy, since its only object is my
eternal salvation. " It appears, however, that the horses of the
travellers had no such devotional feelings; "for," he continues, "whilst
my mind was full of these thoughts, the horse of the old abbot, which
was walking upon my left, kicking at my horse, struck me upon the leg,
just below the knee. The blow was so violent that it sounded as if a
bone was broken. My attendants came up. I felt an acute pain, which made
me, at first, desirous of stopping; but, fearing the dangerousness of
the place, I made a virtue of necessity, and went on to Viterbo, where
we arrived very late on the 16th of October. Three days afterwards they
dragged me to Rome with much trouble. As soon as I arrived at Rome, I
called for doctors, who found the bone laid bare. It was not, however,
thought to be broken; though the shoe of the horse had left its
impression. "
However impatient Petrarch might be to look once more on the beauties of
Rome, and to join in the jubilee, he was obliged to keep his bed for
many days.
The concourse of pilgrims to this jubilee was immense. One can scarcely
credit the common account that there were about a million pilgrims at
one time assembled in the great city. "We do not perceive," says
Petrarch, "that the plague has depopulated the world. " And, indeed, if
this computation of the congregated pilgrims approaches the truth, we
cannot but suspect that the alleged depopulation of Europe, already
mentioned, must have been exaggerated. "The crowds," he continues,
"diminished a little during summer and the gathering-in of the harvest;
but recommenced towards the end of the year. The great nobles and ladies
from beyond the Alps came the last. "
[Illustration: BRIDGE OF SIGHS,--VENICE. ]
Many of the female pilgrims arrived by way of the marshes of Ancona,
where Bernardino di Roberto, Lord of Ravenna, waited for them, and
scandal whispered that his assiduities and those of his suite were but
too successful in seducing them. A contemporary author, in allusion to
the circumstance, remarks that journeys and indulgences are not good for
young persons, and that the fair ones had better have remained at home,
since the vessel that stays in port is never shipwrecked.
The strangers, who came from all countries, were for the most part
unacquainted with the Italian language, and were obliged to employ
interpreters in making their confession, for the sake of obtaining
absolution. It was found that many of the pretended interpreters were
either imperfectly acquainted with the language of the foreigners, or
were knaves in collusion with the priestly confessors, who made the poor
pilgrims confess whatever they chose, and pay for their sins
accordingly. A better subject for a scene in comedy could scarcely be
imagined. But, to remedy this abuse, penitentiaries were established at
Rome, in which the confessors understood foreign languages.
The number of days fixed for the Roman pilgrims to visit the churches
was thirty; and fifteen or ten for the Italians and other strangers,
according to the distance of the places from which they came.
Petrarch says that it is inconceivable how the city of Rome, whose
adjacent fields were untilled, and whose vineyards had been frozen the
year before, could for twelve months support such a confluence of
people. He extols the hospitality of the citizens, and the abundance of
food which prevailed; but Villani and others give us more disagreeable
accounts--namely, that the Roman citizens became hotel-keepers, and
charged exorbitantly for lodgings, and for whatever they sold. Numbers
of pilgrims were thus necessitated to live poorly; and this, added to
their fatigue and the heats of summer, produced a great mortality.
As soon as Petrarch, relieved by surgical skill from the wound in his
leg, was allowed to go out, he visited all the churches.
After having performed his duties at the jubilee, Petrarch returned to
Padua, taking the road by Arezzo, the town which had the honour of his
birth. Leonardo Aretino says that his fellow-townsmen crowded around
him with delight, and received him with such honours as could have been
paid only to a king.
In the same month of December, 1350, he discovered a treasure which made
him happier than a king. Perhaps a royal head might not have equally
valued it. It was a copy of Quintilian's work "De Institutione
Oratoria," which, till then, had escaped all his researches. On the very
day of the discovery he wrote a letter to Quintilian, according to his
fantastic custom of epistolizing the ancients. Some days afterwards, he
left Arezzo to pursue his journey. The principal persons of the town
took leave of him publicly at his departure, after pointing out to him
the house in which he was born. "It was a small house," says Petrarch,
"befitting an exile, as my father was. " They told him that the
proprietors would have made some alterations in it; but the town had
interposed and prevented them, determined that the place should remain
the same as when it was first consecrated by his birth. The poet related
what had been mentioned to a young man who wrote to him expressly to ask
whether Arezzo could really boast of being his birthplace. Petrarch
added, that Arezzo had done more for him as a stranger than Florence as
a citizen. In truth, his family was of Florence; and it was only by
accident that he was born at Arezzo. He then went to Florence, where he
made but a short stay. There he found his friends still alarmed about
the accident which had befallen him in his journey to Rome, the news of
which he had communicated to Boccaccio.
Petrarch went on to Padua. On approaching it, he perceived a universal
mourning. He soon learned the foul catastrophe which had deprived the
city of one of its best masters.
Jacopo di Carrara had received into his house his cousin Guglielmo.
Though the latter was known to be an evil-disposed person, he was
treated with kindness by Jacopo, and ate at his table. On the 21st of
December, whilst Jacopo was sitting at supper, in the midst of his
friends, his people and his guards, the monster Guglielmo plunged a
dagger into his breast with such celerity, that even those who were
nearest could not ward off the blow. Horror-struck, they lifted him up,
whilst others put the assassin to instant death.
The fate of Jacopo Carrara gave Petrarch a dislike for Padua, and his
recollections of Vaucluse bent his unsettled mind to return to its
solitude; but he tarried at Padua during the winter. Here he spent a
great deal of his time with Ildebrando Conti, bishop of that city, a man
of rank and merit. One day, as he was dining at the Bishop's palace, two
Carthusian monks were announced: they were well received by the Bishop,
as he was partial to their order. He asked them what brought them to
Padua. "We are going," they said, "to Treviso, by the direction of our
general, there to remain and establish a monastery. " Ildebrando asked
if they knew Father Gherardo, Petrarch's brother. The two monks, who did
not know the poet, gave the most pleasing accounts of his brother.
The plague, they said, having got into the convent of Montrieux, the
prior, a pious but timorous man, told his monks that flight was the only
course which they could take: Gherardo answered with courage, "Go
whither you please! As for myself I will remain in the situation in
which Heaven has placed me. " The prior fled to his own country, where
death soon overtook him. Gherardo remained in the convent, where the
plague spared him, and left him alone, after having destroyed, within a
few days, thirty-four of the brethren who had continued with him. He
paid them every service, received their last sighs, and buried them when
death had taken off those to whom that office belonged. With only a dog
left for his companion, Gherardo watched at night to guard the house,
and took his repose by day. When the summer was over, he went to a
neighbouring monastery of the Carthusians, who enabled him to restore
his convent.
While the Carthusians were making this honourable mention of Father
Gherardo, the prelate cast his eyes from time to time upon Petrarch. "I
know not," says the poet, "whether my eyes were filled with tears, but
my heart was tenderly touched. " The Carthusians, at last discovering who
Petrarch was, saluted him with congratulations. Petrarch gives an
account of this interview in a letter to his brother himself.
Padua was too near to Venice for Petrarch not to visit now and then that
city which he called the wonder of the world. He there made acquaintance
with Andrea Dandolo, who was made Doge in 1343, though he was only
thirty-six years of age, an extraordinary elevation for so young a man;
but he possessed extraordinary merit. His mind was cultivated; he loved
literature, and easily became, as far as mutual demonstrations went, the
personal friend of Petrarch; though the Doge, as we shall see, excluded
this personal friendship from all influence on his political conduct.
The commerce of the Venetians made great progress under the Dogeship of
Andrea Dandolo. It was then that they began to trade with Egypt and
Syria, whence they brought silk, pearls, the spices, and other products
of the East. This prosperity excited the jealousy of the Genoese, as it
interfered with a commerce which they had hitherto monopolized. When the
Venetians had been chased from Constantinople by the Emperor Michael
Paleologus, they retained several fortresses in the Black Sea, which
enabled them to continue their trade with the Tartars in that sea, and
to frequent the fair of Tana. The Genoese, who were masters of Pera, a
suburb of Constantinople, would willingly have joined the Greeks in
expelling their Italian rivals altogether from the Black Sea; and
privateering hostilities actually commenced between the two republics,
which, in 1350, extended to the serious aspect of a national war.
The winter of that year was passed on both sides in preparations. The
Venetians sent ambassadors to the King of Arragon, who had some
differences with the Genoese about the Island of Sardinia, and to the
Emperor of Constantinople, who saw with any sensation in the world but
delight the flag of Genoa flying over the walls of Pera. A league
between those three powers was quickly concluded, and their grand,
common object was to destroy the city of Genoa.
It was impossible that these great movements of Venice should be unknown
at Padua. Petrarch, ever zealous for the common good of Italy, saw with
pain the kindling of a war which could not but be fatal to her, and
thought it his duty to open his heart to the Doge of Venice, who had
shown him so much friendship. He addressed to him, therefore, the
following letter from Padua, on the 14th of March, 1351:--
"My love for my country forces me to break silence; the goodness of your
character encourages me. Can I hold my peace whilst I hear the symptoms
of a coming storm that menaces my beloved country? Two puissant people
are flying to arms; two flourishing cities are agitated by the approach
of war. These cities are placed by nature like the two eyes of Italy;
the one in the south and west, and the other in the east and north, to
dominate over the two seas that surround them; so that, even after the
destruction of the Roman empire, this beautiful country was still
regarded as the queen of the world. I know that proud nations denied her
the empire of the land, but who dared ever to dispute with her the
empire of the sea?
"I shudder to think of our prospects. If Venice and Genoa turn their
victorious arms against each other, it is all over with us; we lose our
glory and the command of the sea. In this calamity we shall have a
consolation which we have ever had, namely, that if our enemies rejoice
in our calamities, they cannot at least derive any glory from them.
"In great affairs I have always dreaded the counsels of the young.
Youthful ignorance and inexperience have been the ruin of many empires.
I, therefore, learn with pleasure that you have named a council of
elders, to whom you have confided this affair. I expected no less than
this from your wisdom, which is far beyond your years.
"The state of your republic distresses me. I know the difference that
there is between the tumult of arms and the tranquillity of Parnassus. I
know that the sounds of Apollo's lyre accord but ill with the trumpets
of Mars; but if you have abandoned Parnassus, it has been only to fulfil
the duties of a good citizen and of a vigilant chief. I am persuaded, at
the same time, that in the midst of arms you think of peace; that you
would regard it as a triumph for yourself, and the greatest blessing you
could procure for your country. Did not Hannibal himself say that a sure
peace was more valuable than a hoped-for victory! If truth has extorted
this confession from the most warlike man that ever lived, is it not
plain that a pacific man ought to prefer peace even to a certain
victory? Who does not know that peace is the greatest of blessings, and
that war is the source of all evils?
"Do not deceive yourself; you have to deal with a keen people who know
not what it is to be conquered. Would it not be better to transfer the
war to Damascus, to Susa, or to Memphis? Think besides, that those whom
you are going to attack are your brothers. At Thebes, of old, two
brothers fought to their mutual destruction. Must Italy renew, in our
days, so atrocious a spectacle?
"Let us examine what may be the results of this war. Whether you are
conqueror or are conquered, one of the eyes of Italy will necessarily be
blinded, and the other much weakened; for it would be folly to flatter
yourself with the hopes of conquering so strong an enemy without much
effusion of blood.
"Brave men, powerful people! (I speak here to both of you) what is your
object--to what do you aspire? What will be the end of your dissensions?
It is not the blood of the Carthaginians or the Numantians that you are
about to spill, but it is Italian blood; the blood of a people who would
be the first to start up and offer to expend their blood, if any
barbarous nation were to attempt a new irruption among us. In that
event, their bodies would be the bucklers and ramparts of our common
country; they would live, or they would die with us. Ought the pleasure
of avenging a slight offence to carry more weight with you than the
public good and your own safety? Let revenge be the delight of women. Is
it not more glorious for men to forget an injury than to avenge it? to
pardon an enemy than to destroy him?
"If my feeble voice could make itself heard among those grave men who
compose your council, I am persuaded that you would not only _not_
reject the peace which is offered to you, but go to meet and embrace it
closely, so that it might not escape you. Consult your wise old men who
love the republic; they will speak the same language to you that I do.
"You, my lord, who are at the head of the council, and who govern your
republic, ought to recollect that the glory or the shame of these events
will fall principally on you. Raise yourself above yourself; look into,
examine everything with attention. Compare the success of the war with
the evils which it brings in its train. Weigh in a balance the good
effects and the evil, and you will say with Hannibal, that an hour is
sufficient to destroy the work of many years.
"The renown of your country is more ancient than is generally believed.
Several ages before the city of Venice was built, I find not only the
name of the Venetians famous, but also that of one of their dukes. Would
you submit to the caprices of fortune a glory acquired for so long a
time, and at so great a cost? You will render a great service to your
republic, if, preferring her safety to her glory, you give her incensed
and insane populace prudent and useful counsels, instead of offering
them brilliant and specious projects. The wise say that we cannot
purchase a virtue more precious than what is bought at the expense of
glory. If you adopt this axiom, your character will be handed down to
posterity, like that of the Duke of the Venetians, to whom I have
alluded. All the world will admire and love you.
[Illustration: VICENZA. ]
"To conceal nothing from you, I confess that I have heard with grief of
your league with the King of Arragon. What! shall Italians go and
implore succour of barbarous kings to destroy Italians? You will say,
perhaps, that your enemies have set you the example. My answer is, that
they are equally culpable. According to report, Venice, in order to
satiate her rage, calls to her aid tyrants of the west; whilst Genoa
brings in those of the east. This is the source of our calamities.
Carried away by the admiration of strange things, despising, I know not
why, the good things which we find in our own climate, we sacrifice
sound Italian faith to barbarian perfidy. Madmen that we are, we seek
among venal souls that which we could find among our own brethren.
"Nature has given us for barriers the Alps and the two seas. Avarice,
envy, and pride, have opened these natural defences to the Cimbri, the
Huns, the Goths, the Gauls, and the Spaniards. How often have we recited
the words of Virgil:--
"'Impius haec tam culta novalia miles habebit,
Barbarus has segetes. '
"Athens and Lacedemon had between them a species of rivalship similar to
yours: but their forces were not by any means so nearly balanced.
Lacedemon had an advantage over Athens, which put it in the power of the
former to destroy her rival, if she had wished it; but she replied, 'God
forbid that I should pull out one of the eyes of Greece! ' If this
beautiful sentiment came from a people whom Plato reproaches with their
avidity for conquest and dominion, what still softer reply ought we not
to expect from the most modest of nations!
"Amidst the movements which agitate you, it is impossible for me to be
tranquil. When I see one party cutting down trees to construct vessels,
and others sharpening their swords and darts, I should think myself
guilty if I did not seize my pen, which is my only weapon, to counsel
peace. I am aware with what circumspection we ought to speak to our
superiors; but the love of our country has no superior. If it should
carry me beyond bounds, it will serve as my excuse before you, and
oblige you to pardon me.
"Throwing myself at the feet of the chiefs of two nations who are going
to war, I say to them, with tears in my eyes, 'Throw away your arms;
give one another the embrace of peace! unite your hearts and your
colours. By this means the ocean and the Euxine shall be open to you.
Your ships will arrive in safety at Taprobane, at the Fortunate Isles,
at Thule, and even at the poles. The kings and their people will meet
you with respect; the Indian, the Englishman, the AEthiopian, will dread
you. May peace reign among you, and may you have nothing to fear! '
Adieu! greatest of dukes, and best of men! "
This letter produced no effect. Andrea Dandolo, in his answer to it,
alleges the thousand and one affronts and outrages which Venice had
suffered from Genoa. At the same time he pays a high compliment to the
eloquence of Petrarch's epistle, and says that it is a production which
could emanate only from a mind inspired by the divine Spirit.
During the spring of this year, 1351, Petrarch put his last finish to a
canzone, on the subject still nearest to his heart, the death of his
Laura, and to a sonnet on the same subject. In April, his attention was
recalled from visionary things by the arrival of Boccaccio, who was sent
by the republic of Florence to announce to him the recall of his family
to their native land, and the restoration of his family fortune, as well
as to invite him to the home of his ancestors, in the name of the
Florentine republic. The invitation was conveyed in a long and
flattering letter; but it appeared, from the very contents of this
epistle, that the Florentines wished our poet's acceptance of their
offer to be as advantageous to themselves as to him. They were
establishing a University, and they wished to put Petrarch at the head
of it. Petrarch replied in a letter apparently full of gratitude and
satisfaction, but in which he by no means pledged himself to be the
gymnasiarch of their new college; and, agreeably to his original
intention, he set out from Padua on the 3rd of May, 1351, for Provence.
Petrarch took the road to Vicenza, where he arrived at sunset. He
hesitated whether he should stop there, or take advantage of the
remainder of the day and go farther. But, meeting with some interesting
persons whose conversation beguiled him, night came on before he was
aware how late it was. Their conversation, in the course of the evening,
ran upon Cicero. Many were the eulogies passed on the great old Roman;
but Petrarch, after having lauded his divine genius and eloquence, said
something about his inconsistency. Every one was astonished at our
poet's boldness, but particularly a man, venerable for his age and
knowledge, who was an idolater of Cicero. Petrarch argued pretty freely
against the political character of the ancient orator. The same opinion
as to Cicero's weakness seems rather to have gained ground in later
ages.
