No More Learning

He
passed the greater part of the year 1342 at Avignon, and went to
Vaucluse but seldom and for short intervals.

In the meantime, love, that makes other people idle, interfered not with
Petrarch's fondness for study. He found an opportunity of commencing the
study of Greek, and seized it with avidity. That language had never been
totally extinct in Italy; but at the time on which we are touching,
there were not probably six persons in the whole country acquainted with
it. Dante had quoted Greek authors, but without having known the Greek
alphabet. The person who favoured Petrarch with this coveted instruction
was Bernardo Barlaamo, a Calabrian monk, who had been three years before
at Avignon, having come as envoy from Andronicus, the eastern Emperor,
on pretext of proposing a union between the Greek and Roman churches,
but, in reality for the purpose of trying to borrow money from the Pope
for the Emperor. Some of Petrarch's biographers date his commencement of
the study of Greek from the period of Barlaamo's first visit to Avignon;
but I am inclined to postpone it to 1342, when Barlaamo returned to the
west and settled at Avignon. Petrarch began studying Greek by the
reading of Plato. He never obtained instruction sufficient to make him a
good Grecian, but he imbibed much of the spirit of Plato from the labour
which he bestowed on his works. He was very anxious to continue his
Greek readings with Barlaamo; but his stay in Avignon was very short;
and, though it was his interest to detain him as his preceptor,
Petrarch, finding that he was anxious for a settlement in Italy, helped
him to obtain the bishopric of Geraci, in Calabria.

[Illustration: NICE. ]

The next year was memorable in our poet's life for the birth of his
daughter Francesca. That the mother of this daughter was the same who
presented him with his son John there can be no doubt. Baldelli
discovers, in one of Petrarch's letters, an obscure allusion to her,
which seems to indicate that she died suddenly after the birth of
Francesca, who proved a comfort to her father in his old age.

The opening of the year 1343 brought a new loss to Petrarch in the death
of Robert, King of Naples. Petrarch, as we have seen, had occasion to be
grateful to this monarch; and we need not doubt that he was much
affected by the news of his death; but, when we are told that he
repaired to Vaucluse to bewail his irreparable loss, we may suppose,
without uncharitableness, that he retired also with a view to study the
expression of his grief no less than to cherish it. He wrote, however,
an interesting letter on the occasion to Barbato di Sulmona, in which he
very sensibly exhibits his fears of the calamities which were likely to
result from the death of Robert, adding that his mind was seldom true in
prophecy, unless when it foreboded misfortunes; and his predictions on
this occasion were but too well verified.

Robert was succeeded by his granddaughter Giovanna, a girl of sixteen,
already married to Andrew of Hungary, her cousin, who was but a few
months older. Robert by his will had established a council of regency,
which was to continue until Giovanna arrived at the age of twenty-five.
The Pope, however, made objections to this arrangement, alleging that
the administration of affairs during the Queen's minority devolved upon
him immediately as lord superior. But, as he did not choose to assert
his right till he should receive more accurate information respecting
the state of the kingdom, he gave Petrarch a commission for that
purpose; and entrusted him with a negotiation of much importance and
delicacy.

Petrarch received an additional commission from the Cardinal Colonna.
Several friends of the Colonna family were, at that time, confined in
prison at Naples, and the Cardinal flattered himself that Petrarch's
eloquence and intercession would obtain their enlargement. Our poet
accepted the embassy. He went to Nice, where he embarked; but had nearly
been lost in his passage. He wrote to Cardinal Colonna the following
account of his voyage.

"I embarked at Nice, the first maritime town in Italy (he means the
nearest to France). At night I got to Monaco, and the bad weather
obliged me to pass a whole day there, which by no means put me into
good-humour. The next morning we re-embarked, and, after being tossed
all day by the tempest, we arrived very late at Port Maurice. The night
was dreadful; it was impossible to get to the castle, and I was obliged
to put up at a little village, where my bed and supper appeared
tolerable from extreme weariness. I determined to proceed by land; the
perils of the road appeared less dreadful to me than those by sea. I
left my servants and baggage in the ship, which set sail, and I remained
with only one domestic on shore. By accident, upon the coast of Genoa, I
found some German horses which were for sale; they were strong and
serviceable. I bought them; but I was soon afterwards obliged to take
ship again; for war was renewed between the Pisans and the Milanese.
Nature has placed limits to these States, the Po on one side, and the
Apennines on the other. I must have passed between their two armies if I
had gone by land; this obliged me to re-embark at Lerici. I passed by
Corvo, that famous rock, the ruins of the city of Luna, and landed at
Murrona. Thence I went the next day on horseback to Pisa, Siena, and
Rome. My eagerness to execute your orders has made me a night-traveller,
contrary to my character and disposition. I would not sleep till I had
paid my duty to your illustrious father, who is always my hero. I found
him the same as I left him seven years ago, nay, even as hale and
sprightly as when I saw him at Avignon, which is now twelve years. What
a surprising man! What strength of mind and body! How firm his voice!
How beautiful his face! Had he been a few years younger, I should have
taken him for Julius Caesar, or Scipio Africanus. Rome grows old; but not
its hero. He was half undressed, and going to bed; so I stayed only a
moment, but I passed the whole of the next day with him. He asked me a
thousand questions about you, and was much pleased that I was going to
Naples. When I set out from Rome, he insisted on accompanying me beyond
the walls.

"I reached Palestrina that night, and was kindly received by your nephew
John. He is a young man of great hopes, and follows the steps of his
ancestors.

"I arrived at Naples the 11th of October. Heavens, what a change has the
death of one man produced in that place! No one would know it now.
Religion, Justice, and Truth are banished. I think I am at Memphis,
Babylon, or Mecca. In the stead of a king so just and so pious, a little
monk, fat, rosy, barefooted, with a shorn head, and half covered with a
dirty mantle, bent by hypocrisy more than by age, lost in debauchery
whilst proud of his affected poverty, and still more of the real wealth
he has amassed--this man holds the reins of this staggering empire. In
vice and cruelty he rivals a Dionysius, an Agathocles, or a Phalaris.
This monk, named Roberto, was an Hungarian cordelier, and preceptor of
Prince Andrew, whom he entirely sways. He oppresses the weak, despises
the great, tramples justice under foot, and treats both the dowager and
the reigning Queen with the greatest insolence. The court and city
tremble before him; a mournful silence reigns in the public assemblies,
and in private they converse by whispers. The least gesture is punished,
and _to think_ is denounced as a crime. To this man I have presented the
orders of the Sovereign Pontiff, and your just demands. He behaved with
incredible insolence. Susa, or Damascus, the capital of the Saracens,
would have received with more respect an envoy from the Holy See. The
great lords imitate his pride and tyranny. The Bishop of Cavaillon is
the only one who opposes this torrent; but what can one lamb do in the
midst of so many wolves? It is the request of a dying king alone that
makes him endure so wretched a situation. How small are the hopes of my
negotiation! but I shall wait with patience; though I know beforehand
the answer they will give me. "

It is plain from Petrarch's letter that the kingdom of Naples was now
under a miserable subjection to the Hungarian faction, aid that the
young Queen's situation was anything but enviable. Few characters in
modern history have been drawn in such contrasted colours as that of
Giovanna, Queen of Naples. She has been charged with every vice, and
extolled for every virtue. Petrarch represents her as a woman of weak
understanding, disposed to gallantry, but incapable of greater crimes.
Her history reminds us much of that of Mary Queen of Scots. Her youth
and her character, gentle and interesting in several respects, entitle
her to the benefit of our doubts as to her assent to the death of
Andrew. Many circumstances seem to me to favour those doubts, and the
opinion of Petrarch is on the side of her acquittal.

On his arrival in Naples, Petrarch had an audience with the Queen
Dowager; but her grief and tears for the loss of her husband made this
interview brief and fruitless with regard to business. When he spoke to
her about the prisoners, for whose release the Colonnas had desired him
to intercede, her Majesty referred him to the council. She was now, in
reality, only a state cypher.

The principal prisoners for whom Petrarch was commissioned to plead,
were the Counts Minervino, di Lucera, and Pontenza. Petrarch applied to
the council of state in their behalf, but he was put off with perpetual
excuses. While the affair was in agitation he went to Capua, where the
prisoners were confined. "There," he writes to the Cardinal Colonna, "I
saw your friends; and, such is the instability of Fortune, that I found
them in chains. They support their situation with fortitude. Their
innocence is no plea in their behalf to those who have shared in the
spoils of their fortune. Their only expectations rest upon you. I have
no hopes, except from the intervention of some superior power, as any
dependence on the clemency of the council is out of the question. The
Queen Dowager, now the most desolate of widows, compassionates their
case, but cannot assist them. "

Petrarch, wearied with the delays of business, sought relief in
excursions to the neighbourhood. Of these he writes an account to
Cardinal Colonna.

"I went to Baiae," he says, "with my friends, Barbato and Barrilli.
Everything concurred to render this jaunt agreeable--good company, the
beauty of the scenes, and my extreme weariness of the city I had
quitted. This climate, which, as far as I can judge, must be
insupportable in summer, is delightful in winter. I was rejoiced to
behold places described by Virgil, and, what is more surprising, by
Homer before him. I have seen the Lucrine lake, famous for its fine
oysters; the lake Avernus, with water as black as pitch, and fishes of
the same colour swimming in it; marshes formed by the standing waters of
Acheron, and the mountain whose roots go down to hell. The terrible
aspect of this place, the thick shades with which it is covered by a
surrounding wood, and the pestilent odour which this water exhales,
characterize it very justly as the Tartarus of the poets. There wants
only the boat of Charon, which, however, would be unnecessary, as there
is only a shallow ford to pass over. The Styx and the kingdom of Pluto
are now hid from our sight. Awed by what I had heard and read of these
mournful approaches to the dead, I was contented to view them at my feet
from the top of a high mountain. The labourer, the shepherd, and the
sailor, dare not approach them nearer. There are deep caverns, where
some pretend that a great deal of gold is concealed; covetous men, they
say, have been to seek it, but they never return; whether they lost
their way in the dark valleys, or had a fancy to visit the dead, being
so near their habitations.

"I have seen the ruins of the grotto of the famous Cumaean sybil; it is a
hideous rock, suspended in the Avernian lake. Its situation strikes the
mind with horror. There still remain the hundred mouths by which the
gods conveyed their oracles; these are now dumb, and there is only one
God who speaks in heaven and on earth. These uninhabited ruins serve as
the resort of birds of unlucky omen. Not far off is that dreadful cavern
which leads, _they say_, to the infernal regions. Who would believe
that, close to the mansions of the dead, Nature should have placed
powerful remedies for the preservation of life? Near Avernus and Acheron
are situated that barren land whence rises continually a salutary
vapour, which is a cure for several diseases, and those hot-springs that
vomit hot and sulphureous cinders. I have seen the baths which Nature
has prepared; but the avarice of physicians has rendered them of
doubtful use. This does not, however, prevent them from being visited by
the invalids of all the neighbouring towns. These hollowed mountains
dazzle us with the lustre of their marble circles, on which are engraved
figures that point out, by the position of their hands, the part of the
body which each fountain is proper to cure.

"I saw the foundations of that admirable reservoir of Nero, which was to
go from Mount Misenus to the Avernian lake, and to enclose all the hot
waters of Baiae.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In consequence of the dangers he had encountered, a rumour of his death
had spread over a great part of Italy. The age was romantic, with a good
deal of the fantastical in its romance. If the news had been true, and
if he had been really dead and buried, it would be difficult to restrain
a smile at the sort of honours that were paid to his memory by the less
brain-gifted portion of his admirers. One of these, Antonio di Beccaria,
a physician of Ferrara, when he ought to have been mourning for his own
deceased patients, wrote a poetical lamentation for Petrarch's death.
The poem, if it deserve such a name, is allegorical; it represents a
funeral, in which the following personages parade in procession and
grief for the Laureate's death. Grammar, Rhetoric, and Philosophy are
introduced with their several attendants. Under the banners of Rhetoric
are ranged Cicero, Geoffroy de Vinesauf, and Alain de Lisle. It would
require all Cicero's eloquence to persuade us that his comrades in the
procession were quite worthy of his company. The Nine Muses follow
Petrarch's body; eleven poets, crowned with laurel, support the bier,
and Minerva, holding the crown of Petrarch, closes the procession.
We have seen that Petrarch left Naples foreboding disastrous events to
that kingdom. Among these, the assassination of Andrew, on the 18th of
September, 1345, was one that fulfilled his augury. The particulars of
this murder reached Petrarch on his arrival at Avignon, in a letter from
his friend Barbato.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: COAST OF GENOA. ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Laura, illustrious for her virtues, and for a long time celebrated in
my verses, for the first time appeared to my eyes on the 6th of April,
1327, in the church of St. Clara, at the first hour of the day. I was
then in my youth. In the same city, and at the same hour, in the year
1348, this luminary disappeared from our world. I was then at Verona,
ignorant of my wretched situation. Her chaste and beautiful body was
buried the same day, after vespers, in the church of the Cordeliers. Her
soul returned to its native mansion in heaven.