No More Learning

He went out
himself to meet him, two miles from the city, accompanied by his nephews
and his courtiers, including Petrarch. Our poet joined the suite of
Galeazzo Visconti, and rode near him. The Legate and his retinue rode
also on horseback. When the two parties met, the dust, that rose in
clouds from the feet of the horses, prevented them from discerning each
other. Petrarch, who had advanced beyond the rest, found himself, he
knew not how, in the midst of the Legate's train, and very near to him.
Salutations passed on either side, but with very little speaking, for
the dust had dried their throats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He found difficulties, however, in the settlement of a general peace.
The Viscontis felt their superiority; and the Genoese, proud of a
victory which they had obtained over the Venetians, insisted on hard
terms. The Emperor, more intent upon his personal interests than the
good of Italy, merely negotiated a truce between the belligerents. He
prevailed upon the confederates to disband the company of Count Lando,
which cost much and effected little. It cannot be doubted that Petrarch
had considerable influence in producing this dismissal, as he always
held those troops of mercenaries in abhorrence. The truce being signed,
his Imperial Majesty had no further occupation than to negotiate a
particular agreement with the Viscontis, who had sent the chief men of
Milan, with presents, to conclude a treaty with him. No one appeared
more fit than Petrarch to manage this negotiation, and it was
universally expected that it should be entrusted to him; but particular
reasons, which Petrarch has not thought proper to record, opposed the
desires of the Lords of Milan and the public wishes.

The negotiation, nevertheless, was in itself a very easy one. The
Emperor, on the one hand, had no wish to make war for the sake of being
crowned at Monza. On the other hand, the Viscontis were afraid of seeing
the league of their enemies fortified by imperial power. They took
advantage of the desire which they observed in Charles to receive this
crown without a struggle. They promised not to oppose his coronation,
and even to give 50,000 florins for the expense of the ceremony; but
they required that he should not enter the city of Milan, and that the
troops in his suite should be disarmed.

To these humiliating terms Charles subscribed. The affair was completed
during the few days that Petrarch spent at Mantua. The Emperor strongly
wished that he should be present at the signature of the treaty; and, in
fact, though he was not one of the envoys from Milan, the success of the
negotiation was generally attributed to him. A rumour to this effect
reached even Avignon, where Laelius then was. He wrote to Petrarch to
compliment him on the subject. The poet, in his answer, declines an
honour that was not due to him.

After the signature of the treaty, Petrarch departed for Milan, where he
arrived on Christmas eve, 1354. He there found four letters from Zanobi
di Strata, from whom he had not had news for two years. Curious persons
had intercepted their letters to each other. Petrarch often complains of
this nuisance, which was common at the time.

The Emperor set out from Mantua after the festivities of Christmas. On
arriving at the gates of Milan, he was invited to enter by the
Viscontis; but Charles declined their invitation, saying, that he would
keep the promise which he had pledged. The Viscontis told him politely
that they asked his entrance as a favour, and that the precaution
respecting his troops by no means extended to his personal presence,
which they should always consider an honour. The Emperor entered Milan
on the 4th of January, 1355. He was received with the sound of drums,
trumpets, and other instruments, that made such a din as to resemble
thunder. "His entry," says Villani, "had the air of a tempest rather
than of a festivity. " Meanwhile the gates of Milan were shut and
strictly guarded. Shortly after his arrival, the three brothers came to
tender their homage, declaring that they held of the Holy Empire all
that they possessed, and that they would never employ their possessions
but for his service.

Next day the three brothers, wishing to give the Emperor a high idea of
their power and forces, held a grand review of their troops, horse and
foot; to which, in order to swell the number, they added companies of
the burgesses, well mounted, and magnificently dressed; and they
detained his poor Majesty at a window, by way of amusing him, all the
time they were making this display of their power. Whilst the troops
were defiling, they bade him look upon the six thousand cavalry and ten
thousand infantry, which they kept in their pay for his service, adding
that their fortresses and castles were well furnished and garrisoned.
This spectacle was anything but amusing to the Emperor; but he put a
good countenance on the matter, and appeared cheerful and serene.
Petrarch scarcely ever quitted his side; and the Prince conversed with
him whenever he could snatch time from business, and from the rigid
ceremonials that were imposed on him.

On the 6th of January, the festival of Epiphany, Charles received at
Milan the iron crown, in the church of St. Ambrosio, from the hands of
Robert Visconti, Archbishop of Milan. They gave the Emperor fifty
thousand florins in gold, two hundred beautiful horses, covered with
cloth bordered with ermine, and six hundred horsemen to escort him to
Rome.

The Emperor, who regarded Milan only as a fine large prison, got out of
it as soon as he could. Petrarch accompanied him as far as five miles
beyond Piacenza, but refused to comply with the Emperor's solicitations
to continue with him as far as Rome.

The Emperor departed from Sienna the 28th of March, with the Empress and
all his suite. On the 2nd of April he arrived at Rome. During the next
two days he visited the churches in pilgrim's attire. On Sunday, which
was Easter day, he was crowned, along with his Empress; and, on this
occasion, he confirmed all the privileges of the Roman Church, and all
the promises that he had made to the Popes Clement VI. and Innocent VI.
One of those promises was, that he should not enter Rome except upon the
day of his coronation, and that he should not sleep in the city. He kept
his word most scrupulously. After leaving the church of St. Peter, he
went with a grand retinue to St. John's di Latrana, where he dined, and,
in the evening, under pretext of a hunting-party, he went and slept at
St. Lorenzo, beyond the walls.

The Emperor arrived at Sienna on the 29th of April. He had there many
conferences with the Cardinal Albornoz, to whom he promised troops for
the purpose of reducing the tyrants with whom the Legate was at war. His
Majesty then went to Pisa, where, on the 21st of May, 1355, a sedition
broke out against him, which nearly cost him his life. He left Tuscany
without delay, with his Empress and his whole suite, to return to
Germany, where he arrived early in June. Many were the affronts he met
with on his route, and he recrossed the Alps, as Villani says, "with his
dignity humbled, though with his purse well filled. "

Laelius, who had accompanied the Emperor as far as Cremona, quitted him
at that place, and went to Milan, where he delivered to Petrarch the
Prince's valedictory compliments. Petrarch's indignation, at his
dastardly flight vented itself in a letter to his Imperial Majesty
himself, so full of unmeasured rebuke, that it is believed it was never
sent.

Shortly after the departure of the Emperor, Petrarch had the
satisfaction of hearing, in his own church of St. Ambrosio, the
publication of a peace between the Venetians and Genoese. It was
concluded at Milan by the mediation of the Visconti, entirely to the
advantage of the Genoese, to whom their victory gained in the gulf of
Sapienza had given an irresistible superiority. It cost the Venetians
two hundred thousand florins. Whilst the treaty of peace was
proceeding, Venice witnessed the sad and strange spectacle of Marino
Faliero, her venerable Doge, four-score years old, being dragged to a
public execution. Some obscurity still hangs over the true history of
this affair. Petrarch himself seems to have understood it but
imperfectly, though, from his personal acquaintance with Faliero, and
his humane indignation at seeing an old man whom he believed to be
innocent, hurled from his seat of power, stripped of his ducal robes,
and beheaded like the meanest felon, he inveighs against his execution
as a public murder, in his letter on the subject to Guido Settimo.

Petrarch, since his establishment at Milan, had thought it his duty to
bring thither his son John, that he might watch over his education. John
was at this time eighteen years of age, and was studying at Verona.

The September of 1355 was a critical month for our poet. It was then
that the tertian ague commonly attacked him, and this year it obliged
him to pass a whole month in bed. He was just beginning to be
convalescent, when, on the 9th of September, 1355, a friar, from the
kingdom of Naples, entered his chamber, and gave him a letter from
Barbato di Salmone. This was a great joy to him, and tended to promote
the recovery of his health. Their correspondence had been for a long
time interrupted by the wars, and the unsafe state of the public roads.
This letter was full of enthusiasm and affection, and was addressed to
_Francis Petrarch, the king of poets_. The friar had told Barbato that
this title was given to Petrarch over all Italy. Our poet in his answer
affected to refuse it with displeasure as far beyond his deserts. "There
are only two king-poets," he says, "the one in Greece, the other in
Italy. The old bard of Maeonia occupies the former kingdom, the shepherd
of Mantua is in possession of the latter. As for me, I can only reign in
my transalpine solitude and on the banks of the Sorgue. "

Petrarch continued rather languid during autumn, but his health was
re-established before the winter.

Early in the year 1356, whilst war was raging between Milan and the
Lombard and Ligurian league, a report was spread that the King of
Hungary had formed a league with the Emperor and the Duke of Austria, to
invade Italy. The Italians in alarm sent ambassadors to the King of
Hungary, who declared that he had no hostile intentions, except against
the Venetians, as they had robbed him of part of Sclavonia. This
declaration calmed the other princes, but not the Viscontis, who knew
that the Emperor would never forget the manner in which they had treated
him. They thought that it would be politic to send an ambassador to
Charles, in order to justify themselves before him, or rather to
penetrate into his designs, and no person seemed to be more fit for this
commission than Petrarch. Our poet had no great desire to journey into
the north, but a charge so agreeable and flattering made him overlook
the fatigue of travelling. He wrote thus to Simonides on the day before
his departure:--"They are sending me to the north, at the time when I am
sighing for solitude and repose. But man was made for toil: the charge
imposed on me does not displease me, and I shall be recompensed for my
fatigue if I succeed in the object of my mission. The Lord of Liguria
sends me to treat with the Emperor. After having conferred with him on
public affairs, I reckon on being able to treat with him respecting my
own, and be my own ambassador. I have reproached this prince by letter
with his shameful flight from our country. I shall make him the same
reproaches, face to face, and _viva voce_. In thus using _my own_
liberty and his patience, I shall avenge at once Italy, the empire, and
my own person. At my return I shall bury myself in a solitude so
profound that toil and envy will not be able to find me out. Yet what
folly! Can I flatter myself to find any place where envy cannot
penetrate? "

[Illustration: MILAN CATHEDRAL. ]

Next day he departed with Sacromoro di Pomieres, whose company was a
great solace to him. They arrived at Basle, where the Emperor was
expected; but they waited in vain for him a whole month. "This prince,"
says Petrarch, "finishes nothing; one must go and seek him in the depths
of barbarism. " It was fortunate for him that he stayed no longer, for, a
few days after he took leave of Basle, the city was almost wholly
destroyed by an earthquake.

Petrarch arrived at Prague in Bohemia towards the end of July, 1356. He
found the Emperor wholly occupied with that famous Golden Bull, the
provisions of which he settled with the States, at the diet of
Nuremberg, and which he solemnly promulgated at another grand diet held
at Christmas, in the same year. This Magna Charta of the Germanic
constitution continued to be the fundamental law of the empire till its
dissolution.

Petrarch made but a short stay at Prague, notwithstanding his Majesty's
wish to detain him. The Emperor, though sorely exasperated against the
Visconti, had no thoughts of carrying war into Italy. His affairs in
Germany employed him sufficiently, besides the embellishment of the city
of Prague. At the Bohemian court our poet renewed a very amicable
acquaintance with two accomplished prelates, Ernest, Archbishop of
Pardowitz, and John Oczkow, Bishop of Olmutz. Of these churchmen he
speaks in the warmest terms, and he afterwards corresponded with them.
We find him returned to Milan, and writing to Simonides on the 20th of
September.

Some days after Petrarch's return from Germany, a courier arrived at
Milan with news of the battle of Poitiers, in which eighty thousand
French were defeated by thirty thousand Englishmen, and in which King
John of France was made prisoner. [M] Petrarch was requested by Galeazzo
Visconti on this occasion to write for him two condoling letters, one to
Charles the Dauphin, and another to the Cardinal of Boulogne. Petrarch
was thunderstruck at the calamity of King John, of whom he had an
exalted idea. "It is a thing," he says, "incredible, unheard-of, and
unexampled in history, that an invincible hero, the greatest king that
ever lived, should have been conquered and made captive by an enemy so
inferior. "

On this great event, our poet composed an allegorical eclogue, in which
the King of France, under the name of Pan, and the King of England,
under that of Articus, heartily abuse each other. The city of Avignon is
brought in with the designation of Faustula. England reproaches the Pope
with his partiality for the King of France, to whom he had granted the
tithes of his kingdom, by which means he was enabled to levy an army.
Articus thus apostrophizes Faustula:--

Ah meretrix oblique tuens, ait Articus illi--
Immemorem sponsae cupidus quam mungit adulter!
Haec tua tota fides, sic sic aliena ministras!
Erubuit nihil ausa palam, nisi mollia pacis
Verba, sed assuetis noctem complexibus egit--

Ah, harlot! squinting with lascivious brows
Upon a hapless wife's adulterous spouse,
Is this thy faith, to waste another's wealth.
The guilty fruit of perfidy and stealth!
She durst not be my foe in open light.
But in my foe's embraces spent the night.

Meanwhile, Marquard, Bishop of Augsburg, vicar of the Emperor in Italy,
having put himself at the head of the Lombard league against the
Viscontis, entered their territories with the German troops, and was
committing great devastations. But the brothers of Milan turned out,
beat the Bishop, and took him prisoner. It is evident, from these
hostilities of the Emperor's vicar against the Viscontis, that
Petrarch's embassy to Prague had not had the desired success. The
Emperor, it is true, plainly told him that he had no thoughts of
invading Italy in person. And this was true; but there is no doubt that
he abetted and secretly supported the enemies of the Milan chiefs.
Powerful as the Visconti were, their numerous enemies pressed them hard;
and, with war on all sides, Milan was in a critical situation. But
Petrarch, whilst war was at the very gates, continued retouching his
Italian poetry.

At the commencement of this year, 1356, he received a letter from
Avignon, which Socrates, Laelius, and Guido Settimo had jointly written
to him. They dwelt all three in the same house, and lived in the most
social union. Petrarch made them a short reply, in which he said,
"Little did I think that I should ever envy those who inhabit Babylon.
Nevertheless, I wish that I were with you in that house of yours,
inaccessible to the pestilent air of the infamous city. I regard it as
an elysium in the midst of Avernus. "

At this time, Petrarch received a diploma that was sent to him by John,
Bishop of Olmutz, Chancellor of the Empire, in which diploma the Emperor
created him a count palatine, and conferred upon him the rights and
privileges attached to this dignity. These, according to the French
abridger of the History of Germany, consisted in creating doctors and
notaries, in legitimatizing the bastards of citizens, in crowning poets,
in giving dispensations with respect to age, and in other things. To
this diploma sent to Petrarch was attached a bull, or capsule of gold.
On one side was the impression of the Emperor, seated on his throne,
with an eagle and lion beside him; on the other was the city of Rome,
with its temples and walls. The Emperor had added to this dignity
privileges which he granted to very few, and the Chancellor, in his
communication, used very flattering terms. Petrarch says, in his letter
of thanks, "I am exceedingly grateful for the signal distinction which
the Emperor has graciously vouchsafed to me, and for the obliging terms
with which you have seasoned the communication. I have never sought in
vain for anything from his Imperial Majesty and yourself. But I wish not
for your gold. "

In the summer of 1357, Petrarch, wishing to screen himself from the
excessive heat, took up his abode for a time on the banks of the Adda at
Garignano, a village three miles distant from Milan, of which he gives a
charming description. "The village," he says, "stands on a slight
elevation in the midst of a plain, surrounded on all sides by springs
and streams, not rapid and noisy like those of Vaucluse, but clear and
modest. They wind in such a manner, that you know not either whither
they are going, or whence they have come. As if to imitate the dances of
the nymphs, they approach, they retire, they unite, and they separate
alternately. At last, after having formed a kind of labyrinth, they all
meet, and pour themselves into the same reservoir. " John Visconti had
chosen this situation whereon to build a Carthusian monastery. This was
what tempted Petrarch to found here a little establishment. He wished at
first to live within the walls of the monastery, and the Carthusians
made him welcome to do so; but he could not dispense with servants and
horses, and he feared that the drunkenness of the former might trouble
the silence of the sacred retreat. He therefore hired a house in the
neighbourhood of the holy brothers, to whom he repaired at all hours of
the day. He called this house his Linterno, in memory of Scipio
Africanus, whose country-house bore that name. The peasants, hearing him
call the domicile _Linterno_, corrupted the word into _Inferno_, and,
from this mispronunciation, the place was often jocularly called by that
name.

Petrarch was scarcely settled in this agreeable solitude, when he
received a letter from his friend Settimo, asking him for an exact and
circumstantial detail of his circumstances and mode of living, of his
plans and occupations, of his son John, &c. His answer was prompt, and
is not uninteresting. "The course of my life," he says, "has always been
uniform ever since the frost of age has quenched the ardour of my youth,
and particularly that fatal flame which so long tormented me. But what
do I say? " he continues; "it is a celestial dew which has produced this
extinction. Though I have often changed my place of abode, I have always
led nearly the same kind of life. What it is, none knows better than
yourself. I once lived beside you for two years. Call to mind how I was
then occupied, and you will know my present occupations. You understand
me so well that you ought to be able to guess, not only what I am doing,
but what I am dreaming.

"Like a traveller, I am quickening my steps in proportion as I approach
the term of my course. I read and write night and day; the one
occupation refreshes me from the fatigue of the other These are my
employments--these are my pleasures. My tasks increase upon my hands;
one begets another; and I am dismayed when I look at what I have
undertaken to accomplish in so short a space as the remainder of my
life. * * * My health is good; my body is so robust that neither ripe
years, nor grave occupations, nor abstinence, nor penance, can totally
subdue that _kicking ass_ on whom I am constantly making war. I count
upon the grace of Heaven, without which I should infallibly fall, as I
fell in other times. All my reliance is on Christ. With regard to my
fortune, I am exactly in a just mediocrity, equally distant from the two
extremes * * * *

"I inhabit a retired corner of the city towards the west. Their ancient
devotion attracts the people every Sunday to the church of St. Ambrosio,
near which I dwell. During the rest of the week, this quarter is a
desert.

"Fortune has changed nothing in my nourishment, or my hours of sleep,
except that I retrench as much as possible from indulgence in either. I
lie in bed for no other purpose than to sleep, unless I am ill. I hasten
from bed as soon as I am awake, and pass into my library. This takes
place about the middle of the night, save when the nights are shortest.
I grant to Nature nothing but what she imperatively demands, and which
it is impossible to refuse her.

"Though I have always loved solitude and silence, I am a great gossip
with my friends, which arises, perhaps, from my seeing them but rarely.
I atone for this loquacity by a year of taciturnity. I mutely recall my
parted friends by correspondence. I resemble that class of people of
whom Seneca speaks, who seize life in detail, and not by the gross. The
moment I feel the approach of summer, I take a country-house a league
distant from town, where the air is extremely pure. In such a place I am
at present, and here I lead my wonted life, more free than ever from the
wearisomeness of the city. I have abundance of everything; the peasants
vie with each other in bringing me fruit, fish, ducks, and all sorts of
game. There is a beautiful Carthusian monastery in my neighbourhood,
where, at all hours of the day, I find the innocent pleasures which
religion offers. In this sweet retreat I feel no want but that of my
ancient friends. In these I was once rich; but death has taken away some
of them, and absence robs me of the remainder. Though my imagination
represents them, still I am not the less desirous of their real
presence. There would remain but few things for me to desire, if fortune
would restore to me but two friends, such as you and Socrates. I confess
that I flattered myself a long time to have had you both with me. But,
if you persist in your rigour, I must console myself with the company of
my religionists. Their conversation, it is true, is neither witty nor
profound, but it is simple and pious. Those good priests will be of
great service to me both in life and death. I think I have now said
enough about myself, and, perhaps, more than enough. You ask me about
the state of my fortune, and you wish to know whether you may believe
the rumours that are abroad about my riches.