No More Learning

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. It is true that my income
is increased; but so, also, proportionably, is my outlay. I am, as I
have always been, neither rich nor poor. Riches, they say, make men poor
by multiplying their wants and desires; for my part, I feel the
contrary; the more I have the less I desire. Yet, I suppose, if I
possessed great riches, they would have the same effect upon me as upon
other people.

"You ask news about my son. I know not very well what to say concerning
him. His manners are gentle, and the flower of his youth holds out a
promise, though what fruit it may produce I know not. I think I may
flatter myself that he will be an honest man. He has talent; but what
avails talent without study! He flies from a book as he would from a
serpent. Persuasions, caresses, and threats are all thrown away upon him
as incitements to study. I have nothing wherewith to reproach myself;
and I shall be satisfied if he turns out an honest man, as I hope he
will. Themistocles used to say that he liked a man without letters
better than letters without a man. "

In the month of August, 1357, Petrarch received a letter from
Benintendi, the Chancellor of Venice, requesting him to send a dozen
elegiac verses to be engraved on the tomb of Andrea Dandolo. The
children of the Doge had an ardent wish that our poet should grant them
this testimony of his friendship for their father. Petrarch could not
refuse the request, and composed fourteen verses, which contain a sketch
of the great actions of Dandolo. But they were verses of command, which
the poet made in despite of the Muses and of himself.

In the following year, 1358, Petrarch was almost entirely occupied with
his treatise, entitled, "De Remediis utriusque Fortunae," (A Remedy
against either extreme of Fortune. ) This made a great noise when it
appeared. Charles V. of France had it transcribed for his library, and
translated; and it was afterwards translated into Italian and Spanish.

Petrarch returned to Milan, and passed the autumn at his house, the
Linterno, where he met with an accident, that for some time threatened
dangerous consequences. He thus relates it, in a letter to his friend,
Neri Morandi:--"I have a great volume of the epistles of Cicero, which I
have taken the pains to transcribe myself, for the copyists understand
nothing. One day, when I was entering my library, my gown got entangled
with this large book, so that the volume fell heavily on my left leg, a
little above the heel. By some fatality, I treated the accident too
lightly. I walked, I rode on horseback, according to my usual custom;
but my leg became inflamed, the skin changed colour, and mortification
began to appear. The pain took away my cheerfulness and sleep. I then
perceived that it was foolish courage to trifle with so serious an
accident. Doctors were called in. They feared at first that it would be
necessary to amputate the limb; but, at last, by means of regimen and
fomentation, the afflicted member was put into the way of healing. It is
singular that, ever since my infancy, my misfortunes have always fallen
on this same left leg. In truth, I have always been tempted to believe
in destiny; and why not, if, by the word destiny, we understand
Providence? "

As soon as his leg was recovered, he made a trip to Bergamo. There was
in that city a jeweller named Enrico Capri, a man of great natural
talents, who cherished a passionate admiration for the learned, and
above all for Petrarch, whose likeness was pictured or statued in every
room of his house. He had copies made at a great expense of everything
that came from his pen. He implored Petrarch to come and see him at
Bergamo. "If he honours my household gods," he said, "but for a single
day with his presence, I shall be happy all my life, and famous through
all futurity. " Petrarch consented, and on the 13th of October, 1358, the
poet was received at Bergamo with transports of joy. The governor of the
country and the chief men of the city wished to lodge him in some
palace; but Petrarch adhered to his jeweller, and would not take any
other lodging but with his friend.

A short time after his return to Milan, Petrarch had the pleasure of
welcoming to his house John Boccaccio, who passed some days with him.
The author of the Decamerone regarded Petrarch as his literary master.
He owed him a still higher obligation, according to his own statement;
namely, that of converting his heart, which, he says, had been frivolous
and inclined to gallantry, and even to licentiousness, until he received
our poet's advice. He was about forty-five years old when he went to
Milan. Petrarch made him sensible that it was improper, at his age, to
lose his time in courting women; that he ought to employ it more
seriously, and turn towards heaven, the devotion which he misplaced on
earthly beauties. This conversation is the subject of one of
Boccaccio's eclogues, entitled, "Philostropos. " His eclogues are in the
style of Petrarch, obscure and enigmatical, and the subjects are muffled
up under emblems and Greek names.

After spending some days with Petrarch, that appeared short to them
both, Boccaccio, pressed by business, departed about the beginning of
April, 1359. The great novelist soon afterwards sent to Petrarch from
Florence a beautiful copy of Dante's poem, written in his own hand,
together with some indifferent Latin verses, in which he bestows the
highest praises on the author of the Inferno. At that time, half the
world believed that Petrarch was jealous of Dante's fame; and the rumour
was rendered plausible by the circumstance--for which he has accounted
very rationally--that he had not a copy of Dante in his library.

In the month of May in this year, 1359, a courier from Bohemia brought
Petrarch a letter from the Empress Anne, who had the condescension to
write to him with her own hand to inform him that she had given birth to
a daughter. Great was the joy on this occasion, for the Empress had been
married five years, but, until now, had been childless. Petrarch, in his
answer, dated the 23rd of the same month, after expressing his sense of
the honour which her Imperial Majesty had done him, adds some
common-places, and seasons them with his accustomed pedantry. He
pronounces a grand eulogy on the numbers of the fair sex who had
distinguished themselves by their virtues and their courage. Among these
he instances Isis, Carmenta, the mother of Evander, Sappho, the Sybils,
the Amazons, Semiramis, Tomiris, Cleopatra, Zenobia, the Countess
Matilda, Lucretia, Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, Martia, Portia,
and Livia. The Empress Anne was no doubt highly edified by this
muster-roll of illustrious women; though some of the heroines, such as
Lucretia, might have bridled up at their chaste names being classed with
that of Cleopatra.

Petrarch repaired to Linterno, on the 1st of October, 1359; but his stay
there was very short. The winter set in sooner than usual. The constant
rains made his rural retreat disagreeable, and induced him to return to
the city about the end of the month.

On rising, one morning, soon after his return to Milan, he found that he
had been robbed of everything valuable in his house, excepting his
books. As it was a domestic robbery, he could accuse nobody of it but
his son John and his servants, the former of whom had returned from
Avignon. On this, he determined to quit his house at St. Ambrosio, and
to take a small lodging in the city; here, however, he could not live in
peace.
His son and servants quarrelled every day, in his very presence,
so violently that they exchanged blows. Petrarch then lost all patience,
and turned the whole of his pugnacious inmates out of doors. His son
John had now become an arrant debauchee; and it was undoubtedly to
supply his debaucheries that he pillaged his own father. He pleaded
strongly to be readmitted to his home; but Petrarch persevered for some
time in excluding him, though he ultimately took him back.

It appears from one of Petrarch's letters, that many people at Milan
doubted his veracity about the story of the robbery, alleging that it
was merely a pretext to excuse his inconstancy in quitting his house at
St. Ambrosio; but that he was capable of accusing his own son on false
grounds is a suspicion which the whole character of Petrarch easily
repels. He went and settled himself in the monastery of St. Simplician,
an abbey of the Benedictines of Monte Cassino, pleasantly situated
without the walls of the city.

He was scarcely established in his new home at St. Simplician's, when
Galeazzo Visconti arrived in triumph at Milan, after having taken
possession of Pavia. The capture of this city much augmented the power
of the Lords of Milan; and nothing was wanting to their satisfaction but
the secure addition to their dominions of Bologna, to which Barnabo
Visconti was laying siege, although John of Olegea had given it up to
the Church in consideration of a pension and the possession of the city
of Fermo.

This affair had thrown the court of Avignon into much embarrassment, and
the Pope requested Nicholas Acciajuoli, Grand Seneschal of Naples, who
had been sent to the Papal city by his Neapolitan Majesty, to return by
way of Milan, and there negotiate a peace between the Church and Barnabo
Visconti. Acciajuoli reached Milan at the end of May, very eager to see
Petrarch, of whom he had heard much, without having yet made his
acquaintance. Petrarch describes their first interview in a letter to
Zanobi da Strada, and seems to have been captivated by the gracious
manners of the Grand Seneschal.

With all his popularity, the Seneschal was not successful in his
mission. When the Seneschal's proposals were read to the impetuous
Barnabo, he said, at the end of every sentence "Io voglio Bologna. " It
is said that Petrarch detached Galeazzo Visconti from the ambitious
projects of his brother; and that it was by our poet's advice that
Galeazzo made a separate peace with the Pope; though, perhaps, the true
cause of his accommodation with the Church was his being in treaty with
France and soliciting the French monarch's daughter, Isabella, in
marriage for his son Giovanni. After this marriage had been celebrated
with magnificent festivities, Petrarch was requested by Galeazzo to go
to Paris, and to congratulate the unfortunate King John upon his return
to his country. Our poet had a transalpine prejudice against France; but
he undertook this mission to its capital, and was deeply touched by its
unfortunate condition.

If the aspect of the country in general was miserable, that of the
capital was still worse. "Where is Paris," exclaims Petrarch, "that
metropolis, which, though inferior to its reputation, was, nevertheless,
a great city? " He tells us that its streets were covered with briars and
grass, and that it looked like a vast desert.

Here, however, in spite of its desolate condition, Petrarch witnessed
the joy with which the Parisians received their King John and the
Dauphin Charles. The King had not been well educated, yet he respected
literature and learned men. The Dauphin was an accomplished prince; and
our poet says that he was captivated by his modesty, sense, and
information.

Petrarch arrived at Milan early in March, 1361, bringing letters from
King John and his son the Dauphin, in which those princes entreat the
two Lords of Milan to persuade Petrarch by every means to come and
establish himself at their court. No sooner had he refused their
pressing invitations, than he received an equally earnest request from
the Emperor to accept his hospitality at Prague.

At this period, it had given great joy in Bohemia that the Empress had
produced a son, and that the kingdom now possessed an heir apparent. His
Imperial Majesty's satisfaction made him, for once, generous, and he
distributed rich presents among his friends. Nor was our poet forgotten
on this occasion. The Emperor sent him a gold embossed cup of admirable
workmanship, accompanied by a letter, expressing his high regard, and
repeating his request that he would pay him a visit in Germany. Petrarch
returned him a letter of grateful thanks, saying: "Who would not be
astonished at seeing transferred to my use a vase consecrated by the
mouth of Caesar? But I will not profane the sacred gift by the common use
of it. It shall adorn my table only on days of solemn festivity. " With
regard to the Imperial invitation, he concludes a long apology for not
accepting it immediately, but promising that, as soon as the summer was
over, if he could find a companion for the journey, he would go to the
court of Prague, and remain as long as it pleased his Majesty, since the
presence of Caesar would console him for the absence of his books, his
friends, and his country. This epistle is dated July 17th, 1861.

Petrarch quitted Milan during this year, a removal for which various
reasons are alleged by his biographers, though none of them appear to me
quite satisfactory.

He had now a new subject of grief to descant upon. The Marquis of
Montferrat, unable to contend against the Visconti, applied to the Pope
for assistance. He had already made a treaty with the court of London,
by which it was agreed that a body of English troops were to be sent to
assist the Marquis against the Visconti. They entered Italy by Nice. It
was the first time that our countrymen had ever entered the Saturnian
land. They did no credit to the English character for humanity, but
ravaged lands and villages, killing men and violating women. Their
general appellation was the bulldogs of England. What must have been
Petrarch's horror at these unkennelled hounds! In one of his letters he
vents his indignation at their atrocities; but, by-and-by, in the same
epistle, he glides into his bookworm habit of apostrophizing the ancient
heroes of Rome, Brutus, Camillus, and God knows how many more!

[Illustration: THE LIBRARY OF ST. MARK, ST. MARK'S PLACE, VENICE. ]

The plague now again broke out in Italy; and the English and other
predatory troops contributed much to spread its ravages. It extended to
many places; but most of all it afflicted Milan.

It is probable that these disasters were among the causes of Petrarch's
leaving Milan. He settled at Padua, when the plague had not reached it.
At this time, Petrarch lost his son John. Whether he died at Milan or at
Padua is not certain, but, wherever he died, it was most probably of the
plague. John had not quite attained his twenty-fourth year.

In the same year, 1361, he married his daughter Francesca, now near the
age of twenty, to Francesco di Brossano, a gentleman of Milan. Petrarch
speaks highly of his son-in-law's talents, and of the mildness of his
character. Boccaccio has drawn his portrait in the most pleasing
colours. Of the poet's daughter, also, he tells us, "that without being
handsome, she had a very agreeable face, and much resembled her father. "
It does not seem that she inherited his genius; but she was an excellent
wife, a tender mother, and a dutiful daughter. Petrarch was certainly
pleased both with her and with his son-in-law; and, if he did not live
with the married pair, he was, at least, near them, and much in their
society.

When our poet arrived at Padua, Francesco di Carrara, the son of his
friend Jacopo, reigned there in peace and alone. He had inherited his
father's affection for Petrarch. Here, too, was his friend Pandolfo
Malatesta, one of the bravest condottieri of the fourteenth century, who
had been driven away from Milan by the rage and jealousy of Barnabo.

The plague, which still continued to infest Southern Europe in 1362, had
even in the preceding year deprived our poet of his beloved friend
Socrates, who died at Avignon. "He was," says Petrarch, "of all men the
dearest to my heart. His sentiments towards me never varied during an
acquaintance of thirty-one years. "

The plague and war rendered Italy at this time so disagreeable to
Petrarch, that he resolved on returning to Vaucluse. He, therefore, set
out from Padua for Milan, on the 10th of January, 1362, reckoning that
when the cold weather was over he might depart from the latter place on
his route to Avignon. But when he reached Milan, he found that the state
of the country would not permit him to proceed to the Alps.

The Emperor of Germany now sent Petrarch a third letter of invitation to
come and see him, which our poet promised to accept; but alleged that he
was prevented by the impossibility of getting a safe passage. Boccaccio,
hearing that Petrarch meditated a journey to the far North, was much
alarmed, and reproached him for his intention of dragging the Muses into
Sarmatia, when Italy was the true Parnassus.

In June, 1362, the plague, which had begun its ravages at Padua, chased
Petrarch from that place, and he took the resolution of establishing
himself at Venice, which it had not reached. The course of the
pestilence, like that of the cholera, was not general, but unaccountably
capricious. Villani says that it acted like hail, which will desolate
fields to the right and left, whilst it spares those in the middle. The
war had not permitted our poet to travel either to Avignon or into
Germany. The plague had driven him out of Milan and Padua. "I am not
flying from death," he said, "but seeking repose. "

Having resolved to repair to Venice, Petrarch as usual took his books
along with him. From one of his letters to Boccaccio, it appears that it
was his intention to bestow his library on some religious community,
but, soon after his arrival at Venice, he conceived the idea of offering
this treasure to the Venetian Republic. He wrote to the Government that
he wished the blessed Evangelist, St. Mark, to be the heir of those
books, on condition that they should all be placed in safety, that they
should neither be sold nor separated, and that they should be sheltered
from fire and water, and carefully preserved for the use and amusement
of the learned and noble in Venice. He expressed his hopes, at the same
time, that the illustrious city would acquire other trusts of the same
kind for the good of the public, and that the citizens who loved their
country, the nobles above all, and even strangers, would follow his
example in bequeathing books to the church of St. Mark, which might one
day contain a great collection similar to those of the ancients.

The procurators of the church of St. Mark having offered to defray the
expense of lodging and preserving his library, the republic decreed that
our poet's offer did honour to the Venetian state. They assigned to
Petrarch for his own residence a large palace, called the Two Towers,
formerly belonging to the family of Molina. The mansion was very lofty,
and commanded a prospect of the harbour. Our poet took great pleasure in
this view, and describes it with vivid interest. "From this port," he
says, "I see vessels departing, which are as large as the house I
inhabit, and which have masts taller than its towers. These ships
resemble a mountain floating on the sea; they go to all parts of the
world amidst a thousand dangers; they carry our wines to the English,
our honey to the Scythians, our saffron, our oils, and our linen to the
Syrians, Armenians, Persians, and Arabians; and, wonderful to say,
convey our wood to the Greeks and Egyptians. From all these countries
they bring back in return articles of merchandise, which they diffuse
over all Europe. They go even as far as the Tanais. The navigation of
our seas does not extend farther north; but, when they have arrived
there, they quit their vessels, and travel on to trade with India and
China; and, after passing the Caucasus and the Ganges, they proceed as
far as the Eastern Ocean. "

It is natural to suppose that Petrarch took all proper precautions for
the presentation of his books; nevertheless, they are not now to be seen
at Venice. Tomasini tells us that they had been placed at the top of the
church of St. Mark, that he demanded a sight of them, but that he found
them almost entirely spoiled, and some of them even petrified.

Whilst Petrarch was forming his new establishment at Venice, the news
arrived that Pope Innocent VI. had died on the 12th of September. "He
was a good, just, and simple man," says the continuator of Nangis. A
simple man he certainly was, for he believed Petrarch to be a sorcerer
on account of his reading Virgil. Innocent was succeeded in the
pontificate, to the surprise of all the world, by William Grimoard,
abbot of St. Victor at Marseilles, who took the title of Urban V. The
Cardinals chose him, though he was not of their Sacred College, from
their jealousy lest a pope should be elected from the opposite party of
their own body. Petrarch rejoiced at his election, and ascribed it to
the direct interference of Heaven. De Sade says that the new Pope
desired Petrarch to be the apostolic secretary, but that he was not to
be tempted by a gilded chain.

About this time Petrarch received news of the death of Azzo Correggio,
one of his dearest friends, whose widow and children wrote to him on
this occasion, the latter telling him that they regarded him as a
father.

Boccaccio came to Venice to see Petrarch in 1363, and their meeting was
joyous. They spent delightfully together the months of June, July, and
August, 1363. Boccaccio had not long left him, when, in the following
year, our poet heard of the death of his friend Laelius, and his tears
were still fresh for his loss, when he received another shock in being
bereft of Simonides. It requires a certain age and degree of experience
to appreciate this kind of calamity, when we feel the desolation of
losing our accustomed friends, and almost wish ourselves out of life
that we may escape from its solitude. Boccaccio returned to Florence
early in September, 1363.

In 1364, peace was concluded between Barnabo Visconti and Urban V.
Barnabo having refused to treat with the Cardinal Albornoz, whom he
personally hated, his Holiness sent the Cardinal Androine de la Roche to
Italy as his legate. Petrarch repaired to Bologna to pay his respects to
the new representative of the Pope. He was touched by the sad condition
in which he found that city, which had been so nourishing when he
studied at its university. "I seem," he says, "to be in a dream when I
see the once fair city desolated by war, by slavery, and by famine.
Instead of the joy that once reigned here, sadness is everywhere spread,
and you hear only sighs and wailings in place of songs. Where you
formerly saw troops of girls dancing, there are now only bands of
robbers and assassins. "

Lucchino del Verme, one of the most famous condottieri of his time, had
commanded troops in the service of the Visconti, at whose court he made
the acquaintance of Petrarch. Our poet invited him to serve the
Venetians in the war in which they were engaged with the people of
Candia. Lucchino went to Venice whilst Petrarch was absent, reviewed the
troops, and embarked for Candia on board the fleet, which consisted of
thirty galleys and eight large vessels. Petrarch did not return to
Venice till the expedition had sailed. He passed the summer in the
country, having at his house one of his friends, Barthelemi di
Pappazuori, Bishop of Christi, whom he had known at Avignon, and who had
come purposely to see him. One day, when they were both at a window
which overlooked the sea, they beheld one of the long vessels which the
Italians call a galeazza, entering the harbour. The green branches with
which it was decked, the air of joy that appeared among the mariners,
the young men crowned with laurel, who, from the prow, saluted the
standard of their country--everything betokened that the galeazza
brought good news. When the vessel came a little nearer, they could
perceive the captured colours of their enemies suspended from the poop,
and no doubt could be entertained that a great victory had been won. The
moment that the sentinel on the tower had made the signal of a vessel
entering the harbour, the people flocked thither in crowds, and their
joy was even beyond expectation when they learned that the rebellion had
been totally crushed, and the island reduced to obedience. The most
magnificent festivals were given at Venice on this occasion.

Shortly after these Venetian fetes, we find our poet writing a long
letter to Boccaccio, in which he gives a curious and interesting
description of the Jongleurs of Italy. He speaks of them in a very
different manner from those pictures that have come down to us of the
Provencal Troubadours. The latter were at once poets and musicians, who
frequented the courts and castles of great lords, and sang their
praises. Their strains, too, were sometimes satirical. They amused
themselves with different subjects, and wedded their verses to the sound
of the harp and other instruments. They were called Troubadours from the
word _trobar_, "to invent. " They were original poets, of the true
minstrel breed, similar to those whom Bishop Percy ascribes to England
in the olden time, but about the reality of whom, as a professional
body, Ritson has shown some cause to doubt. Of the Italian Jongleurs,
Petrarch gives us a humble notion. "They are a class," he says, "who
have little wit, but a great deal of memory, and still more impudence.
Having nothing of their own to recite, they snatch at what they can get
from others, and go about to the courts of princes to declaim verses, in
the vulgar tongue, which they have got by heart. At those courts they
insinuate themselves into the favour of the great, and get subsistence
and presents. They seek their means of livelihood, that is, the verses
they recite, among the best authors, from whom they obtain, by dint of
solicitation, and even by bribes of money, compositions for their
rehearsal. I have often repelled their importunities, but sometimes,
touched by their entreaties, I have spent hours in composing productions
for them. I have seen them leave me in rags and poverty, and return,
some time afterwards, clothed in silks, and with purses well furnished,
to thank me for having relieved them. "

In the course of the same amusing correspondence with Boccaccio, which
our poet maintained at this period, he gives an account of an atheist
and blasphemer at Venice, with whom he had a long conversation. It ended
in our poet seizing the infidel by the mantle, and ejecting him from his
house with unceremonious celerity. This conclusion of their dialogue
gives us a higher notion of Petrarch's piety than of his powers of
argument.

Petrarch went to spend the autumn of 1365 at Pavia, which city Galeazzo
Visconti made his principal abode. To pass the winter till Easter, our
poet returned first to Venice, and then to Padua, according to his
custom, to do the duties of his canonry. It was then that his native
Florence, wishing to recall a man who did her so much honour, thought of
asking for him from the Pope the canonry of either Florence or Fiesole.
Petrarch fully appreciated the shabby kindness of his countrymen. A
republic that could afford to be lavish in all other expenses, limited
their bounty towards him to the begging of a canonicate for him from his
Holiness, though Florence had confiscated his father's property. But the
Pope had other views for him, and had actually appointed him to the
canonry of Carpentras, when a false rumour of his death unhappily
induced the Pontiff to dispose not only of that living, but of Parma and
others which he had resigned to indigent friends.

During the February of 1366 there was great joy in the house of
Petrarch, for his daughter, Francesca, the wife of Francesco di
Brossano, gave birth to a boy, whom Donato degli Albanzani, a
peculiarly-favoured friend of the poet's, held over the baptismal font,
whilst he was christened by the name of Francesco.

Meanwhile, our poet was delighted to hear of reformations in the Church,
which signalized the commencement of Urban V. 's pontificate. After some
hesitation, Petrarch ventured to write a strong advice to the Pope to
remove the holy seat from Avignon to Rome. His letter is long, zealous,
superstitious, and, as usual, a little pedantic. The Pope did not need
this epistle to spur his intentions as to replacing the holy seat at
Rome; but it so happened that he did make the removal no very long time
after Petrarch had written to him.

On the 20th of July, 1366, our poet rose, as was his custom, to his
matin devotions, and reflected that he was precisely then entering on
his sixty-third year. He wrote to Boccaccio on the subject. He repeats
the belief, at that time generally entertained, that the sixty-third
year of a man's life is its most dangerous crisis. It was a belief
connected with astrology, and a superstitious idea of the influence of
numbers; of course, if it retains any attention at present, it must
subsist on practical observation: and I have heard sensible physicians,
who had no faith in the influence of the stars, confess that they
thought that time of life, commonly called the grand climacteric, a
critical period for the human constitution.

In May, 1367, Pope Urban accomplished his determination to remove his
court from Avignon in spite of the obstinacy of his Cardinals; but he
did not arrive at Rome till the month of October. He was joyously
received by the Romans; and, in addition to other compliments, had a
long letter from Petrarch, who was then at Venice. Some days after the
date of this letter, our poet received one from Galeazzo Visconti. The
Pope, it seems, wished, at whatever price, to exterminate the Visconti.
He thundered this year against Barnabo with a terrible bull, in which he
published a crusade against him. Barnabo, to whom, with all his faults,
the praise of courage cannot be denied, brought down his troops from the
Po, in order to ravage Mantua, and to make himself master of that city.
Galeazzo, his brother, less warlike, thought of employing negotiation
for appeasing the storm; and he invited Petrarch to Pavia, whither our
poet arrived in 1368. He attempted to procure a peace for the Visconti,
but was not successful.

It was not, however, solely to treat for a peace with his enemies that
Galeazzo drew our poet to his court. He was glad that he should be
present at the marriage of his daughter Violante with Lionel, Duke of
Clarence, son of Edward III. of England. The young English prince,
followed by many nobles of our land, passed through France, and arrived
at Milan on the 14th of May. His nuptials took place about a month
later. At the marriage-dinner Petrarch was seated at the table where
there were only princes, or nobles of the first rank. It is a curious
circumstance that Froissart, so well known as an historian of England,
came at this time to Milan, in the suite of the Duke of Clarence, and
yet formed no acquaintance with our poet. Froissart was then only about
thirty years old. It might have been hoped that the two geniuses would
have become intimate friends; but there is no trace of their having even
spoken to each other. Petrarch's neglect of Froissart may not have been
so wonderful; but it is strange that the latter should not have been
ambitious to pay his court to the greatest poet then alive. It is
imaginable, however, that Petrarch, with all his natural gentleness, was
proud in his demeanour to strangers; and if so, Froissart was excusable
for an equally-proud reserve.

In the midst of the fetes that were given for the nuptials of the
English prince, Petrarch received news of the death of his grandchild.
This little boy had died at Pavia, on the very day of the marriage of
Lionel and Violante, when only two years and four months old. Petrarch
caused a marble mausoleum to be erected over him, and twelve Latin lines
of his own composition to be engraved upon it. He was deeply touched by
the loss of his little grandson. "This child," he says, "had a singular
resemblance to me, insomuch that any one who had not seen its mother
would have taken me for its father. "

A most interesting letter from Boccaccio to our poet found Petrarch at
Pavia, whither he had retired from Milan, wearied with the marriage
fetes. The summer season was now approaching, when he was accustomed to
be ill; and he had, besides, got by the accident of a fall a bad
contusion on his leg. He was anxious to return to Padua, and wished to
embark on the Po. But war was abroad; the river banks were crowded with
troops of the belligerent parties; and no boatmen could be found for
some time who would go with him for love or money. At last, he found the
master of a vessel bold enough to take him aboard. Any other vessel
would have been attacked and pillaged; but Petrarch had no fear; and,
indeed, he was stopped in his river passage only to be loaded with
presents. He arrived in safety at Padua, on the 9th of June, 1368.

The Pope wished much to see our poet at Rome; but Petrarch excused
himself on account of his health and the summer season, which was always
trying to him. But he promised to repair to his Holiness as soon as his
health should permit, not to ask benefices of the holy father, but only
his blessing. During the same year, we find Petrarch complaining often
and painfully of his bodily infirmities. In a letter to Coluccio
Salutati, he says:--"Age, which makes others garrulous, only makes me
silent. When young, I used to write many and long letters. At present, I
write only to my particular friends, and even to them very short
letters. " Petrarch was now sixty-four years old.