The sonnets, triumphs, and other poems of Petrarch
by Francesco Petrarca · English · Gutenberg #17650 · 1,167,170 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The sonnets, triumphs, and other poems of Petrarch
Author: Francesco Petrarca
Editor: Thomas Campbell
Release date: January 31, 2006 [eBook #17650]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17650
Credits: Produced by Ted Garvin, Taavi Kalju and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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[Illustration: PETRARCH.]
THE SONNETS, TRIUMPHS,
AND OTHER POEMS
OF
PETRARCH.
NOW FIRST COMPLETELY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE
BY VARIOUS HANDS.
WITH A LIFE OF THE POET
BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.
ILLUSTRATED WITH SIXTEEN ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.
LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.
1879.
[_Reprinted from Stereotype plates._]
PREFACE.
The present translation of Petrarch completes the Illustrated Library
series of the Italian Poets emphatically distinguished as "I Quattro
Poeti Italiani."
It is rather a singular fact that, while the other three Poets of this
world-famed series--Dante, Ariosto, and Tasso--have each found several
translators, no complete version of the fourth, and in Italy the most
popular, has hitherto been presented to the English reader. This lacune
becomes the more remarkable when we consider the great influence which
Petrarch has undoubtedly exercised on our poetry from the time of
Chaucer downwards.
The plan of the present volume has been to select from all the known
versions those most distinguished for fidelity and rhythm. Of the more
favourite poems, as many as three or four are occasionally given; while
of others, and those by no means few, it has been difficult to find even
one. Indeed, many must have remained entirely unrepresented but for the
spirited efforts of Major Macgregor, who has recently translated nearly
the whole, and that with great closeness both as to matter and form. To
this gentleman we have to return our especial thanks for his liberal
permission to make free use of his labours.
Among the translators will be found Chaucer, Spenser, Sir Thomas Wyatt,
Anna Hume, Sir John Harington, Basil Kennett, Anne Bannerman, Drummond
of Hawthornden, R. Molesworth, Hugh Boyd, Lord Woodhouselee, the Rev.
Francis Wrangham, the Rev. Dr. Nott, Dr. Morehead, Lady Dacre, Lord
Charlemont, Capel Lofft, John Penn, Charlotte Smith, Mrs. Wrottesley,
Miss Wollaston, J.H. Merivale, the Rev. W. Shepherd, and Leigh Hunt,
besides many anonymous.
The order of arrangement is that adopted by Marsand and other recent
editors; but to prevent any difficulty in identification, the Italian
first lines have been given throughout, and repeated in an alphabetical
index.
The Life of Petrarch prefixed is a condensation of the poet Campbell's
two octavo volumes, and includes all the material part of that work.
York Street, Covent Garden,
June 28, 1869.
LIST OF PLATES.
PAGE
1. PORTRAIT OF PETRARCH to face title.
2. VIEW OF NAPLES xliv
3. VIEW OF NICE li
4. COAST OF GENOA lxvi
5. BRIDGE OF SIGHS, VENICE lxxviii
6. VICENZA lxxxiii
7. MILAN CATHEDRAL cvi
8. LIBRARY OF ST. MARK'S, VENICE cxv
9. FERRARA. THE OLD DUCAL PALACE cxxiii
10. PORTRAIT OF LAURA 1
11. VIEW OF ROME--ST. PETER'S IN THE DISTANCE 66
12. SOLITUDES OF VAUCLUSE (where Petrarch wrote most of
his Sonnets) 105
13. GENOA AND THE APENNINES 124
14. AVIGNON (where Laura resided) 189
15. SELVA PIANA (where Petrarch received the news of
Laura's death) 232
16. PETRARCH'S HOUSE AT ARQUA (where he wrote his
Triumphs) 322
CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF PETRARCH'S LIFE.
A.D. PAGE
1304. Born at Arezzo, the 20th of July. ix
1305. Is taken to Incisa at the age of seven months, where
he remains seven years. x
1312. Is removed to Pisa, where he remains seven months. x
1313. Accompanies his parents to Avignon. xi
1315. Goes to live at Carpentras. xi
1319. Is sent to Montpelier. xi
1323. Is removed to Bologna. xii
1326. Returns to Avignon--loses his parents--contracts a
friendship with James Colonna. xiii
1327. Falls in love with Laura. xvii
1330. Goes to Lombes with James Colonna--forms acquaintance
with Socrates and Lælius--and returns to Avignon to
live in the house of Cardinal Colonna. xviii
1331. Travels to Paris--travels through Flanders and Brabant,
and visits a part of Germany. xxiv
1333. His first journey to Rome--his long navigation as
far as the coast of England--his return to Avignon. xxxiii
1337. Birth of his son John--he retires to Vaucluse. xxxv
1339. Commences writing his epic poem, "Africa." xxxviii
1340. Receives an invitation from Rome to come and be
crowned as Laureate--and another invitation, to
the same effect, from Paris. xlii
1341. Goes to Naples, and thence to Rome, where he is
crowned in the Capitol--repairs to Parma--death
of Tommaso da Messina and James Colonna. xliii
1342. Goes as orator of the Roman people to Clement VI.
at Avignon--Studies the Greek language under
Barlaamo. xlviii
1343. Birth of his daughter Francesca--he writes his
dialogues "De secreto conflictu curarum
suarum"--is sent to Naples by Clement VI. and
Cardinal Colonna--goes to Rome for a third and
a fourth time--returns from Naples to Parma. li
1344. Continues to reside in Parma. lviii
1345. Leaves Parma, goes to Bologna, and thence to
Verona--returns to Avignon. lviii
1346. Continues to live at Avignon--is elected canon of
Parma. lix
1347. Revolution at Rome--Petrarch's connection with the
Tribune--takes his fifth journey to Italy--repairs
to Parma. lxiv
1348. Goes to Verona--death of Laura--he returns again
to Parma--his autograph memorandum in the
Milan copy of Virgil--visits Manfredi, Lord of
Carpi, and James Carrara at Padua. lxvii
1349. Goes from Parma to Mantua and Ferrara--returns
to Padua, and receives, probably in this year, a
canonicate in Padua. lxxiii
1350. Is raised to the Archdeaconry of Parma--writes to
the Emperor Charles IV.--goes to Rome, and, in
going and returning, stops at Florence. lxxiii
1351. Writes to Andrea Dandolo with a view to reconcile
the Venetians and Florentines--the Florentines
decree the restoration of his paternal property,
and send John Boccaccio to recall him to his
country--he returns, for the sixth time, to
Avignon--is consulted by the four Cardinals, who
had been deputed to reform the government of Rome. lxxx
1352. Writes to Clement VI. the letter which excites against
him the enmity of the medical tribe--begins
writing his treatise "De Vita Solitaria." lxxxvii
1353. Visits his brother in the Carthusian monastery of
Monte Rivo--writes his treatise "De Otio
Religiosorum"--returns to Italy--takes up his
abode with the Visconti--is sent by the Archbishop
Visconti to Venice, to negotiate a peace between the
Venetians and Genoese. xc
1354. Visits the Emperor at Mantua. xcix
1355. His embassy to the Emperor--publishes his "Invective
against a Physician." xcix
1360. His embassy to John, King of France. cxii
1361. Leaves Milan and settles at Venice--gives his library
to the Venetians. cxiii
1364. Writes for Lucchino del Verme his treatise "De Officio
et Virtutibus Imperatoris." cxvii
1366. Writes to Urban V. imploring him to remove the
Papal residence to Rome--finishes his treatise
"De Remediis utriusque Fortunæ." cxviii
1368. Quits Venice--four young Venetians, either in this
year or the preceding, promulgate a critical judgment
against Petrarch--repairs to Pavia to negotiate
peace between the Pope's Legate and the
Visconti. cxix
1370. Sets out to visit the Pontiff--is taken ill at Ferrara--
retires to Arquà among the Euganean hills. cxxii
1371. Writes his "Invectiva contra Gallum," and his
"Epistle to Posterity." cxxiii
1372. Writes for Francesco da Carrara his essay "De Republica
optime administranda." cxxx
1373. Is sent to Venice by Francesco da Carrara. cxxx
1374. Translates the Griseldis of Boccaccio--dies on the
18th of July in the same year. cxxxi
THE LIFE OF PETRARCH.
The family of Petrarch was originally of Florence, where his ancestors
held employments of trust and honour. Garzo, his great-grandfather, was
a notary universally respected for his integrity and judgment. Though he
had never devoted himself exclusively to letters, his literary opinion
was consulted by men of learning. He lived to be a hundred and four
years old, and died, like Plato, in the same bed in which he had been
born.
Garzo left three sons, one of whom was the grandfather of Petrarch.
Diminutives being customary to the Tuscan tongue, Pietro, the poet's
father, was familiarly called Petracco, or little Peter. He, like his
ancestors, was a notary, and not undistinguished for sagacity. He had
several important commissions from government. At last, in the
increasing conflicts between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines--or, as
they now called themselves, the Blacks and the Whites--Petracco, like
Dante, was obliged to fly from his native city, along with the other
Florentines of the White party. He was unjustly accused of having
officially issued a false deed, and was condemned, on the 20th of
October, 1302, to pay a fine of one thousand lire, and to have his hand
cut off, if that sum was not paid within ten days from the time he
should be apprehended. Petracco fled, taking with him his wife, Eletta
Canigiani, a lady of a distinguished family in Florence, several of whom
had held the office of Gonfalonier.
Petracco and his wife first settled at Arezzo, a very ancient city of
Tuscany. Hostilities did not cease between the Florentine factions till
some years afterwards; and, in an attempt made by the Whites to take
Florence by assault, Petracco was present with his party. They were
repulsed. This action, which was fatal to their cause, took place in the
night between the 19th and 20th days of July, 1304,--the precise date of
the birth of Petrarch.
During our poet's infancy, his family had still to struggle with an
adverse fate; for his proscribed and wandering father was obliged to
separate himself from his wife and child, in order to have the means of
supporting them.
As the pretext for banishing Petracco was purely personal, Eletta, his
wife, was not included in the sentence. She removed to a small property
of her husband's, at Ancisa, fourteen miles from Florence, and took the
little poet along with her, in the seventh month of his age. In their
passage thither, both mother and child, together with their guide, had a
narrow escape from being drowned in the Arno. Eletta entrusted her
precious charge to a robust peasant, who, for fear of hurting the child,
wrapt it in a swaddling cloth, and suspended it over his shoulder, in
the same manner as Metabus is described by Virgil, in the eleventh book
of the Æneid, to have carried his daughter Camilla. In passing the
river, the horse of the guide, who carried Petrarch, stumbled, and sank
down; and in their struggles to save him, both his sturdy bearer and the
frantic parent were, like the infant itself, on the point of being
drowned.
After Eletta had settled at Ancisa, Petracco often visited her by
stealth, and the pledges of their affection were two other sons, one of
whom died in childhood. The other, called Gherardo, was educated along
with Petrarch. Petrarch remained with his mother at Ancisa for seven
years.
The arrival of the Emperor, Henry VII., in Italy, revived the hopes of
the banished Florentines; and Petracco, in order to wait the event, went
to Pisa, whither he brought his wife and Francesco, who was now in his
eighth year. Petracco remained with his family in Pisa for several
months; but tired at last of fallacious hopes, and not daring to trust
himself to the promises of the popular party, who offered to recall him
to Florence, he sought an asylum in Avignon, a place to which many
Italians were allured by the hopes of honours and gain at the papal
residence. In this voyage, Petracco and his family were nearly
shipwrecked off Marseilles.
But the numbers that crowded to Avignon, and its luxurious court,
rendered that city an uncomfortable place for a family in slender
circumstances. Petracco accordingly removed his household, in 1315, to
Carpentras, a small quiet town, where living was cheaper than at
Avignon. There, under the care of his mother, Petrarch imbibed his first
instruction, and was taught by one Convennole da Prato as much grammar
and logic as could be learned at his age, and more than could be learned
by an ordinary disciple from so common-place a preceptor. This poor
master, however, had sufficient intelligence to appreciate the genius of
Petrarch, whom he esteemed and honoured beyond all his other pupils. On
the other hand, his illustrious scholar aided him, in his old age and
poverty, out of his scanty income.
Petrarch used to compare Convennole to a whetstone, which is blunt
itself, but which sharpens others. His old master, however was sharp
enough to overreach him in the matter of borrowing and lending. When the
poet had collected a considerable library, Convennole paid him a visit,
and, pretending to be engaged in something that required him to consult
Cicero, borrowed a copy of one of the works of that orator, which was
particularly valuable. He made excuses, from time to time, for not
returning it; but Petrarch, at last, had too good reason to suspect that
the old grammarian had pawned it. The poet would willingly have paid for
redeeming it, but Convennole was so much ashamed, that he would not tell
to whom it was pawned; and the precious manuscript was lost.
Petracco contracted an intimacy with Settimo, a Genoese, who was like
himself, an exile for his political principles, and who fixed his abode
at Avignon with his wife and his boy, Guido Settimo, who was about the
same age with Petrarch. The two youths formed a friendship, which
subsisted between them for life.
Petrarch manifested signs of extraordinary sensibility to the charms of
nature in his childhood, both when he was at Carpentras and at Avignon.
One day, when he was at the latter residence, a party was made up, to
see the fountain of Vaucluse, a few leagues from Avignon. The little
Francesco had no sooner arrived at the lovely landscape than he was
struck with its beauties, and exclaimed, "Here, now, is a retirement
suited to my taste, and preferable, in my eyes, to the greatest and most
splendid cities."
A genius so fine as that of our poet could not servilely confine itself
to the slow method of school learning, adapted to the intellects of
ordinary boys. Accordingly, while his fellow pupils were still plodding
through the first rudiments of Latin, Petrarch had recourse to the
original writers, from whom the grammarians drew their authority, and
particularly employed himself in perusing the works of Cicero. And,
although he was, at this time, much too young to comprehend the full
force of the orator's reasoning, he was so struck with the charms of his
style, that he considered him the only true model in prose composition.
His father, who was himself something of a scholar, was pleased and
astonished at this early proof of his good taste; he applauded his
classical studies, and encouraged him to persevere in them; but, very
soon, he imagined that he had cause to repent of his commendations.
Classical learning was, in that age, regarded as a mere solitary
accomplishment, and the law was the only road that led to honours and
preferment. Petracco was, therefore, desirous to turn into that channel
the brilliant qualities of his son; and for this purpose he sent him, at
the age of fifteen, to the university of Montpelier. Petrarch remained
there for four years, and attended lectures on law from some of the
most famous professors of the science. But his prepossession for Cicero
prevented him from much frequenting the dry and dusty walks of
jurisprudence. In his epistle to posterity, he endeavours to justify
this repugnance by other motives. He represents the abuses, the
chicanery, and mercenary practices of the law, as inconsistent with
every principle of candour and honesty.
When Petracco observed that his son made no great progress in his legal
studies at Montpelier, he removed him, in 1323, to Bologna, celebrated
for the study of the canon and civil law, probably imagining that the
superior fame of the latter place might attract him to love the law. To
Bologna Petrarch was accompanied by his brother Gherardo, and by his
inseparable friend, young Guido Settimo.
But neither the abilities of the several professors in that celebrated
academy, nor the strongest exhortations of his father, were sufficient
to conquer the deeply-rooted aversion which our poet had conceived for
the law. Accordingly, Petracco hastened to Bologna, that he might
endeavour to check his son's indulgence in literature, which
disconcerted his favourite designs. Petrarch, guessing at the motive of
his arrival, hid the copies of Cicero, Virgil, and some other authors,
which composed his small library, and to purchase which he had deprived
himself of almost the necessaries of life. His father, however, soon
discovered the place of their concealment, and threw them into the fire.
Petrarch exhibited as much agony as if he had been himself the martyr of
his father's resentment. Petracco was so much affected by his son's
tears, that he rescued from the flames Cicero and Virgil, and,
presenting them to Petrarch, he said, "Virgil will console you for the
loss of your other MSS., and Cicero will prepare you for the study of
the law."
It is by no means wonderful that a mind like Petrarch's could but ill
relish the glosses of the Code and the commentaries on the Decretals.
At Bologna, however, he met with an accomplished literary man and no
inelegant poet in one of the professors, who, if he failed in persuading
Petrarch to make the law his profession, certainly quickened his relish
and ambition for poetry. This man was Cino da Pistoia, who is esteemed
by Italians as the most tender and harmonious lyric poet in the native
language anterior to Petrarch.
During his residence at Bologna, Petrarch made an excursion as far as
Venice, a city that struck him with enthusiastic admiration. In one of
his letters he calls it "_orbem alterum_." Whilst Italy was harassed, he
says, on all sides by continual dissensions, like the sea in a storm,
Venice alone appeared like a safe harbour, which overlooked the tempest
without feeling its commotion. The resolute and independent spirit of
that republic made an indelible impression on Petrarch's heart. The
young poet, perhaps, at this time little imagined that Venice was to be
the last scene of his triumphant eloquence.
Soon after his return from Venice to Bologna, he received the melancholy
intelligence of the death of his mother, in the thirty-eighth year of
her age. Her age is known by a copy of verses which Petrarch wrote upon
her death, the verses being the same in number as the years of her life.
She had lived humble and retired, and had devoted herself to the good of
her family; virtuous amidst the prevalence of corrupted manners, and,
though a beautiful woman, untainted by the breath of calumny. Petrarch
has repaid her maternal affection by preserving her memory from
oblivion. Petracco did not long survive the death of this excellent
woman. According to the judgment of our poet, his father was a man of
strong character and understanding. Banished from his native country,
and engaged in providing for his family, he was prevented by the
scantiness of his fortune, and the cares of his situation, from rising
to that eminence which he might have otherwise attained. But his
admiration of Cicero, in an age when that author was universally
neglected, was a proof of his superior mind.
Petrarch quitted Bologna upon the death of his father, and returned to
Avignon, with his brother Gherardo, to collect the shattered remains of
their father's property. Upon their arrival, they found their domestic
affairs in a state of great disorder, as the executors of Petracco's
will had betrayed the trust reposed in them, and had seized most of the
effects of which they could dispose. Under these circumstances, Petrarch
was most anxious for a MS. of Cicero, which his father had highly
prized. "The guardians," he writes, "eager to appropriate what they
esteemed the more valuable effects, had fortunately left this MS. as a
thing of no value." Thus he owed to their ignorance this treatise, which
he considered the richest portion of the inheritance left him by his
father.
But, that inheritance being small, and not sufficient for the
maintenance of the two brothers, they were obliged to think of some
profession for their subsistence; they therefore entered the church; and
Avignon was the place, of all others, where preferment was most easily
obtained. John XXII. had fixed his residence entirely in that city since
October, 1316, and had appropriated to himself the nomination to all the
vacant benefices. The pretence for this appropriation was to prevent
simony--in others, not in his Holiness--as the sale of benefices was
carried by him to an enormous height. At every promotion to a bishopric,
he removed other bishops; and, by the meanest impositions, soon amassed
prodigious wealth. Scandalous emoluments, also, which arose from the
sale of indulgences, were enlarged, if not invented, under his papacy,
and every method of acquiring riches was justified which could
contribute to feed his avarice. By these sordid means, he collected such
sums, that, according to Villani, he left behind him, _in the sacred
treasury_, twenty-five millions of florins, a treasure which Voltaire
remarks is hardly credible.
The luxury and corruption which reigned in the Roman court at Avignon
are fully displayed in some letters of Petrarch's, without either date
or address. The partizans of that court, it is true, accuse him of
prejudice and exaggeration. He painted, as they allege, the popes and
cardinals in the gloomiest colouring. His letters contain the blackest
catalogue of crimes that ever disgraced humanity.
Petrarch was twenty-two years of age when he settled at Avignon, a scene
of licentiousness and profligacy. The luxury of the cardinals, and the
pomp and riches of the papal court, were displayed in an extravagant
profusion of feasts and ceremonies, which attracted to Avignon women of
all ranks, among whom intrigue and gallantry were generally
countenanced. Petrarch was by nature of a warm temperament, with vivid
and susceptible passions, and strongly attached to the fair sex. We must
not therefore be surprised if, with these dispositions, and in such a
dissolute city, he was betrayed into some excesses. But these were the
result of his complexion, and not of deliberate profligacy. He alludes
to this subject in his Epistle to Posterity, with every appearance of
truth and candour.
From his own confession, Petrarch seems to have been somewhat vain of
his personal appearance during his youth, a venial foible, from which
neither the handsome nor the homely, nor the wise nor the foolish, are
exempt. It is amusing to find our own Milton betraying this weakness, in
spite of all the surrounding strength of his character. In answering one
of his slanderers, who had called him pale and cadaverous, the author of
Paradise Lost appeals to all who knew him whether his complexion was not
so fresh and blooming as to make him appear ten years younger than he
really was.
Petrarch, when young, was so strikingly handsome, that he was frequently
pointed at and admired as he passed along, for his features were manly,
well-formed, and expressive, and his carriage was graceful and
distinguished. He was sprightly in conversation, and his voice was
uncommonly musical. His complexion was between brown and fair, and his
eyes were bright and animated. His countenance was a faithful index of
his heart.
He endeavoured to temper the warmth of his constitution by the
regularity of his living and the plainness of his diet. He indulged
little in either wine or sleep, and fed chiefly on fruits and
vegetables.
In his early days he was nice and neat in his dress, even to a degree of
affectation, which, in later life, he ridiculed when writing to his
brother Gherardo. "Do you remember," he says, "how much care we
employed in the lure of dressing our persons; when we traversed the
streets, with what attention did we not avoid every breath of wind which
might discompose our hair; and with what caution did we not prevent the
least speck of dirt from soiling our garments!"
This vanity, however, lasted only during his youthful days. And even
then neither attention to his personal appearance, nor his attachment to
the fair sex, nor his attendance upon the great, could induce Petrarch
to neglect his own mental improvement, for, amidst all these
occupations, he found leisure for application, and devoted himself to
the cultivation of his favourite pursuits of literature.
Inclined by nature to moral philosophy, he was guided by the reading of
Cicero and Seneca to that profound knowledge of the human heart, of the
duties of others and of our own duties, which shows itself in all his
writings. Gifted with a mind full of enthusiasm for poetry, he learned
from Virgil elegance and dignity in versification. But he had still
higher advantages from the perusal of Livy. The magnanimous actions of
Roman heroes so much excited the soul of Petrarch, that he thought the
men of his own age light and contemptible.
His first compositions were in Latin: many motives, however, induced him
to compose in the vulgar tongue, as Italian was then called, which,
though improved by Dante, was still, in many respects, harsh and
inelegant, and much in want of new beauties. Petrarch wrote for the
living, and for that portion of the living who were least of all to be
fascinated by the language of the dead. Latin might be all very well for
inscriptions on mausoleums, but it was not suited for the ears of beauty
and the bowers of love. The Italian language acquired, under his
cultivation, increased elegance and richness, so that the harmony of his
style has contributed to its beauty. He did not, however, attach himself
solely to Italian, but composed much in Latin, which he reserved for
graver, or, as he considered, more important subjects. His compositions
in Latin are--Africa, an epic poem; his Bucolics, containing twelve
eclogues; and three books of epistles.
Petrarch's greatest obstacles to improvement arose from the scarcity of
authors whom he wished to consult--for the manuscripts of the writers of
the Augustan age were, at that time, so uncommon, that many could not be
procured, and many more of them could not be purchased under the most
extravagant price. This scarcity of books had checked the dawning light
of literature. The zeal of our poet, however, surmounted all these
obstacles, for he was indefatigable in collecting and copying many of
the choicest manuscripts; and posterity is indebted to him for the
possession of many valuable writings, which were in danger of being lost
through the carelessness or ignorance of the possessors.
Petrarch could not but perceive the superiority of his own understanding
and the brilliancy of his abilities. The modest humility which knows not
its own worth is not wont to show itself in minds much above mediocrity;
and to elevated geniuses this virtue is a stranger. Petrarch from his
youthful age had an internal assurance that he should prove worthy of
estimation and honours. Nevertheless, as he advanced in the field of
science, he saw the prospect increase, Alps over Alps, and seemed to be
lost amidst the immensity of objects before him. Hence the anticipation
of immeasurable labours occasionally damped his application. But from
this depression of spirits he was much relieved by the encouragement of
John of Florence, one of the secretaries of the Pope, a man of learning
and probity. He soon distinguished the extraordinary abilities of
Petrarch; he directed him in his studies, and cheered up his ambition.
Petrarch returned his affection with unbounded confidence. He entrusted
him with all his foibles, his disgusts, and his uneasinesses. He says
that he never conversed with him without finding himself more calm and
composed, and more animated for study.
The superior sagacity of our poet, together with his pleasing manners,
and his increasing reputation for knowledge, ensured to him the most
flattering prospects of success. His conversation was courted by men of
rank, and his acquaintance was sought by men of learning. It was at this
time, 1326, that his merit procured him the friendship and patronage of
James Colonna, who belonged to one of the most ancient and illustrious
families of Italy.
"About the twenty-second year of my life," Petrarch writes to one of his
friends, "I became acquainted with James Colonna. He had seen me whilst
I resided at Bologna, and was prepossessed, as he was pleased to say,
with my appearance. Upon his arrival at Avignon, he again saw me, when,
having inquired minutely into the state of my affairs, he admitted me to
his friendship. I cannot sufficiently describe the cheerfulness of his
temper, his social disposition, his moderation in prosperity, his
constancy in adversity. I speak not from report, but from my own
experience. He was endowed with a persuasive and forcible eloquence. His
conversation and letters displayed the amiableness of his sincere
character. He gained the first place in my affections, which he ever
afterwards retained."
Such is the portrait which our poet gives of James Colonna. A faithful
and wise friend is among the most precious gifts of fortune; but, as
friendships cannot wholly feed our affections, the heart of Petrarch, at
this ardent age, was destined to be swayed by still tenderer feelings.
He had nearly finished his twenty-third year without having ever
seriously known the passion of love. In that year he first saw Laura.
Concerning this lady, at one time, when no life of Petrarch had been yet
written that was not crude and inaccurate, his biographers launched
into the wildest speculations. One author considered her as an
allegorical being; another discovered her to be a type of the Virgin
Mary; another thought her an allegory of poetry and repentance. Some
denied her even allegorical existence, and deemed her a mere phantom
beauty, with which the poet had fallen in love, like Pygmalion with the
work of his own creation. All these caprices about Laura's history have
been long since dissipated, though the principal facts respecting her
were never distinctly verified, till De Sade, her own descendant, wrote
his memoirs of the Life of Petrarch.
Petrarch himself relates that in 1327, exactly at the first hour of the
6th of April, he first beheld Laura in the church of St. Clara of
Avignon,[A] where neither the sacredness of the place, nor the solemnity
of the day, could prevent him from being smitten for life with human
love. In that fatal hour he saw a lady, a little younger than himself[B]
in a green mantle sprinkled with violets, on which her golden hair fell
plaited in tresses. She was distinguished from all others by her proud
and delicate carriage. The impression which she made on his heart was
sudden, yet it was never effaced.
Laura, descended from a family of ancient and noble extraction, was the
daughter of Audibert de Noves, a Provençal nobleman, by his wife
Esmessenda. She was born at Avignon, probably in 1308. She had a
considerable fortune, and was married in 1325 to Hugh de Sade. The
particulars of her life are little known, as Petrarch has left few
traces of them in his letters; and it was still less likely that he
should enter upon her personal history in his sonnets, which, as they
were principally addressed to herself, made it unnecessary for him to
inform her of what she already knew.
While many writers have erred in considering Petrarch's attachment as
visionary, others, who have allowed the reality of his passion, have
been mistaken in their opinion of its object. They allege that Petrarch
was a happy lover, and that his mistress was accustomed to meet him at
Vaucluse, and make him a full compensation for his fondness. No one at
all acquainted with the life and writings of Petrarch will need to be
told that this is an absurd fiction. Laura, a married woman, who bore
ten children to a rather morose husband, could not have gone to meet him
at Vaucluse without the most flagrant scandal. It is evident from his
writings that she repudiated his passion whenever it threatened to
exceed the limits of virtuous friendship. On one occasion, when he
seemed to presume too far upon her favour, she said to him with
severity, "I am not what you take me for." If his love had been
successful, he would have said less about it.
Of the two persons in this love affair, I am more inclined to pity Laura
than Petrarch. Independently of her personal charms, I cannot conceive
Laura otherwise than as a kind-hearted, loveable woman, who could not
well be supposed to be totally indifferent to the devotion of the most
famous and fascinating man of his age. On the other hand, what was the
penalty that she would have paid if she had encouraged his addresses as
far as he would have carried them? Her disgrace, a stigma left on her
family, and the loss of all that character which upholds a woman in her
own estimation and in that of the world. I would not go so far as to say
that she did not at times betray an anxiety to retain him under the
spell of her fascination, as, for instance, when she is said to have
cast her eyes to the ground in sadness when he announced his intention
to leave Avignon; but still I should like to hear her own explanation
before I condemned her. And, after all, she was only anxious for the
continuance of attentions, respecting which she had made a fixed
understanding that they should not exceed the bounds of innocence.
We have no distinct account how her husband regarded the homage of
Petrarch to his wife--whether it flattered his vanity, or moved his
wrath. As tradition gives him no very good character for temper, the
latter supposition is the more probable. Every morning that he went out
he might hear from some kind friend the praises of a new sonnet which
Petrarch had written on his wife; and, when he came back to dinner, of
course his good humour was not improved by the intelligence. He was in
the habit of scolding her till she wept; he married seven months after
her death, and, from all that is known of him, appears to have been a
bad husband. I suspect that Laura paid dearly for her poet's idolatry.
No incidents of Petrarch's life have been transmitted to us for the
first year or two after his attachment to Laura commenced. He seems to
have continued at Avignon, prosecuting his studies and feeding his
passion.
James Colonna, his friend and patron, was promoted in 1328 to the
bishopric of Lombes in Gascony; and in the year 1330 he went from
Avignon to take possession of his diocese, and invited Petrarch to
accompany him to his residence. No invitation could be more acceptable
to our poet: they set out at the end of March, 1330. In order to reach
Lombes, it was necessary to cross the whole of Languedoc, and to pass
through Montpelier, Narbonne, and Toulouse. Petrarch already knew
Montpelier, where he had, or ought to have, studied the law for four
years.
Full of enthusiasm for Rome, Petrarch was rejoiced to find at Narbonne
the city which had been the first Roman colony planted among the Gauls.
This colony had been formed entirely of Roman citizens, and, in order to
reconcile them to their exile, the city was built like a little image of
Rome. It had its capital, its baths, arches, and fountains; all which
works were worthy of the Roman name. In passing through Narbonne,
Petrarch discovered a number of ancient monuments and inscriptions.
Our travellers thence proceeded to Toulouse, where they passed several
days. This city, which was known even before the foundation of Rome, is
called, in some ancient Roman acts, "Roma Garumnæ." It was famous in the
classical ages for cultivating literature. After the fall of the Roman
empire, the successive incursions of the Visigoths, the Saracens, and
the Normans, for a long time silenced the Muses at Toulouse; but they
returned to their favourite haunt after ages of barbarism had passed
away. De Sade says, that what is termed Provençal poetry was much more
cultivated by the Languedocians than by the Provençals, properly so
called. The city of Toulouse was considered as the principal seat of
this earliest modern poetry, which was carried to perfection in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, under the patronage of the Counts of
Toulouse, particularly Raimond V., and his son, Raimond VI. Petrarch
speaks with high praise of those poets in his Triumphs of Love. It has
been alleged that he owed them this mark of his regard for their having
been so useful to him in his Italian poetry; and Nostradamus even
accuses him of having stolen much from them. But Tassoni, who understood
the Provençal poets better than Nostradamus, defends him successfully
from this absurd accusation.
Although Provençal poetry was a little on its decline since the days of
the Dukes of Aquitaine and the Counts of Toulouse, it was still held in
honour; and, when Petrarch arrived, the Floral games had been
established at Toulouse during six years.[C]
Ere long, however, our travellers found less agreeable objects of
curiosity, that formed a sad contrast with the chivalric manners, the
floral games, and the gay poetry of southern France. Bishop Colonna and
Petrarch had intended to remain for some time at Toulouse; but their
sojourn was abridged by their horror at a tragic event[D] in the
principal monastery of the place. There lived in that monastery a young
monk, named Augustin, who was expert in music, and accompanied the
psalmody of the religious brothers with beautiful touches on the organ.
The superior of the convent, relaxing its discipline, permitted Augustin
frequently to mix with the world, in order to teach music, and to
improve himself in the art. The young monk was in the habit of
familiarly visiting the house of a respectable citizen: he was
frequently in the society of his daughter, and, by the express
encouragement of her father, undertook to exercise her in the practice
of music. Another young man, who was in love with the girl, grew jealous
of the monk, who was allowed to converse so familiarly with her, whilst
he, her lay admirer, could only have stolen glimpses of her as she
passed to church or to public spectacles. He set about the ruin of his
supposed rival with cunning atrocity; and, finding that the young woman
was infirm in health, suborned a physician, as worthless as himself, to
declare that she was pregnant. Her credulous father, without inquiring
whether the intelligence was true or false, went to the superior of the
convent, and accused Augustin, who, though thunderstruck at the
accusation, denied it firmly, and defended himself intrepidly. But the
superior was deaf to his plea of innocence, and ordered him to be shut
up in his cell, that he might await his punishment. Thither the poor
young man was conducted, and threw himself on his bed in a state of
horror.
The superior and the elders among the friars thought it a meet fate for
the accused that he should be buried alive in a subterranean dungeon,
after receiving the terrific sentence of "_Vade in pace_." At the end of
several days the victim dashed out his brains against the walls of his
sepulchre. Bishop Colonna, who, it would appear, had no power to oppose
this hideous transaction, when he was informed of it, determined to
leave the place immediately; and Petrarch in his indignation exclaimed--
"Heu! fuge crudeles terras, fuge littus avarum."--VIRG.
On the 26th of May, 1330, the Bishop of Lombes and Petrarch quitted
Toulouse, and arrived at the mansion of the diocese. Lombes--in Latin,
Lombarium--lies at the foot of the Pyrenees, only eight leagues from
Toulouse. It is small and ill-built, and offers no allurement to the
curiosity of the traveller. Till lately it had been a simple abbey of
the Augustine monks. The whole of the clergy of the little city, singing
psalms, issued out of Lombes to meet their new pastor, who, under a rich
canopy, was conducted to the principal church, and there, in his
episcopal robes, blessed the people, and delivered an eloquent
discourse. Petrarch beheld with admiration the dignified behaviour of
the youthful prelate. James Colonna, though accustomed to the wealth and
luxury of Rome, came to the Pyrenean rocks with a pleased countenance.
"His aspect," says Petrarch, "made it seem as if Italy had been
transported into Gascony." Nothing is more beautiful than the patient
endurance of our destiny; yet there are many priests who would suffer
translation to a well-paid, though mountainous bishopric, with patience
and piety.
The vicinity of the Pyrenees renders the climate of Lombes very severe;
and the character and conversation of the inhabitants were scarcely more
genial than their climate. But Petrarch found in the bishop's abode
friends who consoled him in this exile among the Lombesians. Two young
and familiar inmates of the Bishop's house attracted and returned his
attachment. The first of these was Lello di Stefani, a youth of a noble
and ancient family in Rome, long attached to the Colonnas. Lello's
gifted understanding was improved by study; so Petrarch tells us; and he
could have been no ordinary man whom our accomplished poet so highly
valued. In his youth he had quitted his studies for the profession of
arms; but the return of peace restored him to his literary pursuits.
Such was the attachment between Petrarch and Lello, that Petrarch gave
him the name of Lælius, the most attached companion of Scipio. The other
friend to whom Petrarch attached himself in the house of James Colonna
was a young German, extremely accomplished in music. De Sade says that
his name was Louis, without mentioning his cognomen. He was a native of
Ham, near Bois le Duc, on the left bank of the Rhine between Brabant and
Holland. Petrarch, with his Italian prejudices, regarded him as a
barbarian by birth; but he was so fascinated by his serene temper and
strong judgment, that he singled him out to be the chief of all his
friends, and gave him the name of Socrates, noting him as an example
that Nature can sometimes produce geniuses in the most unpropitious
regions.
After having passed the summer of 1330 at Lombes, the Bishop returned to
Avignon, in order to meet his father, the elder Stefano Colonna, and his
brother the Cardinal.
The Colonnas were a family of the first distinction in modern Italy.
They had been exceedingly powerful during the popedom of Boniface VIII.,
through the talents of the late Cardinal James Colonna, brother of the
famous old Stefano, so well known to Petrarch, and whom he used to call
a phoenix sprung up from the ashes of Rome. Their house possessed also
an influential public character in the Cardinal Pietro, brother of the
younger Stefano. They were formidable from the territories and castles
which they possessed, and by their alliance and friendship with Charles,
King of Naples. The power of the Colonna family became offensive to
Boniface, who, besides, hated the two Cardinals for having opposed the
renunciation of Celestine V., which Boniface had fraudulently obtained.
Boniface procured a crusade against them. They were beaten, expelled
from their castles, and almost exterminated; they implored peace, but in
vain; they were driven from Rome, and obliged to seek refuge, some in
Sicily and others in France. During the time of their exile, Boniface
proclaimed it a capital crime to give shelter to any of them.
The Colonnas finally returned to their dignities and property, and
afterwards made successful war against the house of their rivals, the
Orsini.
John Colonna, the Cardinal, brother of the Bishop of Lombes, and son of
old Stefano, was one of the very ablest men at the papal court. He
insisted on our poet taking up his abode in his own palace at Avignon.
"What good fortune was this for me!" says Petrarch. "This great man
never made me feel that he was my superior in station. He was like a
father or an indulgent brother; and I lived in his house as if it had
been my own." At a subsequent period, we find him on somewhat cooler
terms with John Colonna, and complaining that his domestic dependence
had, by length of time, become wearisome to him. But great allowance is
to be made for such apparent inconsistencies in human attachment. At
different times our feelings and language on any subject may be
different without being insincere. The truth seems to be that Petrarch
looked forward to the friendship of the Colonnas for promotion, which he
either received scantily, or not at all; so it is little marvellous if
he should have at last felt the tedium of patronage.
For the present, however, this home was completely to Petrarch's taste.
It was the rendezvous of all strangers distinguished by their knowledge
and talents, whom the papal court attracted to Avignon, which was now
the great centre of all political negotiations.
This assemblage of the learned had a powerful influence on Petrarch's
fine imagination. He had been engaged for some time in the perusal of
Livy, and his enthusiasm for ancient Rome was heightened, if possible,
by the conversation of old Stefano Colonna, who dwelt on no subject with
so much interest as on the temples and palaces of the ancient city,
majestic even in their ruins.
During the bitter persecution raised against his family by Boniface
VIII., Stefano Colonna had been the chief object of the Pope's
implacable resentment. Though oppressed by the most adverse
circumstances, his estates confiscated, his palaces levelled with the
ground, and himself driven into exile, the majesty of his appearance,
and the magnanimity of his character, attracted the respect of strangers
wherever he went. He had the air of a sovereign prince rather than of an
exile, and commanded more regard than monarchs in the height of their
ostentation.
In the picture of his times, Stefano makes a noble and commanding
figure. If the reader, however, happens to search into that period of
Italian history, he will find many facts to cool the romance of his
imagination respecting all the Colonna family. They were, in plain
truth, an oppressive aristocratic family. The portion of Italy which
they and their tyrannical rivals possessed was infamously governed. The
highways were rendered impassable by banditti, who were in the pay of
contesting feudal lords; and life and property were everywhere insecure.
Stefano, nevertheless, seems to have been a man formed for better times.
He improved in the school of misfortune--the serenity of his temper
remained unclouded by adversity, and his faculties unimpaired by age.
Among the illustrious strangers who came to Avignon at this time was our
countryman, Richard de Bury, then accounted the most learned man of
England. He arrived at Avignon in 1331, having been sent to the Pope by
Edward III. De Sade conceives that the object of his embassy was to
justify his sovereign before the Pontiff for having confined the
Queen-mother in the castle of Risings, and for having caused her
favourite, Roger de Mortimer, to be hanged. It was a matter of course
that so illustrious a stranger as Richard de Bury should be received
with distinction by Cardinal Colonna. Petrarch eagerly seized the
opportunity of forming his acquaintance, confident that De Bury could
give him valuable information on many points of geography and history.
They had several conversations. Petrarch tells us that he entreated the
learned Englishman to make him acquainted with the true situation of the
isle of Thule, of which the ancients speak with much uncertainty, but
which their best geographers place at the distance of some days'
navigation from the north of England. De Bury was, in all probability,
puzzled with the question, though he did not like to confess his
ignorance. He excused himself by promising to inquire into the subject
as soon as he should get back to his books in England, and to write to
him the best information he could afford. It does not appear, however,
that he performed his promise.
De Bury's stay at the court of Avignon was very short. King Edward, it
is true, sent him a second time to the Pope, two years afterwards, on
important business. The seeds of discord between France and England
began to germinate strongly, and that circumstance probably occasioned
De Bury's second mission. Unfortunately, however, Petrarch could not
avail himself of his return so as to have further interviews with the
English scholar. Petrarch wrote repeatedly to De Bury for his promised
explanations respecting Thule; but, whether our countryman had found
nothing in his library to satisfy his inquiries, or was prevented by his
public occupations, there is no appearance of his having ever answered
Petrarch's letters.
Stephano Colonna the younger had brought with him to Avignon his son
Agapito, who was destined for the church, that he might be educated
under the eyes of the Cardinal and the Bishop, who were his uncles.
These two prelates joined with their father in entreating Petrarch to
undertake the superintendence of Agapito's studies. Our poet, avaricious
of his time, and jealous of his independence, was at first reluctant to
undertake the charge; but, from his attachment to the family, at last
accepted it. De Sade tells us that Petrarch was not successful in the
young man's education; and, from a natural partiality for the hero of
his biography, lays the blame on his pupil. At the same time he
acknowledges that a man with poetry in his head and love in his heart
was not the most proper mentor in the world for a youth who was to be
educated for the church. At this time, Petrarch's passion for Laura
continued to haunt his peace with incessant violence. She had received
him at first with good-humour and affability; but it was only while he
set strict bounds to the expression of his attachment. He had not,
however, sufficient self-command to comply with these terms. His
constant assiduities, his eyes continually riveted upon her, and the
wildness of his looks, convinced her of his inordinate attachment; her
virtue took alarm; she retired whenever he approached her, and even
covered her face with a veil whilst he was present, nor would she
condescend to the slightest action or look that might seem to
countenance his passion.
Petrarch complains of these severities in many of his melancholy
sonnets. Meanwhile, if fame could have been a balm to love, he might
have been happy. His reputation as a poet was increasing, and his
compositions were read with universal approbation.
The next interesting event in our poet's life was a larger course of
travels, which he took through the north of France, through Flanders,
Brabant, and a part of Germany, subsequently to his tour in Languedoc.
Petrarch mentions that he undertook this journey about the twenty-fifth
year of his age. He was prompted to travel not only by his curiosity to
observe men and manners, by his desire of seeing monuments of antiquity,
and his hopes of discovering the MSS. of ancient authors, but also, we
may believe, by his wish, if it were possible, to escape from himself,
and to forget Laura.
From Paris Petrarch wrote as follows to Cardinal Colonna. "I have
visited Paris, the capital of the whole kingdom of France. I entered it
in the same state of mind that was felt by Apuleias when he visited
Hypata, a city of Thessaly, celebrated for its magic, of which such
wonderful things were related, looking again and again at every object,
in solicitous suspense, to know whether all that he had heard of the
far-famed place was true or false. Here I pass a great deal of time in
observation, and, as the day is too short for my curiosity, I add the
night. At last, it seems to me that, by long exploring, I have enabled
myself to distinguish between the true and the false in what is related
about Paris. But, as the subject would be too tedious for this occasion,
I shall defer entering fully into particulars till I can do so _vivâ
voce_. My impatience, however, impels me to sketch for you briefly a
general idea of this so celebrated city, and of the character of its
inhabitants.
"Paris, though always inferior to its fame, and much indebted to the
lies of its own people, is undoubtedly a great city. To be sure I never
saw a dirtier place, except Avignon. At the same time, its population
contains the most learned of men, and it is like a great basket in which
are collected the rarest fruits of every country. From the time that its
university was founded, as they say by Alcuin, the teacher of
Charlemagne, there has not been, to my knowledge, a single Parisian of
any fame. The great luminaries of the university were all strangers;
and, if the love of my country does not deceive me, they were chiefly
Italians, such as Pietro Lombardo, Tomaso d'Aquino, Bonaventura, and
many others.
"The character of the Parisians is very singular. There was a time when,
from the ferocity of their manners, the French were reckoned barbarians.
At present the case is wholly changed. A gay disposition, love of
society, ease, and playfulness in conversation now characterize them.
They seek every opportunity of distinguishing themselves; and make war
against all cares with joking, laughing, singing, eating, and drinking.
Prone, however, as they are to pleasure, they are not heroic in
adversity. The French love their country and their countrymen; they
censure with rigour the faults of other nations, but spread a
proportionably thick veil over their own defects."
From Paris, Petrarch proceeded to Ghent, of which only he makes mention
to the Cardinal, without noticing any of the towns that lie between. It
is curious to find our poet out of humour with Flanders on account of
the high price of wine, which was not an indigenous article. In the
latter part of his life, Petrarch was certainly one of the most
abstemious of men; but, at this period, it would seem that he drank good
liquor enough to be concerned about its price.
From Ghent he passed on to Liege. "This city is distinguished," he says,
"by the riches and the number of its clergy. As I had heard that
excellent MSS. might be found there, I stopped in the place for some
time. But is it not singular that in so considerable a place I had
difficulty to procure ink enough to copy two orations of Cicero's, and
the little that I could obtain was as yellow as saffron?"
Petrarch was received at most of the places he visited, and more
particularly at Cologne, with marks of great respect; and he was
agreeably surprised to find that his reputation had acquired him the
partiality and acquaintance of several inhabitants. He was conducted by
his new friends to the banks of the Rhine, where the inhabitants were
engaged in the performance of a superstitious annual ceremony, which,
for its singularity, deserves to be recorded.
"The banks of the river were crowded with a considerable number of
women, their persons comely, and their dress elegant. This great
concourse of people seemed to create no confusion. A number of these
women, with cheerful countenances, crowned with flowers, bathed their
hands and arms in the stream, and uttered, at the same time, some
harmonious expressions in a language which I did not understand. I
inquired into the cause of this ceremony, and was informed that it arose
from a tradition among the people, and particularly among the women,
that the impending calamities of the year were carried away by this
ablution, and that blessings succeeded in their place. Hence this
ceremony is annually renewed, and the ablution performed with
unremitting diligence."
The ceremony being finished, Petrarch smiled at their superstition, and
exclaimed, "O happy inhabitants of the Rhine, whose waters wash out your
miseries, whilst neither the Po nor the Tiber can wash out ours! You
transmit your evils to the Britons by means of this river, whilst we
send off ours to the Illyrians and the Africans. It seems that our
rivers have a slower course."
Petrarch shortened his excursion that he might return the sooner to
Avignon, where the Bishop of Lombes had promised to await his return,
and take him to Rome.
When he arrived at Lyons, however, he was informed that the Bishop had
departed from Avignon for Rome. In the first paroxysm of his
disappointment he wrote a letter to his friend, which portrays strongly
affectionate feelings, but at the same time an irascible temper. When he
came to Avignon, the Cardinal Colonna relieved him from his irritation
by acquainting him with the real cause of his brother's departure. The
flames of civil dissension had been kindled at Rome between the rival
families of Colonna and Orsini. The latter had made great preparations
to carry on the war with vigour. In this crisis of affairs, James
Colonna had been summoned to Rome to support the interests of his
family, and, by his courage and influence, to procure them the succour
which they so much required.
Petrarch continued to reside at Avignon for several years after
returning from his travels in France and Flanders. It does not appear
from his sonnets, during those years, either that his passion for Laura
had abated, or that she had given him any more encouragement than
heretofore. But in the year 1334, an accident renewed the utmost
tenderness of his affections. A terrible affliction visited the city of
Avignon. The heat and the drought were so excessive that almost the
whole of the common people went about naked to the waist, and, with
frenzy and miserable cries, implored Heaven to put an end to their
calamities. Persons of both sexes and of all ages had their bodies
covered with scales, and changed their skins like serpents.
Laura's constitution was too delicate to resist this infectious malady,
and her illness greatly alarmed Petrarch. One day he asked her
physician how she was, and was told by him that her condition was very
dangerous: on that occasion he composed the following sonnet:[E]--
This lovely spirit, if ordain'd to leave
Its mortal tenement before its time,
Heaven's fairest habitation shall receive
And welcome her to breathe its sweetest clime.
If she establish her abode between
Mars and the planet-star of Beauty's queen,
The sun will be obscured, so dense a cloud
Of spirits from adjacent stars will crowd
To gaze upon her beauty infinite.
Say that she fixes on a lower sphere,
Beneath the glorious sun, her beauty soon
Will dim the splendour of inferior stars--
Of Mars, of Venus, Mercury, and the Moon.
She'll choose not Mars, but higher place than Mars;
She will eclipse all planetary light,
And Jupiter himself will seem less bright.
I trust that I have enough to say in favour of Petrarch to satisfy his
rational admirers; but I quote this sonnet as an example of the worst
style of Petrarch's poetry. I make the English reader welcome to rate my
power of translating it at the very lowest estimation. He cannot go much
further down than myself in the scale of valuation, especially if he has
Italian enough to know that the exquisite mechanical harmony of
Petrarch's style is beyond my reach. It has been alleged that this
sonnet shows how much the mind of Petrarch had been influenced by his
Platonic studies; but if Plato had written poetry he would never have
been so extravagant.
Petrarch, on his return from Germany, had found the old Pope, John
XXII., intent on two speculations, to both of which he lent his
enthusiastic aid. One of them was a futile attempt to renew the
crusades, from which Europe had reposed for a hundred years. The other
was the transfer of the holy seat to Rome. The execution of this plan,
for which Petrarch sighed as if it were to bring about the millennium,
and which was not accomplished by another Pope without embroiling him
with his Cardinals, was nevertheless more practicable than capturing
Jerusalem. We are told by several Italian writers that the aged Pontiff,
moved by repeated entreaties from the Romans, as well as by the remorse
of his conscience, thought seriously of effecting this restoration; but
the sincerity of his intentions is made questionable by the fact that he
never fixed himself at Rome. He wrote, it is true, to Rome in 1333,
ordering his palaces and gardens to be repaired; but the troubles which
continued to agitate the city were alleged by him as too alarming for
his safety there, and he repaired to Bologna to wait for quieter times.
On both of the above subjects, namely, the insane crusades and the more
feasible restoration of the papal court to Rome, Petrarch wrote with
devoted zeal; they are both alluded to in his twenty-second sonnet.
The death of John XXII. left the Cardinals divided into two great
factions. The first was that of the French, at the head of which stood
Cardinal Taillerand, son of the beautiful Brunissende de Foix, whose
charms were supposed to have detained Pope Clement V. in France. The
Italian Cardinals, who formed the opposite faction, had for their chief
the Cardinal Colonna. The French party, being the more numerous, were,
in some sort, masters of the election; they offered the tiara to
Cardinal de Commenges, on condition that he would promise not to
transfer the papal court to Rome. That prelate showed himself worthy of
the dignity, by refusing to accept it on such terms.
To the surprise of the world, the choice of the conclave fell at last on
James Founder, said to be the son of a baker at Savordun, who had been
bred as a monk of Citeaux, and always wore the dress of the order. Hence
he was called the White Cardinal. He was wholly unlike his portly
predecessor John in figure and address, being small in stature, pale in
complexion, and weak in voice. He expressed his own astonishment at the
honour conferred on him, saying that they had elected an ass. If we may
believe Petrarch, he did himself no injustice in likening himself to
that quadruped; but our poet was somewhat harsh in his judgment of this
Pontiff. He took the name of Benedict XII.
Shortly after his exaltation, Benedict received ambassadors from Rome,
earnestly imploring him to bring back the sacred seat to their city; and
Petrarch thought he could not serve the embassy better than by
publishing a poem in Latin verse, exhibiting Rome in the character of a
desolate matron imploring her husband to return to her. Benedict
applauded the author of the epistle, but declined complying with its
prayer. Instead of revisiting Italy, his Holiness ordered a magnificent
and costly palace to be constructed for him at Avignon. Hitherto, it
would seem that the Popes had lived in hired houses. In imitation of
their Pontiff, the Cardinals set about building superb mansions, to the
unbounded indignation of Petrarch, who saw in these new habitations not
only a graceless and unchristian spirit of luxury, but a sure indication
that their owners had no thoughts of removing to Rome.
In the January of the following year, Pope Benedict presented our poet
with the canonicate of Lombes, with the expectancy of the first prebend
which should become vacant. This preferment Petrarch is supposed to have
owed to the influence of Cardinal Colonna.
The troubles which at this time agitated Italy drew to Avignon, in the
year 1335, a personage who holds a pre-eminent interest in the life of
Petrarch, namely, Azzo da Correggio, who was sent thither by the
Scaligeri of Parma. The State of Parma had belonged originally to the
popes; but two powerful families, the Rossis and the Correggios, had
profited by the quarrels between the church and the empire to usurp the
government, and during five-and-twenty years, Gilberto Correggio and
Rolando Rossi alternately lost and won the sovereignty, till, at last,
the confederate princes took the city, and conferred the government of
it on Guido Correggio, the greatest enemy of the Rossis.
Gilbert Correggio left at his death a widow, the sister of Cane de la
Scala, and four sons, Guido, Simone, Azzo, and Giovanni. It is only with
Azzo that we are particularly concerned in the history of Petrarch.
Azzo was born in the year 1303, being thus a year older than our poet.
Originally intended for the church, he preferred the sword to the
crozier, and became a distinguished soldier. He married the daughter of
Luigi Gonzagua, lord of Mantua. He was a man of bold original spirit,
and so indefatigable that he acquired the name of Iron-foot. Nor was his
energy merely physical; he read much, and forgot nothing--his memory was
a library. Azzo's character, to be sure, even with allowance for
turbulent times, is not invulnerable at all points to a rigid scrutiny;
and, notwithstanding all the praises of Petrarch, who dedicated to him
his Treatise on a Solitary Life in 1366, his political career contained
some acts of perfidy. But we must inure ourselves, in the biography of
Petrarch, to his over-estimation of favourites in the article of morals.
It was not long ere Petrarch was called upon to give a substantial proof
of his regard for Azzo. After the seizure of Parma by the confederate
princes, Marsilio di Rossi, brother of Rolando, went to Paris to demand
assistance from the French king. The King of Bohemia had given over the
government of Parma to him and his brothers, and the Rossi now saw it
with grief assigned to his enemies, the Correggios. Marsilio could
obtain no succour from the French, who were now busy in preparing for
war with the English; so he carried to the Pope at Avignon his
complaints against the alleged injustice of the lords of Verona and the
Correggios in breaking an express treaty which they had made with the
house of Rossi.
Azzo had the threefold task of defending, before the Pope's tribunal,
the lords of Verona, whose envoy he was; the rights of his family, which
were attacked; and his own personal character, which was charged with
some grave objections. Revering the eloquence and influence of Petrarch,
he importuned him to be his public defender. Our poet, as we have seen,
had studied the law, but had never followed the profession. "It is not
my vocation," he says, in his preface to his Familiar Epistles, "to
undertake the defence of others. I detest the bar; I love retirement; I
despise money; and, if I tried to let out my tongue for hire, my nature
would revolt at the attempt."
But what Petrarch would not undertake either from taste or motives of
interest, he undertook at the call of friendship. He pleaded the cause
of Azzo before the Pope and Cardinals; it was a finely-interesting
cause, that afforded a vast field for his eloquence. He brought off his
client triumphantly; and the Rossis were defeated in their demand.
At the same time, it is a proud trait in Petrarch's character that he
showed himself on this occasion not only an orator and a lawyer, but a
perfect gentleman. In the midst of all his zealous pleading, he stooped
neither to satire nor personality against the opposing party. He could
say, with all the boldness of truth, in a letter to Ugolino di Rossi,
the Bishop of Parma, "I pleaded against your house for Azzo Correggio,
but you were present at the pleading; do me justice, and confess that I
carefully avoided not only attacks on your family and reputation, but
even those railleries in which advocates so much delight."
On this occasion, Azzo had brought to Avignon, as his colleague in the
lawsuit, Guglielmo da Pastrengo, who exercised the office of judge and
notary at Verona. He was a man of deep knowledge in the law; versed,
besides, in every branch of elegant learning, he was a poet into the
bargain. In Petrarch's many books of epistles, there are few letters
addressed by him to this personage; but it is certain that they
contracted a friendship at this period which endured for life.
All this time the Bishop of Lombes still continued at Rome; and, from
time to time, solicited his friend Petrarch to join him. "Petrarch would
have gladly joined him," says De Sade; "but he was detained at Avignon
by his attachment to John Colonna and his love of Laura:" a whimsical
junction of detaining causes, in which the fascination of the Cardinal
may easily be supposed to have been weaker than that of Laura. In
writing to our poet, at Avignon, the Bishop rallied Petrarch on the
imaginary existence of the object of his passion. Some stupid readers of
the Bishop's letter, in subsequent times, took it into their heads that
there was a literal proof in the prelate's jesting epistle of our poet's
passion for Laura being a phantom and a fiction. But, possible as it may
be, that the Bishop in reality suspected him to exaggerate the flame of
his devotion for the two great objects of his idolatry, Laura and St.
Augustine, he writes in a vein of pleasantry that need not be taken for
grave accusation. "You are befooling us all, my dear Petrarch," says the
prelate; "and it is wonderful that at so tender an age (Petrarch's
tender age was at this time thirty-one) you can deceive the world with
so much art and success. And, not content with deceiving the world, you
would fain deceive Heaven itself. You make a semblance of loving St.
Augustine and his works; but, in your heart, you love the poets and the
philosophers. Your Laura is a phantom created by your imagination for
the exercise of your poetry. Your verse, your love, your sighs, are all
a fiction; or, if there is anything real in your passion, it is not for
the lady Laura, but for the laurel--_that is_, the crown of poets. I
have been your dupe for some time, and, whilst you showed a strong
desire to visit Rome, I hoped to welcome you there. But my eyes are now
opened to all your rogueries, which nevertheless, will not prevent me
from loving you."
Petrarch, in his answer to the Bishop,[F] says, "My father, if I love
the poets, I only follow, in this respect, the example of St. Augustine.
I take the sainted father himself to witness the sincerity of my
attachment to him. He is now in a place where he can neither deceive nor
be deceived. I flatter myself that he pities my errors, especially when
he recalls his own." St. Augustine had been somewhat profligate in his
younger days.
"As to Laura," continues the poet, "would to Heaven that she were only
an imaginary personage, and my passion for her only a pastime! Alas! it
is a madness which it would be difficult and painful to feign for any
length of time; and what an extravagance it would be to affect such a
passion! One may counterfeit illness by action, by voice, and by manner,
but no one in health can give himself the true air and complexion of
disease. How often have you yourself been witness of my paleness and my
sufferings! I know very well that you speak only in irony: it is your
favourite figure of speech, but I hope that time will cicatrize these
wounds of my spirit, and that Augustine, whom I pretend to love, will
furnish me with a defence against a Laura who does not exist."
Years had now elapsed since Petrarch had conceived his passion for
Laura; and it was obviously doomed to be a source of hopeless torment to
him as long as he should continue near her; for she could breathe no
more encouragement on his love than what was barely sufficient to keep
it alive; and, if she had bestowed more favour on him, the consequences
might have been ultimately most tragic to both of them. His own
reflections, and the advice of his friends, suggested that absence and
change of objects were the only means likely to lessen his misery; he
determined, therefore, to travel once more, and set out for Rome in
1335.
The wish to assuage his passion, by means of absence, was his principal
motive for going again upon his travels; but, before he could wind up
his resolution to depart, the state of his mind bordered on distraction.
One day he observed a country girl washing the veil of Laura; a sudden
trembling seized him--and, though the heat of the weather was intense,
he grew cold and shivered. For some time he was incapable of applying to
study or business. His soul, he said, was like a field of battle, where
his passion and reason held continual conflict. In his calmer moments,
many agreeable motives for travelling suggested themselves to his mind.
He had a strong desire to visit Rome, where he was sure of finding the
kindest welcome from the Bishop of Lombes. He was to pass through Paris
also; and there he had left some valued friends, to whom he had promised
that he would return. At the head of those friends were Dionisio dal
Borgo San Sepolcro and Roberto Bardi, a Florentine, whom the Pope had
lately made chancellor of the Church of Paris, and given him the
canonship of Nôtre Dame. Dionisio dal Borgo was a native of Tuscany, and
one of the Roberti family. His name in literature was so considerable
that Filippo Villani thought it worth while to write his life. Petrarch
wrote his funeral eulogy, and alludes to Dionisio's power of reading
futurity by the stars. But Petrarch had not a grain of faith in
astrology; on the contrary, he has himself recorded that he derided it.
After having obtained, with some difficulty, the permission of Cardinal
Colonna, he took leave of his friends at Avignon, and set out for
Marseilles. Embarking there in a ship that was setting sail for Civita
Vecchia, he concealed his name, and gave himself out for a pilgrim going
to worship at Rome. Great was his joy when, from the deck, he could
discover the coast of his beloved Italy. It was a joy, nevertheless,
chastened by one indomitable recollection--that of the idol he had left
behind. On his landing he perceived a laurel tree; its name seemed to
typify her who dwelt for ever in his heart: he flew to embrace it; but
in his transports overlooked a brook that was between them, into which
he fell--and the accident caused him to swoon. Always occupied with
Laura, he says, "On those shores washed by the Tyrrhene sea, I beheld
that stately laurel which always warms my imagination, and, through my
impatience, fell breathless into the intervening stream. I was alone,
and in the woods, yet I blushed at my own heedlessness; for, to the
reflecting mind, no witness is necessary to excite the emotion of
shame."
It was not easy for Petrarch to pass from the coast of Tuscany to Rome;
for war between the Ursini and Colonna houses had been renewed with more
fury than ever, and filled all the surrounding country with armed men.
As he had no escort, he took refuge in the castle of Capranica, where he
was hospitably received by Orso, Count of Anguillara, who had married
Agnes Colonna, sister of the Cardinal and the Bishop. In his letter to
the latter, Petrarch luxuriates in describing the romantic and rich
landscape of Capranica, a country believed by the ancients to have been
the first that was cultivated under the reign of Saturn. He draws,
however, a frightful contrast to its rural picture in the horrors of war
which here prevailed. "Peace," he says, "is the only charm which I could
not find in this beautiful region. The shepherd, instead of guarding
against wolves, goes armed into the woods to defend himself against men.
The labourer, in a coat of mail, uses a lance instead of a goad, to
drive his cattle. The fowler covers himself with a shield as he draws
his nets; the fisherman carries a sword whilst he hooks his fish; and
the native draws water from the well in an old rusty casque, instead of
a pail. In a word, arms are used here as tools and implements for all
the labours of the field, and all the wants of men. In the night are
heard dreadful howlings round the walls of towns, and and in the day
terrible voices crying incessantly to arms. What music is this compared
with those soft and harmonious sounds which. I drew from my lute at
Avignon!"
On his arrival at Capranica, Petrarch despatched a courier to the Bishop
of Lombes, informing him where he was, and of his inability to get to
Rome, all roads to it being beset by the enemy. The Bishop expressed
great joy at his friend's arrival in Italy, and went to meet him at
Capranica, with Stefano Colonna, his brother, senator of Rome. They had
with them only a troop of one hundred horsemen; and, considering that
the enemy kept possession of the country with five hundred men, it is
wonderful that they met with no difficulties on their route; but the
reputation of the Colonnas had struck terror into the hostile camp. They
entered Rome without having had a single skirmish with the enemy.
Stefano Colonna, in his quality of senator, occupied the Capitol, where
he assigned apartments to Petrarch; and the poet was lodged on that
famous hill which Scipio, Metellus, and Pompey, had ascended in triumph.
Petrarch was received and treated by the Colonnas Like a child of their
family. The venerable old Stefano, who had known him at Avignon, loaded
our poet with kindness. But, of all the family, it would seem that
Petrarch delighted most in the conversation of Giovanni da S. Vito, a
younger brother of the aged Stefano, and uncle of the Cardinal and
Bishop. Their tastes were congenial. Giovanni had made a particular
study of the antiquities of Rome; he was, therefore, a most welcome
cicerone to our poet, being, perhaps, the only Roman then alive, who
understood the subject deeply, if we except Cola di Rienzo, of whom we
shall soon have occasion to speak.
In company with Giovanni, Petrarch inspected the relics of the "eternal
city:" the former was more versed than his companion in ancient history,
but the other surpassed him in acquaintance with modern times, as well
as with the objects of antiquity that stood immediately before them.
What an interesting object is Petrarch contemplating the ruins of Rome!
He wrote to the Cardinal Colonna as follows:--"I gave you so long an
account of Capranica that you may naturally expect a still longer
description of Rome. My materials for this subject are, indeed,
inexhaustible; but they will serve for some future opportunity. At
present, I am so wonder-struck by so many great objects that I know not
where to begin. One circumstance, however, I cannot omit, which has
turned out contrary to your surmises. You represented to me that Rome
was a city in ruins, and that it would not come up to the imagination I
had formed of it; but this has not happened--on the contrary, my most
sanguine expectations have been surpassed. Rome is greater, and her
remains are more awful, than my imagination had conceived. It is not
matter of wonder that she acquired universal dominion. I am only
surprised that it was so late before she came to it."
In the midst of his meditations among the relics of Rome, Petrarch was
struck by the ignorance about their forefathers, with which the natives
looked on those monuments. The veneration which they had for them was
vague and uninformed. "It is lamentable," he says, "that nowhere in the
world is Rome less known than at Rome."
It is not exactly known in what month Petrarch left the Roman capital;
but, between his departure from that city, and his return to the banks
of the Rhone, he took an extensive tour over Europe. He made a voyage
along its southern coasts, passed the straits of Gibraltar, and sailed
as far northward as the British shores. During his wanderings, he wrote
a letter to Tommaso da Messina, containing a long geographical
dissertation on the island of Thule.
Petrarch approached the British shores; why were they not fated to have
the honour of receiving him? Ah! but who was there, then, in England
that was capable of receiving him? Chaucer was but a child. We had the
names of some learned men, but our language had no literature. Time
works wonders in a few centuries; and England, _now_ proud of her
Shakespeare and her Verulam, looks not with envy on the glory of any
earthly nation. During his excitement by these travels, a singular
change took place in our poet's habitual feelings. He recovered his
health and spirits; he could bear to think of Laura with equanimity, and
his countenance resumed the cheerfulness that was natural to a man in
the strength of his age. Nay, he became so sanguine in his belief that
he had overcome his passion as to jest at his past sufferings; and, in
this gay state of mind, he came back to Avignon. This was the crowning
misfortune of his life. He saw Laura once more; he was enthralled anew;
and he might now laugh in agony at his late self-congratulations on his
delivery from her enchantment. With all the pity that we bestow on
unfortunate love, and with all the respect that we owe to its constancy,
still we cannot look but with a regret amounting to impatience on a man
returning to the spot that was to rekindle his passion as recklessly as
a moth to the candle, and binding himself over for life to an affection
that was worse than hopeless, inasmuch as its success would bring more
misery than its failure. It is said that Petrarch, if it had not been
for this passion, would not have been the poet that he was. Not,
perhaps, so good an amatory poet; but I firmly believe that he would
have been a more various and masculine, and, upon the whole, _a greater
poet_, if he had never been bewitched by Laura. However, _he did_ return
to take possession of his canonicate at Lombes, and to lose possession
of his peace of mind.
In the April of the following year, 1336, he made an excursion, in
company with his brother Gherardo, to the top of Mount Ventoux, in the
neighbourhood of Avignon; a full description of which he sent in a
letter to Dionisio dal Borgo a San Sepolcro; but there is nothing
peculiarly interesting in this occurrence.
A more important event in his life took place during the following year,
1337--namely, that he had a son born to him, whom he christened by the
name of John, and to whom he acknowledged his relationship of paternity.
With all his philosophy and platonic raptures about Laura, Petrarch was
still subject to the passions of ordinary men, and had a mistress at
Avignon who was kinder to him than Laura. Her name and history have been
consigned to inscrutable obscurity: the same woman afterwards bore him a
daughter, whose name was Francesca, and who proved a great solace to him
in his old age. His biographers extol the magnanimity of Laura for
displaying no anger at our poet for what they choose to call this
discovery of his infidelity to her; but, as we have no reason to suppose
that Laura ever bestowed one favour on Petrarch beyond a pleasant look,
it is difficult to perceive her right to command his unspotted faith. At
all events, she would have done no good to her own reputation if she had
stormed at the lapse of her lover's virtue.
In a small city like Avignon, the scandal of his intrigue would
naturally be a matter of regret to his friends and of triumph to his
enemies. Petrarch felt his situation, and, unable to calm his mind
either by the advice of his friend Dionisio dal Borgo, or by the perusal
of his favourite author, St. Augustine, he resolved to seek a rural
retreat, where he might at least hide his tears and his mortification.
Unhappily he chose a spot not far enough from Laura--namely, Vaucluse,
which is fifteen Italian, or about fourteen English, miles from Avignon.
Vaucluse, or Vallis Clausa, the shut-up valley, is a most beautiful
spot, watered by the windings of the Sorgue. Along the river there are
on one side most verdant plains and meadows, here and there shadowed by
trees. On the other side are hills covered with corn and vineyards.
Where the Sorgue rises, the view terminates in the cloud-capt ridges of
the mountains Luberoux and Ventoux. This was the place which Petrarch
had visited with such delight when he was a schoolboy, and at the sight
of which he exclaimed "that he would prefer it as a residence to the
most splendid city."
It is, indeed, one of the loveliest seclusions in the world. It
terminates in a semicircle of rocks of stupendous height, that seem to
have been hewn down perpendicularly. At the head and centre of the vast
amphitheatre, and at the foot of one of its enormous rocks, there is a
cavern of proportional size, hollowed out by the hand of nature. Its
opening is an arch sixty feet high; but it is a double cavern, there
being an interior one with an entrance thirty feet high. In the midst of
these there is an oval basin, having eighteen fathoms for its longest
diameter, and from this basin rises the copious stream which forms the
Sorgue. The surface of the fountain is black, an appearance produced by
its depth, from the darkness of the rocks, and the obscurity of the
cavern; for, on being brought to light, nothing can be clearer than its
water. Though beautiful to the eye, it is harsh to the taste, but is
excellent for tanning and dyeing; and it is said to promote the growth
of a plant which fattens oxen and is good for hens during incubation.
Strabo and Pliny the naturalist both speak of its possessing this
property.
The river Sorgue, which issues from this cavern, divides in its progress
into various branches; it waters many parts of Provence, receives
several tributary streams, and, after reuniting its branches, falls into
the Rhone near Avignon.
Resolving to fix his residence here, Petrarch bought a little cottage
and an adjoining field, and repaired to Vaucluse with no other
companions than his books. To this day the ruins of a small house are
shown at Vaucluse, which tradition says was his habitation.
If his object was to forget Laura, the composition of sonnets upon her
in this hermitage was unlikely to be an antidote to his recollections.
It would seem as if he meant to cherish rather than to get rid of his
love. But, if he nursed his passion, it was a dry-nursing; for he led a
lonely, ascetic, and, if it were not for his studies, we might say a
savage life. In one of his letters, written not long after his settling
at Vaucluse, he says, "Here I make war upon my senses, and treat them as
my enemies. My eyes, which have drawn me into a thousand difficulties,
see no longer either gold, or precious stones, or ivory, or purple; they
behold nothing save the water, the firmament, and the rocks. The only
female who comes within their sight is a swarthy old woman, dry and
parched as the Lybian deserts. My ears are no longer courted by those
harmonious instruments and voices which have so often transported my
soul: they hear nothing but the lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep,
the warbling of birds, and the murmurs of the river.
"I keep silence from noon till night. There is no one to converse with;
for the good people, employed in spreading their nets, or tending their
vines and orchards, are no great adepts at conversation. I often content
myself with the brown bread of the fisherman, and even eat it with
pleasure. Nay, I almost prefer it to white bread. This old fisherman,
who is as hard as iron, earnestly remonstrates against my manner of
life; and assures me that I cannot long hold out. I am, on the
contrary, convinced that it is easier to accustom one's self to a plain
diet than to the luxuries of a feast. But still I have my
luxuries--figs, raisins, nuts and almonds. I am fond of the fish with
which this stream abounds, and I sometimes amuse myself with spreading
the nets. As to my dress, there is an entire change; you would take me
for a labourer or a shepherd.
"My mansion resembles that of Cato or Fabricius. My whole
house-establishment consists of myself, my old fisherman and his wife,
and a dog. My fisherman's cottage is contiguous to mine; when I want him
I call; when I no longer need him, he returns to his cottage.
"I have made two gardens that please me wonderfully. I do not think they
are to be equalled in all the world. And I must confess to you a more
than female weakness with which I am haunted. I am positively angry that
there is anything so beautiful out of Italy.
"One of these gardens is shady, formed for contemplation, and sacred to
Apollo. It overhangs the source of the river, and is terminated by
rocks, and by places accessible only to birds. The other is nearer my
cottage, of an aspect less severe, and devoted to Bacchus; and what is
extremely singular, it is in the midst of a rapid river. The approach to
it is over a bridge of rocks; and there is a natural grotto under the
rocks, which gives them the appearance of a rustic bridge. Into this
grotto the rays of the sun never penetrate. I am confident that it much
resembles the place where Cicero went to declaim. It invites to study.
Hither I retreat during the noontide hours; my mornings are engaged upon
the hills, or in the garden sacred to Apollo. Here I would most
willingly pass my days, were I not too near Avignon, and too far from
Italy. For why should I conceal this weakness of my soul? I love Italy,
and I hate Avignon. The pestilential influence of this horrid place
empoisons the pure air of Vaucluse, and will compel me to quit my
retirement."
It is clear that he was not supremely contented in his solitude with his
self-drawn mental resources. His friends at Avignon came seldom to see
him. Travelling even short distances was difficult in those days. Even
we, in the present day, can remember when the distance of fourteen miles
presented a troublesome journey. The few guests who came, to him could
not expect very exquisite dinners, cooked by the brown old woman and her
husband the fisherman; and, though our poet had a garden consecrated to
Bacchus, he had no cellar devoted to the same deity. His few friends,
therefore, who visited him, thought their angel visits acts of charity.
If he saw his friends seldom, however, he had frequent visitants in
strangers who came to Vaucluse, as a place long celebrated for its
natural beauties, and now made illustrious by the character and
compositions of our poet. Among these there were persons distinguished
for their rank or learning, who came from the farthest parts of France
and from Italy, to see and converse with Petrarch. Some of them even
sent before them considerable presents, which, though kindly meant, were
not acceptable.
Vaucluse is in the diocese of Cavaillon, a small city about two miles
distant from our poet's retreat. Philip de Cabassoles was the bishop, a
man of high rank and noble family. His disposition, according to
Petrarch's usual praise of his friends, was highly benevolent and
humane; he was well versed in literature, and had distinguished
abilities. No sooner was the poet settled in his retirement, than he
visited the Bishop at his palace near Vaucluse. The latter gave him a
friendly reception, and returned his visits frequently. Another much
estimated, his friend since their childhood, Guido Sette, also repaired
at times to his humble mansion, and relieved his solitude in the shut-up
valley.[G]
Without some daily and constant occupation even the bright mind of
Petrarch would have rusted, like the finest steel when it is left
unscoured. But he continued his studies with an ardour that commands our
wonder and respect; and it was at Vaucluse that he either meditated or
wrote his most important compositions. Here he undertook a history of
Rome, from Romulus down to Titus Vespasian. This Herculean task he never
finished; but there remain two fragments of it, namely, four books, De
Rebus Memorandis, and another tract entitled Vitarum Virorum Illustrium
Epitome, being sketches of illustrious men from the founder of Rome down
to Fabricius.
About his poem, Africa, I shall only say for the present that he began
this Latin epic at Vaucluse, that its hero is his idolized Roman, Scipio
Africanus, that it gained him a reputation over Europe, and that he was
much pleased with it himself, but that his admiration of it in time
cooled down so much, that at last he was annoyed when it was mentioned
to him, and turned the conversation, if he could, to a different
subject. Nay, it is probable, that if it had not been for Boccaccio and
Coluccio Salutati, who, long after he had left Vaucluse, importuned him
to finish and publish it, his Africa would not have come down to
posterity.
Petrarch alludes in one of his letters to an excursion which he made in
1338, in company with a man whose rank was above his wisdom. He does not
name him, but it seems clearly to have been Humbert II., Dauphin of the
Viennois. The Cardinal Colonna forced our poet into this pilgrimage to
Baume, famous for its adjacent cavern, where, according to the tradition
of the country, Mary Magdalen passed thirty years of repentance. In
that holy but horrible cavern, as Petrarch calls it, they remained three
days and three nights, though Petrarch sometimes gave his comrades the
slip, and indulged in rambles among the hills and forests; he composed a
short poem, however, on St. Mary Magdalen, which is as dull as the cave
itself. The Dauphin Humbert was not a bright man; but he seems to have
contracted a friendly familiarity with our poet, if we may judge by a
letter which Petrarch indited to him about this time, frankly
reproaching him with his political neutrality in the affairs of Europe.
It was supposed that the Cardinal Colonna incited him to write it. A
struggle that was now impending between France and England engaged all
Europe on one side or other. The Emperor Lewis had intimated to Humbert
that he must follow him in this war, he, the Dauphin, being
arch-seneschal of Arles and Vienne. Next year, the arch-seneschal
received an invitation from Philip of Valois to join him with his troops
at Amiens as vassal of France. The Dauphin tried to back out of the
dilemma between his two suitors by frivolous excuses to both, all the
time determining to assist neither. In 1338 he came to Avignon, and the
Pope gave him his palace at the bridge of the Sorgue for his habitation.
Here the poor craven, beset on one side by threatening letters from
Philip of Valois, and on the other by importunities from the French
party at the papal court, remained in Avignon till July, 1339, after
Petrarch had let loose upon him his epistolary eloquence.
This letter, dated April, 1339, is, according to De Sade's opinion, full
of powerful persuasion. I cannot say that it strikes me as such. After
calling Christ to witness that he writes to the Dauphin in the spirit of
friendship, he reminds him that Europe had never exhibited so mighty and
interesting a war as that which had now sprung up between the kings of
France and England, nor one that opened so vast a field of glory for the
brave. "All the princes and their people," he says, "are anxious about
its issue, especially those between the Alps and the ocean, who take
arms at the crash of the neighbouring tumult; whilst you alone go to
sleep amidst the clouds of the coming storm. To say the truth, if there
was nothing more than shame to awaken you, it ought to rouse you from
this lethargy. I had thought you," he continues, "a man desirous of
glory. You are young and in the strength of life. What, then, in the
name of God, keeps you inactive? Do you fear fatigue? Remember what
Sallust says--'Idle enjoyments were made for women, fatigue was made for
men.' Do you fear death? Death is the last debt we owe to nature, and
man ought not to fear it; certainly he ought not to fear it more than
sleep and sluggishness. Aristotle, it is true, calls death the last of
horrible things; but, mind, he does not call it the most horrible of
things." In this manner, our poet goes on moralizing on the blessings of
an early death, and the great advantage that it would have afforded to
some excellent Roman heroes if they had met with it sooner. The only
thing like a sensible argument that he urges is, that Humbert could not
expect to save himself even by neutrality, but must ultimately become
the prey of the victor, and be punished like the Alban Metius, whom
Tullus Hostilius caused to be torn asunder by horses that pulled his
limbs in different directions. The pedantic epistle had no effect on
Humbert.
Meanwhile, Italy had no repose more than the rest of Europe, but its
troubles gave a happy occasion to Petrarch to see once more his friend,
Guglielmo Pastrengo, who, in 1338, came to Avignon, from Mastino della
Scala, lord of Verona.
The moment Petrarch heard of his friend's arrival he left his hermitage
to welcome him; but scarcely had he reached the fatal city when he saw
the danger of so near an approach to the woman he so madly loved, and
was aware that he had no escape from the eyes of Laura but by flight. He
returned, therefore, all of a sudden to Vaucluse, without waiting for a
sight of Pastrengo. Shortly after he had quitted the house of Lælius,
where he usually lodged when he went to Avignon, Guglielmo, expecting to
find him there, knocked at the door, but no one opened it--called out,
but no one answered him. He therefore wrote him a little billet, saying,
"My dear Petrarch, where have you hid yourself, and whither have you
vanished? What is the meaning of all this?" The poet received this note
at Vaucluse, and sent an explanation of his flight, sincere indeed as to
good feelings, but prolix as usual in the expression of them. Pastrengo
sent him a kind reply, and soon afterwards did him the still greater
favour of visiting him at Vaucluse, and helping him to cultivate his
garden.
Petrarch's flame for Laura was in reality unabated. One day he met her
in the streets of Avignon; for he had not always resolution enough to
keep out of the western Babylon. Laura cast a kind look upon him, and
said, "Petrarch, you are tired of loving me." This incident produced one
of the finest sonnets, beginning--
_Io non fut d' amar voi lassato unquanco._
Tired, did you say, of loving you? Oh, no!
I ne'er shall tire of the unwearying flame.
But I am weary, kind and cruel dame,
With tears that uselessly and ceaseless flow,
Scorning myself, and scorn'd by you. I long
For death: but let no gravestone hold in view
Our names conjoin'd: nor tell my passion strong
Upon the dust that glow'd through life for you.
And yet this heart of amorous faith demands,
Deserves, a better boon; but cruel, hard
As is my fortune, I will bless Love's bands
For ever, if you give me this reward.
In 1339, he composed among other sonnets, those three, the lxii.,
lxxiv., and lxxv., which are confessedly master-pieces of their kind, as
well as three canzoni to the eyes of Laura, which the Italians call the
three sister Graces, and worship as divine.[H] The critic Tassoni
himself could not censure them, and called them the queens of song. At
this period, however seldom he may have visited Avignon, he evidently
sought rather to cherish than subdue his fatal attachment. A celebrated
painter, Simone Martini of Siena, came to Avignon. He was the pupil of
Giotto, not exquisite in drawing, but famous for taking spirited
likenesses.
Petrarch persuaded Simone to favour him with a miniature likeness of
Laura; and this treasure the poet for ever carried about with him. In
gratitude he addressed two sonnets to the artist, whose fame, great as
it was, was heightened by the poetical reward. Vasari tells us that
Simone also painted the pictures of both lovers in the chapel of St.
Maria Novella at Florence; that Simone was a sculptor as well as a
painter, and that he copied those pictures in marbles which, according
to Baldelli, are still extant in the house of the Signore Pruzzi.
An anecdote relating to this period of Petrarch's life is given by De
Sade, which, if accepted with entire credence, must inspire us with
astonishment at the poet's devotion to his literary pursuits. He had
now, in 1339, put the first hand to his epic poem, the Scipiade; and one
of his friends, De Sade believes that it was the Bishop of Lombes,
fearing lest he might injure his health by overzealous application, went
to ask him for the key of his library, which the poet gave up. The
Bishop then locked up his books and papers, and commanded him to abstain
from reading and writing for ten days. Petrarch obeyed; but on the first
day of this literary Ramazan, he was seized with ennui, on the second
with a severe headache, and on the third with symptoms of fever; the
Bishop relented, and permitted the student to return to his books and
papers.
Petrarch was at this time delighted, in his solitude of Vaucluse, to
hear of the arrival at Avignon of one of his dearest friends. This was
Dionisio dal Borgo a San Sepolcro, who, being now advanced in years, had
resigned his pulpit in the University of Paris, in order to return to
his native country, and came to Avignon with the intention of going by
sea to Florence. Petrarch pressed him strongly to visit him at Vaucluse,
interspersing his persuasion with many compliments to King Robert of
Naples, to whom he knew that Dionisio was much attached; nor was he
without hopes that his friend would speak favourably of him to his
Neapolitan Majesty. In a letter from Vaucluse he says:--"Can nothing
induce you to come to my solitude? Will not my ardent request, and the
pity you must have for my condition, bring you to pass some days with
your old disciple? If these motives are not sufficient, permit me to
suggest another inducement. There is in this place a poplar-tree of so
immense a size that it covers with its shade not only the river and its
banks, but also a considerable extent beyond them. They tell us that
King Robert of Naples, invited by the beauty of this spot, came hither
to unburthen his mind from the weight of public affairs, and to enjoy
himself in the shady retreat." The poet added many eulogies on his
Majesty of Naples, which, as he anticipated, reached the royal ear. It
seems not to be clear that Father Dionisio ever visited the poet at
Vaucluse; though they certainly had an interview at Avignon. To
Petrarch's misfortune, his friend's stay in that city was very short.
The monk proceeded to Florence, but he found there no shady retreat like
that of the poplar at Vaucluse. Florence was more than ever agitated by
internal commotions, and was this year afflicted by plague and famine.
This dismal state of the city determined Dionisio to accept an
invitation from King Robert to spend the remainder of his days at his
court.
This monarch had the happiness of giving additional publicity to
Petrarch's reputation. That the poet sought his patronage need not be
concealed; and if he used a little flattery in doing so, we must make
allowance for the adulatory instinct of the tuneful tribe. We cannot
live without bread upon bare reputation, or on the prospect of having
tombstones put over our bones, prematurely hurried to the grave by
hunger, when they shall be as insensible to praise as the stones
themselves. To speak seriously, I think that a poet sacrifices his
usefulness to himself and others, and an importance in society which may
be turned to public good, if he shuns the patronage that can be obtained
by unparasitical means.
Father Dionisio, upon his arrival at Naples, impressed the King with so
favourable an opinion of Petrarch that Robert wrote a letter to our
poet, enclosing an epitaph of his Majesty's own composition, on the
death of his niece Clementina. This letter is unhappily lost; but the
answer to it is preserved, in which Petrarch tells the monarch that his
epitaph rendered his niece an object rather of envy than of lamentation.
"O happy Clementina!" says the poet, "after passing through a transitory
life, you have attained a double immortality, one in heaven, and another
on earth." He then compares the posthumous good fortune of the princess
to that of Achilles, who had been immortalized by Homer. It is possible
that King Robert's letter to Petrarch was so laudatory as to require a
flattering answer. But this reverberated praise is rather overstrained.
Petrarch was now intent on obtaining the honour of Poet Laureate. His
wishes were at length gratified, and in a manner that made the offer
more flattering than the crown itself.
Whilst he still remained at Vaucluse, at nine o'clock in the morning of
the 1st of September, 1340, he received a letter from the Roman Senate,
pressingly inviting him to come and receive the crown of Poet Laureate
at Rome. He must have little notion of a poet's pride and vanity, who
cannot imagine the flushed countenance, the dilated eyes, and the
joyously-throbbing heart of Petrarch, whilst he read this letter. To be
invited by the Senate of Rome to such an honour might excuse him for
forgetting that Rome was not now what she had once been, and that the
substantial glory of his appointment was small in comparison with the
classic associations which formed its halo.
As if to keep up the fever of his joy, he received the same day, in the
afternoon, at four o'clock, another letter with the same offer, from
Roberto Bardi, Chancellor of the University of Paris, in which he
importuned him to be crowned as Poet Laureate at Paris. When we consider
the poet's veneration for Rome, we may easily anticipate that he would
give the preference to that city. That he might not, however, offend his
friend Roberto Bardi and the University of Paris, he despatched a
messenger to Cardinal Colonna, asking his advice upon the subject,
pretty well knowing that his patron's opinion would coincide with his
own wishes. The Colonna advised him to be crowned at Rome.
The custom of conferring this honour had, for a long time, been
obsolete. In the earliest classical ages, garlands were given as a
reward to valour and genius. Virgil exhibits his conquerors adorned with
them. The Romans adopted the custom from Greece, where leafy honours
were bestowed on victors at public games. This coronation of poets, it
is said, ceased under the reign of the Emperor Theodosius. After his
death, during the long subsequent barbarism of Europe, when literature
produced only rhyming monks, and when there were no more poets to crown,
the discontinuance of the practice was a natural consequence.
At the commencement of the thirteenth century, according to the Abbé
Resnel, the universities of Europe began to dispense laurels, not to
poets, but to students distinguished by their learning. The doctors in
medicine, at the famous university of Salerno, established by the
Emperor Frederic II., had crowns of laurel put upon their heads. The
bachelors also had their laurels, and derived their name from a baculus,
or stick, which they carried.
Cardinal Colonna, as we have said, advised him, "_nothing loth_," to
enjoy his coronation at Rome. Thither accordingly he repaired early in
the year 1341. He embarked at Marseilles for Naples, wishing previously
to his coronation to visit King Robert, by whom he was received with all
possible hospitality and distinction.
Though he had accepted the laurel amidst the general applause of his
contemporaries, Petrarch was not satisfied that he should enjoy this
honour without passing through an ordeal as to his learning, for laurels
and learning had been for one hundred years habitually associated in
men's minds. The person whom Petrarch selected for his examiner in
erudition was the King of Naples. Robert _the Good_, as he was in some
respects deservedly called, was, for his age, a well-instructed man,
and, for a king, a prodigy. He had also some common sense, but in
classical knowledge he was more fit to be the scholar of Petrarch than
his examiner. If Petrarch, however, learned nothing from the King, the
King learned something from Petrarch. Among the other requisites for
examining a Poet Laureate which Robert possessed, was _an utter
ignorance of poetry_. But Petrarch couched his blindness on the subject,
so that Robert saw, or believed he saw, something useful in the divine
art. He had heard of the epic poem, Africa, and requested its author to
recite to him some part of it. The King was charmed with the recitation,
and requested that the work might be dedicated to him. Petrarch
assented, but the poem was not finished or published till after King
Robert's death.
His Neapolitan Majesty, after pronouncing a warm eulogy on our poet,
declared that he merited the laurel, and had letters patent drawn up, by
which he certified that, after a _severe_ examination (it lasted three
days), Petrarch was judged worthy to receive that honour in the Capitol.
Robert wished him to be crowned at Naples; but our poet represented that
he was desirous of being distinguished on the same theatre where Virgil
and Horace had shone. The King accorded with his wishes; and, to
complete his kindness, regretted that his advanced age would not permit
him to go to Rome, and crown Petrarch himself. He named, however, one of
his most eminent courtiers, Barrilli, to be his proxy. Boccaccio speaks
of Barrilli as a good poet; and Petrarch, with exaggerated politeness,
compares him to Ovid.
When Petrarch went to take leave of King Robert, the sovereign, after
engaging his promise that he would visit him again very soon, took off
the robe which he wore that day, and, begging Petrarch's acceptance of
it, desired that he might wear it on the day of his coronation. He also
bestowed on him the place of his almoner-general, an office for which
great interest was always made, on account of the privileges attached to
it, the principal of which were an exemption from paying the tithes of
benefices to the King, and a dispensation from residence.
Petrarch proceeded to Rome, where he arrived on the 6th of April, 1341,
accompanied by only one attendant from the court of Naples, for Barrilli
had taken another route, upon some important business, promising,
however, to be at Rome before the time appointed. But as he had not
arrived on the 7th, Petrarch despatched a messenger in search of him,
who returned without any information. The poet was desirous to wait for
his arrival; but Orso, Count of Anguillara, would not suffer the
ceremony to be deferred. Orso was joint senator of Rome with Giordano
degli Orsini; and, his office expiring on the 8th of April, he was
unwilling to resign to his successor the pleasure of crowning so great a
man.
[Illustration: NAPLES.]
Petrarch was afterwards informed that Barrilli, hastening towards Rome,
had been beset near Anaguia by robbers, from whom he escaped with
difficulty, and that he was obliged for safety to return to Naples. In
leaving that city, Petrarch passed the tomb traditionally said to be
that of Virgil. His coronation took place without delay after his
arrival at Rome.
The morning of the 8th of April, 1341, was ushered in by the sound of
trumpets; and the people, ever fond of a show, came from all quarters to
see the ceremony. Twelve youths selected from the best families of Rome,
and clothed in scarlet, opened the procession, repeating as they went
some verses, composed by the poet, in honour of the Roman people. They
were followed by six citizens of Rome, clothed in green, and bearing
crowns wreathed with different flowers. Petrarch walked in the midst of
them; after him came the senator, accompanied by the first men of the
council. The streets were strewed with flowers, and the windows filled
with ladies, dressed in the most splendid manner, who showered perfumed
waters profusely on the poet[I]. He all the time wore the robe that had
been presented to him by the King of Naples. When they reached the
Capitol, the trumpets were silent, and Petrarch, having made a short
speech, in which he quoted a verse from Virgil, cried out three times,
"Long live the Roman people! long live the Senators! may God preserve
their liberty!" At the conclusion of these words, he knelt before the
senator Orso, who, taking a crown of laurel from his own head, placed it
on that of Petrarch, saying, "This crown is the reward of virtue." The
poet then repeated a sonnet in praise of the ancient Romans. The people
testified their approbation by shouts of applause, crying, "Long
flourish the Capitol and the poet!" The friends of Petrarch shed tears
of joy, and Stefano Colonna, his favourite hero, addressed the assembly
in his honour.
The ceremony having been finished at the Capitol, the procession, amidst
the sound of trumpets and the acclamations of the people, repaired
thence to the church of St. Peter, where Petrarch offered up his crown
of laurel before the altar. The same day the Count of Anguillara caused
letters patent to be delivered to Petrarch, in which the senators, after
a flattering preamble, declared that he had merited the title of a great
poet and historian; that, to mark his distinction, they had put upon his
head a laurel crown, not only by the authority of Kong Robert, but by
that of the Roman Senate and people; and that they gave him, at Rome and
elsewhere, the privilege to read, to dispute, to explain ancient books,
to make new ones, to compose poems, and to wear a crown according to his
choice, either of laurel, beech, or myrtle, as well as the poetic
habit. At that time a particular dress was affected by the poets. Dante
was buried in this costume.
Petrarch continued only a few days at Rome after his coronation; but he
had scarcely departed when he found that there were banditti on the road
waiting for him, and anxious to relieve him of any superfluous wealth
which he might have about him. He was thus obliged to return to Rome
with all expedition; but he set out the following day, attended by a
guard of armed men, and arrived at Pisa on the 20th of April.
From Pisa he went to Parma, to see his friend Azzo Correggio, and soon
after his arrival he was witness to a revolution in that city of which
Azzo had the principal direction. The Scalas, who held the sovereignty
of Parma, had for some time oppressed the inhabitants with exorbitant
taxes, which excited murmurs and seditions. The Correggios, to whom the
city was entrusted in the absence of Mastino della Scala, profited by
the public discontent, hoisted the flag of liberty, and, on the 22nd of
May, 1341, drove out the garrison, and made themselves lords of the
commonwealth. On this occasion, Azzo has been accused of the worst
ingratitude to his nephews, Alberto and Mastino. But, if the people were
oppressed, he was surely justified in rescuing them from misgovernment.
To a great degree, also, the conduct of the Correggios sanctioned the
revolution. They introduced into Parma such a mild and equitable
administration as the city had never before experienced. Some
exceptionable acts they undoubtedly committed; and when Petrarch extols
Azzo as another Cato, it is to be hoped that he did so with some mental
reservation. Petrarch had proposed to cross the Alps immediately, and
proceed to Avignon; but he was prevailed upon by the solicitations of
Azzo to remain some time at Parma. He was consulted by the Correggios on
their most important affairs, and was admitted to their secret councils.
In the present instance, this confidence was peculiarly agreeable to
him; as the four brothers were, at that time, unanimous in their
opinions; and their designs were all calculated to promote the welfare
of their subjects.
Soon after his arrival at Parma, he received one of those tokens, of his
popularity which are exceedingly expressive, though they come from a
humble admirer. A blind old man, who had been a grammar-school master at
Pontremoli, came to Parma, in order to pay his devotions to the
laureate. The poor man had already walked to Naples, guided in his
blindness by his only son, for the purpose of finding Petrarch. The poet
had left that city; but King Robert, pleased with his enthusiasm, made
him a present of some money. The aged pilgrim returned to Pontremoti,
where, being informed that Petrarch was at Parma, he crossed the
Apennines, in spite of the severity of the weather, and travelled
thither, having sent before him a tolerable copy of verses. He was
presented to Petrarch, whose hand he kissed with devotion and
exclamations of joy. One day, before many spectators, the blind man said
to Petrarch, "Sir, I have come far to see you." The bystanders laughed,
on which the old man replied, "I appeal to you, Petrarch, whether I do
not see you more clearly and distinctly than these men who have their
eyesight." Petrarch gave him a kind reception, and dismissed him with a
considerable present.
The pleasure which Petrarch had in retirement, reading, and reflection,
induced him to hire a house on the outskirts of the city of Parma, with
a garden, beautifully watered by a stream, a _rus in urbe_, as he calls
it; and he was so pleased with this locality, that he purchased and
embellished it.
His happiness, however, he tells us, was here embittered by the loss of
some friends who shared the first place in his affections. One of these
was Tommaso da Messina, with whom he had formed a friendship when they
were fellow-students at Bologna, and ever since kept up a familiar
correspondence. They were of the same age, addicted to the same
pursuits, and imbued with similar sentiments. Tommaso wrote a volume of
Latin poems, several of which were published after the invention of
printing. Petrarch, in his Triumphs of Love, reckons him an excellent
poet.
This loss was followed by another which affected Petrarch still more
strongly. Having received frequent invitations to Lombes from the
Bishop, who had resided some time in his diocese, Petrarch looked
forward with pleasure to the time when he should revisit him. But he
received accounts that the Bishop was taken dangerously ill. Whilst his
mind was agitated by this news, he had the following dream, which he has
himself related. "Methought I saw the Bishop crossing the rivulet of my
garden alone. I was astonished at this meeting, and asked him whence he
came, whither he was going in such haste, and why he was alone. He
smiled upon me with his usual complacency, and said, 'Remember that when
you were in Gascony the tempestuous climate was insupportable to you. I
also am tired of it. I have quitted Gascony, never to return, and I am
going to Rome.' At the conclusion of these words, he had reached the end
of the garden, and, as I endeavoured to accompany him, he in the kindest
and gentlest manner waved his hand; but, upon my persevering, he cried
out in a more peremptory manner, 'Stay! you must not at present attend
me.' Whilst he spoke these words, I fixed my eyes upon him, and saw the
paleness of death upon his countenance. Seized with horror, I uttered a
loud cry, which awoke me. I took notice of the time. I told the
circumstance to all my friends; and, at the expiration of
five-and-twenty days, I received accounts of his death, which happened
in the very same night in winch he had appeared to me."
On a little reflection, this incident will not appear to be
supernatural. That Petrarch, oppressed as he was with anxiety about his
friend, should fall into fanciful reveries during his sleep, and imagine
that he saw him in the paleness of death, was nothing wonderful--nay,
that he should frame this allegory in his dream is equally conceivable.
The sleeper's imagination is often a great improvisatore. It forms
scenes and stories; it puts questions, and answers them itself, all the
time believing that the responses come from those whom it interrogates.
Petrarch, deeply attached to Azzo da Correggio, now began to consider
himself as settled at Parma, where he enjoyed literary retirement in the
bosom of his beloved Italy. But he had not resided there a year, when he
was summoned to Avignon by orders he considered that he could not
disobey. Tiraboschi, and after him Baldelli, ascribe his return to
Avignon to the commission which he received in 1342, to go as advocate
of the Roman people to the new Pope, Clement VI., who had succeeded to
the tiara on the death of Benedict XII., and Petrarch's own words
coincide with what they say. The feelings of joy with which Petrarch
revisited Avignon, though to appearance he had weaned himself from
Laura, may be imagined. He had friendship, however, if he had not love,
to welcome him. Here he met, with reciprocal gladness, his friends
Socrates and Lælius, who had established themselves at the court of the
Cardinal Colonna. "Socrates," says De Sade, "devoted himself entirely to
Petrarch, and even went with him to Vaucluse." It thus appears that
Petrarch had not given up his peculium on the Sorgue, nor had any one
rented the field and cottage in his absence.
Benedict's successor, Clement VI., was conversant with the world, and
accustomed to the splendour of courts. Quite a contrast to the plain
rigidity of Benedict, he was courteous and munificent, but withal a
voluptuary; and his luxury and profusion gave rise to extortions, to
rapine, and to boundless simony. His artful and arrogant mistress, the
Countess of Turenne, ruled him so absolutely, that all places in his
gift, which had escaped the grasp of his relations, were disposed of
through her interest; and she amassed great wealth by the sale of
benefices.
The Romans applied to Clement VI., as they had applied to Benedict XII.,
imploring him to bring back the sacred seat to their capital; and they
selected Petrarch to be among those who should present their
supplication. Our poet appealed to his Holiness on this subject, both in
prose and verse. The Pope received him with smiles, complimented him on
his eloquence, bestowed on him the priory of Migliorino, but, for the
present, consigned his remonstrance to oblivion.
In this mission to Clement at Avignon there was joined with Petrarch the
famous Nicola Gabrino, better known by the name Cola di Rienzo, who,
very soon afterwards, attached the history of Rome to his biography. He
was for the present comparatively little known; but Petrarch, thus
coming into connection with this extraordinary person, was captivated
with his eloquence, whilst Clement complimented Rienzo, admitted him
daily to his presence, and conversed with him on the wretched state of
Rome, the tyranny of the nobles, and the sufferings of the people.
Cola and Petrarch were the two chiefs of this Roman embassy to the Pope;
and it appears that the poet gave precedency to the future tribune on
this occasion. They both elaborately exposed the three demands of the
Roman people, namely, that the Pope, already the acknowledged patron of
Rome, should assume the title and functions of its senator, in order to
extinguish the civil wars kindled by the Roman barons; that he should
return to his pontifical chair on the banks of the Tiber; and that he
should grant permission for the jubilee, instituted by Boniface VIII.,
to be held every fifty years, and not at the end of a century, as its
extension to the latter period went far beyond the ordinary duration of
human life, and cut off the greater part of the faithful from enjoying
the institution.
Clement praised both orators, and conceded that the Romans should have a
jubilee every fifty years; but he excused himself from going to Rome,
alleging that he was prevented by the disputes between France and
England. "Holy Father," said Petrarch, "how much it were to be wished
that you had known Italy before you knew France." "I wish I had," said
the Pontiff, very coldly.
Petrarch gave vent to his indignation at the papal court in a writing,
entitled, "A Book of Letters without a Title," and in several severe
sonnets. The "Liber Epistolarum sine Titulo" contains, as it is printed
in his works (Basle edit., 1581), eighteen letters, fulminating as
freely against papal luxury and corruption as if they had been penned by
Luther or John Knox. From their contents, we might set down Petrarch as
the earliest preacher of the Reformation, if there were not, in the
writings of Dante, some passages of the same stamp. If these epistles
were really circulated at the time when they were written, it is matter
of astonishment that Petrarch never suffered from any other flames than
those of love; for many honest reformers, who have been roasted alive,
have uttered less anti-papal vituperation than our poet; nor, although
Petrarch would have been startled at a revolution in the hierarchy, can
it be doubted that his writings contributed to the Reformation.
It must be remembered, at the same time, that he wrote against the
church government of Avignon, and not that of Rome. He compares Avignon
with the Assyrian Babylon, with Egypt under the mad tyranny of Cambyses;
or rather, denies that the latter empires can be held as parallels of
guilt to the western Babylon; nay, he tells us that neither Avernus nor
Tartarus can be confronted with this infernal place.
"The successors of a troop of fishermen," he says, "have forgotten their
origin. They are not contented, like the first followers of Christ, who
gained their livelihood by the Lake of Gennesareth, with modest
habitations, but they must build themselves splendid palaces, and go
about covered with gold and purple. They are fishers of men, who catch a
credulous multitude, and devour them for their prey." This "Liber
Epistolarum" includes some descriptions of the debaucheries of the
churchmen, which are too scandalous for translation. They are
nevertheless curious relics of history.
In this year, Gherardo, the brother of our poet, retired, by his advice,
to the Carthusian monastery of Montrieux, which they had both visited in
the pilgrimage to Baume three years before. Gherardo had been struck
down with affliction by the death of a beautiful woman at Avignon, to
whom he was devoted. Her name and history are quite unknown, but it may
be hoped, if not conjectured, that she was not married, and could be
more liberal in her affections than the poet's Laura.
Amidst all the incidents of this period of his life, the attachment of
Petrarch to Laura continued unabated. It appears, too, that, since his
return from Parma, she treated him with more than wonted complacency. He
passed the greater part of the year 1342 at Avignon, and went to
Vaucluse but seldom and for short intervals.
In the meantime, love, that makes other people idle, interfered not with
Petrarch's fondness for study. He found an opportunity of commencing the
study of Greek, and seized it with avidity. That language had never been
totally extinct in Italy; but at the time on which we are touching,
there were not probably six persons in the whole country acquainted with
it. Dante had quoted Greek authors, but without having known the Greek
alphabet. The person who favoured Petrarch with this coveted instruction
was Bernardo Barlaamo, a Calabrian monk, who had been three years before
at Avignon, having come as envoy from Andronicus, the eastern Emperor,
on pretext of proposing a union between the Greek and Roman churches,
but, in reality for the purpose of trying to borrow money from the Pope
for the Emperor. Some of Petrarch's biographers date his commencement of
the study of Greek from the period of Barlaamo's first visit to Avignon;
but I am inclined to postpone it to 1342, when Barlaamo returned to the
west and settled at Avignon. Petrarch began studying Greek by the
reading of Plato. He never obtained instruction sufficient to make him a
good Grecian, but he imbibed much of the spirit of Plato from the labour
which he bestowed on his works. He was very anxious to continue his
Greek readings with Barlaamo; but his stay in Avignon was very short;
and, though it was his interest to detain him as his preceptor,
Petrarch, finding that he was anxious for a settlement in Italy, helped
him to obtain the bishopric of Geraci, in Calabria.
[Illustration: NICE.]
The next year was memorable in our poet's life for the birth of his
daughter Francesca. That the mother of this daughter was the same who
presented him with his son John there can be no doubt. Baldelli
discovers, in one of Petrarch's letters, an obscure allusion to her,
which seems to indicate that she died suddenly after the birth of
Francesca, who proved a comfort to her father in his old age.
The opening of the year 1343 brought a new loss to Petrarch in the death
of Robert, King of Naples. Petrarch, as we have seen, had occasion to be
grateful to this monarch; and we need not doubt that he was much
affected by the news of his death; but, when we are told that he
repaired to Vaucluse to bewail his irreparable loss, we may suppose,
without uncharitableness, that he retired also with a view to study the
expression of his grief no less than to cherish it. He wrote, however,
an interesting letter on the occasion to Barbato di Sulmona, in which he
very sensibly exhibits his fears of the calamities which were likely to
result from the death of Robert, adding that his mind was seldom true in
prophecy, unless when it foreboded misfortunes; and his predictions on
this occasion were but too well verified.
Robert was succeeded by his granddaughter Giovanna, a girl of sixteen,
already married to Andrew of Hungary, her cousin, who was but a few
months older. Robert by his will had established a council of regency,
which was to continue until Giovanna arrived at the age of twenty-five.
The Pope, however, made objections to this arrangement, alleging that
the administration of affairs during the Queen's minority devolved upon
him immediately as lord superior. But, as he did not choose to assert
his right till he should receive more accurate information respecting
the state of the kingdom, he gave Petrarch a commission for that
purpose; and entrusted him with a negotiation of much importance and
delicacy.
Petrarch received an additional commission from the Cardinal Colonna.
Several friends of the Colonna family were, at that time, confined in
prison at Naples, and the Cardinal flattered himself that Petrarch's
eloquence and intercession would obtain their enlargement. Our poet
accepted the embassy. He went to Nice, where he embarked; but had nearly
been lost in his passage. He wrote to Cardinal Colonna the following
account of his voyage.
"I embarked at Nice, the first maritime town in Italy (he means the
nearest to France). At night I got to Monaco, and the bad weather
obliged me to pass a whole day there, which by no means put me into
good-humour. The next morning we re-embarked, and, after being tossed
all day by the tempest, we arrived very late at Port Maurice. The night
was dreadful; it was impossible to get to the castle, and I was obliged
to put up at a little village, where my bed and supper appeared
tolerable from extreme weariness. I determined to proceed by land; the
perils of the road appeared less dreadful to me than those by sea. I
left my servants and baggage in the ship, which set sail, and I remained
with only one domestic on shore. By accident, upon the coast of Genoa, I
found some German horses which were for sale; they were strong and
serviceable. I bought them; but I was soon afterwards obliged to take
ship again; for war was renewed between the Pisans and the Milanese.
Nature has placed limits to these States, the Po on one side, and the
Apennines on the other. I must have passed between their two armies if I
had gone by land; this obliged me to re-embark at Lerici. I passed by
Corvo, that famous rock, the ruins of the city of Luna, and landed at
Murrona. Thence I went the next day on horseback to Pisa, Siena, and
Rome. My eagerness to execute your orders has made me a night-traveller,
contrary to my character and disposition. I would not sleep till I had
paid my duty to your illustrious father, who is always my hero. I found
him the same as I left him seven years ago, nay, even as hale and
sprightly as when I saw him at Avignon, which is now twelve years. What
a surprising man! What strength of mind and body! How firm his voice!
How beautiful his face! Had he been a few years younger, I should have
taken him for Julius Cæsar, or Scipio Africanus. Rome grows old; but not
its hero. He was half undressed, and going to bed; so I stayed only a
moment, but I passed the whole of the next day with him. He asked me a
thousand questions about you, and was much pleased that I was going to
Naples. When I set out from Rome, he insisted on accompanying me beyond
the walls.
"I reached Palestrina that night, and was kindly received by your nephew
John. He is a young man of great hopes, and follows the steps of his
ancestors.
"I arrived at Naples the 11th of October. Heavens, what a change has the
death of one man produced in that place! No one would know it now.
Religion, Justice, and Truth are banished. I think I am at Memphis,
Babylon, or Mecca. In the stead of a king so just and so pious, a little
monk, fat, rosy, barefooted, with a shorn head, and half covered with a
dirty mantle, bent by hypocrisy more than by age, lost in debauchery
whilst proud of his affected poverty, and still more of the real wealth
he has amassed--this man holds the reins of this staggering empire. In
vice and cruelty he rivals a Dionysius, an Agathocles, or a Phalaris.
This monk, named Roberto, was an Hungarian cordelier, and preceptor of
Prince Andrew, whom he entirely sways. He oppresses the weak, despises
the great, tramples justice under foot, and treats both the dowager and
the reigning Queen with the greatest insolence. The court and city
tremble before him; a mournful silence reigns in the public assemblies,
and in private they converse by whispers. The least gesture is punished,
and _to think_ is denounced as a crime. To this man I have presented the
orders of the Sovereign Pontiff, and your just demands. He behaved with
incredible insolence. Susa, or Damascus, the capital of the Saracens,
would have received with more respect an envoy from the Holy See. The
great lords imitate his pride and tyranny. The Bishop of Cavaillon is
the only one who opposes this torrent; but what can one lamb do in the
midst of so many wolves? It is the request of a dying king alone that
makes him endure so wretched a situation. How small are the hopes of my
negotiation! but I shall wait with patience; though I know beforehand
the answer they will give me."
It is plain from Petrarch's letter that the kingdom of Naples was now
under a miserable subjection to the Hungarian faction, aid that the
young Queen's situation was anything but enviable. Few characters in
modern history have been drawn in such contrasted colours as that of
Giovanna, Queen of Naples. She has been charged with every vice, and
extolled for every virtue. Petrarch represents her as a woman of weak
understanding, disposed to gallantry, but incapable of greater crimes.
Her history reminds us much of that of Mary Queen of Scots. Her youth
and her character, gentle and interesting in several respects, entitle
her to the benefit of our doubts as to her assent to the death of
Andrew. Many circumstances seem to me to favour those doubts, and the
opinion of Petrarch is on the side of her acquittal.
On his arrival in Naples, Petrarch had an audience with the Queen
Dowager; but her grief and tears for the loss of her husband made this
interview brief and fruitless with regard to business. When he spoke to
her about the prisoners, for whose release the Colonnas had desired him
to intercede, her Majesty referred him to the council. She was now, in
reality, only a state cypher.
The principal prisoners for whom Petrarch was commissioned to plead,
were the Counts Minervino, di Lucera, and Pontenza. Petrarch applied to
the council of state in their behalf, but he was put off with perpetual
excuses. While the affair was in agitation he went to Capua, where the
prisoners were confined. "There," he writes to the Cardinal Colonna, "I
saw your friends; and, such is the instability of Fortune, that I found
them in chains. They support their situation with fortitude. Their
innocence is no plea in their behalf to those who have shared in the
spoils of their fortune. Their only expectations rest upon you. I have
no hopes, except from the intervention of some superior power, as any
dependence on the clemency of the council is out of the question. The
Queen Dowager, now the most desolate of widows, compassionates their
case, but cannot assist them."
Petrarch, wearied with the delays of business, sought relief in
excursions to the neighbourhood. Of these he writes an account to
Cardinal Colonna.
"I went to Baiæ," he says, "with my friends, Barbato and Barrilli.
Everything concurred to render this jaunt agreeable--good company, the
beauty of the scenes, and my extreme weariness of the city I had
quitted. This climate, which, as far as I can judge, must be
insupportable in summer, is delightful in winter. I was rejoiced to
behold places described by Virgil, and, what is more surprising, by
Homer before him. I have seen the Lucrine lake, famous for its fine
oysters; the lake Avernus, with water as black as pitch, and fishes of
the same colour swimming in it; marshes formed by the standing waters of
Acheron, and the mountain whose roots go down to hell. The terrible
aspect of this place, the thick shades with which it is covered by a
surrounding wood, and the pestilent odour which this water exhales,
characterize it very justly as the Tartarus of the poets. There wants
only the boat of Charon, which, however, would be unnecessary, as there
is only a shallow ford to pass over. The Styx and the kingdom of Pluto
are now hid from our sight. Awed by what I had heard and read of these
mournful approaches to the dead, I was contented to view them at my feet
from the top of a high mountain. The labourer, the shepherd, and the
sailor, dare not approach them nearer. There are deep caverns, where
some pretend that a great deal of gold is concealed; covetous men, they
say, have been to seek it, but they never return; whether they lost
their way in the dark valleys, or had a fancy to visit the dead, being
so near their habitations.
"I have seen the ruins of the grotto of the famous Cumæan sybil; it is a
hideous rock, suspended in the Avernian lake. Its situation strikes the
mind with horror. There still remain the hundred mouths by which the
gods conveyed their oracles; these are now dumb, and there is only one
God who speaks in heaven and on earth. These uninhabited ruins serve as
the resort of birds of unlucky omen. Not far off is that dreadful cavern
which leads, _they say_, to the infernal regions. Who would believe
that, close to the mansions of the dead, Nature should have placed
powerful remedies for the preservation of life? Near Avernus and Acheron
are situated that barren land whence rises continually a salutary
vapour, which is a cure for several diseases, and those hot-springs that
vomit hot and sulphureous cinders. I have seen the baths which Nature
has prepared; but the avarice of physicians has rendered them of
doubtful use. This does not, however, prevent them from being visited by
the invalids of all the neighbouring towns. These hollowed mountains
dazzle us with the lustre of their marble circles, on which are engraved
figures that point out, by the position of their hands, the part of the
body which each fountain is proper to cure.
"I saw the foundations of that admirable reservoir of Nero, which was to
go from Mount Misenus to the Avernian lake, and to enclose all the hot
waters of Baiæ.
"At Pozzuoli I saw the mountain of Falernus, celebrated for its grapes,
whence the famous Falernian wine. I saw likewise those enraged waves of
which Virgil speaks in his Georgics, on which Cæsar put a bridle by the
mole which he raised there, and which Augustus finished. It is now
called the Dead Sea. I am surprised at the prodigious expense the Romans
were at to build houses in the most exposed situations, in order to
shelter them from the severities of the weather; for in the heats of
summer the valleys of the Apennines, the mountains of Viterbo, and the
woods of Umbria, furnished them with charming shades; and even the ruins
of the houses which they built in those places are superb."
Our poet's residence at Naples was evidently disagreeable to him, in
spite of the company of his friends, Barrilli and Barbato. His
friendship with the latter was for a moment overcast by an act of
indiscretion on the part of Barbato, who, by dint of importunity,
obtained from Petrarch thirty-four lines of his poem of Africa, under a
promise that he would show them to nobody. On entering the library of
another friend, the first thing that struck our poet's eyes was a copy
of the same verses, transcribed with a good many blunders. Petrarch's
vanity on this occasion, however, was touched more than his anger--he
forgave his friend's treachery, believing it to have arisen from
excessive admiration. Barbato, as some atonement, gave him a little MS.
of Cicero, which Petrarch found to contain two books of the orator's
Treatise on the Academics, "a work," as he observes, "more subtle than
useful."
Queen Giovanna was fond of literature. She had several conversations
with Petrarch, which increased her admiration of him. After the example
of her grandfather, she made him her chaplain and household clerk, both
of which offices must be supposed to have been sinecures. Her letters
appointing him to them are dated the 25th of November, 1343, the very
day before that nocturnal storm of which I shall speedily quote the
poet's description.
Voltaire has asserted that the young Queen of Naples was the pupil of
Petrarch; "but of this," as De Sade remarks, "there is no proof." It
only appears that the two greatest geniuses of Italy, Boccaccio and
Petrarch, were both attached to Giovanna, and had a more charitable
opinion of her than most of their contemporaries.
Soon after his return from the tour to Baiæ, Petrarch was witness to a
violent tempest at Naples, which most historians have mentioned, as it
was memorable for having threatened the entire destruction of the city.
The night of the 25th of November, 1343, set in with uncommonly still
weather; but suddenly a tempest rose violently in the direction of the
sea, which made the buildings of the city shake to their very
foundations. "At the first onset of the tempest," Petrarch writes to the
Cardinal Colonna, "the windows of the house were burst open. The lamp of
my chamber"--he was lodged at a monastery--"was blown out--I was shaken
from my bed with violence, and I apprehended immediate death. The friars
and prior of the convent, who had risen to pay their customary
devotions, rushed into my room with crucifixes and relics in their
hands, imploring the mercy of the Deity. I took courage, and accompanied
them to the church, where we all passed the night, expecting every
moment to be our last. I cannot describe the horrors of that dreadful
night; the bursts of lightning and the roaring of thunder were blended
with the shrieks of the people. The night itself appeared protracted to
an unnatural length; and, when the morning arrived, which we discovered
rather by conjecture than by any dawning of light, the priests prepared
to celebrate the service; but the rest of us, not having yet dared to
lift up our eyes towards the heavens, threw ourselves prostrate on the
ground. At length the day appeared--a day how like to night! The cries
of the people began to cease in the upper part of the city, but were
redoubled from the sea-shore. Despair inspired us with courage. We
mounted our horses and arrived at the port. What a scene was there! the
vessels had suffered shipwreck in the very harbour; the shore was
covered with dead bodies, which were tossed about and dashed against the
rocks, whilst many appeared struggling in the agonies of death.
Meanwhile, the raging ocean overturned many houses from their very
foundations. Above a thousand Neapolitan horsemen were assembled near
the shore to assist, as it were, at the obsequies of their countrymen. I
caught from them a spirit of resolution, and was less afraid of death
from the consideration that we should all perish together. On a sudden a
cry of horror was heard; the sea had sapped the foundations of the
ground on which we stood, and it was already beginning to give way. We
immediately hastened to a higher place, where the scene was equally
impressive. The young Queen, with naked feet and dishevelled hair,
attended by a number of women, was rushing to the church of the Virgin,
crying out for mercy in this imminent peril. At sea, no ship escaped the
fury of the tempest: all the vessels in the harbour--one only
excepted--sunk before our eyes, and every soul on board perished."
By the assiduity and solicitations of Petrarch, the council of Naples
were at last engaged in debating about the liberation of Colonna's
imprisoned friends; and the affair was nearly brought to a conclusion,
when the approach of night obliged the members to separate before they
came to a final decision. The cause of this separation is a sad proof of
Neapolitan barbarism at that period. It will hardly, at this day, seem
credible that, in the capital of so flourishing a kingdom, and the
residence of a brilliant court, such savage licentiousness could have
prevailed. At night, all the streets of the city were beset by the young
nobility, who were armed, and who attacked all passengers without
distinction, so that even the members of the council could not venture
to appear after a certain hour. Neither the severity of parents, nor the
authority of the magistrates, nor of Majesty itself, could prevent
continual combats and assassinations.
"But can it be astonishing," Petrarch remarks, "that such disgraceful
scenes should pass in the night, when the Neapolitans celebrate, even in
the face of day, games similar to those of the gladiators, and with more
than barbarian cruelty? Human blood is shed here with as little remorse
as that of brute animals; and, while the people join madly in applause,
sons expire in the very sight of their parents; and it is considered the
utmost disgrace not to die with becoming fortitude, as if they were
dying in the defence of their religion and country. I myself, ignorant
of these customs was once carried to the Carbonara, the destined place
of butchery. The Queen and her husband, Andrew, were present; the
soldiery of Naples were present, and the people flocked thither in
crowds. I was kept in suspense by the appearance of so large and
brilliant an assembly, and expected some spectacle worthy of my
attention, when I suddenly heard a loud shout of applause, as for some
joyous incident. What was my surprise when I beheld a beautiful young
man pierced through with a sword, and ready to expire at my feet! Struck
with horror, I put spurs to my horse, and fled from the barbarous sight,
uttering execrations on the cruel spectators.
"This inhuman custom has been derived from their ancestors, and is now
so sanctioned by inveterate habit, that their very licentiousness is
dignified with the name of liberty.
"You will cease to wonder at the imprisonment of your friends in this
city, where the death of a young man is considered as an innocent
pastime. As to myself, I will quit this inhuman country before three
days are past, and hasten to you who can make all things agreeable to me
except a sea-voyage."
Petrarch at length brought his negotiations respecting the prisoners to
a successful issue; and they were released by the express authority of
Andrew. Our poet's presence being no longer necessary, he left Naples,
in spite of the strong solicitations of his friends Barrilli and
Barbato. In answer to their request that he would remain, he said, "I
am but a satellite, and follow the directions of a superior planet;
quiet and repose are denied to me."
From Naples he went to Parma, where Azzo Correggio, with his wonted
affection, pressed him to delay; and Petrarch accepted the invitation,
though he remarked with sorrow that harmony no longer reigned among the
brothers of the family. He stopped there, however, for some time, and
enjoyed such tranquillity that he could revise and polish his
compositions. But, in the following year, 1345, his friend Azzo, having
failed to keep his promise to Luchino Visconti, as to restoring to him
the lordship of Parma--Azzo had obtained it by the assistance of the
Visconti, who avenged himself by making war on the Correggios--he
invested Parma, and afflicted it with a tedious siege. Petrarch,
foreseeing little prospect of pursuing his studies quietly in a
beleaguered city, left the place with a small number of his companions;
but, about midnight, near Rheggio, a troop of robbers rushed from an
ambuscade, with cries of "Kill! kill!" and our handful of travellers,
being no match for a host of brigands, fled and sought to save
themselves under favour of night. Petrarch, during this flight, was
thrown from his horse. The shock was so violent that he swooned; but he
recovered, and was remounted by his companions. They had not got far,
however, when a violent storm of rain and lightning rendered their
situation almost as bad as that from which they had escaped, and
threatened them with death in another shape. They passed a dreadful
night without finding a tree or the hollow of a rock to shelter them,
and had no expedient for mitigating their exposure to the storm but to
turn their horses' backs to the tempest.
When the dawn permitted them to discern a path amidst the brushwood,
they pushed on to Scandiano, a castle occupied by the Gonzaghi, friends
of the lords of Parma, which they happily reached, and where they were
kindly received. Here they learned that a troop of horse and foot had
been waiting for them in ambush near Scandiano, but had been forced by
the bad weather to withdraw before their arrival; thus "_the pelting of
the pitiless storm_" had been to them a merciful occurrence. Petrarch
made no delay here, for he was smarting under the bruises from his fall,
but caused himself to be tied upon his horse, and went to repose at
Modena. The next day he repaired to Bologna, where he stopped a short
time for surgical assistance, and whence he sent a letter to his friend
Barbato, describing his misadventure; but, unable to hold a pen himself,
he was obliged to employ the hand of a stranger. He was so impatient,
however, to get back to Avignon, that he took the road to it as soon as
he could sit his horse. On approaching that city he says he felt a
greater softness in the air, and saw with delight the flowers that adorn
the neighbouring woods. Everything seemed to announce the vicinity of
Laura. It was seldom that Petrarch spoke so complacently of Avignon.
Clement VI. received Petrarch with the highest respect, offered him his
choice among several vacant bishoprics, and pressed him to receive the
office of pontifical secretary. He declined the proffered secretaryship.
Prizing his independence above all things, excepting Laura, he remarked
to his friends that the yoke of office would not sit lighter on him for
being gilded.
In consequence of the dangers he had encountered, a rumour of his death
had spread over a great part of Italy. The age was romantic, with a good
deal of the fantastical in its romance. If the news had been true, and
if he had been really dead and buried, it would be difficult to restrain
a smile at the sort of honours that were paid to his memory by the less
brain-gifted portion of his admirers. One of these, Antonio di Beccaria,
a physician of Ferrara, when he ought to have been mourning for his own
deceased patients, wrote a poetical lamentation for Petrarch's death.
The poem, if it deserve such a name, is allegorical; it represents a
funeral, in which the following personages parade in procession and
grief for the Laureate's death. Grammar, Rhetoric, and Philosophy are
introduced with their several attendants. Under the banners of Rhetoric
are ranged Cicero, Geoffroy de Vinesauf, and Alain de Lisle. It would
require all Cicero's eloquence to persuade us that his comrades in the
procession were quite worthy of his company. The Nine Muses follow
Petrarch's body; eleven poets, crowned with laurel, support the bier,
and Minerva, holding the crown of Petrarch, closes the procession.
We have seen that Petrarch left Naples foreboding disastrous events to
that kingdom. Among these, the assassination of Andrew, on the 18th of
September, 1345, was one that fulfilled his augury. The particulars of
this murder reached Petrarch on his arrival at Avignon, in a letter from
his friend Barbato.
From the sonnets which Petrarch wrote, to all appearance, in 1345 and
1346, at Avignon or Vaucluse, he seems to have suffered from those
fluctuations of Laura's favour that naturally arose from his own
imprudence. When she treated him with affability, he grew bolder in his
assiduities, and she was again obliged to be more severe. See Sonnets
cviii., cix., and cxiv.
During this sojourn, though he dates some of his pleasantest letters
from Vaucluse, he was projecting to return to Italy, and to establish
himself there, after bidding a final adieu to Provence. When he
acquainted his nominal patron, John Colonna, with his intention, the
Cardinal rudely taxed him with madness and ingratitude. Petrarch frankly
told the prelate that he was conscious of no ingratitude, since, after
fourteen years passed in his service, he had received no provision for
his future livelihood. This quarrel with the proud churchman is, with
fantastic pastoral imagery, made the subject of our poet's eighth
Bucolic, entitled Divortium. I suspect that Petrarch's free language in
favour of the Tribune Rienzo was not unconnected with their alienation.
Notwithstanding Petrarch's declared dislike of Avignon, there is every
reason to suppose that he passed the greater part of the winter of 1346
in his western Babylon; and we find that he witnessed many interesting
scenes between the conflicting cardinals, as well as the brilliant fêtes
that were given to two foreign princes, whom an important affair now
brought to Avignon. These were the King of Bohemia, and his son Charles,
Prince of Moravia, otherwise called Charles of Luxemburg.
The Emperor Lewis of Bavaria, who had previously made several but
fruitless attempts to reconcile himself with the Church, on learning the
election of Clement VI., sent ambassadors with unlimited powers to
effect a reconcilement; but the Pope proposed conditions so hard and
humbling that the States of the German Empire peremptorily rejected
them. On this, his Holiness confirmed the condemnations which he had
already passed on Lewis of Bavaria, and enjoined the Electors of the
empire to proceed to a new choice of the King of the Romans. "John of
Luxemburg," says Villani, "would have been emperor if he had not been
blind." A wish to secure the empire for his son and to further his
election, brought him to the Pope at Avignon.
Prince Charles had to thank the Pontiff for being elected, but first his
Holiness made him sign, on the 22nd of April, 1346, in presence of
twelve cardinals and his brother William Roger, a declaration of which
the following is the substance:--
"If, by the grace of God, I am elected King of the Romans, I will fulfil
all the promises and confirm all the concessions of my grandfather Henry
VII. and of his predecessors. I will revoke the acts made by Lewis of
Bavaria. I will occupy no place, either in or out of Italy, belonging to
the Church. I will not enter Rome before the day appointed for my
coronation. I will depart from thence the same day with all my
attendants, and I will never return without the permission of the Holy
See." He might as well have declared that he would give the Pope all his
power, as King of the Romans, provided he was allowed the profits; for,
in reality, Charles had no other view with regard to Italy than to make
money.
This concession, which contrasts so poorly with the conduct of Charles
on many other occasions, excited universal indignation in Germany, and a
good deal even in Italy. Petrarch exclaimed against it as mean and
atrocious; for, Catholic as he was, he was not so much a churchman as to
see without indignation the papal tiara exalted above the imperial
crown.
In July, 1346, Charles was elected, and, in derision, was called "the
Emperor of the Priests." The death of his rival, Lewis of Bavaria,
however, which happened in the next year, prevented a civil war, and
Charles IV. remained peaceable possessor of the empire.
Among the fêtes that were given to Charles, a ball was held at Avignon,
in a grand saloon brightly illuminated. Thither came all the beauties of
the city and of Provence. The Prince, who had heard much of Laura,
through her poetical fame, sought her out and saluted her in the French
manner.
Petrarch went, according to his custom, to pass the term of Lent at
Vaucluse. The Bishop of Cavaillon, eager to see the poet, persuaded him
to visit his recluse residence, and remained with Petrarch as his guest
for fifteen days, in his own castle, on the summit of rocks, that seemed
more adapted for the perch of birds than the habitation of men. There is
now scarcely a wreck of it remaining.
It would seem, however, that the Bishop's conversation made this
retirement very agreeable to Petrarch; for it inspired him with the idea
of writing a "Treatise on a Solitary Life." Of this work he made a
sketch in a short time, but did not finish it till twenty years
afterwards, when he dedicated and presented it to the Bishop of
Cavaillon.
It is agreeable to meet, in Petrarch's life at the shut-up valley, with
any circumstance, however trifling, that indicates a cheerful state of
mind; for, independently of his loneliness, the inextinguishable passion
for Laura never ceased to haunt him; and his love, strange to say, had
mad, momentary hopes, which only deepened at their departure the
returning gloom of despair. Petrarch never wrote more sonnets on his
beloved than during the course of this year. Laura had a fair and
discreet female friend at Avignon, who was also the friend of Petrarch,
and interested in his attachment. The ideas which this amiable
confidante entertained of harmonizing success in misplaced attachment
with honour and virtue must have been Platonic, even beyond the feelings
which Petrarch, in reality, cherished; for, occasionally, the poet's
sonnets are too honest for pure Platonism. This lady, however, whose
name is unknown, strove to convince Laura that she ought to treat her
lover with less severity. "She pushed Laura forward," says De Sade, "and
kept back Petrarch." One day she recounted to the poet all the proofs of
affection, and after these proofs she said, "You infidel, can you doubt
that she loves you?" It is to this fair friend that he is supposed to
have addressed his nineteenth sonnet.
This year, his Laura was seized with a defluxion in her eyes, which made
her suffer much, and even threatened her with blindness. This was enough
to bring a sonnet from Petrarch (his 94th), in which he laments that
those eyes which were the sun of his life should be for ever eclipsed.
He went to see her during her illness, having now the privilege of
visiting her at her own house, and one day he found her perfectly
recovered. Whether the ophthalmia was infectious, or only endemic, I
know not; but so it was, that, whilst Laura's eyes got well, those of
her lover became affected with the same defluxion. It struck his
imagination, or, at least, he feigned to believe poetically, that the
malady of her eyes had passed into his; and, in one of his sonnets, he
exults at this welcome circumstance.[J] "I fixed my eyes," he said, "on
Laura; and that moment a something inexpressible, like a shooting star,
darted from them to mine. This is a present from love, in which I
rejoice. How delightful it is thus to cure the darling object of one's
soul!"
Petrarch received some show of complacency from Laura, which his
imagination magnified; and it was some sort of consolation, at least,
that his idol was courteous to him; but even this scanty solace was
interrupted. Some malicious person communicated to Laura that Petrarch
was imposing upon her, and that he was secretly addressing his love and
his poetry to another lady under a borrowed name. Laura gave ear to the
calumny, and, for a time, debarred him from her presence. If she had
been wholly indifferent to him, this misunderstanding would have never
existed; for jealousy and indifference are a contradiction in terms. I
mean true jealousy. There is a pseudo species of it, with which many
wives are troubled who care nothing about their husbands' affection; a
plant of ill nature that is reared merely to be a rod of conjugal
castigation. Laura, however, discovered at last, that her admirer was
playing no double part. She was too reasonable to protract so unjust a
quarrel, and received him again as usual.
I have already mentioned that Clement VI. had made Petrarch Canon of
Modena, which benefice he resigned in favour of his friend, Luca
Christino, and that this year his Holiness had also conferred upon him
the prebend of Parma. This preferment excited the envy of some persons,
who endeavoured to prejudice Ugolino de' Rossi, the bishop of the
diocese, against him. Ugolino was of that family which had disputed for
the sovereignty of Parma with the Correggios, and against whom Petrarch
had pleaded in favour of their rivals. From this circumstance it was
feared that Ugolino might be inclined to listen to those maligners who
accused Petrarch of having gone to Avignon for the purpose of
undermining the Bishop in the Pope's favour. Petrarch, upon his
promotion, wrote a letter to Ugolino, strongly repelling this
accusation. This is one of the manliest epistles that ever issued from
his pen. "Allow me to assure you," he says, "that I would not exchange
my tranquillity for your troubles, nor my poverty for your riches. Do
not imagine, however, that I despise your particular situation. I only
mean that there is no person of your rank whose preferment I desire; nor
would I accept such preferment if it were offered to me. I should not
say thus much, if my familiar intercourse with the Pope and the
Cardinals had not convinced me that happiness in that rank is more a
shadow than a substance. It was a memorable saying of Pope Adrian IV.,
'that he knew no one more unhappy than the Sovereign Pontiff; his throne
is a seat of thorns; his mantle is an oppressive weight; his tiara
shines splendidly indeed, but it is not without a devouring fire.' If I
had been ambitious," continues Petrarch, "I might have been preferred to
a benefice of more value than yours;" and he refers to the fact of the
Pope having given him his choice of several high preferments.
Petrarch passed the winter of 1346-47 chiefly at Avignon, and made but
few and short excursions to Vaucluse. In one of these, at the beginning
of 1347, when he had Socrates to keep him company at Vaucluse, the
Bishop of Cavaillon invited them to his castle. Petrarch returned the
following answer:--
"Yesterday we quitted the city of storms to take refuge in this harbour,
and taste the sweets of repose. We have nothing but coarse clothes,
suitable to the season and the place we live in; but in this rustic
dress we will repair to see you, since you command us; we fear not to
present ourselves in this rustic dress; our desire to see you puts down
every other consideration. What matters it to us how we appear before
one who possesses the depth of our hearts? If you wish to see us often
you will treat us without ceremony."
His visits to Vaucluse were rather infrequent; business, he says,
detained him often at Avignon, in spite of himself; but still at
intervals he passed a day or two to look after his gardens and trees. On
one of these occasions, he wrote a pleasing letter to William of
Pastrengo, dilating on the pleasures of his garden, which displays
liveliness and warmth of heart.
Petrarch had not seen his brother since the latter had taken the cowl in
the Carthusian monastery, some five years before. To that convent he
paid a visit in February, 1347, and he was received like an angel from
heaven. He was delighted to see a brother whom he loved so much, and to
find him contented with the life which he had embraced. The Carthusians,
who had heard of Petrarch, renowned as the finest spirit of the age,
were flattered by his showing a strong interest in their condition; and
though he passed but a day and a night with them, they parted so
mutually well pleased, that he promised, on taking leave, to send them a
treatise on the happiness of the life which they led. And he kept his
word; for, immediately upon his return to Vaucluse, he commenced his
essay "_De Otio Religioso_--On the Leisure of the Religious," and he
finished it in a few weeks. The object of this work is to show the
sweets and advantages of their retired state, compared with the
agitations of life in the world.
From these monkish reveries Petrarch was awakened by an astounding
public event, namely, the elevation of Cola di Rienzo to the tribuneship
of Rome. At the news of this revolution, Petrarch was animated with as
much enthusiasm as if he had been himself engaged in the enterprise.
Under the first impulse of his feelings, he sent an epistolary
congratulation and advice to Rienzo and the Roman people. This letter
breathes a strongly republican spirit. In later times, we perceive that
Petrarch would have been glad to witness the accomplishment of his
darling object--Rome restored to her ancient power and magnificence,
even under an imperial government. Our poet received from the Tribune an
answer to his epistolary oration, telling him that it had been read to
the Roman people, and received with applause. A considerable number of
letters passed between Petrarch and Cola.
When we look back on the long connection of Petrarch with the Colonna
family, his acknowledged obligations, and the attachment to them which
he expresses, it may seem, at first sight, surprising that he should
have so loudly applauded a revolution which struck at the roots of their
power. But, if we view the matter with a more considerate eye, we shall
hold the poet in nobler and dearer estimation for his public zeal than
if he had cringed to the Colonnas. His personal attachment to _them_,
who were quite as much honoured by _his_ friendship as _he_ was by
_theirs_, was a consideration subservient to that of the honour of his
country and the freedom of his fellow-citizens; "for," as he says in his
own defence, "we owe much to our friends, still more to our parents, but
everything to our country."
Retiring during this year for some time to Vaucluse, Petrarch composed
an eclogue in honour of the Roman revolution, the fifth in his Bucolics.
It is entitled "La Pieta Pastorale," and has three speakers, who
converse about their venerable mother Rome, but in so dull a manner,
that, if Petrarch had never written better poetry, we should not,
probably, at this moment, have heard of his existence.
In the midst of all this political fervour, the poet's devotion to Laura
continued unabated; Petrarch never composed so many sonnets in one year
as during 1347, but, for the most part, still indicative of sadness and
despair. In his 116th sonnet, he says:--
"Soleo onde, e 'n rena fondo, e serivo in vento."
I plough in water, build on sand, and write on air.
If anything were wanting to convince us that Laura had treated him,
during his twenty years' courtship, with sufficient rigour, this and
other such expressions would suffice to prove it. A lover, at the end of
so long a period, is not apt to speak thus despondingly of a mistress
who has been kind to him.
It seems, however, that there were exceptions to her extreme reserve. On
one occasion, this year, when they met, and when Petrarch's eyes were
fixed on her in silent reverie, she stretched out her hand to him, and
allowed him to detain it in his for some time. This incident is alluded
to in his 218th sonnet.
If public events, however, were not enough to make him forget his
passion for Laura, they were sufficiently stirring to keep his interest
in them alive. The head of Rienzo was not strong enough to stand the
elevation which he had attained. Petrarch had hitherto regarded the
reports of Rienzo's errors as highly exaggerated by his enemies; but the
truth of them, at last, became too palpable; though our poet's
charitable opinion of the Tribune considerably outlasted that of the
public at large.
When the papal court heard of the multiplied extravagances of Rienzo,
they recovered a little from the panic which had seized them. They saw
that they had to deal with a man whose head was turned. His summonses
had enraged them; and they resolved to keep no measures with him.
Towards the end of August, 1347, one of his couriers arrived without
arms, and with only the symbol of his office, the silver rod, in his
hand. He was arrested near Avignon; his letters were taken from him and
torn to pieces; and, without being permitted to enter Avignon, he was
sent back to Rome with threats and ignominy. This proceeding appeared
atrocious in the eyes of Petrarch, and he wrote a letter to Rienzo on
the subject, expressing his strongest indignation at the act of outrage.
[Illustration: COAST OF GENOA.]
Petrarch passed almost the whole of the month of September, 1347, at
Avignon. On the 9th of this month he obtained letters of legitimation
for his son John, who might now be about ten years old. John is
entitled, in these letters, "a scholar of Florence." The Pope empowers
him to possess any kind of benefice without being obliged, in future, to
make mention of his illegitimate birth, or of the obtained dispensation.
It appears from these letters that the mother of John was not married.
He left his son at Verona under the tuition of Rinaldo di Villa Franca.
Before he had left Provence in this year, for the purpose of visiting
Italy, he had announced his intention to the Pope, who wished to retain
him as an honour to his court, and offered him his choice of several
church preferments. But our poet, whose only wish was to obtain some
moderate benefice that would leave him independent and at liberty,
declined his Holiness's _vague_ offers. If we consider that Petrarch
made no secret of his good wishes for Rienzo, it may seem surprisingly
creditable to the Pontiff's liberality that he should have even
_professed_ any interest in the poet's fortune; but in a letter to his
friend Socrates, Petrarch gives us to understand that he thought the
Pope's professions were merely verbal. He says: "To hold out treasures
to a man who demands a small sum is but a polite mode of refusal." In
fact, the Pope offered him _some_ bishopric, knowing that he wanted
only _some_ benefice that should be a sinecure.
If it be asked what determined him now to leave Avignon, the
counter-question may be put, what detained him so long from Italy? It
appears that he had never parted with his house and garden at Parma; he
hated everything in Avignon excepting Laura; and of the solitude of
Vaucluse he was, in all probability, already weary.
Before he left Avignon, he went to take leave of Laura. He found her at
an assembly which she often frequented. "She was seated," he says,
"among those ladies who are generally her companions, and appeared like
a beautiful rose surrounded with flowers smaller and less blooming." Her
air was more touching than usual. She was dressed perfectly plain, and
without pearls or garlands, or any gay colour. Though she was not
melancholy, she did not appear to have her wonted cheerfulness, but was
serious and thoughtful. She did not sing, as usual, nor speak with that
voice which used to charm every one. She had the air of a person who
fears an evil not yet arrived. "In taking leave of her," says Petrarch,
"I sought in her looks for a consolation of my own sufferings. Her eyes
had an expression which I had never seen in them before. What I saw in
her face seemed to predict the sorrows that threatened me."
This was the last meeting that Petrarch and Laura ever had.
Petrarch set out for Italy, towards the close of 1347, having determined
to make that country his residence for the rest of his life.
Upon his arrival at Genoa he wrote to Rienzo, reproaching him for his
follies, and exhorting him to return to his former manly conduct. This
advice, it is scarcely necessary to say, was like dew and sunshine
bestowed upon barren sands.
From Genoa he proceeded to Parma, where he received the first
information of the catastrophe of the Colonna family, six of whom had
fallen in battle with Rienzo's forces. He showed himself deeply affected
by it, and, probably, was so sincerely. But the Colonnas, though his
former patrons, were still the enemies of a cause which he considered
sacred, much as it was mismanaged and disgraced by the Tribune; and his
grief cannot be supposed to have been immoderate. Accordingly, the
letter which he wrote to Cardinal Colonna on this occasion is quite in
the style of Seneca, and more like an ethical treatise than an epistle
of condolence.
It is obvious that Petrarch slowly and reluctantly parted with his good
opinion of Rienzo. But, whatever sentiments he might have cherished
respecting him, he was now doomed to hear of his tragic fall.
The revolution which overthrew the Tribune was accomplished on the 15th
of December, 1347. That his fall was, in a considerable degree, owing
to his faults, is undeniable; and to the most contemptible of all
faults--personal vanity. How hard it is on the great mass of mankind,
that this meanness is so seldom disjoined from the zeal of popular
championship! New power, like new wine, seems to intoxicate the
strongest heads. How disgusting it is to see the restorer of Roman
liberty dazzled like a child by a scarlet robe and its golden trimming!
Nevertheless, with all his vanity, Rienzo was a better friend to the
republic than those who dethroned him. The Romans would have been wise
to have supported Rienzo, taking even his foibles into the account. They
re-admitted their oligarchs; and, if they repented of it, as they did,
they are scarcely entitled to our commiseration.
Petrarch had set out late in 1347 to visit Italy for the fifth time. He
arrived at Genoa towards the end of November, 1347, on his way to
Florence, where he was eagerly expected by his friends. They had
obtained from the Government permission for his return; and he was
absolved from the sentence of banishment in which he had been included
with his father. But, whether Petrarch was offended with the Florentines
for refusing to restore his paternal estate, or whether he was detained
by accident in Lombardy, he put off his expedition to Florence and
repaired to Parma. It was there that he learned the certainty of the
Tribune's fall.
From Parma he went to Verona, where he arrived on the evening of the
25th of January, 1348. His son, we have already mentioned, was placed at
Verona, under the tuition of Rinaldo di Villa Franca. Here, soon after
his arrival, as he was sitting among his books, Petrarch felt the shock
of a tremendous earthquake. It seemed as if the whole city was to be
overturned from its foundations. He rushed immediately into the streets,
where the inhabitants were gathered together in consternation; and,
whilst terror was depicted in every countenance, there was a general cry
that the end of the world was come. All contemporary historians mention
this earthquake, and agree that it originated at the foot of the Alps.
It made sad ravages at Pisa, Bologna, Padua, and Venice, and still more
in the Frioul and Bavaria. If we may trust the narrators of this event,
sixty villages in one canton were buried under two mountains that fell
and filled up a valley five leagues in length. A whole castle, it is
added, was exploded out of the earth from its foundation, and its ruins
scattered many miles from the spot. The latter anecdote has undoubtedly
an air of the marvellous; and yet the convulsions of nature have
produced equally strange effects. Stones have been thrown out of Mount
Ætna to the distance of eighteen miles.
The earthquake was the forerunner of awful calamities; and it is
possible that it might be physically connected with that memorable
plague in 1348, which reached, in succession, all parts of the known
world, and thinned the population of every country which it visited.
Historians generally agree that this great plague began in China and
Tartary, whence, in the space of a year, it spread its desolation over
the whole of Asia. It extended itself over Italy early in 1348; but its
severest ravages had not yet been made, when Petrarch returned from
Verona to Parma in the month of March, 1348. He brought with him his son
John, whom he had withdrawn from the school of Rinaldo di Villa Franca,
and placed under Gilberto di Parma, a good grammarian. His motive for
this change of tutorship probably was, that he reckoned on Parma being
henceforward his own principal place of residence, and his wish to have
his son beside him.
Petrarch had scarcely arrived at Parma when he received a letter from
Luchino Visconti, who had lately received the lordship of that city.
Hearing of Petrarch's arrival there, the Prince, being at Milan, wrote
to the poet, requesting some orange plants from his garden, together
with a copy of verses. Petrarch sent him both, accompanied with a
letter, in which he praises Luchino for his encouragement of learning
and his cultivation of the Muses.
The plague was now increasing in Italy; and, after it had deprived
Petrarch of many dear friends, it struck at the root of all his
affections by attacking Laura. He describes his apprehensions on this
occasion in several of his sonnets. The event confirmed his melancholy
presages; for a letter from his friend Socrates informed him that Laura
had died of the plague on the 1st of April, 1348. His biographers may
well be believed, when they tell us that his grief was extreme. Laura's
husband took the event more quietly, and consoled himself by marrying
again, when only seven months a widower.
Petrarch, when informed of her death, wrote that marginal note upon his
copy of Virgil, the authenticity of which has been so often, though
unjustly, called in question. His words were the following:--
"Laura, illustrious for her virtues, and for a long time celebrated in
my verses, for the first time appeared to my eyes on the 6th of April,
1327, in the church of St. Clara, at the first hour of the day. I was
then in my youth. In the same city, and at the same hour, in the year
1348, this luminary disappeared from our world. I was then at Verona,
ignorant of my wretched situation. Her chaste and beautiful body was
buried the same day, after vespers, in the church of the Cordeliers. Her
soul returned to its native mansion in heaven. I have written this with
a pleasure mixed with bitterness, to retrace the melancholy remembrance
of 'MY GREAT LOSS.' This loss convinces me that I have nothing
now left worth living for, since the strongest cord of my life is
broken. By the grace of God, I shall easily renounce a world where my
hopes have been vain and perishing. It is time for me to fly from
Babylon when the knot that bound me to it is untied."
This copy of Virgil is famous, also, for a miniature picture expressing
the subject of the Æneid; which, by the common consent of connoisseurs
in painting, is the work of Simone Memmi. Mention has already been made
of the friendly terms that subsisted between that painter and our poet;
whence it may be concluded that Petrarch, who received this precious MS.
in 1338, requested of Simone this mark of his friendship, to render it
more valuable.
When the library of Pavia, together with the city, was plundered by the
French in 1499, and when many MSS. were carried away to the library of
Paris, a certain inhabitant of Pavia had the address to snatch this copy
of Virgil from the general rapine. This individual was, probably,
Antonio di Pirro, in whose hands or house the Virgil continued till the
beginning of the sixteenth century, as Vellutello attests in his article
on the origin of Laura. From him it passed to Antonio Agostino;
afterwards to Fulvio Orsino, who prized it very dearly. At Orsino's
death it was bought at a high price by Cardinal Federigo Borromeo, and
placed in the Ambrosian library, which had been founded by him with much
care and at vast expense.
Until the year 1795, this copy of Virgil was celebrated only on account
of the memorandum already quoted, and a few short marginal notes,
written for illustrations of the text; but, a part of the same leaf
having been torn and detached from the cover, the librarians, by chance,
perceived some written characters. Curiosity urged them to unglue it
with the greatest care; but the parchment was so conglutinated with the
board that the letters left their impression on the latter so palely and
weakly, that the librarians had great difficulty in making out the
following notice, written by Petrarch himself: "Liber hic furto mihi
subreptus fuerat, anno domini mcccxxvi., in Kalend. Novembr., ac deinde
restitutus, anno mcccxxxvii., die xvii. Aprilis, apud Aivino."
Then follows a note by the poet himself, regarding his son: "Johannes
noster, natus ad laborem et dolorem meum, et vivens gravibus atque
perpetuis me curis exercuit, et acri dolore moriens vulneravit, qui cum
paucos et lætos dies vidisset in vita sua, decessit in anno domini 1361,
ætatis suæ xxv., die Julii x. seu ix. medio noctis inter diem veneris et
sabbati. Rumor ad me pervenerat xiiio mensis ad vesperam, obiit autem
Mlni illo publico excidio pestis insolito, quæ urbem illam, hactenus
immunem, talibus malis nunc reperit atque invasit. Rumor autem primus
ambiguus 8vo. Augusti, eodem anno, per famulum meum Mlno redeuntem,
mox certus, per famulum Domni Theatini Roma venientem 18me. mensis
ejusdem Mercurii, sero ad me pervenit de obitu Socratis mei amici,
socii fratrisque optimi, qui obiisse dicitur Babilone seu Avenione, die
mense Maii proximo. Amisi comitem ac solatium vitæ meæ. Recipe Xte Ihu,
hos duos et reliquos quinque in eterna tabernacula tua."[K] He alludes
to the death of other friends; but the entire note is too long to be
quoted, and, in many places, is obscured by contractions which make its
meaning doubtful.
The perfect accordance of these memoranda with the other writings of the
poet, conjoined with historical facts, show them incontestably to have
come from the hand of Petrarch.
The precious MS. of Virgil, containing the autograph of Petrarch, is no
longer in Italy. Like many other relics held sacred by the Italians, it
was removed by the French during the last conquest of Italy.
Among the incidents of Petrarch's life, in 1348, we ought to notice his
visits to Giacomo da Carrara, whose family had supplanted the Della
Scalas at Padua, and to Manfredi Pio, the Padrone of Carpi, a beautiful
little city, of the Modenese territory, situated on a fine plain, on the
banks of the Secchio, about four miles from Correggio. Manfredi ruled it
with reputation for twenty years. Petrarch was magnificently received by
the Carraras; and, within two years afterwards, they bestowed upon him
the canonicate of Padua, a promotion which was followed in the same year
by his appointment to the archdeaconry of Parma, of which he had been
hitherto only canon.
Not long after the death of Laura, on the 3rd of July of the same year,
Petrarch lost Cardinal Colonna, who had been for so many years his
friend and patron. By some historians it is said that this prelate died
of the plague; but Petrarch thought that he sank under grief brought on
by the disasters of his family. In the space of five years the Cardinal
had lost his mother and six brothers.
Petrarch still maintained an interest in the Colonna family, though that
interest was against his own political principles, during the good
behaviour of the Tribune. After the folly and fall of Rienzo, it is
probable that our poet's attachment to his old friends of the Roman
aristocracy revived. At least, he thought it decent to write, on the
death of Cardinal Colonna, a letter of condolence to his father, the
aged Stefano, who was now verging towards his hundredth year. Soon after
this letter reached him, old Stefano fell into the grave.
The death of Cardinal Colonna was extremely felt at Avignon, where it
left a great void, his house having been the rendezvous of men of
letters and genius. Those who composed his court could not endure
Avignon after they had lost their Mæcenas. Three of them were the
particular friends of Petrarch, namely, Socrates, Luca Christine and
Mainardo Accursio. Socrates, though not an Italian, was extremely
embarrassed by the death of the Cardinal. He felt it difficult to live
separated from Petrarch, and yet he could not determine to quit France
for Italy. He wrote incessantly the most pressing letters to induce our
poet to return and settle in Provence. Luca and Mainardo resolved to go
and seek out Petrarch in Italy, in order to settle with him the place on
which they should fix for their common residence, and where they should
spend the rest of their lives in his society. They set out from Avignon
in the month of March, 1349, and arrived at Parma, but did not find the
poet, as he was gone on an excursion to Padua and Verona. They passed a
day in his house to rest themselves, and, when they went away, left a
letter in his library, telling him they had crossed the Alps to come and
see him, but that, having missed him, as soon as they had finished an
excursion which they meant to make, they would return and settle with
him the means of their living together. Petrarch, on his return to
Parma, wrote several interesting letters to Mainardo. In one of them he
says, "I was much grieved that I had lost the pleasure of your company,
and that of our worthy friend, Luca Christino. However, I am not without
the consoling hope that my absence may be the means of hastening your
return. As to your apprehensions about my returning to Vaucluse, I
cannot deny that, at the entreaties of Socrates, I should return,
provided I could procure an establishment in Provence, which would
afford me an honourable pretence for residing there, and, at the same
time, enable me to receive my friends with hospitality; but at present
circumstances are changed. The Cardinal Colonna is dead, and my friends
are all dispersed, excepting Socrates, who continues inviolably attached
to Avignon.
"As to Vaucluse, I well know the beauties of that charming valley, and
ten years' residence is a proof of my affection for the place. I have
shown my love of it by the house which I built there. There I began my
Africa, there I wrote the greater part of my epistles in prose and
verse, and there I nearly finished all my eclogues. I never had so much
leisure, nor felt so much enthusiasm, in any other spot. At Vaucluse I
conceived the first idea of giving an epitome of the Lives of
Illustrious Men, and there I wrote my Treatise on a Solitary Life, as
well as that on religious retirement. It was there, also, that I sought
to moderate my passion for Laura, which, alas, solitude only cherished.
In short, this lonely valley will for ever be pleasing to my
recollections. There is, nevertheless, a sad change, produced by time.
Both the Cardinal and everything that is dear to me have perished. The
veil which covered my eyes is at length removed. I can now perceive the
difference between Vaucluse and the rich mountains and vales and
flourishing cities of Italy. And yet, forgive me, so strong are the
prepossessions of youth, that I must confess I pine for Vaucluse, even
whilst I acknowledge its inferiority to Italy."
Whilst Petrarch was thus flattering his imagination with hopes that were
never to be realized, his two friends, who had proceeded to cross the
Apennines, came to an untimely fate. On the 5th of June, 1349, a
servant, whom Petrarch had sent to inquire about some alarming accounts
of the travellers that had gone abroad, returned sooner than he was
expected, and showed by his face that he brought no pleasant tidings.
Petrarch was writing--the pen fell from his hand. "What news do you
bring?" "Very bad news! Your two friends, in crossing the Apennines,
were attacked by robbers." "O God! what has happened to them?" The
messenger replied, "Mainardo, who was behind his companions, was
surrounded and murdered. Luca, hearing of his fate, came back sword in
hand. He fought alone against ten, and he wounded some of the
assailants, but at last he received many wounds, of which he lies almost
dead. The robbers fled with their booty. The peasants assembled, and
pursued, and would have captured them, if some gentlemen, unworthy of
being called so, had not stopped the pursuit, and received the villains
into their castles. Luca was seen among the rocks, but no one knows what
is become of him." Petrarch, in the deepest agitation, despatched fleet
couriers to Placenza, to Florence, and to Rome, to obtain intelligence
about Luca.
These ruffians, who came from Florence, were protected by the Ubaldini,
one of the most powerful and ancient families in Tuscany. As the murder
was perpetrated within the territory of Florence, Petrarch wrote
indignantly to the magistrates and people of that State, intreating them
to avenge an outrage on their fellow citizens. Luca, it appears, expired
of his wounds.
Petrarch's letter had its full effect. The Florentine commonwealth
despatched soldiers, both horse and foot, against the Ubaldini and their
banditti, and decreed that every year an expedition should be sent out
against them till they should be routed out of their Alpine caverns. The
Florentine troops directed their march to Monte Gemmoli, an almost
impregnable rock, which they blockaded and besieged. The banditti issued
forth from their strongholds, and skirmished with overmuch confidence in
their vantage ground. At this crisis, the Florentine cavalry, having
ascended the hill, dismounted from their horses, pushed forward on the
banditti before they could retreat into their fortress, and drove them,
sword in hand, within its inmost circle. The Florentines thus possessed
themselves of Monte Gemmoli, and, in like manner, of several other
strongholds. There were others which they could not take by storm, but
they laid waste the plains and cities which supplied the robbers with
provisions; and, after having done great damage to the Ubaldini, they
returned safe and sound to Florence.
While Petrarch was at Mantua, in February, 1350, the Cardinal Guy of
Boulogne, legate of the holy see, arrived there after a papal mission to
Hungary. Petrarch was much attached to him. The Cardinal and several
eminent persons who attended him had frequent conversations with our
poet, in which they described to him the state of Germany and the
situation of the Emperor.
Clement VI., who had reason to be satisfied with the submissiveness of
this Prince, wished to attract him into Italy, where he hoped to oppose
him to the Visconti, who had put themselves at the head of the Ghibeline
party, and gave much annoyance to the Guelphs. His Holiness strongly
solicited him to come; but Charles's situation would not permit him for
the present to undertake such an expedition. There were still some
troubles in Germany that remained to be appeased; besides, the Prince's
purse was exhausted by the largesses which he had paid for his election,
and his poverty was extreme.
It must be owned that a prince in such circumstances could hardly be
expected to set out for the subjugation of Italy. Petrarch, however,
took a romantic view of the Emperor's duties, and thought that the
restoration of the Roman empire was within Charles's grasp. Our poet
never lost sight of his favourite chimera, the re-establishment of Rome
in her ancient dominion. It was what he called one of his principles,
that Rome had a right to govern the world. Wild as this vision was, he
had seen Rienzo attempt its realization; and, if the Tribune had been
more prudent, there is no saying how nearly he might have approached to
the achievement of so marvellous an issue. But Rienzo was fallen
irrecoverably, and Petrarch now desired as ardently to see the Emperor
in Italy, as ever he had sighed for the success of the Tribune. He wrote
to the Emperor a long letter from Padua, a few days after the departure
of the Cardinal.
"I am agitated," he says, "in sending this epistle, when I think from
whom it comes, and to whom it is addressed. Placed as I am, in
obscurity, I am dazzled by the splendour of your name; but love has
banished fear: this letter will at least make known to you my fidelity,
and my zeal. Read it, I conjure you! You will not find in it the insipid
adulation which is the plague of monarchs. Flattery is an art unknown to
me. I have to offer you only complaints and regrets. You have forgotten
us. I say more--you have forgotten yourself in neglecting Italy. We had
high hopes that Heaven had sent you to restore us our liberty; but it
seems that you refuse this mission, and, whilst the time should be spent
in acting, you lose it in deliberating.
"You see, Cæsar, with what confidence an obscure man addresses you, a
man who has not even the advantage of being known to you. But, far from
being offended with the liberty I take, you ought rather to thank your
own character, which inspires me with such confidence. To return to my
subject--wherefore do you lose time in consultation? To all appearance,
you are sure of the future, if you will avail yourself of the present.
You cannot be ignorant that the success of great affairs often hangs
upon an instant, and that a day has been frequently sufficient to
consummate what it required ages to undo. Believe me, your glory and the
safety of the commonwealth, your own interests, as well as ours, require
that there be no delay. You are still young, but time is flying; and old
age will come and take you by surprise when you are at least expecting
it. Are you afraid of too soon commencing an enterprise for which a long
life would scarcely suffice?
"The Roman empire, shaken by a thousand storms, and as often deceived by
fallacious calms, places at last its whole hopes in you. It recovers a
little breath even under the shelter of your name; but hope alone will
not support it. In proportion as you know the grandeur of the
undertaking, consummate it the sooner. Let not the love of your
Transalpine dominions detain you longer. In beholding Germany, think of
Italy. If the one has given you birth, the other has given you
greatness. If you are king of the one, you are king and emperor of the
other. Let me say, without meaning offence to other nations, that here
is the head of your monarchy. Everywhere else you will find only its
members. What a glorious project to unite those members to their head!
"I am aware that you dislike all innovation; but what I propose would be
no innovation on your part. Italy is as well known to you as Germany.
Brought hither in your youth by your illustrious sire, he made you
acquainted with our cities and our manners, and taught you here the
first lessons of war. In the bloom of your youth, you have obtained
great victories. Can you fear at present to enter a country where you
have triumphed since your childhood?
"By the singular favour of Heaven we have regained the ancient right of
being governed by a prince of our own nation.[L] Let Germany say what
she will, Italy is veritably your country * * * * * Come with haste to
restore peace to Italy. Behold Rome, once the empress of the world, now
pale, with scattered locks and torn garments, at your feet, imploring
your presence and support!" Then follows a dissertation on the history
and heroes of Rome, which might be wearisome if transcribed to a modern
reader. But the epistle, upon the whole, is manly and eloquent.
A few days after despatching his letter to the Emperor, Petrarch made a
journey to Verona to see his friends. There he wrote to Socrates. In
this letter, after enumerating the few friends whom the plague had
spared, he confesses that he could not flatter himself with the hope of
being able to join them in Provence. He therefore invokes them to come
to Italy, and to settle either at Parma or at Padua, or any other place
that would suit them. His remaining friends, here enumerated, were only
Barbato of Sulmona, Francesco Rinucci, John Boccaccio, Lælius, Guido
Settimo, and Socrates.
Petrarch had returned to Padua, there to rejoin the Cardinal of
Boulogne. The Cardinal came back thither at the end of April, 1350, and,
after dispensing his blessings, spiritual and temporal, set out for
Avignon, travelling by way of Milan and Genoa. Petrarch accompanied the
prelate out of personal attachment on a part of his journey. The
Cardinal was fond of his conversation, but sometimes rallied the poet on
his enthusiasm for his native Italy. When they reached the territory of
Verona, near the lake of Guarda, they were struck by the beauty of the
prospect, and stopped to contemplate it. In the distance were the Alps,
topped with snow even in summe
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