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the sole survivor of all my old friends, and who loved, and still loves me, not episcopally, so to speak, as Ambrosius loved Augustine, but as a brother.

"As I roamed about those hills, on the sixth day of the Great Week, it occurred to me, and I determined, to write a poem in heroic verse on Scipio Africanus the Elder. Him, I mean, whose marvellous name was always dear to me from my first boyhood. What I then began, ardent with the impulse of the moment, I soon discontinued under the distraction of other cares; but from the name of the subject I gave the title of 'Africa' to the book—a work, which, I know not by what fortune, its own or mine, was a favourite with many before it was generally known.

"While I was thus spinning out my leisure in that retreat, on one and the same day I received letters both from the Senate at Rome and from the Chancellor of the University of Paris, sending rival invitations to me-the former from Rome, the latter from Paris-to accept the laurel crown of poetry. Elated with pride, as was natural with a young man at these proposals, and judging myself worthy of the honour, inasmuch as men of such eminence had thought so, yet weighing not my own merit, but the testimonies of others, I hesitated, nevertheless, for a while as to which invitation I should prefer to accept. On this matter I wrote to Cardinal Colonna, whom I have mentioned, asking his advice; for he was so near a neighbour, that although I had written to him late, I received his answer before nine o'clock the next day. I followed the advice he gave me, and my answers to him are still extant. Accordingly I set out; and although, as is the way with young men, I was a very partial judge of my own productions, still I scrupled to follow the testimony given by myself, or of those by whom I was invited-though doubtless they would not have invited me, had they not judged me worthy of the honour thus offered. I determined, therefore, to land first at Naples, where I sought out that distinguished king and philosopher, Robert-not more illustrious as a sovereign than as a man of letters, and unique

in his age as a king and a friend of science and virtue-for the purpose of enabling him to express his personal opinion about me. His flattering estimate of me, and the kindly welcome he gave me, are matters now of wonder to me; and you, reader, if you had seen it, would wonder too. When he heard the cause of my arrival, he was marvellously delighted, reflecting as he did on my youthful confidence, and thinking perhaps that the honour which I was seeking was not without some advantage to his own reputation, inasmuch as I had chosen him of all men as the sole competent judge of my abilities. Why should I say more? After innumerable colloquies on various subjects; and after having shown to him the 'Africa,' with which he was so delighted as to ask me, as a great kindness, to dedicate it to himself—a request which I could not, and certainly did not wish to, refuse— he appointed a certain day for the matter on which I had come, and detained me from noon till evening. And as the time fell short from the abundance of matter, he did the same thing on the two following days, and thus for three whole days I shook off my ignorance, and on the third day he adjudged me worthy of the laurel crown. He offered it to me at Naples, and even urged me with entreaties to accept it. My affection for Rome prevailed over the gracious solicitation of so illustrious a king; and thus, seeing my purpose was inflexible, he gave me letters and despatches to the Senate of Rome, in which he expressed his judgment of me in highly flattering terms. And, indeed, what was then the judgment of the king agreed with that of many others, and especially with my own, though at this day I differ from the estimate then formed of me by him, as well as by myself and others. Affection for me and the partiality of the age swayed him more than respect for the truth. So I came [to Rome], and however unworthy, yet trusting and relying upon so high a sanction, I received the laurel crown, while I was still but an unfledged scholar, amid the utmost rejoicings of the Romans who were able to take part in the ceremony. I have written letters on this subject both in verse and in prose. This laurel crown gained for me no knowledge, but a

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great deal of envy. But this story also has strayed beyond its limits.

'Departing from Rome, I went to Parma, and stayed some time with the Lords of Correggio, who were the best of men and most liberally disposed towards myself, but sadly at enmity among each other; and who at that time were ruling in such a fashion as the city had never experienced before within the memory of man, nor I believe will ever in this age experience again. Mindful of the honour I had accepted, and anxious lest it might seem to have been conferred upon an unworthy recipient, having one day, after climbing by chance a mountain in the neighbourhood, been suddenly struck with the appearance of the place, I turned my pen once more to the interrupted poem of 'Africa,' and finding that fervour rekindled which had appeared quite laid to sleep, I wrote a little that very day. I added afterwards a little day by day, until, after returning to Parma and obtaining a retired and quiet house, which I subsequently bought and still retain, my intense ardour, which even now I am amazed at, enabled me, before long, to bring the work to a conclusion. Returning thence, I sought once more the Sorgia and my transalpine solitude, just as I was turning my back on my four-and-thirtieth year;1 having spent a long while at Parma and Verona, being welcomed with affection everywhere, thank God-far more so, indeed, than I deserved.

"After a long while having gained the favour of a most worthy man, and one whose equal, I think, did not exist among the nobles of that age-I mean Giacomo di CarraraI was urged by him with such pressing entreaties, addressed to me for several years both through messengers and letters even across the Alps, when I was in those parts, and wherever I chanced to be in Italy, to embrace his friendship, that I resolved at length to pay him a visit, and to discover the reason of this urgent solicitation from a man so eminent and a stranger to myself. I came, therefore, tardily indeed,

1 This date is incorrect. Petrarch was thirty-eight when he returned to Vaucluse in 1342.

to Padua, where I was received by that man of illustrious memory not only with courtesy, but as happy spirits are welcomed in heaven; with such abundant joy and such inestimable kindness and affection, that I must fain suppress it in silence, being hopeless of doing justice to it in words. Knowing, among many other things, that I had embraced from boyhood the clerical life, and with a view to attach me the more closely not only to himself, but also to his country, he caused me to be appointed a Canon of Padua ; and, in short, if his life had only been longer, there would then have been an end of my wandering and my travels. But alas! there is nothing lasting among mortals; and if aught of sweetness chanced to present itself in life, soon comes the bitter end, and it is gone. When, ere two years had been completed, God took him from me, his country, and the world, He took away one of whom neither I, nor his country, nor the world (my love to him does not deceive me) were worthy. And although he was succeeded by a son, conspicuous alike for his sagacity and renown, and who, following in his father's footsteps, always held me in affection and honour, nevertheless, when I had lost one whose age was more congenial to my own, I returned again to France, not caring to remain where I was, my object being not so much the longing to revisit places I had seen a thousand times before, as a desire, common to all men in trouble, of ministering to the ennui of life by a change of scene."

With these words ends the fragment, for it is but a fragment, which Petrarch has bequeathed to us of his life. He omits in it all mention, save a bare allusion, to his passion for Laura and his Italian poetry. He commemorates in it his early successes with pardonable vanity. But he reserves his warmest and most enthusiastic language for his illustrious friends. The later portion of his life, which connected him with the political events of the age, is left untold.

CHAPTER III.

EARLY LIFE.

It would be superfluous to dwell at greater length on the events of his childhood, or on the genealogies of the great poet, which have taxed the ingenuity of the Italian commentators. His father, Petracco, was a notary of Florence, who had joined the party of the White Guelfs, and, under a false accusation of malversation, was driven from the city by the hostile factions in the spring of 1302, together with some six hundred honourable citizens, of whom Dante Alighieri was one. He fled to Arezzo, and there, two years later, on Monday the 20th July, at dawn, Francesco Petrarcha, as he was called, was born. His childhood was spent at Incisa, a small property about fourteen miles from Florence, to which his mother obtained leave to return. But the persecution still continuing, Petracco, the father, migrated in 1313 to Avignon, to which city Clement V. had recently removed the Papal Court. Young Petrarch was sent to a school at Carpentras, in the neighbourhood, kept by a Tuscan scholar named Convennole, where he remained four years, and where he already distinguished himself in rhetoric.

This early exile produced a marked effect on the des