In that first season of life which is full of error and
presumption, I despised all the world except myself.
presumption, I despised all the world except myself.
Petrarch
He had scarcely arrived
there when he fell ill, and died on the 26th of August in the same year.
Of all the friends whom Petrarch had had at Avignon, he had now none
left but Mattheus le Long, Archdeacon of Liege, with whom his ties of
friendship had subsisted ever since they had studied together at
Bologna. From him he received a letter on the 5th of January, 1372, and
in his answer, dated the same day at Padua, he gives this picture of his
condition, and of the life which he led:--
"You ask about my condition--it is this. I am, thanks to God,
sufficiently tranquil, and free, unless I deceive myself, from all the
passions of my youth. I enjoyed good health for a long time, but for two
years past I have become infirm. Frequently, those around me have
believed me dead, but I live still, and pretty much the same as you have
known me. I could have mounted higher; but I wished not to do so, since
every elevation is suspicious. I have acquired many friends and a good
many books: I have lost my health and many friends; I have spent some
time at Venice. At present I am at Padua, where I perform the functions
of canon. I esteem myself happy to have quitted Venice, on account of
that war which has been declared between that Republic and the Lord of
Padua. At Venice I should have been suspected: here I am caressed. I
pass the greater part of the year in the country, which I always prefer
to the town. I repose, I write, I think; so you see that my way of life
and my pleasures are the same as in my youth. Having studied so long it
is astonishing that I have learnt so little. I hate nobody, I envy
nobody.
In that first season of life which is full of error and
presumption, I despised all the world except myself. In middle life, I
despised only myself. In my aged years, I despise all the world, and
myself most of all. I fear only those whom I love. I desire only a good
end. I dread a company of valets like a troop of robbers. I should have
none at all, if my age and weakness permitted me. I am fain to shut
myself up in concealment, for I cannot endure visits; it is an honour
which displeases and wears me out. Amidst the Euganean hills I have
built a small but neat mansion, where I reckon on passing quietly the
rest of my days, having always before my eyes my dead or absent friends.
To conceal nothing from you, I have been sought after by the Pope, the
Emperor, and the King of France, who have given me pressing invitations,
but I have constantly declined them, preferring my liberty to
everything. "
In this letter, Petrarch speaks of a sharp war that had arisen between
Venice and Padua. A Gascon, named Rainier, who commanded the troops of
Venice, having thrown bridges over the Brenta, established his camp at
Abano, whence he sent detachments to ravage the lands of Padua. Petrarch
was in great alarm; for Arqua is only two leagues from Abano. He set out
on the 15th of November for Padua, to put himself and his books under
protection. A friend at Verona wrote to him, saying, "Only write your
name over the door of your house, and fear nothing; it will be your
safeguard. " The advice, it is hardly necessary to say, was absurd.
there when he fell ill, and died on the 26th of August in the same year.
Of all the friends whom Petrarch had had at Avignon, he had now none
left but Mattheus le Long, Archdeacon of Liege, with whom his ties of
friendship had subsisted ever since they had studied together at
Bologna. From him he received a letter on the 5th of January, 1372, and
in his answer, dated the same day at Padua, he gives this picture of his
condition, and of the life which he led:--
"You ask about my condition--it is this. I am, thanks to God,
sufficiently tranquil, and free, unless I deceive myself, from all the
passions of my youth. I enjoyed good health for a long time, but for two
years past I have become infirm. Frequently, those around me have
believed me dead, but I live still, and pretty much the same as you have
known me. I could have mounted higher; but I wished not to do so, since
every elevation is suspicious. I have acquired many friends and a good
many books: I have lost my health and many friends; I have spent some
time at Venice. At present I am at Padua, where I perform the functions
of canon. I esteem myself happy to have quitted Venice, on account of
that war which has been declared between that Republic and the Lord of
Padua. At Venice I should have been suspected: here I am caressed. I
pass the greater part of the year in the country, which I always prefer
to the town. I repose, I write, I think; so you see that my way of life
and my pleasures are the same as in my youth. Having studied so long it
is astonishing that I have learnt so little. I hate nobody, I envy
nobody.
In that first season of life which is full of error and
presumption, I despised all the world except myself. In middle life, I
despised only myself. In my aged years, I despise all the world, and
myself most of all. I fear only those whom I love. I desire only a good
end. I dread a company of valets like a troop of robbers. I should have
none at all, if my age and weakness permitted me. I am fain to shut
myself up in concealment, for I cannot endure visits; it is an honour
which displeases and wears me out. Amidst the Euganean hills I have
built a small but neat mansion, where I reckon on passing quietly the
rest of my days, having always before my eyes my dead or absent friends.
To conceal nothing from you, I have been sought after by the Pope, the
Emperor, and the King of France, who have given me pressing invitations,
but I have constantly declined them, preferring my liberty to
everything. "
In this letter, Petrarch speaks of a sharp war that had arisen between
Venice and Padua. A Gascon, named Rainier, who commanded the troops of
Venice, having thrown bridges over the Brenta, established his camp at
Abano, whence he sent detachments to ravage the lands of Padua. Petrarch
was in great alarm; for Arqua is only two leagues from Abano. He set out
on the 15th of November for Padua, to put himself and his books under
protection. A friend at Verona wrote to him, saying, "Only write your
name over the door of your house, and fear nothing; it will be your
safeguard. " The advice, it is hardly necessary to say, was absurd.
