)
"He has forgotten his dignity; he has forgotten all the language he used
to hold respecting the state of Italy, his hatred of the Archbishop, and
his love of liberty; and he would imprison the Muses in that court.
"He has forgotten his dignity; he has forgotten all the language he used
to hold respecting the state of Italy, his hatred of the Archbishop, and
his love of liberty; and he would imprison the Muses in that court.
Petrarch
His
house was flanked with two towers, stood behind the city wall, and
looked out upon a rich and beautiful country, as far as the Alps, the
tops of which, although it was summer, were still covered with snow.
Great was the joy of Petrarch when he found himself in a house near the
church of that Saint Ambrosio, for whom he had always cherished a
peculiar reverence. He himself tells us that he never entered that
temple without experiencing rekindled devotion. He visited the statue of
the saint, which was niched in one of the walls, and the stone figure
seemed to him to breathe, such was the majesty and tranquillity of the
sculpture. Near the church arose the chapel, where St. Augustin, after
his victory over his refractory passions, was bathed in the sacred
fountain of St. Ambrosio, and absolved from penance for his past life.
All this time, whilst Petrarch was so well pleased with his new abode,
his friends were astonished, and even grieved, at his fixing himself at
Milan. At Avignon, Socrates, Guido Settimo, and the Bishop of Cavaillon,
said among themselves, "What! this proud republican, who breathed
nothing but independence, who scorned an office in the papal court as a
gilded yoke, has gone and thrown himself into the chains of the tyrant
of Italy; this misanthrope, who delighted only in the silence of fields,
and perpetually praised a secluded life, now inhabits the most bustling
of cities! " At Florence, his friends entertained the same sentiments,
and wrote to him reproachfully on the subject. "I would wish to be
silent," says Boccaccio, "but I cannot hold my peace. My reverence for
you would incline me to hold silence, but my indignation obliges me to
speak out. How has Silvanus acted? " (Under the name of Silvanus he
couches that of Petrarch, in allusion to his love of rural retirement.
)
"He has forgotten his dignity; he has forgotten all the language he used
to hold respecting the state of Italy, his hatred of the Archbishop, and
his love of liberty; and he would imprison the Muses in that court. To
whom can we now give our faith, when Silvanus, who formerly pronounced
the Visconti a cruel tyrant, has now bowed himself to the yoke which he
once so boldly condemned? How has the Visconti obtained this truckling,
which neither King Robert, nor the Pope, nor the Emperor, could ever
obtain? You will say, perhaps, that you have been ill-used by your
fellow-citizens, who have withheld from you your paternal property. I
disapprove not your just indignation; but Heaven forbid I should believe
that, righteously and honestly, any injury, from whomsoever we may
receive it, can justify our taking part against our country. It is in
vain for you to allege that you have not incited him to war against our
country, nor lent him either your arm or advice. How can you be happy
with him, whilst you are hearing of the ruins, the conflagrations, the
imprisonments, the deaths, and the rapines, that he spreads around him? "
Petrarch's answers to these and other reproaches which his friends sent
to him were cold, vague, and unsatisfactory. He denied that he had
sacrificed his liberty; and told Boccaccio that, after all, it was less
humiliating to be subservient to a single tyrant than to be, as he,
Boccaccio, was, subservient to a whole tyrannical people. This was an
unwise, implied confession on the part of Petrarch that he was the slave
of Visconti. Sismondi may be rather harsh in pronouncing Petrarch to
have been all his life a Troubadour; but there is something in his
friendship with the Lord of Milan that palliates the accusation. In
spite of this severe letter from Boccaccio, it is strange, and yet,
methinks, honourable to both, that their friendship was never broken.
Levati, in his "_Viaggi di Petrarca_," ascribes the poet's settlement at
Milan to his desire of accumulating a little money, not for himself, but
for his natural children; and in some of Petrarch's letters, subsequent
to this period, there are allusions to his own circumstances which give
countenance to this suspicion.
However this may be, Petrarch deceived himself if he expected to have
long tranquillity in such a court as that of Milan. He was perpetually
obliged to visit the Viscontis, and to be present at every feast that
they gave to honour the arrival of any illustrious stranger. A more than
usually important visitant soon came to Milan, in the person of Cardinal
Egidio Albornoz, who arrived at the head of an army, with a view to
restore to the Church large portions of its territory which had been
seized by some powerful families.
house was flanked with two towers, stood behind the city wall, and
looked out upon a rich and beautiful country, as far as the Alps, the
tops of which, although it was summer, were still covered with snow.
Great was the joy of Petrarch when he found himself in a house near the
church of that Saint Ambrosio, for whom he had always cherished a
peculiar reverence. He himself tells us that he never entered that
temple without experiencing rekindled devotion. He visited the statue of
the saint, which was niched in one of the walls, and the stone figure
seemed to him to breathe, such was the majesty and tranquillity of the
sculpture. Near the church arose the chapel, where St. Augustin, after
his victory over his refractory passions, was bathed in the sacred
fountain of St. Ambrosio, and absolved from penance for his past life.
All this time, whilst Petrarch was so well pleased with his new abode,
his friends were astonished, and even grieved, at his fixing himself at
Milan. At Avignon, Socrates, Guido Settimo, and the Bishop of Cavaillon,
said among themselves, "What! this proud republican, who breathed
nothing but independence, who scorned an office in the papal court as a
gilded yoke, has gone and thrown himself into the chains of the tyrant
of Italy; this misanthrope, who delighted only in the silence of fields,
and perpetually praised a secluded life, now inhabits the most bustling
of cities! " At Florence, his friends entertained the same sentiments,
and wrote to him reproachfully on the subject. "I would wish to be
silent," says Boccaccio, "but I cannot hold my peace. My reverence for
you would incline me to hold silence, but my indignation obliges me to
speak out. How has Silvanus acted? " (Under the name of Silvanus he
couches that of Petrarch, in allusion to his love of rural retirement.
)
"He has forgotten his dignity; he has forgotten all the language he used
to hold respecting the state of Italy, his hatred of the Archbishop, and
his love of liberty; and he would imprison the Muses in that court. To
whom can we now give our faith, when Silvanus, who formerly pronounced
the Visconti a cruel tyrant, has now bowed himself to the yoke which he
once so boldly condemned? How has the Visconti obtained this truckling,
which neither King Robert, nor the Pope, nor the Emperor, could ever
obtain? You will say, perhaps, that you have been ill-used by your
fellow-citizens, who have withheld from you your paternal property. I
disapprove not your just indignation; but Heaven forbid I should believe
that, righteously and honestly, any injury, from whomsoever we may
receive it, can justify our taking part against our country. It is in
vain for you to allege that you have not incited him to war against our
country, nor lent him either your arm or advice. How can you be happy
with him, whilst you are hearing of the ruins, the conflagrations, the
imprisonments, the deaths, and the rapines, that he spreads around him? "
Petrarch's answers to these and other reproaches which his friends sent
to him were cold, vague, and unsatisfactory. He denied that he had
sacrificed his liberty; and told Boccaccio that, after all, it was less
humiliating to be subservient to a single tyrant than to be, as he,
Boccaccio, was, subservient to a whole tyrannical people. This was an
unwise, implied confession on the part of Petrarch that he was the slave
of Visconti. Sismondi may be rather harsh in pronouncing Petrarch to
have been all his life a Troubadour; but there is something in his
friendship with the Lord of Milan that palliates the accusation. In
spite of this severe letter from Boccaccio, it is strange, and yet,
methinks, honourable to both, that their friendship was never broken.
Levati, in his "_Viaggi di Petrarca_," ascribes the poet's settlement at
Milan to his desire of accumulating a little money, not for himself, but
for his natural children; and in some of Petrarch's letters, subsequent
to this period, there are allusions to his own circumstances which give
countenance to this suspicion.
However this may be, Petrarch deceived himself if he expected to have
long tranquillity in such a court as that of Milan. He was perpetually
obliged to visit the Viscontis, and to be present at every feast that
they gave to honour the arrival of any illustrious stranger. A more than
usually important visitant soon came to Milan, in the person of Cardinal
Egidio Albornoz, who arrived at the head of an army, with a view to
restore to the Church large portions of its territory which had been
seized by some powerful families.
