ili I i m HI!' mP ' "li! #1 11 II H sii|i||lli§i i| r. LIBRARY OF THE University of Californi. gift of Mrs. SARAH P. WALSWORTH Received October, 1894. Accessions No.^XfJL , Class No " * HISTORICAL STUDIES. HISTORICAL STUDIES: GEORGE WASHINGTON GREENE, LATE UNITED STATES' C0N6UL AT ROME. alaxpov TOl dqpov re fitvelv Keveov re viso&ai. Iliad, II. 298. %?" OF THB^Y WIVKRSIT NEW-YORK: GEORGE P. PUTNAM, 155 BROADWAY, LONDON: Putnam's American Agency, 49 Bow Lane, Cheapside. 1850. ^ & *" OF THB*^^V UlTIVI EEFAC:!. I can offer no better apology for the republication of the following papers than that there are some things in them which I wished to preserve ; and in thus grouping them together under the name of " Historical Studies," I have given them the title which seemed best suited to their nature and their origin. They are a record, too, of pleasant hours, and of studies to which I had fondly looked for fuller and better results. The extensive plans which I had once formed for a history of Italy may, perhaps, never be accomplished. The partial loss of sight and the want of books are serious obstacles in an undertaking which requires a full command of both. But though I would not willingly renounce my hopes of the future, yet with such reasons for looking towards it doubtfully, I may not, perhaps, be held altogether inex- cusable for clinging so tenaciously to the past. There is always some strength to be drawn from early associa- Vlll PREFACE. tions, and memory may sometimes be taught to supply the place of hope. The last paper in this volume was never published before. The others have appeared at long intervals in the North American Review. When I first ventured to treat these subjects most of them were comparatively new in our periodical literature, and though more or less has been written upon them since, I have, with the exception of a few verbal corrections and a few additions to the papers on Petrarch and Verrazzano, allowed them to stand as I first printed them. There is little to be gained by recasting materials like these, and if unity of thought should be found wanting in the first sketch, no subsequent efforts will ever atone for the deficiency. The article on Libraries was, I believe, one of the earli- est efforts to call the attention of our countrymen to this important subject. It was written at the suggestion of the late Richard Henry Wilde, and I have given it a place in this volume as a tribute to one who long en- couraged me by his example, who cheered me by his friendship, and whose memory will ever be associated with that of the best and brightest days of my life. The "Hopes of Italy" was written in 1847, imme- diately after my return to the United States. Subse- quent events seemed to call for a few additional expla- nations, and these I have attempted to give in a supple- mentary paper. It is not without serious misgivings PREFACE. IX that I venture to publish this hasty outline of a great movement, upon which it would be easier to write a volume than an essay. But the subject is one upon which I feel too deeply to be silent, and I was unwill- ing to let the occasion pass without saying at least one word for the vanquished, and recording, at this moment of despondency and doubt, my unwavering confidence in the final triumph of freedom. Brown University, January 19, 1850. TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE. Petrarch, I Machiavelli, 46 Reformation in Italy, 82 Italian Literature in the first hale op the Nine- teenth Century, 120 Manzoni, 171 The Hopes op Italy, . 208 Historical Romance in Italy, ......... 253 Libraries, 277 Verrazzano, . . .323 Xll TABLE OF CONTENTS. Charles Edward, 353 Supplement to the Hopes of Italy, 436 Contributions for the Pope, 463 PETRARC I. - Fraunceis Petrark, the laureat poete, Highte this clerk, whos rhethorike swete Enlumined all Itaille of poetrie . Clerke's prologue. quel dolee di Calliope labbro Che Amore, in Grecia nudo e nudo in Roma, D'un velo candidissimo adornando, Rendea nel grembo a venere celeste. Foscolo I Sepolcri. The political state of Italy during the early part of the middle ages, although highly favorable to the development of mind, offered no advantages for secluded study* The war of the Investitures had been closely followed by the invasion of Frederic Barbarossa, and the war of the league of Lombardy. It was during this last, that the minds of the Italians, actively engaged in the defence of their rights, received an impulse and development, whose influence continued long after the freedom in which they originated had been madly sacrificed. But these exertions were accompanied by scenes of horror, * Francisci Petrarchse Plorentini, Philosophi, Oratoris et Poetae cla- rissimi, reflorescentis literaturae, Latinseque Linguae, aliquot Seculis horrenda Barbarie inquinatae ac pene sepultae, Assertoris et Instaurato- ris, Opera quae extant omnia, etc. etc. Basileae, per Sebastianum Hen- richetri. 1 2 PETRARCH. which chill the blood even at the distance of seven centuries ; and the domestic life of the leading men of those times pre- sents a picture of which we, surrounded by all the delicacies and comforts and securities of a maturer civilization, can form no adequate idea. * Still the literary spirit of the age continued its train of con- stant, though slow advancement. The love of study spread by degress from the convent to the court, and at length pene- trated the retirement of domestic life. Amid the exciting cares of conquest, and even in the gloom of a prison, princes sought relief or relaxation in the cultivation of science ; and private individuals, borne away by the same enthusiasm, ne- glected their more lucrative professions, for the enjoyment of intellectual pursuits, f The human mind seems at first to have assumed a new form of conception, and the poetry which could not find full and permanent expression in the rude phrases of an unformed dialect, embodied its conceptions in the beautiful and sublime of a noble architecture. Then arose the daring dome, the frowning battlement, the dark pile of the cathedral, in which wild imagination and bold design mark out so clearly the epoch of their formation. } * Among the protectors of literature during the fourteenth century, we find men not less remarkable for their vices than for their ambition So that the zeal which they displayed, seems to have proceeded more directly from their love of magnificence, than from their love of letters ; a proof, however, of the general esteem in which literature was held. t A remarkable instance of this is related in one of Petrarch's letter^ V. Mem. pour la Vie de Petrarque, Tom. ii. p. 486. ap. Tirab. X V. Histoire Litteraire de la France, Vol. XVI. Discours sur l'6t.at des Beaux Arts au treizieme siecle. PETRARCH. 6 The poetry of language soon followed and lingered for a time in the song of the Troubadours, and the minstrels of Sicily. Then suddenly passing into the nobler tongue of Tuscany, it became once more the language of nature, the expression of the overflowing feelings of the heart, the embodying of the bright and glowing forms that float before the eye of fancy. Foremost in the train we meet the daring genius of Dante, and the tones of his lyre have hardly died upon our ear, when we catch the soft strain of the lute of Petrarch. The defeat of the Bianchi party of Florence in 1302 was followed by the banishment of its leading members. * Among these were Dante and the father of Petrarch. For a long time they indulged the hope of a recall, and they seem to have first sought a refuge in the vicinity of Florence, either with a view to assist the efforts of their friends, or to avail themselves of them, if successful. It was probably this circumstance which led them to Arezzo, and it was here that Petrarch was born in the second year of his father's exile. On the very night of his birth, the banished party attempted to force an entrance into Florence. The effort failed, and so far from in- creasing their chances of return, it completely alienated the affections of their few remaining friends. Still the father of Petrarch lingered around Florence with all an exile's fond- * V. Tirab. Vol. V. p. 443. et seq. Petrarch de orig. et vit. passim. Squarzafichi, vit. Fr. Petrar. Petr. oper. edit. Basl. Mem. de l'Academie des Inscriptions, Vol. XV. p. 746. et seq. XVII. 390. et seq. Besides there professsd biographies, there are many highly interestiin facts scattered through the letters of Petrarch and some in his Dial. * Cont, Mund. and in other parts of his works. 4 PETRARCH. ness, and it was not until the bitter experience of seven years had forced upon his conviction the vanity of his hopes, that he was able to tear himself from his native land. He then retired to Avignon, where the residence of the Papal Court had drawn immense crowds of the ambitious or discontented of Italy. He there engaged in the profession which he had originally pursued in Florence; and, unable to educate his so* in the crowded city of Avignon, he placed him at the school o1 Carpentras, a small town in its neighborhood. Petrarch here not only followed the usual course of elementary studies, but soon completing his grammar and rhetoric, advanced to the higher classes of Latin. His fondness for study and readiness in learning led his friends to form great expectations of his success, and, accordingly, as soon as his age would permit, his attention was directed to the study of law, as the surest path to wealth and honor. But fortunately for posterity, Petrarch had already acquired too strong and decided a taste for polite letters, to permit his mind to engage with any degree of pleasure in the subtle distinctions of the codes. * It was not surprising, therefore, that although placed first at the school of Montpelier, then at that of Bologna, and allured by some interesting points in the study itself, he should view it with aversion, and seize the first opportunity of quitting it forever. The death of his father, which is placed by some writers about the year 1326, is supposed to have been the immediate cause of his return to Avignon ; and there, having no guide but his * One of his biographers attributes this passion to an emulation ex- cited by the writings of Dante, which were then beginning to attract the notice of the learned. — Squarzafichi, vit. Petr. p. 2. PETRARCH. own inclination, he abandoned every study for his favorite pursuits. But unhappily for the freedom of his choice, his small inheritance had been shamefully wasted by his father's executors, and he soon found it necessary to direct his thoughts to some additional source of revenue. With this view he assumed the clerical robe. But the path of ecclesiastical honors was hardly more attractive to his gentle spirit than that of the law, and although he enjoyed the protection of the Colonnas, he never advanced far in the dignities of the church. This portion of Petrarch's career has been enlarged upon by all who have undertaken his history ; and some of his biographers seem to have believed that the passion for Laura was almost the only important event of his life. In one point of view it is undoubtedly interesting ; for it exerted a power- ful influence over his tastes and character, and gave rise to the Italian poems by which he is chiefly known. It is difficult to conceive the warmth and constancy of this passion, and were there no other evidence of its reality, than the testimony of his verses, we could almost pardon those who view it as a poetic fiction. But the same tone of feeling which character- izes the Canzoniere, extends to his letters and dialogues, and a large portion of his other works. We have not at present any means of ascertaining with what feelings he first met its approach. But he was not long in perceiving that it was destined to prove destructive of his peace ; and the unsettled state of his mind, the alternate mixture of hope and fear by which he was constantly tormented, are evident as much from the manner of his life, as from the tone of his 1* 6 PETRARCH. verses.* It was not, however, by a weak abandonment of his duties that the power of his passion was manifested, for he pursued his studies and continued the cultivation of his mind with unrelaxing industry. But the constant change of resi- dence, the frequent attempts to tear himself from Avignon, where, however, he constantly returned, the tender strain of thought which ran through all his writings, were clear indica- tions of a " heart ill at ease." The first of his tours was made in company with his friend and patron James Colonna, to the Bishopric of Lombes. t After passing a summer in that place, where the solitude of the situation was enlivened by the society of his friends Lelius and Socrates, he again returned to Avignon. There he re- mained tranquil for nearly three years, eagerly embracing every occasion to extend his information, not only by means of books, but of the society that was constantly gathered around his patron. He thus became acquainted with Richard of * Readers who are desirous of re-examining this oft-examined question, will find one of the prevalent opinions strongly supported in the Mem. de l'Acad. cited above. In another, (we believe the 16th vol. of the same work,) the opinion of the Abbe de Sade is supported in a very in- genious essay upon Laura. The Abbe's opinion (v. Mem. pour la Vie de Petrarque) has been adopted by Tiraboschi and other cele- brated critics. But early in the present century it was violently attacked by Lord Woodhouselee. We have not been able to procure his essay, but from a few extracts that we have seen, we should suppose that his lordship knew more of the spirit of Petrarch, than of that of Petrarch's age. t It has been asserted that it was during this tour that Petrarch first became acquainted with the Provencal poetry; but his long residence in a part of France not far distant from the seat of Provencal literature, could hardly have left him in ignorance of a poetry that had already spread throughout Italy itself. PETRARCH. 7 Bury, tutor and ambassador of Edward III., and with many- other distinguished men, whose correspondence long contin- ued to form one of his greatest pleasures. The conver- sation of these friends may perhaps have concurred with the unsettled state of his mind in forming a taste for travel- ling, which nothing but the infirmities of old age could ever overcome. About three years after his return from Lombes, he made a tour through the north of France, the Netherlands, and along the Rhine, and while absent communicated to his friends the course and events of this journey, in letters which now form one of the most interesting portions of his correspondence. * He next directed his steps towards Italy, and the true feeling of Italian pride breaks out in the delight with which he says, that wherever he wandered and whatever he saw, he found nothing to make him ashamed of his native land. For a time his passion for travelling was satisfied, and, purchasing a small cottage at Vaucluse, in the neighborhood of Avignon, he arranged his library there, and established himself in that solitude. He now engaged in his studies with the ardor of youth. He was at a distance from the world, and received no inter- ruptions from the cares of society, while the monotony of solitude was cheered by the occasional visits of his friends. Every hour was a succession of delightful occupations. He turned from the grave composition of his moral treatises, to study his eclogues or epistles. The retirement of the closet was relieved by the fresh air of the valley, and the thousand * V. Famil.Lib. I.ep. 3, 4.' 8 PETRARCH. thoughts and images, that rose from his peculiar situation, and from the sweet aspect that nature wore around him, were recorded upon his tablets, and at length formed into the tender verses of the Canzoniere. Here he composed the greatest part of his early sonnets and odes. Many of his let- ters were written from here, and beside the Latin dialogues and moral treatises, he here commenced his great epic, the poem of Africa. * Thus far the reputation of Petrarch, although not confined to the immediate circle of his friends, had been an indefinite expectation of future excellence, rather than the fruit of some superior production. For it should not be forgotten that the sonnets and odes by which he is chiefly known in modern times, were but little esteemed by the grave and learned of the age for which he wrote. Not so with the younger portion of society, and especially with those who felt, or wished to feel, * The letter from which we obtain these facts was written in reply to a friend, who had attempted to dissuade him from returning to Vaucluse. After several observations, he adds the following : — Quod idcirco dixerim, ne quis dubitet, me illius rus non spernere, quod mihi, meisque rebus aptissimum semper inveni, ubi saepe curas urbanas, rustica requie permutavi, quod non tantum electione ipsa, sed agrestibus muris et (ut spero) solidiore cemento, verbis atque carminibus illustrare pro viribus studui. Illic, juvat enim meminisse, Africam meam ccepi, tanto impetu, tantoque nisu animi, ut nunc limam per eadem referens vestigia, ipse meam audaciam et magna operis fundamenta, quodammodo, perhorres- cam. Illic et epistolarum utriusque styli, partem non exiguam et pene totum Bucolicum carmen absolvi, quam brevi dierum spatio si noris, stupeas. — Fam. Lib. VIII. ep. 3. Another writer goes still further: — Illic denique quicquid fere omni aetate composuit aut praefecit aut incepit, aut scribere cogitavit, eo fuit in loco. — Vergerius apud Squarzaf. p. 3. PETRARCH. 9 the passion which he has so truly depicted. They were also spreading rapidly through the lower classes, changing, it is true, and losing a part of their original polish and beauty, as they passed from mouth to mouth among a rude peasantry, but silently forming for their author that far-spread and flattering reputation, which seems to be the peculiar lot of Italian and Grecian poets. But the poem of Africa, in which he was engaged, raised the expectation of his contemporaries to the highest pitch, and upon this he also for a long time placed his hopes of permanent reputation. The first verses were hardly known, when the attention of the learned, and of the patrons of learning, be- came wholly directed to the valley of Vaucluse, * and long before the work was completed, the Senate of Rome sent him an invitation to receive the laurel crown upon the Capitol. While he was yet agitated by the joy of this unexpected hon- or, a letter from a friend in Paris urged him to accept the same high reward from the university of that city. He hesitated for some time between these two invitations, but the advice of his friend Colonna concurring with his own veneration for the Roman name, at length decided him in favor of the former, f * The wonder and admiration, which the mere intention of writing a poem excited among the scholars of that age, will seem strange to an age like ours, so well accustomed to the appearance of heroics, that number volumes instead of books. But according to Tiraboschi, this was not the case with our unfortunate forefathers. — Unpoema, says he, a quell' eta. era una cosa si rara che doveva destare ammirazione verso l'autore in chiunque udivane il nome. Quindi appena ne corse la fama mentre Petrarca non aveane fatta che piccola parte, e appena vedute le altre Latine poesie da lui composte, egli divenne l'oggetto dell' universale maraviglia e per poco non fu creduto un uomo divino. t Op. Tom. III. p. 3. Tirab. V. p. 455. 'UFIVBRSITYJi 10 PETRARCH. It was a glorious moment, not for him alone, but for the literature, the genius of all ages, when the Roman Senate, renewing for a moment its long associations with all that is noble in genius or daring in enterprise, placed the wreath of laurel upon the brow of Petrarch. The dark clouds which hung so thickly over the moral and political horizon, seemed for an instant to break away, and the shout of the thousands who crowded around the Capitol, and filled the avenues of the Forum, might have seemed the voice of reviving Rome : re- viving, not to roll the dripping wheels of the triumphal car along the steep of the Capitol ; not to suspend a new shield or lance at the shrine of Capitolinus ; but to place upon the bloodless brow of genius the reward of victories, gained in the pure field of intellectual exertion, over the ignorance and wildness of a barbarous age. From this time Petrarch resided more constantly in Italy. His reputation procured him the friendship of princes and re- publics, as well as of men of letters.* There was hardly a court that did not seek to allure him by the most favorable offers. The republic of Florence endeavored to engage him in her new university by the proffer of any chair that he might deign to fill ; the Emperor Charles IV. favored him with his correspondence, and sought to establish him at his court. He was invited by Innocent VI. to become apostolic secretary, a post to which he had been previously called by Clement VI. This pontiff had also held out for him the additional allure- ments of ecclesiastical advancement. But, too fond of his freedom to submit to the confinement of public employment, * V. Tiraboschi, Vol. V. Lib. I. cap. 2, passim. PETRARCH. 11 he passed from city to city, and from court to court, — now simply seeking to gratify his private attachment, and now charged with the embassy of some Italian prince.* Twice he attempted to act as mediator between the rival republics of Genoa and Venice; he averted the impending wrath of Charles IV. from his friend and protector the Visconti, and by his eloquent expostulations, he partly prevailed upon one pon- tiff to remove the papal chair to Rome, and contributed pow- erfully to prepare the mind of another for the same change. Were we to follow his history through all the details of this period, we should be led from court to court, we should be obliged to enumerate all the literary enterprises of the age, the search and restoration of ancient manuscripts, the spread and cultivation of Greek letters, the introduction of pure taste into the study of antiquity, the application of reason and criticism to the examination of ancient monuments, and descending to minuter details, the history of many inferior undertakings, of which he was the origin and the soul. We must, however, confine ourselves for the present to a single anecdote, which illustrates in a very forcible manner, the estimation in which Petrarch was held by his contemporaries.! While he was receiving his public examination at the court * It is worthy of remark, that many of the principal Italian scholars were employed in the most important embassies. Without counting Machiavelli, who was a professed politician, Dante alone is said to have been fourteen times ambassador. t There is a curious statement in a letter of Petrarch, written in reply to the invitation to become Secretary to Innocent VI., by which we learn that while he received almost divine honors from some, he was thought little better than a magician by others. Vid. Rer. Sen. L. I. Ep. 3. 12 PETRARCH. of King Robert of Naples, a school-master of Pontremoli, blind and enfeebled by age, hastened to Naples in order to see him. Petrarch had already started for Rome, but the report of so extraordinary an occurrence spread rapidly through the city, and soon reached the ears of the king. It was natural that so great a lover of letters should be struck with this burst of en- thusiasm, and after having received a confirmation of the story from the lips of the old man himself, he supplied him with some conveniences for his journey, and urged him to hasten towards Rome, where he might, perhaps, be in time to satisfy his curiosity. But here also, the poor old man was too late, for Petrarch had already started for France. He re- turned to Pontremoli almost broken-hearted with his disap- pointment, but had hardly reached home, when he was told that Petrarch, instead of returning to Avignon, had stopped at Parma. Not discouraged by his former disappointment he again set out to seek him, and crossing the Apennines through snow and cold, with no support but the arm of his son, and of one of his scholars, he at length reached the house in which Petrarch was lodged. It would be impossible to describe the rapture with which he embraced him, listening with ecstasy to every word that he uttered, and alternately kissing the hand that had written, and the head that had composed such noble verses.* After having passed three days in the enjoyment * Etquotiens puta.«, seel quid loquor, praesens rebus intereras, quotiens filii et discipuli alterius, quo pro rilio et quibus ambobus pro vehiculo utebatur, manibus sublatis. meum caput osculatus est, quo ilia cogitas- sem, quotiens bane dexteram qua ilia seripsissem, quibus se diceret vehementissime deleetatum. Her. Sen. ut sup. PETRARCH. 13 of his society, the old man returned home joyful and con- tented.* The mind of Petrarch had always been open to religious impressions, and even in the earlier periods of his attachment to Laura, he seems to have sought relief from his sorrows in the offices of devotion. As he advanced in age this feeling con- tinued to gain strength, and many letters, composed during the last years of his life, bear witness to the resigned and tranquil mind with which he viewed the approach of death. His studies at this period were divided between the Greek and Roman classics, and the works of the fathers ; for his strong mind, while deeply impressed with the truths of religion, was raised far above the narrow bigotry which can see no traces of its Maker in the productions of a Pagan. His application to study was never relaxed while he had strength to bear the exertion. To borrow his own words, he hastened his steps as / he drew nearer to the goal, and believing that much still re- mained to be done, while his increasing infirmities reminded him, from hour to hour, how small a space remained for labor, he allowed to sleep and relaxation only that time which the weakness of nature imperiously demanded. He arose at mid- night, to pray and study, and divided the day between religion and literature. But his debility and disease daily increased. Frequent fevers slowly undermined his strength, and his body seemed to sink under him from hour to hour ; but still his mind grew brighter and brighter, and his imagination purer * This anecdote is related by Petrarch himself in a letter to one of his friends, in which he attempts to prove that the love of letters does not pass unrewarded in their age. Vid. Rer. Sen. Lib. XV. ep. 7. 2 14 PETRARCH. and purer, as sense faded within him. At length, on the morning of the eighteenth of July, 1374, he was found dead in his study, seated in his chair, with his head reposing as in meditation upon the pages of a book * The Italian poems of Petrarch can never be correctly es- I timated, until some poet shall arise, who, possessing the same depth and purity of feeling, can transfuse into the most har- monious form of his native language, the grace and sweetness of the original verses. Until then, the enjoyment of the Can- zoniere must be confined to the native Italian, and to the few who enter enough into the spirit of the language, to catch the feeling of the original as well as its sense. The perfect sim- plicity and pure nature of its imagery, the variety and rich- ness of its diction, and the arrangement and structure of the verse, corresponding so fully to the general character of each piece, — now moving with pensive gravity, now chiming to the brisk flow of gayer thoughts, like music, that harmonizes by its measure to the feelings that its tones have awakened, — these are beauties which must escape the observation of the early scholar. But every step in the language brings him nearer to their spirit. Beauties insensibly arise where he had thought all was vain expression, truth of feeling breaks forth from passages that at first seemed stiff and artificial, until, losing sight of the book and the writer in the thrilling responses of his own heart, he is borne irresistibly onward by the flow of the thoughts and of the verse that embodies them. * A very good account of Arqua, where the house of Petrarch, the chair in which he died and several other relics are preserved, may be found in the notes to the fourth Canto of Childe Harold. PETRARCH. 15 We have already observed, that the value which Petrarch and his contemporaries attached to the Canzoniere, was far from that enthusiastic admiration with which it has been com- mented on and studied by posterity. And this arose, not so much from their insensibility to its beauties, as from their ex- clusive admiration of the manner of the old classics. His odes and sonnets were regarded as the light, although elegant relaxations, in which a scholar might unbend his mind without derogating too far from the dignity of his profession, while his claims to the admiration of posterity were supposed to rest almost exclusively upon his Latin works.* But this very circumstance may have contributed to the real excellence of the former. For although the one was labored with greater care and formed after the pure models of antiquity, the others have caught the real movements of his heart more truly, and breathe an unlabored and almost involuntary sweetness ; as the harp, when touched by the passing breeze, will utter tones of unearthly minstrelsy, which the most perfect science can never draw forth. The amatory portion of the Canzoniere possesses two dis- tinct characters. During the life-time of Laura, the poet's mind has a gayer or rather brighter range of imagery. The * But Petrarch himself seems, at a later date, to have perceived and acknowledged the superiority of his Italian poems over all his other works. — Paulas Vergerius scribit habuisse a Calutio Salviato, qui dice- bat ab ipso Petrarcha audivisse, melius se omnia quae scripserat factu- rum praeter ejus in lingua vernacula scripta, ubi ingenue fatebatur seip- sum in illis vicisse. Verger, apud Squarzaf. And in one of his own sonnets Petrarch says, that had he believed his poems would prove so acceptable, he would have increased their number and given more polish to the style. Sonn. 253, 2d part. 1 6 PETRARCH. charms of her person float constantly before him. Her " loved idea " is mixed with every object, from the soft hue of the evening sky, to the deep brown of the rustling forest, from the gale that fans his feverish brow, to the stream that lulls by its gentle murmurings. All the varying emotions of his soul are fully recorded.* We now find him flushed with joy at some simple mark of favor, now deeply dejected by some act of unusual harshness. At times he laments the fatal destiny that has condemned him to days of hopeless complaint, to nights of watchful agony. At others he seems to rejoice in his chains, and although fully sensible of the hopelessness of his passion, to cherish with anxious solicitude the flame that feeds it. And throughout the course of these feelings, the flow of the verse chimes sweetly to the thoughts they record; moving like mu- sic at night amid the stillness of some lonely lake, now float- ing softly over the unrippled water, now lost amid the rush of the rising breeze, now broken by the voice of the awakened echoes. Laura dies ; and here the tone of his sorrow is changed. She is no longer an earthly beauty, whom he can hope to bend by his tears, but a spirit of heaven, who has wiped away the dross of earthly passion, but still cherishes that pure affection * Itaque per os meum flamraa cordis erumpens, miserabili sed (ut quidam dixerunt) dulci murmure valles, ccelumque complebat. Hinc ilia vulgaria juvenilium laborura meorum cantica, quorum hodie pudet ac poenitet, sed eodem morbo affectis (ut videmus) acceptissima. Fam. Lib. VIII. ep. 3. E certo ogni mio studio in quel temp'era Pur di sfogare il doloroso core In qualche raodo. Sonnet, 253. PETRARCH. 17 by which man is sometimes drawn back to the image of his Maker. She then visits him in dreams, and amid the still watches of the night, rebukes his vain and sinful sorrow. She bids him weep for himself and not for her ; she shows him by bright glimpses of heaven, the inexpressible bliss of the state to which she has passed, and bids hirn look with anxious an- ticipation for the day in which he may be permitted to follow. I There is something exceedingly touching in this communion with the dead whom we have loved, in this affection which even from heaven can look back upon the sad footsteps of the dear ones left behind, and cheer by friendly words and soothing visions the grief which none but itself can feel to be vain. ^J The style also of the second part seems to have changed in accordance with the feelings of the mourner. The movement of the verse is solemn and slow ; a softer and purer strain of lament swells up from the heart ; we are led to the solitary grave ; we seek in vain for the form that was once so lovely, but which is now mingled and lost amid the common dust at our feet ; at times a voice from heaven breaks in upon the stillness of night ; a heavenward aspiration arises from the lone and stricken soul ; while the imagery, shaded with the same deep coloring, softens and deepens and harmonizes the whole. But these expressions of feeling, although beautiful from their illustrations and truth to nature, never approach the penetrating analysis of the mind, which may be found in some later schools of poetry. They are brought before us in a few rapid sketches, not drawn in the fulness of their fear- 2* 18 PETRARCH. ful reality ; entwined around some lovely object in nature, not chilling the heart by their lonely despair ; we see the heaving, the agitation of the waves on the surface, but cannot discover the mighty arm that stirs them up from the foundation. Hence we rise from the Canzoniere, with a soft tinge of tender mel- ancholy, but never oppressed by the weight of sorrow ; with a tear glistening in the eye, or stealing in silence down the cheek, but never with the heart wrought up to that fearful ex- citement, which follows the reading of the Robbers, the Cor- sair, or Werther. In the most touching complaints of Pe- trarch we find, if not a gleam of hope, at least, the melancholy smile of resignation ; the utterance of his feelings seems in a measure to relieve him from their pressure, and even when he calls upon death as his only friend, we feel, that although grief may hasten its approach, the sufferer will never anticipate the blow. It will be evident, even from this imperfect sketch, that the chief merit of the Canzoniere must lie in the choice of imagery and expression, and in the adaptation of its verse to a natural flow of tender thought. Elegance of expression, which is so important a part of all poetry, is peculiarly essential to lyric verse. The short compass of an ode or sonnet will not admit of the compression of many ideas, much less of their full de- velopment. It is only by seizing some pleasing thought, and adapting to it the embellishment of appropriate imagery, that the poet can fix our attention. However beautiful the leading idea, it is far from being the principal object in the piece. It is in its connection with some beautiful object in natural scene- ry, with some lovely form of the poet's fancy, in its power to PETRARCH. 19 touch some hidden chord of our own sympathies, that the force and interest of the sonnet consist. Hence it must be the ex- pression of our passing feelings, flowing almost spontaneously from their own deep sources, taking its tone from the impulses within, seldom exciting deep emotions, but sometimes mas- tering the heart, by a few bold images and vigorous expres- sions. The illustration of these remarks may be found upon every page of the Canzoniere. As far as propriety of expression depends upon the choice and arrangement of words, Petrarch is a remarkable instance of pure taste.* Receiving the lan- guage almost immediately from the rough but vigorous pen of Dante, he contributed greatly toward giving it that sweetness and harmony, which have so long been considered its leading characteristics. < And there is no fact more remarkable in the whole compass of literary history, than that scarcely two ob- solete words can be found in his Italian poems ;f so truly did he judge the genius of his native tongue, and so exquisite was the taste with which he selected, arranged and polished its co- pious vocabulary. * It should be remembered that the merit of Petrarch does not consist simply in the proper use of a vocabulary, already formed and fixed by polished usage, but in the selection of appropriate expressions, from the variety of an unsettled language. One proof of his superior taste in this respect is his rejecting the custom of mingling foreign words with those which are purely Italian, a custom universal among his contem- poraries and predecessors in the literary world. V. Crescembeni della Volg. Poes. Vol. I. p. 363. And though perhaps the tante is somewhat too strong, Monti was unquestionably the best judge of the two. t Asserted by Denina Vic. della Letterat, denied by Monti. — Dial. V. I. p. 125 — tante ne morirono del Boccaccio, tante piu del Petrarca. 20 PETRARCH. In judging of epithets and expressions, however, we should always bear in mind that this, of all the beauties of speech, is the most exposed to the influence of time. A phrase may be vigorous or beautiful in one age or one country, from the pe- culiar circumstances in which it arose, while at a short inter- val either of time or space its beauty becomes unintelligible, or its power is lost. True excellence of thought will always bear the rigor of critical examination, but many of the beauties of expression are strictly conventional, and thus are soon worn by familiar usage. Hence we pass over many deli- cate images which the quick imagination of the poet has con- nected with particular words, and read with comparative coldness many elegant phrases which use has made familiar to our minds, although when first employed in the verse before us, they shone with all the freshness of youthful beauty. The Italian scholar will find a beautiful specimen of propri- ety of language combined with strength and richness of dic- tion, in the ode supposed to have been addressed to Cola di Rienzi. Spirto gentil che quelle membra reggi. The same qualities will be found, although in a less degree, in the following sonnet. The movement of the verse is re- markably full and grave, corresponding with the loneliness of the heart it so beautifully describes. Solo e pensoso i piu deserti campi Vo misurando a passi tardi e lenti ; E gli occhi porto per fuggire intenti Dove vestigio uman l'arena stampi. PETRARCH. 21 Altro schermo non trovo che mi scampi Dal manifesto accorger delle genti, Perche negli atti d'allegrezza spenti, Di fuor si legge com' io dentro avvampi. Si ch'io mi credo omai, che monti e piagge E fiumi e selve sappian di che tempre Sia la mia vita ch' e celata altrui. Ma pur si aspre vie, ne si selvagge, Cercar non so, ch'amor non venga sempre llagionando con meco ed io con lui. " Alone and pensive, the deserted strand I wander o'er with slow and measured pace, And shun with watchful eye the lightest trace Of human foot, imprinted on the sand. I find, alas ! no other resting-place From the keen eye of man ; for in the show Of outward joy, it reads upon my face The traces of the flame that burns below. And thus, at length, each leafy mount and plain, Each wandering stream and shady forest know, What others know not, all my life of pain. And love, as through the wildest tracts I go, Comes whispering in my ear his tender strain, Which I with trembling lip repeat to him again." The same idea is finely enlarged upon in one of the sweet- est odes of the Canzoniere. And it may here be observed, that the longest of Petrarch's pieces are generally the best. His feelings seem to gather strength as he warms with his subject, and ideas which at first rise coldly and singly in his mind, flow onward, warming at every step, gathering new strength from every object, drawing in imagery from every TZ PETRARCH. source, until the mind and heart of the writer himself seem to roll on with the full current of collected thought. The following verses, with which the ode commences, will show with what richness of expression and imagery he gives the charms of variety to ideas that his own verses have ren- dered familiar. Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte, Mi guida amor, ch'ogni segnato calle Provo contrario alia tranquilla vita. Se'n solitaria piaggia rivo o fonte Se'n fra duo poggi siede ombrosa valle ; Ivi s'acqueta Talma sbigottita : E come amor Finvita, Or ride, or piange, or teme, or s'assicura : E'l volto, eke lei segue ov'ella il mena, Si turba e rasserena, E in un esser picciol tempo dura : 1 From thought to thought, from mount to mount, Love guides me on ; each beaten way From life's calm tenor leads astray. But if I meet a lonely stream or fount, Or 'twixt two gentle slopes a shady vale, My troubled spirit finds relief, And there, obedient to its chief, Now weeps, now smiles, or hopes or trembles now ; While o'er my face, which still her will obeys, Or joy, or sorrow plays, Fast changing with the thoughts that move below.' The following verses exhibit a beautiful contrast between the bright aspect of nature and the solitude of the heart ; PETRARCH. 23 hues that glow, charms that pass brightly before the physical eye, but which cannot penetrate the frozen sources of feeling within. Zefiro torna e'l bel tempo rimena, E i fiori, e l'erbe sua dolce famiglia ; E garrir Progne, e pianger Filomena ; E primavera Candida e vermiglia. Ridono i prati, e'l ciel si rasserena ; Giove si rallegra di mirar sua figlia ; L'aria, e l'acqua, e la terra e d'amor piena : Ogni animal d'amar si riconsiglia. Ma per me, lasso, tornano i piu gravi Sospiri, che dal cor profondo tragge Quella ch'al ciel sene porto le chiavi. E cantar augellette, e fiorir piagge, E'n belle donne oneste atti soavi Sono un deserto e fere aspre selvagge. ' The soft west wind returning, brings again Its lovely family of herbs and flowers ; Progne's soft twitter, Philomela's strain, And the gay dance of springtide's rosy hours. And joyously o'er every hill and plain Glows the bright smile that greets them from above, While the warm spirit of reviving love Breathes in the air and murmurs from the main. But tears and rending sighs, which gushingly Pour from the secret fountains of my heart, Are all that spring returning brings to me ; And in the modest smile, or glance of art, The song of birds, the bloom of heath and tree, A desert's rugged tract and savage forms I sec' There is no species of poetical embellishment that require! 24 PETRARCH. so pure a taste, and such sound judgment, as the introduction of the stream and the forest and the bird that warbles in its shade, to a share of our own feelings. When the heart is cold and the fancy unexcited, such images seem extravagant and lifeless. We catch not the tone of feeling which gives life to whatever meets the eye. It is like the soft strain of a pensive air in an hour of revelry, or the thrilling notes of the clarion when exhausted nature is fainting for repose. Yet every one, who has associated a strong passion witfi some fa- vorite scene, will feel that this is the natural language of the heart. The thought of a dear object will be dearer amid the scenes that she has loved, and the wind that has " breathed through her lattice " will come softer and sweeter to the brow. How naturally does imagination, when warmed by the view of some venerable ruin, spread over its barren walls the rich drapery of other days, and summon up the forms and awaken the voices with which it was once enlivened. It is but a step further to call upon the mossy stone for the tale of its youth, or to believe that the air around you is still warmed by the breath of those whose memory makes it dear. But even this is extravagant, if we view it only through the cold medium of judgment. The air cannot breathe, the stone cannot speak, and the ivy drapery of the walls cannot be exchanged for their original embellishments. But for such an eye there is no form of beauty in the evening sky, no soothing voice in the whispered hymns of the forest. It is useless to scan the poetry of passion with the cold eye of un- impassioned reason. Our moments of truest poetic feeling are those of deepest excitement ; not always of an excitement PETRARCH. 25 that arouses the energies of the mind, and acts upon its pro- foundest sensibilities, but of one which sometimes speaks in low tones to the softer senses of our nature, and stirs with a gentle touch the deep sources of passion. Now we are too apt to forget, that the poetry of feeling is the language of this excitement, — a language that flows natu- rally and freely from the depths of the soul, although a chill often spreads over it from the unmoved sympathies of the reader. What the true poet writes with feeling he has often felt in agony, and although, when he calls upon the grove and the stream to witness his sufferings, it may seem to us the lan- guage of embellishment, it is for him the warm expression of real emotions. We find repeated examples of this imagery in the verses of Petrarch, varying, however, according to the nature of his own feelings ; sometimes pursuing the rapid current with en- vious eye, at others seeking with jealous haste, the solitude of the desert ; now linked with some beautiful form of natural scenery, now responding to the soft notes of the melancholy night- ingale ; while every image that arises in the mind receives the coloring of that mind, its warmth, its purity, and its tenderness. While passing near the sources of the Rhone on his way to Avignon, the sight of a stream, whose waters would flow from his eye to murmur around the footsteps of Laura, called forth the following sonnet, — light and easy in its movement, al- though not characterized by any great depth either of thought or of feeling. Rapido fiurae ; che d' alpestre vena Rodendo intorno, onde'l tuo nome prendi, 3 26 PETRARCH. Notte e di meco desioso scendi Ov' Amor me, te sol natura mena ; Vattene innanzi : il tuo corso non frena Ne stanchezza, ne sonno : e pria che rendi Suo dritto al mar ; fiso, u si mostri, attendi, L'erba pi£i verde, e l'aria piu serena. Ivi e quel nostro vivo e dolce sole, Ch' adorna e'nfiora la tua riva manca ; Forse, (0 che spero !) il mio tardar le dole. Baciale '1 piede, e la man bella e bianca : Dille : II baciar sia'n vece di parole : Lo spirto e pronto, ma la came e stanca. * Swift current, that from rocky Alpine vein, Gathering the tribute to thy waters free, Mov'st joyous onward night and day with me, Where nature leads thee, me loves tyrant chain ; Roll freely on, nor toil nor rest restrain Thine arrowy course ; but ere thou yieldest in The tribute of thy waters to the main, Seek out heaven's purest sky, earth's deepest green ; There wilt thou find the soft and living beam, That o'er thy left bank sheds its heavenly rays ; If unto her too slow my footsteps seem, (While by her feet thy lingering current strays, Forming to words the murmurs of its stream) Say that the weary flesh the willing soul delays.' The following verses have a far sweeter flow, with a deep tone of tender melancholy. They were written after the death of Laura. Quel rosignuol, che si soave piagne Forse suoi figli, o sua cara consorte, PETRARCH. 27 Di dolcezza em pie il cielo e le campagne Di tante note si pietose e scorte ; E tutta notte par, che m'accompagne, E mi rammente la mia dura sorte. ' Yon nightingale, whose melancholy strain Laments his tender young, or partner dear, Pours sweetly through the mellow air and plain, His thousand notes, so mournful and so clear: And through night's lonely watches flowing near, They wake the buried memory of my pain.' /'This also is full of grace and that tender melancholy which was so natural to him. Sweet little bird that slowly passing on, Weepest the memory of thy morning pride, With night and chilling winter at thy side, And all the joyous months of summer gone : if my breast, its deep set sorrows speaking — Like thine own sorrows — could reveal to thee, With gentle wing this mournful bosom seeking, Thou'st come to share thy sad lament with me. But falling leaves and twilight's gathering gloom, The thought of sweet and bitter hours recalling, Invite my spirit to commune with thee. The following piece is purely devotional. I vo piangendo i miei passati tempi, 1 quai posi in amar cosa mortale Senza levarmi a volo, avend'io l'alc, 28 PETRARCH. Per dar forse di me non bassi esempi. Tu, che vedi i miei mali indegni ed empi, Re del cielo invisibile, imraortale ; Soccorri all' alma disviata e frale, E'l suo difetto di tua grazia adempi. Sicche s'io vissi in guerra ed in tempesta, Mora in pace ed in porto ; e se la stanza Fu vana, aim en sia la partita onesta. A quel poco di viver, che m' avanza, Ed al morir degni esser tua man presta; Tu sai ben, che'n altrui non ho speranza. ' In tears I trace the memory of the days, When every thought was bent on human love, Nor dared direct its eager flight above, And seek (as heaven designed) a nobler praise. O, whilst thine eye my wretched state surveys, Invisible, immortal king of heaven ! Unto my frail and erring soul be given To gather strength in thy reviving rays. So that a life, mid war and tempest past, A peaceful port may find ; and close at last, On Jesus's breast, its years of vanity. And when at length thy summons sets me free, O may thy powerful arms, around me cast, Support the fainting soul, that knows no trust but thee.' ^Mingled with the amatory verses of the Canzoniere, there are a few noble odes, which breathe a purer feeling, and flow in a more elevated strain than individual love can ever in- spire. These are the tributes to the sad state of his beloved Italy ; verses in which the love of country speaks boldly and fearlessly, while the pride of ancient power weeps bitterly PETRARCH. 29 -If over the bleeding remains of the Empire. //There is a bold- ness in the tone with which he addresses the rulers of his country, a confidence in the purity and elevation of his views, which give to every word the weight of an oracle. We listen to him, as to the sighs of a favorite child beside the tomb, that is closing over the lifeless remains of his parent. What- ever affectation of feeling he may have been guilty of in other pieces, there is surely none here. Every word comes warm from the soul. Every thought seems to rise up from the swelling heart. The imagery itself seems to be the resource of an excess of feeling, which plain language is too feeble to express. And the truth of observation, the sincerity of con- viction with which he describes the wrong, and points out the remedy, correspond to the general warmth of his expostula- tions. The noble ode, which he composed upon the approach of the emperor, should be engraven upon the mind of every Italian. It opens with an address to Italy, and an invocation to the Saviour. ' Mine own Italia, although words be vain, The deadly wounds to heal, "Which scattered o'er thy lovely form I see, Yet some relief my bleeding heart may feel, In forming such a strain As all thy trembling sons expect from me. Ruler of heaven, I turn to thee : O may the love, that led thee once to earth, Turn to thine own beloved land, thine eyes ; See where she lowly lies, See from what trivial cause, what cruel wars have birth, j And o'er each hardened soul 3* 30 PETRARCH. In Mars' stern fetters bound, spread with gentle hand thy soft control, And feebly tho' it sound, Pour thro' my humble voice thy holy spirit round.' Then addressing himself to the divided rulers of Italy, he describes in a few energetic words, which we know not how to translate, the miserable condition to which their own divis- ions and the intervention of foreign power had reduced them. He points to the Alps, the barriers which nature had raised for their protection, but which their own short-sighted ambi- tion had broken down, and with a deep burst of indignation turns back to their former trophies of victory won from their present rulers. There is nothing more beautiful in the whole range of lyric poetry, than the melancholy flow of the verse, in which, speaking of the 'collected flood of deserts strange,'* he asks, what hope there can be for those who are thus sink- ing under the blows of their brethren. Suddenly turning from the contemplation of these miserable divisions, and of the clouds that cast their dark shadows over the future, he breaks forth in a most touching appeal to the home of his birth, the last shroud of his parents, by which, at least, although every other inducement should fail, the spirit of ancient Rome * gathered flood Of deserts strange — Our lovely fields to overflow — If our own hands Such ruin bring, Who shall escape, or who arrest the blow ? PETRARCH. 31 should again be aroused to cast off the fatal load that bows it to the earth. * The last stanza, flowing in a less animated, but noble and dignified strain, is an exhortation to the emperor to hush the busy spirit of hatred and envy, and devote to the worthier end of securing the peace and union of Italy, that time which is too often passed in the selfish gratification of indi- vidual passion. In so large a collection of poems, chiefly devoted to the expression of one absorbing feeling, it would be unnatural to suppose that all parts should be uniformly perfect. Our feel- ings are not all equally fitted for expression, and the language that should clothe them not always at our command. The poet must sometimes feel deeply where he can find no ade- quate expression for his feelings, and the mind glow with thoughts that grow cold in the utterance. Accordingly, we find many cold verses and frigid conceits mingled with true bursts of feeling, and even some entire pieces remarkable only for skill of versification. Happily, however, they bear a very small proportion to the true expressions of nature. No clearer proof of this can be required, than what is furnished by the influence, which the Canzoniere has always exerted upon Italian poetry. Few literary histories record a greater varie- ty of striking revolutions, than the literary history of Italy. * Is not this the sod Which first my infant footsteps trod ? Ah ! is not this the downy nest Where life's first years were sweetly nurst ; My native land — my weary spirit's trust : A mother ever tender, ever mild, On whose kind lap my father — mother rest! 32 PETRARCH. Commencing at the birth of the language, with the wild and vigorous poem of Dante, the occasional roughness of versifi- cation and irregularity of diction were polished and corrected by the purer taste of Petrarch. Here, as the natural conse- quence of causes, whose origin we shall soon have occasion to observe, the taste of men of letters again turned back to the Latin classics. During the long interval of nearly a century, that elapsed between the death of Petrarch and the manhood of Lorenzo de' Medici, the progress of Italian poetry had ceased, and the cultivation of native literature given place to the schools of philosophy, and an unsuccessful imitation of Latin verse. With Lorenzo the taste for Italian poetry again revived, and together with it were revived the honors of Pe- trarch. The Canzoniere began once more to pass from mouth to mouth, and to dispute the palm with Horace and Catullus. After a long and glowing period of noble productions, ushered in by the classic taste of Poliziano, enlivened by the irregu- larly beautiful descriptions of Ariosto, and stamped at last by the solemn impress of the Jerusalem, the pure spirit of poetry yielded before another foe, the fanciful conceits and studied antithesis of the Secentisti. And here Petrarch again dis- appears from the stage, but at the first dawn of reviving taste, the poets of Italy return once more to the father of lyric verse, to seek in his pages purity of style, chaste ele- gance of imagery, with all the simpler graces of naturaj thought And never have they returned to this model, with- out a correspondent change in the character of their produc- tions. Nature and feeling again resume their place at the side of the Canzoniere; the heart is again thrilled with the language PETRARCH. 33 of true patriotism, and the eye once more wet with the tear of unaffected sensibility. * The Trionfi of Petrarch are not generally so much admired, as the sonnets and odes. They are a sort of poetical vision, in which the praises of Laura are blended with the triumphs of Love, of Chastity, of Death, of Fame, of Time, and of the Divinity ; a species of composition, which is supposed to have originated among the Provencal poets. They are written in terza rima, often less polished than the verses of the Canzo- niere, but sometimes approaching the vigorous diction of Dante, f The long catalogue of names collected from ancient history and mythology is highly characteristic of the period in which the work was written, but is wholly unsuited to the taste of our own. Yet some of these are accompanied by bold sketches of character, — verses in which a prominent trait is made to represent the whole person, while a few vig- orous expressions form a perfect painting to the mental eye. The passages in which he describes the characteristics of love, the nature and play of his own feelings, or where his imagination is warmed by some scenic description, which, as he writes, grows clearer and brighter to the eye of fancy? are among the best, if not decidedly the best, of his poems. Nothing, indeed, can be more beautiful than the last half of the third Capitolo of the Triumph of Love, and the whole of *V. Crescembcni De' Comment, int. alia Stor. della Volg. Poes. Vol I. pp. 118, 119, 120. Denina Vic. della Lett. Parte III. pass. t The occasional roughness of the Trionfi is not to be attributed to the taste of Petrarch; but to his death, that left them incomplete. Squarzaf. Vit. Pet. 7. 34 PETRARCH. the Triumph of Death. But the chief qualities of these po- ems, (except that they possess greater vigor of conception and force of expression) are the same as those of the Canzoniere ; the same tenderness of feeling, the same quick perception of the delicate sympathies between the external world and the world within, the same richness of expression and brilliancy of fancy. The following verses are from the Trionfi-della Morte, Cap. 1. Where are their treasures, where their honors now ? The jewelled sceptre and the glittering crown, Or purple glories of the mitred brow ? O wretched ! when on human joys alone We found our hopes! and yet who builds not there ? Tho' disappointment chill and reason frown ? blindly bent on unavailing care ! Drawn one by one to your maternal clay, Your very names have vanished light as air. And of the thousand toils that marked your way, Let him, who best those cares and toils hath known, Find one that doth not each fond hope betray. What though all nations to your will bow down ; For you their tributary treasures fill, Whose eager will their ruin urges on ? When the wild tumult of the strife is still, And land and treasure by your blood are won, Far sweeter seem the gently flowing rill, And humble hut each peasant calls his own. We have thus far followed the course of Petrarch, through the productions which he seems to have composed in obedi- ence to the promptings of his own genius ; we must now (al- PETRARCH. 35 though with a hurried pen) trace his footsteps along the path to which his judgment and his reason directed him. It should not be forgotten that the spirit of his age was di- rected to the study of philosophy and the Latin classics, rather than to the cultivation of a native literature. Nor is it un- worthy of remark, that the first who gave this impulse to modern taste, were among those whom we now venerate as the fathers of modern literature ; not indeed for a successful imitation of the classics whom they admired so highly, but for productions formed in the style of their own age, and breathing its wild, irregular spirit. A passion for Latin literature was closely connected with Petrarch's first attachment to letters. While his companions at Carpentras were following the beaten track of the minor Latin writers, he had already overcome the chief difficulties of the language, and was learning to enjoy the beauties of Cicero and of Livy. The study of law, far from supplanting this taste, did not even retard its development. While his instructors supposed him engaged in the codes, he was secret- ly bending over the more congenial pages of Cicero ; and even the allusions to old manners and monuments, which he met in his legal studies, served as new excitements to the cul- tivation of his natural taste. A taste so strong and decided, combined with the most as- piring ambition, found unusual incitements to exertion in the peculiar state of Latin literature. Although great veneration was felt for the classics by those who knew anything of their works, yet even the literary men of the age had fallen into some singular mistakes concerning them. Petrarch carried on 36 PETRARCH. a correspondence in the name of the Bishop of Lombes, with a celebrated professor of law, who, not content with his legal reputation, aspired also to the name of scholar. In this he ridicules the anachronisms and gross errors of every descrip- tion, into which his correspondent was constantly falling. Even the wise King Robert was not wholly free from the er- roneous views of the age, and he was long suspicious of the character, and neglectful of the works of Virgil. When scholars and their patrons are led into such errors as these, it is clear that the means of correcting them are very rare. And in fact, the works of most classic writers, contained in scarce manuscripts, and seldom found united, were in them- selves an object of eager research. A tract of Cicero might be found entire in a library of Italy, a few orations in some city of Flanders, a portion of Quinctilian or Livy in some convent of France or Spain : but to unite and compare and correct these scattered fragments, and give them the form and con- venience of a regular collection, was a task that required not money and leisure alone, but indefatigable industry, and an indomitable zeal in the pursuit of letters. Petrarch engaged in this research with all the energies of his soul. He spared no expense in securing the assistance of others, for money was of no value to him when it could be exchanged for books. He employed professed copyists ; he sent into different countries for particular works, not always, indeed, with the hope of finding them, but generally with the expectation of obtaining some important manuscript. No friend was ever permitted to leave him for a tour, or for busi- ness, or even to return to his own country, without a charge PETRARCH. 37 to remember the wants of his collection, and particularly to search for the writings of Cicero. By his influence, many were induced to engage in the same pursuit, and whether co- operating with his views, or consulting more directly their private interest, they all contributed to the preservation and multiplying of the copies of classic authors. Nor was it by words and exhortations alone, that Petrarch animated his friends in this pursuit. His own activity in collecting and copying, was a bright example to his most zealous followers. During his various journeys, he kept constantly in view the discovery of his favorite manuscripts. While on a journey to Home, he discovered a part of the works of Quinctilian, and in a letter from Flanders, he complains that he could hardly find in the rich city of Liege, a little yellow ink to copy a few orations of Cicero. A manuscript of Virgil of his copying, is still preserved in the Ambrosian library of Milan ; and in the Laurentian of Florence may be seen two beautiful copies of Cicero's Epistles, one of the Familiar Correspondence, the other of the letters to Atticus, — both written by the same indefatigable hand.* But the task of copying formed a very small part of his la- bors. The ignorance and presumption of former copyists had introduced gross corruptions into the texts of many authors, and disfigured them so much, that, according to Petrarch, the writers themselves would have been at a loss to distinguish them. The labors of the editor have been so long familiar to modern readers, that they no longer come before us sur- * In this department Petrarca had been preceded by the celebrated Lanfranc. V. Gingueni. Hist Lit. d' It., 1. 1, ch. II. p. 126-7. 38 PETRARCH. rounded with bewildering perplexities ; but for Petrarch, the path was new and encumbered with every species of obstruc- tion. There were no fixed principles, no established canons, no standard in short, that he could follow, but the dictates of his own taste and judgment. The dignity of the laborer in- creasing in proportion to the difficulty and importance of his task, most writers have looked upon this as one of the proud- est monuments of Petrarch's glory. The fourth letter of the second book De Senectute contains a fine specimen of his criti- cal skill, — not, indeed, such acuteness and strength of argu- ment as would command the attention of a modern scholar, but a degree of thought and observation, almost wholly un- known to his credulous contemporaries. A passion for history was the natural companion of such re- searches. And the fondness with which Petrarch pursued this study, would be evident from his letters alone, had we not the clearer testimony of his own compositions. In this study, also, he was distinguished by the judgment with which he weighed the conflicting testimony of ancient writers, forming his opinion according to the authority of the historian, and the probability of his narrative. Nor was he content with the testimony of books alone ; the ancient monuments, which have proved so useful to modern historians, were at an early period studied by him as sources of historical evidence, and the first collection of medals, of which we find mention in literary his- tory, was that which he presented to the Emperor Charles II.* We dwell with pleasure upon this portion of Petrarch's history, for it is the clearest record of his bold and energetic * Tirab. V. 104. PETRARCH. o9 mind, qualities willingly conceded to him, it is true, by all who have studied the literary history of his age, but which hundreds who can repeat the story of Laura, would never think of attributing to her lover. We possess a curious proof of the poetical enthusiasm which Petrarch carried into the driest part of his researches, in the letters which he addressed to Cicero, and Homer, and others of the old classics. The feeling itself, the desire to hold some direct communication, some interchange of thought, with those from whom we learn to think and to express our thoughts, has undoubtedly been shared by every enthusiastic scholar. But, there are few, we believe, who have thus overleaped in imagi- nation the bounds of time, and attempted to form, in the si- lence of their own studies, a communion with the dead. The number of these letters is small ; the edition before us con- tains only five, two to Cicero, one to Seneca, one to Livy, and one to Varro ; but there are others in manuscript in the Eu- ropean libraries, and some have J>een already published by the Abbe de Sade. We are not aware that any proof of Petrarch's progress in Greek literature, is to be found in the influence of this study upon his own writings. But we find the clearest evidence of the ardor with which he engaged in it, in various parts of his works,* and especially in some letters in which he laments the loss of his instructor Barlaamo, by which he was left upon the very threshold of the study.f It would, however, be unjust to confine within these narrow bounds of research, the course and the fruits of Petrarch's * Opere, p. 346. t Var. Epist. 20. 40 PETRARCH. classical studies. The pure and harmonious diction of his Italian poems, of which the language of his age contained no model, must be in part attributed to his constant study of the most correct and harmonious of the Latin poets. While an extensive correspondence bears witness to the social qualities of his heart, a long series of laborious Latin compositions amply testifies to the unwearied vigor of his mind. But authors are generally judged by those productions which possess a perma- nent interest, without regard to the views or opinions of their contemporaries. And thus many works of Petrarch, which display in the clearest light his profound research, his union of the study of man with the study of books, and the rich moral qualities which adorned his heart, are wholly lost to the greater part of modern readers. A full 'examination of these works would carry us too far for an essay. We shall therefore conclude with a brief sketch of them in the order in which they are arranged in the edition of Basle. The first that we meet is the Epistle to Posterity ; a short and, we believe, one of the earliest specimens of auto- biography. The simple and modest style of a part of these pages, would remind the reader of the beautiful sketch by Hume, but there is an occasional elevation of tone and con- scious dignity of reflection, which could be better compared with the more pretending memoir of Gibbon. De remediis utriusque fortunes. A moral treatise in two books, In which many questions that relate to human happiness are discussed in a series of dialogues. PETRARCH. 41 De vita solitaria. 1/ibri duo. In this work Petrarch indulges in very free remarks upon the vices of the great; and on this account, during his life, he communicated it to only two of his most intimate friends. De otio Religiosorum. Libri duo. De vera Sapientia. Dialogi duo. De contemptu Mundi. Dial. 3. These three dialogues pass between Petrarch and St. Au- gustine. They throw great light upon many of his opinions as well as upon some points of his history. In speaking collectively of these moral Treatises, Tiraboschi observes, that although they contain many ascetic reflections, and particularly the De cont. Mund. which seems to be an imitation of the sincere and humble confessions of St. Augus- tine, yet they bear strong marks not only of a diligent study of the works of the old philosophers, but of the richer volume of human nature. And it may be added, that the reader will find in these many of the ideas and opinions which dignify the pages of more modern productions. P salmi poenitentiales. 7. De Republica optime administranda. De officio et virtutibus imperatoriis. Rerum Memorandarum. Lib. 4. In this work he follows the manner of Valerius Maximus, selecting a quality or habit and illustrating it by examples from ancient and modern history. In the first chapter of the first book, he describes the manner in which many distin- guished men passed their leisure hours. In the second he treats of study and learning. In the first chapter of the se- 4* 42 PETRARCH. cond book, he has collected many remarkable instances of great memory — in the second of genius, and thus he contin- ues throughout the work. Many of these illustrations are interesting, and they are occasionally interspersed with a val- uable remark or beautiful idea. Vitarum Virorum iUustrium Epitome. This consists of sketches and traits of character rather than exact narrations. It was left incomplete by Petrarch, and a large portion was added after his death by Lobardus Si- richius. The remaining pages of the first volume contain several orations and small treatises, which it is unnecessary to enu- merate here. We must however be allowed one exception in favor of the Itinerarium Syriacum,* in which the course of the Pilgrim to Jerusalem is traced through the most remarka- ble cities and scenes of southern Europe and of Asia. The catalogue of cities and coasts and islands is accompanied with an occasional sketch from history or mention of the remarka- ble objects which each contains, and the whole is interspersed with beautiful descriptions of scenery and situations. The style is at times elevated and powerful. The following is a * Petrarch thus speaks of the origin of this work in the opening para- graph. Poscis ergo, vir optime, quoniam me non potes, comites has habere literulas, in quibus, quae oculis ipse tuis mox videbis, ex me, qui ea certe nee dum vidi omnia, nee unquam forte visurus sim, an dire ex- petis, mirum dictu, nisi quia passim multa quae non vidimus, ignora- mus. — Op. p. 557. The name of this friend has, (as in all cases where there is any room for dispute,) given rise to some controversy. Tiraboschi upon the au- thority of a manuscript edition preserved in the Estensian Library, sup- poses that it was addressed to Giovanni de Mandello, a magistrate of Piacenza. — Tirab. V. 112. PETRARCH. 43 part of the description of Genoa. After remarking that his friend has never seen that city, he says : Videbis ergo, imperiosam urbem, lapidosi collis in latere, virisque et moenibus superbam, quam dominam maris illius aspectus ipse pronunciat. * * ***** You will see, therefore, upon the side of a rocky hill, the lordly city, proud of her inhabitants and her walls, and bearing in her very aspect — mistress of the seas. Speaking of the sail along the coast — Hinc digressus ad laevam totum ilium diem, ne oculos a terra dimoveas caveto, multa enim illis occurrent, quae multo facilius tibi sit mirari, quam cuiquam hominum stylo, amplecti. Valles amoenissi- mas, interlabentes rivulos,* colle3, asperitate gratissima et mira fertilitate conspicuos, et auratas domos quocunque te verteris videbis sparsas in littore, et mirabis urbem talem decori suori- um rurium delitiisque succumbere. Starting from thence and coasting all day along the left, you should not lose sight even for an instant of the land be fore you. It will be far easier for you to follow with your eyes the rich variety of scenery, than for me to describe it. You will see on every side pleasant valleys, with rivulets flowing between, hills conspicuous by their pleasing wildness and wonderful fertility, gilded mansions scattered along the shore, and you will be surprised that the magnificence of such a city should be surpassed by the charms of the surrounding country. *Did Pope have this in mind when he wrote ' The wandering streams that shine between the hills 1 ' 44 PETRARCH. The second volume contains his correspondence. Epistolarum