1821 .] 
44 has been of an even tenor ever since 
increasing years, or rather the dew of 
the divine grace, have quenched that 
fatal flame which so long consumed me. 
In respect of fortune I am equally re¬ 
moved from either extreme, and enjoy 
that mediocrity which is so truly de¬ 
sirable. The only thing that disturbs 
my quiet and exposes me to envy is the 
great and unmerited esteem in which I 
am here held. I am not only beloved 
and honoured by the first prince of 
Italy and his court, but the people also 
show me the greatest respect, though I 
can scarcely be said to be known to 
them ; so much am I affected by their 
kindness that I love thq very soil and 
air, the houses and walls of Milan. I 
inhabit a retired spot on the western 
side of the city : and excepting on Sun¬ 
days, when the people go in crowds to 
the church of St. Ambrose, it is a per¬ 
fect solitude. When I go to pay my 
respects at court, or for any other 
purpose, I merely bow to those I meet 
jvitliout stopping to converse with any. 
Fortune hath occasioned no change in 
my diet, and as to my sleep, you know 
pretty well how I go on. Every day I 
curtail it, and there will soon be no 
opportunity for making fumier deduc¬ 
tions from if. I never lie in bed awake 
unless I am ill. Scarcely are my eyes 
open than I bounce* out and go into 
my library, and this generally occurs 
about midnight, except when the nights 
are very short, or I have sat up late. I 
grant to nature no more than I am un¬ 
able to refuse her. My sleep, my rest, 
my recreation, vary with circumstances. 
1 am fond of repose and retirement, but 
to my friends I appear a perfect gossip, 
probably because I so seldom see them ; 
and recompense myself in the conversa¬ 
tion of a day for the silence of a year. 
44 I have taken for the summer sea¬ 
son a pleasant country house near Mi¬ 
lan, where the air is very pure, and 
where I am now residing. I pass my 
time generally here, as being more free 
- from interruption, and farther from 
the annoyances of the city. The country 
people bring me fruit, fish, ducks, and 
wild fowl, in abundance, so that I 
want for nothing. There is a handsome 
new convent of the Carthusians in the 
immediate neighbourhood, where I 
enjoy at all hours of the day the inno¬ 
cent pleasures of religion. The good 
monks would fain have received me as 
an inmate, but I thought it best on the 
* Ne balzo fuori. 
2 19 
whole to reside at a short distance, so 
as to be able to attend their sacred 
exercises: for which purpose I am 
allowed the privilege of a free access at 
all times. You wish to know whether 
it be true, as you have heard, that I 
am grown rich ; the simple truth is 
this, my income is indeed greater, but 
my expences have increased in an equal 
proportion, so that I am in reality much 
as I was. Riches by multiplying our 
wants and desires are often the cause of 
poverty. This has indeed not been the 
case with me hitherto, for I have 
generally found myself more tranquil 
and unambitious in easy circumstances; 
but any great accession of wealth might 
perhaps produce the same effect on me 
that it is generally found to have on 
others. 1 ' 1 
The entrance of the foreign troops 
into Lombardy, a scourge to which 
the political weakness of Italy has ex¬ 
posed her ever since she fell from the 
44 high estate’ 1 of her aucieut glory, 
compelled Petrarch to remove to Padua, 
in which city, or its vicinity, he con¬ 
tinued principally to reside during the 
remainder of his life. He probably 
wished to have closed it amidst the 
seclusion of his favourite vale, and pro¬ 
ceeded as far as Milan on his way 
thither, but the hostile bands which 
infested all the passes into France, 
obliged him to give up his undertaking. 
Deeply affected by the spectacle of 
misery and degradation which his un¬ 
happy country presented, he renewed 
his solicitations, both with the emperor 
and the pope, Urban V. to exert them¬ 
selves for its relief. So late as the year 
1370, he set out on a journey to Rome 
at the request of the latter, but found 
himself unable to proceed farther than 
Ferrara. He lingered four years more 
amidst increasing infirmities, at his 
villa of Arqua, till on the morning of 
the day on which he had completed his 
70 th year, he was found dead in his 
library with his head resting on a book, 
in a scene and a posture altogether in 
character with the habits and pursuits 
of his life. 
Of the poetical merits of Petrarch it 
is difficult to exhibit any specimen to 
the English reader. The charm of all 
poetry depends so essentially on the 
selection and arrangement of words, 
that the most felicitous translation can 
do little more than present similar 
ideas under a totally different form. 
More especially is this true of the 
Italian sonnet, a light and elegant 
composition, 
Conclusion of Petrarch''s Letter to Posterity . 
