Chapter VI: Part 6

During the period when the plague desolated the world, Boccaccio occupied himself by writing the "Decameron," to amuse, it is said, queen Jane and her court. He gives a somewhat different account in the preface. He tells us in it: "From my youth until the present time, I have been inflamed by an aspiring love for one more noble perhaps than befitted my obscure birth; for which passion I was praised even by the more discreet among those who knew of it, and held in high repute; and yet it was the cause to me of much trouble and suffering,--not certainly through the cruelty of the lady I loved, but from the pain I endured when separated from her. During which time I enjoyed so much relief from the agreeable conversation and kind consolations of a friend, that I truly believe, that but for them I had died. But it has pleased him, who decreed that all earthly things should have an end, that my attachment, which no fear, shame, nor advice could lessen, has by course of time so abated, that, while I still love, I am no longer the victim of uncontrollable passion. Yet I still remember the benefits I formerly received from those who sympathised in my pains; and I propose to myself, as a mark of gratitude to them, to afford to others, labouring as I once did, the same relief which was before bestowed upon me. And who will deny that this book belongs rather to women than men. Fearfully and with shame they conceal within their tender hearts that flame which is fiercer when hidden; and who, besides this, are so restrained from the enjoyment of pleasure by the will of those around them, that they most frequently struggle with their feelings, and revolve divers thoughts, which cannot be all gay, within the little circuit of their chamber, which must occasion heavy grief and melancholy, if unrelieved by conversation. All which things do not happen to men; who, if afflicted, can frequent society--hunt, shoot, ride, and play--and have a thousand modes of amusing themselves. And, therefore, to counterbalance the unequal award of fortune, who gives most to bear to those who are weakest, I intend to relate, for the amusement and refuge of gentle ladies who love, one hundred stories, fables, parables, or histories, or whatever you please to call them, narrated, during the course of ten days, by seven ladies and three cavaliers, who assembled together at a villa during the late pestilence."

His description of the plague in Florence, in the introduction, is the finest piece of writing that Boccaccio ever composed: it presents a pathetic, eloquent, and vivid picture of the sufferings induced by that remorseless malady. It is a curious fact, that there is every proof that Boccaccio was residing at Naples during the visitation of the plague in 1348; but it required no violent effort of the imagination to paint the disasters of his native city, as Naples itself presented a similar tragedy: nor is there any thing in the description that stamps it as peculiarly belonging to Florence.

The seven young ladies of the tales meet on a Wednesday morning in the church of Santa Maria Novella, and there agree to leave the miserable city, and to betake themselves, with three gentlemen from among their friends, to one of the villas in the environs, and, shutting out all sight and memory of the frightful disasters they had witnessed, to strive, in the enjoyment of innocent pleasures, to escape from danger.--"Nor," the lady says, who proposed this plan, "can we be said to abandon any one, for it is we who are abandoned; and remember, that our innocent flight is less blamable than the guilty remaining of others."

The Italians have taken great pains to discover the exact spots to which the company of the Decameron retreated. They are found not far from Florence.[70] The father of Boccaccio possessed a small villa in the village of Majano, and his son pleased himself by describing the adjacent country; and in particular, the pleasant uplands and fertile valleys of the hills around Fiesole, which are in the neighbourhood. It is said that Villa Gherardi was the first place to which the ladies betook themselves; and Villa Palmieri is recognised in the description of the sumptuous abode to which they afterwards removed, to escape being disturbed by visiters. In the exquisite description of the narrow valley to which Eliza conducts her companions; and where they bathe; we discern the little plain surrounded by hills; through which the Affrico flows; when; after having divided two hills; and descended from the rocky heights, it collects itself into a gentle stream; under the Claustro della Doccia of Fiesole.

The assembly being gathered together in this delightful spot; among other modes of amusing themselves; they agree that each one should narrate a tale every day; and during the ten days which form the "Decameron," a hundred tales are thus related. They give some kind of rule to their amusement; by fixing on a subject for each tale; as for instance, on one day each person is to tell a story in which, after much suffering, the disasters of the hero or heroine come to a happy conclusion. In another, the tale is to end unhappily. The stories vary from gay to pathetic, and in the last, Boccaccio is inimitable in delicacy and tenderness of feeling.

All the other works of Boccaccio would have fallen into oblivion, had he not written the "Decameron:" they are scarcely read, even though bearing his name; they are heavy and uninteresting; his poetry is not poetry; his prose is long-winded; but the "Decameron;" bears the undoubted stamp of genius. His language is a "well of Tuscan undefiled," whence, as from its purest source, all future writers have drawn the rules and examples which form the correct and elegant Italian style. It possesses, to an extraordinary degree, the charm of eloquence. It imports little whence he drew the groundwork of his tales; yet, as far as we know, many of them are original, and the stories of Griselda and Cymon, of the pot of Bazil, and the sorrows of Ghismonda, are unborrowed from any other writer. The tenderness, the passion, the enthusiasm, the pathos, and above all, the heartfelt nature of his best tales, raise him to the highest rank of writers of any age or country. His defects were of the age. Boccaccio's mind was tarnished by the profligacy of the court of Naples. He mirrors the licentious manners of the people about him in his "Decameron:" it were better for human nature, that neither the reality nor the reflection had ever existed.

The faults of the hook rendered it obnoxious, especially to the priests, whom he, in common with all the novelists of his time, treats with galling ridicule. Salvanorola preached against it, and so excited the minds of his fellow citizens, that they brought all their copies of the "Decameron," as well as of, it may be remarked, the blameless poetry of Petrarch and Dante, into the Piazza de' Signori on the last day of the carnival of 1497, and made a bonfire of them: on which account the earlier editions of these books are very rare. After Salvanorola, it continued on the list of prohibited books. This occasioned emended editions to be published,--some of which were so altered as scarcely to retain any thing of the original. It was after many years and with great industry, that the "Decameron" was restored. The first entire edition was published through the care of a society of young Florentines, who were ashamed of the disgraceful condition to which this celebrated work was reduced: this was published in 1527, and goes by the name of the "Ventisettana," or twenty-seventh, and of the "Delphin." After this, however, only mutilated editions were printed, and even now, as it still continues a prohibited book, any perfect edition bears on the title-page the name of some protestant town, London or Amsterdam, as the place where it is printed.

[Sidenote: 1350. Ætat. 37.]

To return to the author. During the year of the jubilee Boccaccio returned to Florence, and the lady Mary was spoken of no more, except in a sonnet, written many years after, on the death of Petrarch, which alludes to her death. He addresses his lost friend as having entered that heavenly kingdom after which he had long aspired, that he might again see Laura, and where his beautiful Fiammetta sat with her before God. Whether the lady died, therefore, before or after his removal to Florence cannot be told; we have his own authority for knowing, that by this time his ardent passion was subdued into calm affection. His father as well as his mother-in-law was dead, and they had left a young son Jacopo, to whom Boccaccio became guardian. His pecuniary resources had been derived through his father from Florence, and it became necessary to take his place in that city. From this time he continued to reside in Tuscany, and to fulfil the duties of a citizen. One of the occurrences that marked his return, was a visit from Petrarch, who passed through Florence on his return from his pilgrimage to Rome, on occasion of the jubilee. They were already in correspondence; and Boccaccio had seen the poet in his glory nine years before at Naples. But now they met for the first time as friends, and that intimacy commenced which lasted till the end of their lives.

Boccaccio, on returning to his native city, entered on a busier scene of life from that which he led among the Neapolitan nobles. He was sent almost immediately on various embassies to the Ordelaffi, to Malalesta, and to Polenta, lords of various towns of Romagna, for the purpose of engaging them in a league against the Visconti, who, being lords of the powerful city of Milan, and having lately acquired the signorship of Bologna, were desirous of extending their princely dominions beyond the Apennines.

He had soon after the happiness of being the bearer to Petrarch of the decree of the republic of Florence, which restored his patrimony, and the letters which invited him to fill a professor's chair in their new university. [Sidenote: 1351. Ætat. 38.] During this visit they cemented their friendship. Petrarch was then residing at Padua, and his friend remained some weeks in his house. Boccaccio read or copied Petrarch's works, while the other pursued his ordinary studies; and in the evening they sat in the poet's garden, which was adorned with the flowers and verdure of spring, and spent hours in delightful conversation. Their hearts were laid bare to each other, they sympathised in their taste for ancient learning, in their love for their country, and in the views they entertained for the welfare of Italy.[71] Boccaccio brought back to Florence Petrarch's expressed intention to visit his native city. But other feelings interposed--probably the poet was averse to mingle too nearly with the violent factions that agitated the republic. He soon after made a journey to Vaucluse, and never again entered Tuscany.

Boccaccio was more of a citizen than his friend, and he fulfilled several offices intrusted to him by the government. Florence was at that time a little empire in itself, agitated by tumults, divided by intestine quarrels, and disturbed by wars with the neighbouring states. Scarce a day passed without an event. The citizens were full of energy and fire; volatile and rash, sometimes they acted a cowardly, sometimes a magnanimous part. They were restless and versatile--but ambitious, and full of that quick intuitive genius which, even now, in their fallen state, belongs to them. They were at enmity with the Visconti, who incited against them the hostility of the great company, a band of mercenary troops, the off-pourings of the invasion of France by the English, which had entered Italy, and sold their services to different standards, or made war on their own account for booty only. The peasants of the Florentine territory had gone out valiantly against them, and afterwards, assisted by the whole forces of the state, they attacked and destroyed these pernicious bandits. Still the Visconti continued powerful and implacable enemies. [Sidenote: 1353. Ætat. 40.] Boccaccio was sent to Bohemia to invite Louis of Bavaria, Marquis of Brandenburgh, to come to the assistance of Florence and its league. [Sidenote: 1354. Ætat. 41.] At another time he was despatched to Avignon, on occasion of the entrance of the emperor Charles into Italy, to discover the intentions of the pope with regard to this monarch.

These political negotiations could not be carried on by Boccaccio without inspiring him with violent party feelings: he hated the Visconti as tyrants, and as disturbers of the peace of Italy. He heard with pain and indignation that Petrarch had taken up his abode at Milan, under the protection of its archbishop and lord, Giovanni Visconti. He wrote to his friend to express his regret and disapprobation. "I would be silent," he wrote, "but I cannot; reverence restrains, but indignation impels me to speak. How has Petrarch forgotten his dignity, the conversations which we have held together concerning the state of Italy, his hatred of the archbishop, his love of solitude and independence, so far as to imprison himself at the court of Milan? As easily could I believe that the wolf fled the lamb, and the tiger became the prey of the fawn, as that Petrarch should act against the dictates of his conscience; and that he who called the Visconti a Polyphemus, and a monster of pride, cruelty, and despotism, should place himself under his yoke. How could Visconti win that which no pontiff, which neither Robert of Naples nor the emperor could obtain? Have you done this because the citizens of your native town have treated you with contempt, and taken back the patrimony which they at one time restored?"[72]

Petrarch's answer was moderate; his habits were peaceful and recluse, and he preferred trusting an absolute prince who was attached to him, with his safety, to confiding to the caprice of a mob. Personal intercourse also had shown him that the man whom he had denounced so bitterly from political animosity, was worthy of private friendship: he Avas unwilling to enter the very focus of dissention, such as Florence then was, and he sacrificed his public hatred to the gentler feelings of personal friendship and gratitude. "It is not likely," he says in his answer, "that I should learn servitude in my old age; but if I become dependent, is it not better to submit to one, than, like you, to a whole people of tyrants?" Petrarch was a patriot in an elevated sense of the word: he exerted himself to civilise his country, and to spread abroad the blessings of knowledge; peace was his perpetual cry; but in the various tyrannies that distracted Italy, he saw the same ambition under different forms; and taking no part with one against the other, but with the general good against them all, he held himself free to select his friends as sympathy and kindness dictated.

Boccaccio continued to correct and add to his Decameron, which it is conjectured was published at this time. It spread rapidly through Italy; its popularity astounded even the author, and must have gratified him, though aware of its errors, and tendency to injure the principles of social life. This sentiment increased in after-times, so that he reproached his friend Mainardo de' Cavalcanti, a Florentine by birth, but living at the court of the queen of Naples, for having promised his wife and other ladies of his house that they should read the Decameron. He entreats him to revoke this promise for his own sake, and theirs, that their minds might not be contaminated by narrations in which delicacy and even decency were forgotten; "and if not for their sake," he continues, "for the sake of my honour. They will, on reading it, think me the most wicked and licentious of men; for who will be near to allege in my excuse that I wrote it while young, and urged to the work by commands not to be disobeyed?"

Worse for the fame of Boccaccio than the blots that slur the beauty of the Decameron, is a work, which it is to be lamented fell from his pen. This was entitled the "Corbaccio." He fell in love with a beautiful and noble widow of Florence, who treated him with scorn and derision, and he revenged himself by this production, in which he vilifies the whole sex in general, and this lady in particular, in a style that prevents any one of the present day from attempting to read it.

While we lament such gross ill taste, it is agreeable to forget it, and to record and remember the vast benefits which Boccaccio bestowed on mankind, through his ardent and disinterested love of letters, and especially his extraordinary efforts to create and diffuse a knowledge of the Greek language and writers. In this labour he far excelled Petrarch, who possessed a Homer, but was unable to read it.

He proved his enthusiasm in the most undeniable manner. He was born poor, even to privation; yet he spent large sums of money in the acquisition of ancient manuscripts: he transcribed many with his own hand. His labours in this way were immense: many volumes of the poets, orators, and historians, were copied by him: among these are mentioned the whole of the works of Tacitus and Livy, Terence and Boetius, with various treatises of Cicero and Varro, besides many of the productions of the fathers. He made journeys in search of manuscripts, and records one anecdote, which shows how often disappointment must have attended his labours. He visited the celebrated convent of Monte Cassino, under the idea that he might find some ancient manuscripts, hitherto unknown. He asked for the library, and was taken up a ladder into a loft, exposed to the weather, where the books were lying on the floor moth-eaten, and covered with damp mould. While he indignantly regarded the materials of learning which lay desolate before him, he was told, to add to his horror, that the monks were in the habit of effacing the writing from their venerable parchments, and of replacing it by scraps from the ritual, for which they found a ready sale among the neighbouring villagers.

Nor was his enthusiasm, like Petrarch's, confined to the ancients. He could not only feel and appreciate the genius of Dante, but exerted himself to inspire others with the admiration with which he was filled. He awoke the Florentines to a just sense of the merits of this sublime poet, and persuaded them to erect a professorship in their university for the explanation of the Divina Commedia. He himself first filled the chair, and wrote a commentary on several of the books, besides a Life of Dante. This has been usually considered unauthentic, but it is difficult to see on what grounds this judgment rests. He takes the account of Dante's love of Beatrice from his own work of the Vita Nuova; and in all other particulars of his life the information he gives is slight; but, as far as we are enabled to form an opinion, correct. His genuine enthusiasm for the beauties of his favourite author led him to regret that Petrarch did not sufficiently admire him. He copied for his use the whole of his poem with care and elegance, and sent it to the laureate, with a poetic epistle, in which he besought him to bestow more attention and admiration on their illustrious countryman. Petrarch was bigoted to the notion that any thing written in the vulgar tongue was beneath the regard of a learned man; and received his present with a coldness that penetrates through his assumed praises. This celebrated manuscript belongs to the Vatican library. The epistle mentioned is addressed "To Francis Petrarch, illustrious and only poet," and is subscribed "thy Giovanni da Certaldo." The manuscript is illuminated, and the arms of Petrarch, consisting of a gold bar in an azure field, with a star, adorns the head of each canto. There are a few notes of emendation, and the whole is written in a clear and beautiful hand. By a strange oversight, no care has been taken to collate any modern edition of Dante with this celebrated copy.

Boccaccio's endeavours to promote the study of Greek were still more eminent and singular. At a time when literature was just struggling into notice, it was not strange that a foreign tongue should be entirely forgotten. The knowledge of Greek had been slightly spread during the crusades, when the inhabitants of the West frequently visited Constantinople; and afterwards the commercial relations of Venice and Genoa prevented it from being wholly extinguished. But the language thus brought into use was merely colloquial, and was to a great degree superseded by the Lingua Franca. Petrarch had read a few of the dialogues of Plato with bishop Barlaam, but his knowledge was very slight. To Boccaccio the praise is due of unwearied and successful labour in the cause of Hellenic literature. He had studied, while at Naples, under Barlaam and Paolo Perugino; but his chief efforts had their date from the period of his establishing himself at Florence. Poor as he was, he spared no expense in collecting manuscripts, so that it is suspected that all the Greek books possessed by the Tuscans, and all the knowledge of them diffused through Europe, before the taking of Constantinople, which was extensive, at least in Italy, was derived from the labours, and procured at the expense, of Boccaccio. When he visited Petrarch at Milan, the laureate mentioned to him incidentally, one Leonzio Pilato, a Calabrian, who, having spent almost all his life in Greece, called himself a native of that country. This man possessed a perfect knowledge of the language: Petrarch had met him at Verona, and they read a few passages of Homer together. Boccaccio saw in this a favourable opportunity for facilitating his laudable attempt to make the Greek language a part of the liberal education of his countrymen. Pilato was at Venice: Boccaccio obtained a decree from the Florentine government for the erection of a Greek professorship in their university, carried it to Venice, and persuaded Pilato to accept the office, and to return with him to Florence, where he lodged him at his own house.[73] They laboured together to make a Latin translation of Homer, which Boccaccio transcribed with his own hand. The total want of lexicons and grammars rendered the undertaking inconceivably arduous; and not least among the difficulties with which Boccaccio had to struggle was the violent, untameable, and morose disposition of his guest. This was the man whom Petrarch supposed could never have smiled, and whose manners were so savage, that he declared that not even his love of Greek could induce him to invite him a second time to his house. His aspect was repulsive, his habits disgusting, his conversation gloomy and unsocial. He was proud and violent, and, detesting the Italians, made no secret of his abhorrence; and, discontented with himself and others, he was always wishing himself elsewhere than where he was. Yet the courteous and amiable Boccaccio, who was accustomed to the refinement of a court, and who loved the elegance and gaiety of society, kept him under his roof for three years, humouring his whims, and studying in his company.

Meanwhile his moral habits underwent a beneficial change, owing to the admonitions and example of Petrarch. [Sidenote: 1359. Ætat. 46.] He visited this excellent man at Milan, and spent several weeks in an intimate intercourse, which was of the greatest service to him to the end of his days. Petrarch, whose soul was purified by the struggles of his passion for a noble-minded woman, taught him that learning was of small avail to its possessor, unless combined with moral principle and virtuous habits. These conversations awoke in Boccaccio's mind a desire to vanquish his passions. He saw and loved the example of delicacy and honour set him by his friend; and although he could not all at once succeed in imitating him, he became aware of what his duties were: his conscience awoke, and a love of right was engendered, which enabled him, in process of time, to triumph over the habits and vices by which he had hitherto been enslaved.

A singular circumstance achieved the work begun by his inestimable friend. Boccaccio's vivacious and sensitive mind could with difficulty be brought to act from the mere influence of reason. But the change which a love of moral truth and the dictates of good taste were inefficacious to operate, was brought about by the agency of superstition and fear. [Sidenote: 1361. Ætat. 48.] One day a Carthusian monk arrived at Certaldo, and demanded an interview with Boccaccio, who received him with kindness, and listened to him with attention. The monk first related, that there had lately lived in his convent at Siena a brother named Pietro Petroni, a man of singular piety, who was accustomed to pray with extreme fervour for the conversion of the wicked. On his death-bed he had called his companion, Giovacchino Ciani, to his bedside, and gave him various messages, to be delivered to a number of persons, to the purport that they should change their lives, and study how to be saved. As soon as the monk was dead, Ciani departed to fulfil his commission, and in the first place came to Certaldo. He then made an exposition of Boccaccio's errors, and above all of the wide-spreading evils occasioned by his writings, and which were a snare and a temptation to the young, imploring him to turn his talents, which he had hitherto exerted in the service of the spirit of evil, to the glory of God and the saints; telling him that he had been incited by a vain glory, which made him rather seek the applause of the world than the favour of his Creator; and what reward could he expect, except eternal punishment hereafter? "I do not spare your ears," continued the zealous Ciani, "and am the less scrupulous, because Petroni speaks through me, who is now looking down from heaven upon us. Therefore, in the words of that blessed man, I exhort, entreat, and command you to change your sinful course of life, to cast aside your poetical studies, and to become a disciple and inculcator of divine truth. If you refuse to obey my voice, I predict, in his name, a miserable end to your depravity, and a speedier death than you anticipate; so that your profane studies and life shall at once be brought to an end;" and to add the force of supernatural revelation to his words, he communicated to Boccaccio several events of his life, which he presumed to be only known to himself, but which had been revealed to the monk by Petroni; and then he took his leave, saying, that he was about to fulfil a similar mission to several others, and that among them he should visit Petrarch.

Boccaccio was aghast. Superstitious fear shook his soul; he gave credulous ear to what he was told, and resolved to give himself up to sacred studies and penitence. His first impulse was to sell his library and to abandon poetry altogether: meanwhile he communicated the visit he had received, and the effect that it had on him, to his dear friend and monitor, Petrarch.

Petrarch had subjected himself, during all his life, to moral discipline; he was a self-seeker and a self-reprover. He was not so easily shaken from the calm tenor of his piety and faith by prognostics and denunciations; he replied to his friend in a letter full of good sense and kind feeling. In those days a letter was a treatise; ancient history was ransacked, and the whole learning of the writer poured out in a torrent. But there are passages which deserve to be quoted. "Falsehood and imposture," he wrote, "often disguise themselves in the habit of religion; but I will not pronounce any decided opinion till I have seen the messenger. The age of the man, his countenance, eyes, manners, gestures, his voice and words, and, above all, the sum and purport of what he says, will serve to enlighten me. It is announced to you that you have but a short time to live, and that you must renounce poetry and profane literature. These words at first filled me with consternation and grief. How could I anticipate your death without tears? But, on further reflection, I am led to consider that you look with terror and regret on what ought really to be a matter of rejoicing, for thus you are detached from the world, and brought, as we all ought, to meditate upon death, and to aspire to that height where no worldly temptation intrudes to contaminate the soul. You will learn from these admonitions to control your passions, and to reform your habits of life. But I exhort you not to abandon hooks and learning, which nauseate and injure the weak only, but which invigorate and comfort the strong-minded."

After placing these considerations in various and strong lights, Petrarch concludes by saying, "If you continue to adhere to your purpose, and determine not only to relinquish study, but to cast aside the instruments of learning, I shall be delighted to possess your books; and I would rather buy them, than that the library of so great a man should be scattered abroad in the world.[74] I cannot name a price, not knowing their value nor number. Think of these things, and reflect whether you cannot, as I have long wished, pass the remainder of your days with me. As to your debt to me, I do not know of it, nor understand this foolish scruple of conscience. You owe me nothing except love; nor that, since each day you pay me: except, indeed, that, receiving continually from me, you still continue to owe. You complain of poverty. I will not bring forward the usual consolations, nor allege the examples of illustrious men, for you know them already. I applaud you for having preferred poverty, combined with independence, to the riches and slavery that were offered you; but I do not praise you for refusing the solicitations of a friend. I am not able to enrich you; if I were I should use neither words nor pen, but speak to you in deeds. But what is sufficient for one is enough for two; one house may surely suffice for those who have but one heart. Your disinclination to come injures me, and it is more injurious if you doubt my sincerity."

Boccaccio was convinced by his friend, and the excess of his penitence and zeal died away; but the reform of his moral character was permanent. He adopted the clerical dress, and endeavoured to suppress those writings which scandalised the pious.

He was very poor: his patrimony was slender, and shared with his brother Jacopo, and diminished also by various expenses incurred in his zeal to procure books and advance learning. He had passed a life of freedom, however, and shrunk from servitude. The passage in Petrarch's letter which refers to this, concerns his having refused the honourable and lucrative, but onerous post, of apostolic secretary; nor was he tempted by Petrarch's invitation, being unwilling to burthen one whose means were very limited. He, however, fell into a most painful mistake when he accepted the offer of a wealthy patron, which originated pride, and not affection.

The seneschal Acciajuolo was a Florentine, settled at Naples; he had long been the counsellor and friend of Louis, prince of Tarento, second husband of queen Jane. He had accompanied him in his flight to France, and stood by him during his adversity. When the affairs of Naples were settled, and Jane and Louis restored to the throne, Acciajuolo became the first man in the kingdom: he was made seneschal; but his power and influence were limited by no mere place. [Sidenote: 1363. Ætat. 50.] He had pretensions to learning, and was the friend and correspondent of Petrarch: he was proud and arrogant, and wished to be esteemed a munificent man. He invited Boccaccio to come and take up his abode in his palace at Naples, and to employ himself in writing a history of the seneschal's life. Boccaccio was seduced, by a belief in the reality of his friendship and the nobleness of his generosity, to accept his offer. He was received by the great man with apparent pleasure, and with many promises of future benefit; but he was undeceived as to the kindness of his welcome, when he was led to the chamber destined for his accommodation. The seneschal lived in a magnificent palace, adorned with all the luxuries known in those days: the room assigned to Boccaccio was mean and squalid; it contained one dirty, ill-furnished bed, for himself and his brother Jacopo, and he was placed at the same table with the stable boys and the lower servants of the house, together with a whole host of needy hangers-on. Boccaccio's necessities were not so great as to force him to endure this unworthy treatment, and his spirit revolted against it. He removed at once to the house of his friend, Mainardo de' Cavalcanti, by whom he was cordially and honourably received; and finding, on a second trial, to which he was urged by the servile advice of some friends, that Acciajuolo was wholly ignorant of the duties of hospitality, and totally deficient in generosity and delicacy, he left Naples and proceeded to Venice.

He here passed three happy months with Petrarch. The Greek, Leonzio Pilato, joined them. Their society consisted of either learned men, or the Venetian nobility; and the friends reaped great enjoyment from the intimacy and unreserve of their intercourse. After the lapse of three months Boccaccio returned to Florence, though the plague was raging there, and Petrarch entertained a thousand fears on his account.

An abode in Florence was nevertheless ill suited to the new course of life which he proposed to himself. The city was perpetually disturbed by domestic strife, or the treachery of the foreign princes, whom they called in to their assistance in time of war. Boccaccio retreated from this scene of discord, and took up his abode at the castle of Certaldo, where he gave himself entirely up to study: his house there is still to be seen. Certaldo is situated on a hill, and looks down on the fertile valley watered by the river Elsa.[75] The country around is picturesque, adorned by various castles and rustic villages. The culture of corn, vines, and olives, adorns the depth of the valley and the uplands; and three successive harvests are brought in by the husbandman. Here Boccaccio composed most of his later works, and the influence of Petrarch is perceptible in his choice of subjects and language. This is to be greatly lamented, since his desertion of Italian was founded upon a mistake, which has given us, instead of works of imagination and genius, heavy treatises and inaccurate histories. Boccaccio's Latin is bald and tame; he knew nothing of the structure, and was unable to clothe his thoughts with the eloquence natural to him: he rattled the dry bones of the skeleton of a dead language, instead of making use of the young and vigorous tongue to which he had given birth.

His first work, under this new direction, was one of great labour and erudition for those times, and was entered upon at the suggestion of Ugo IV., king of Cyprus and Jerusalem. It treats of the genealogy of the gods, and relates the connection between the various deities of the beautiful Greek mythology. For many years it continued to be a standard book, whence the Italians drew all their knowledge of the subject; and it was doubtless a useful production. In pursuance of his plan of being the schoolmaster of his age, and introducing his countrymen to the knowledge of forgotten lore, he afterwards composed a dictionary of ancient rivers, mountains, and forests. His active mind was always finding new subjects for his pen. He discovered that the female sex possessed no historian, and he dedicated himself to their service by writing the lives of illustrious women. In this he describes the ideal of a virtuous matron, and goes to the extreme usual to a reformed libertine. Her conduct must not only be strictly correct, but she must not even look about her; she must speak little, eat little, and avoid singing and dancing. Given up to domestic cares, she must be simple in her dress, and even love her husband moderately. He wrote after this a work entitled, "De Casibus Virorum et Fæminarum Illustrium," in which he records the disasters and adversity which history relates to have befallen royal or noble personages. Thus his time was entirely spent among his books, and he acquired a reputation for learning and purity of life, which raised him high in the opinion of his fellow citizens.

He was, in consequence, appointed, on two occasions, ambassador to pope Urban V. [Sidenote: 1365. Ætat. 52.] In fulfilment of the first mission, he went to Avignon, where he was honourably received, especially by Philip de Cabassoles, the intimate and beloved friend of Petrarch. On his return, he was very desirous of passing from Genoa to Pavia, to see the laureate; but the duties of his embassy forbade. To indemnify himself, he projected a visit to him at Venice. There is a Latin letter of his extant, which gives an interesting account of this latter journey: it is addressed to Petrarch, whom he missed, as he was again gone to Pavia. Boccaccio did not hear of this circumstance till he reached Bologna; and it almost made him give up his journey. "On my road," he writes, "I encountered Francesco (_the son-in-law of Petrarch_), to my great delight. After a glad and friendly meeting, I began to observe the person of this man. His placid countenance, measured language, and mild manners pleased me: I praised your choice, as I praise all you do." On his arrival at Venice, "I received," he says, "many invitations, and accepted that of Francesco Allegri. I would not avail myself of your kind offer, and take up my abode under your daughter's roof, during the absence of her husband. I should have preferred going to an inn to being the cause of the scandal that might have arisen, despite my grey hairs and fat unwieldy figure."

"I went, however, to see Francesca; who, when she heard of my arrival, came to meet me with gladness, as if you yourself had returned: yet, when she saw me, she was abashed, blushed, and cast down her eyes; and then, after a timid welcome, she embraced me with filial and modest affection. After conversing together some little time, we went into your garden, and found several of your friends assembled. Here, in explicit and kind terms, she offered me your house, your books, and every thing belonging to you, in a matronly and becoming manner. While we were conversing, your beloved little granddaughter came up: she looked smilingly at me, and I took her with delight in my arms. At first, methought I saw my own child[76]: her face resembles hers--the same smile, the same laughing eyes; the gestures, gait, and carriage of her person, though a little taller--for mine was only five years and a half old when I last saw her--were all similar: if their dialect had been the same, their expressions would have resembled in their simplicity. I saw no difference, except that yours has golden hair, and that of mine was black. Alas! while caressing and charmed by her talk, the recollection of my loss drew tears from my eyes; so that I turned my face away, to conceal my emotion."

"I cannot tell you all that Francesco said and did upon his return; his frequent visits when he found that I would not remove to his house; and how hospitably he entertained me. One incident will suffice: knowing that I was poor, which I never denied, on my departure from Venice, at a late hour, he withdrew with me into another part of his house; and, after taking leave, he stretched out his long arms, and, putting a purse into my hands, made his escape, before I could expostulate with or thank him."

After having been gratified by these tokens of real friendship, Boccaccio suffered one of those mortifying disappointments which too often occur to those who are ready to trust to the good-will and offers of assistance of men who call themselves their friends. Niccolo di Montefalcone, abbot of the celebrated Carthusian monastery of San Stefano in Calabria, invited him to take up his abode with him, describing the agreeable situation of his house, its select library, and the leisure to be enjoyed there. [Sidenote: 1370. Ætat. 57.] Boccaccio accepted the invitation, and made the journey. He arrived late at night before the gates of the secluded monastery; but, instead of the welcome he expected, he found that the abbot had left the convent hastily, in the middle of the night, on purpose to avoid him. Boccaccio, justly indignant, wrote an angry letter, and, leaving the inhospitable retreat, repaired to Naples, where he was again cordially received by his friend Mainardo de' Cavalcanti.

During his visit to Naples, Boccaccio received many offers of hospitality and patronage: among others, queen Jane of Naples, and Giacomo king of Majorca, endeavoured to persuade him to enter into their service; but Boccaccio was naturally proud and independent: he had been duped by an appearance of friendship, but recoiled from a state of servitude: he preferred his quiet home at Certaldo to the favours of the great; nor could the renewed solicitations of Petrarch induce him to change his mind; and he returned to Tuscany. [Sidenote: 1372. Ætat. 59.] [Sidenote: 1373. Ætat. 60.] When he visited Naples again, it was merely for the sake of seeing his friends, without any ulterior view, and he quickly returned to the quiet of Certaldo, where he busied himself in the publication of his work of the "Genealogy of the Gods."

Age and infirmity advanced on him before their time: he was attacked by a painful and disagreeable disease, which rendered life a burthen to him. He lost his strength, and the powers of his understanding; his limbs became heavy, and the light of heaven intolerable; his memory was impaired, and his books no longer afforded him any pleasure. His thoughts were fixed upon the tomb, towards which he believed himself to be rapidly approaching. After having continued in this state for several months, he was one day seized with a violent fever, which increased towards night. His disturbed thoughts turned towards the past: his life appeared to him to have been wasted, and fruitful only of remorse. No friend was near him: his sole attendant was an old nurse, who, unable to penetrate the cause of his disquietude, annoyed him by her meaningless and vulgar consolations. His fever increased; he believed himself to be dying, and he feared to die. His courage, which had until now sustained, all at once deserted him. Hitherto he had avoided physicians, having no faith in the art: he was now driven to send for one, whose remedies afforded him relief, and restored him to some portion of health.[77]

The energy of his mind returned with his bodily strength. He had laboured long to induce the Florentine government to bestow some honourable testimonial on the memory of the illustrious Dante. At length, a decree was promulgated, instituting a professorship for the public explanation of the "Divina Commedia," so to promote, as it was expressed, the advancement of learning and virtue among the living and their posterity. The professorship was bestowed upon Boccaccio: he received a salary of one hundred florins a year, and delivered his lectures in the church of San Stefano. The result was his commentary on the first seventeen cantos of the "Inferno," written in a clear, simple, and elegant style, full of excellent criticism and valuable illustrations.

Thus the remnants of his failing strength were spent upon doing honour to the memory of the celebrated poet, whose genius he so warmly and generously admired, and a depreciation of whom is the sole blot on the otherwise faultless character of Petrarch: but, while he roused his intellects to understand and comment upon the delicate and sublime beauties of Dante, his physical strength decayed, and his sensibility received a severe shock from the death of his beloved friend Petrarch. [Sidenote: 1374. Ætat. 61.] He heard it first by public report; and it was afterwards confirmed to him in a letter from Francesco Brossano, the laureate's son-in-law, who transmitted to him the legacy of fifty florins, for the purchase of a fur dress for his winter studies. Boccaccio wrote, in return, a letter full of grief and admiration. "He did not mourn," he said, "for the dead, who was receiving the reward of his virtues, but for those who survived him, and were abandoned to the tempestuous sea of life without a pilot." He would have visited his tomb had his health permitted; and he besought Brossano to take care of his posthumous reputation, and to publish his poem of "Africa," which was only known to the world in fragments. In compliance with his request, Brossano had the poem copied, and sent it to him; but he did not live to receive it.

He felt his end approaching, and Petrarch's death loosened his last tie to earth. He made his will, and named the sons of his brother Jacopo his heirs. He left legacies to those to whom he owed return for friendship and services; and he concluded, by leaving his library, in the first instance, to his spiritual director, Martino da Signa, to go, after his death, to the convent of the Spirito Santo, at Florence, for the benefit of the studious.

He survived Petrarch one year only, and died at Certaldo, on the 21st December, 1375, in the 63d year of his age. His death was occasioned by a malady of small moment in itself, but fatal in his debilitated state, and aggravated by his continual application. He was buried at Certaldo, in the church of SS. Jacopo and Filippo. His son presided at his funeral, and erected a tomb, on which was inscribed a Latin epitaph, composed by Boccaccio himself, in which he mentions that honourable love of literature which characterised him through life:--"_Patria Certaldum; studium fuit alma poesis._" He was lamented throughout Italy; but his loss was chiefly deplored in his native city, as, during his residence there, he had redeemed his early follies by a course of life devoted to the cultivation of literature and religion, and the duties of a citizen. While all read with delight the purer productions of his imaginative genius, the learned of every age must feel grateful to his unwearied labours in the preservation of the ancient manuscripts, many of which, but for him, had been lost for ever to the world.

[Footnote 58: Genealogia Deorum.]

[Footnote 59: Baldelli.]

[Footnote 60: Filippo Villani.]

[Footnote 61: Geneal. Deor.]

[Footnote 62: Geneal. Deor.]

[Footnote 63: Ibid.]

[Footnote 64: Tiraboschi.]

[Footnote 65: Filocopo.]

[Footnote 66: This lady Mary cannot be the princess Mary, an acknowledged natural daughter of king Robert. The latter was beheaded during the troubles at Naples, a year after Boccaccio's death. The poems of Boccaccio declare that he outlived his lady Mary, Fiammetta, as he called her, many years; and his writings give proof that her royal and illegitimate origin was always preserved a secret.]

[Footnote 67: La Fiammetta.]

[Footnote 68: Rime.]

[Footnote 69: Ameto.]

[Footnote 70: Baldelli.]

[Footnote 71: Petrarch's Letters.]

[Footnote 72: This singular circumstance is not noticed by Petrarch in any of his letters. Did the Florentines act thus to punish him for his journey to Avignon, at the time they had invited him to take up his abode among them? Yet, on another occasion, the citizens petitioned the pope to give the poet a benefice within their walls, and so induce him to inhabit their city. Perhaps the expression used in Boccaccio's letter is ironical.]

[Footnote 73: Guignenè.]

[Footnote 74: It is not creditable to the learning of those times to learn, that the libraries of these two great revivers of knowledge were lost to the world soon after their deaths. Boccaccio's, it is true, was destroyed by an accident, being burnt when the convent to which he had left it was consumed by fire. But Petrarch's mouldered away in the palace given by the republic of Venice for its reception and preservation, so that dusty fragments were afterwards found to be all that remained of the venerable parchments which the laureate had expended so much time and labour in collecting.]

[Footnote 75: Baldelli.]

[Footnote 76: It is unknown who was the mother of this child, or grandchild, who died so young. Boccaccio had, besides, one son established at Florence, whom he does not mention in his will, but who presided at his funeral, and erected a tomb over his remains.]

[Footnote 77: Baldelli, Cod. San. Epist. I.]

LORENZO DE' MEDICI

(considered as a poet);

FICINO, PICO DELLA MIRANDOLA, POLITIAN, THE PULCI, etc.

After the deaths of Petrarch and Boccaccio, the cause of learning was, to a certain degree, lost. The study of Greek and the search for manuscripts was discontinued. The first person who brought that language again into notice, was Emanuel Chrysoloras, a noble Greek, who was frequently sent into Italy on embassies by the emperor of Constantinople, and employed his leisure in teaching his native tongue in Florence. His disciples were numerous: among these. Poggio Bracciolini was the most distinguished. He discovered and collected a vast number of the most valuable manuscripts. Besides the philosophic and beautiful poem of Lucretius, we owe to him the complete copies of Quintilian, Plautus, Statius, Silius Italicus, Columella, and many others. Several of these exist only from the copy found by him, and were thus rescued from certain destruction. "I did not find them in libraries," he says, "which their dignity demanded, but in a dark and obscure dungeon at the bottom of a tower, in which they were leading the life of the damned." Filelfo was also an ardent collector. The discussions between the Roman and Greek churches brought several Greek scholars and philosophers into Italy, and through them the Platonic doctrines were known to the Italians. [Sidenote: 1438.] Gemisthus Pletho, who had been master of Chrysoloras, but who survived him many years, was their chief promulgator. They were in opposition to the Aristotelian philosophy, which had so long been the only one taught in the schools of Italy; but their glowing beauty and imagination were adapted to enchant all who heard them. Cosmo de' Medici became their convert, and resolved to establish an academy at Florence for their study and propagation. He caused Marsiglio Ficino, the son of his favourite physician, to be educated for this purpose by the teachers of Platonic philosophy. [Sidenote: 1453.] Cosmo was also the founder of the Medicean library. The taking of Constantinople by the Turks aided the advancement of learning; and while Cosmo protected many learned Greeks who took refuge at Florence, they spread refinement and knowledge throughout the peninsula.

[Sidenote 1464.]

Cosmo died soon after; and as his son Piero did not long survive him, Lorenzo succeeded to his wealth and political influence. Lorenzo had been brought up with solicitous attention. He was fortunate in his mother. Madonna Lucretia, a lady of considerable talents and accomplishments, a lover of learning, and patroness of learned men. He was first the pupil of Gentile d' Urbino, bishop of Arezzo; and afterwards of Christofero Landino; and a warm attachment subsisted between master and pupil. He soon gave manifestations of the magnificence of his disposition; and his love of poetry developed itself at an early age. After the death of Cosmo, and his father Piero, however, his life was no longer one of studious leisure or youthful enjoyment; but visited by many disastrous occurrences. [Sidenote 1478.] The conspiracy of the Pazzi was directed against his life and that of his brother. Giuliano was its victim; while he with difficulty escaped from the poniard of the assassin. He was scarcely free from these domestic dangers, when he encountered greater foreign ones, from the implacable enmity of Sixtus VI. This pope leagued almost all Italy against Florence, declaring at the same time that Lorenzo was the object of their attack; and that if he were sacrificed, Florence should obtain peace. Lorenzo maintained the weight of this coalition with firmness and dignity. [Sidenote 1479.] With heroic gallantry he took the whole responsibility on his own person, and threw himself into the hands of the king of Naples. [Sidenote 1480.] His firmness and talents enabled him to induce this monarch to conclude a treaty beneficial and honourable to Florence, and his authority in the republic was thus confirmed greater than ever. From this time he occupied himself by establishing an enduring peace in Italy; not pursuing his object by pusillanimous concessions, but by an unremitted attention to the course of events, and sound policy in preserving the balance of power among the Italian states.