this epistle, that the Florentines wished our poet’s acceptance of their offer to be as advantageous to themselves as to him.  They were establishing a University, and they wished to put Petrarch at the head of it.  Petrarch replied in a letter apparently full of gratitude and satisfaction, but in which he by no means pledged himself to be the gymnasiarch of their new college; and, agreeably to his original intention, he set out from Padua on the 3rd of May, 1351, for Provence.

Petrarch took the road to Vicenza, where he arrived at sunset.  He hesitated whether he should stop there, or take advantage of the remainder of the day and go farther.  But, meeting with some interesting persons whose conversation beguiled him, night came on before he was aware how late it was.  Their conversation, in the course of the evening, ran upon Cicero.  Many were the eulogies passed on the great old Roman; but Petrarch, after having lauded his divine genius and eloquence, said something about his inconsistency.  Every one was astonished at our poet’s boldness, but particularly a man, venerable for his age and knowledge, who was an idolater of Cicero.  Petrarch argued pretty freely against the political character of the ancient orator.  The same opinion as to Cicero’s weakness seems rather to have gained ground in later ages.  At least, it is now agreed that Cicero’s political life will not bear throughout an uncharitable investigation, though the political difficulties of his time demand abundant allowance.

Petrarch departed next morning for Verona, where he reckoned on remaining only for a few days; but it was impossible for him to resist the importunities of Azzo Correggio, Guglielmo di Pastrengo, and his other friends.  By them he was detained during the remainder of the month.  “The requests of a friend,” he said, on this occasion, “are always chains upon me.”

Petrarch arrived, for the sixth time, at Vaucluse on the 27th of June, 1351.  He first announced himself to Philip of Cabassoles, Bishop of Cavaillon, to whom he had already sent, during his journey, some Latin verses, in which he speaks of Vaucluse as the most charming place in the universe.  “When a child,” he says, “I visited it, and it nourished my youth in its sunny bosom.  When grown to manhood, I passed some of the pleasantest years of my life in the shut-up valley.  Grown old, I wish to pass in it my last years.”

The sight of his romantic hermitage, of the capacious grotto which had listened to his sighs for Laura, of his garden, and of his library, was, undoubtedly, sweet to Petrarch; and, though he had promised Boccaccio to come back to Italy, he had not the fortitude to determine on a sudden return.  He writes to one of his Italian friends, “When I left my native country, I promised to return to it in the autumn; but time, place, and circumstances, often oblige us to change our resolutions.  As far as I can judge, it will be necessary for me to remain here for two years.  My friends in Italy, I trust, will pardon me if I do not keep my promise to them.  The inconstancy of the human mind must serve as my excuse.  I have now experienced that change of place is the only thing which can long keep from us the ennui that is inseparable from a sedentary life.”