Petrarch, since his establishment at Milan, had thought it his duty to bring thither his son John, that he might watch over his education.  John was at this time eighteen years of age, and was studying at Verona.

The September of 1355 was a critical month for our poet.  It was then that the tertian ague commonly attacked him, and this year it obliged him to pass a whole month in bed.  He was just beginning to be convalescent, when, on the 9th of September, 1355, a friar, from the kingdom of Naples, entered his chamber, and gave him a letter from Barbato di Salmone.  This was a great joy to him, and tended to promote the recovery of his health.  Their correspondence had been for a long time interrupted by the wars, and the unsafe state of the public roads.  This letter was full of enthusiasm and affection, and was addressed to Francis Petrarch, the king of poets.  The friar had told Barbato that this title was given to Petrarch over all Italy.  Our poet in his answer affected to refuse it with displeasure as far beyond his deserts.  “There are only two king-poets,” he says, “the one in Greece, the other in Italy.  The old bard of Maeonia occupies the former kingdom, the shepherd of Mantua is in possession of the latter.  As for me, I can only reign in my transalpine solitude and on the banks of the Sorgue.”

Petrarch continued rather languid during autumn, but his health was re-established before the winter.

Early in the year 1356, whilst war was raging between Milan and the Lombard and Ligurian league, a report was spread that the King of Hungary had formed a league with the Emperor and the Duke of Austria, to invade Italy.  The Italians in alarm sent ambassadors to the King of Hungary, who declared that he had no hostile intentions, except against the Venetians, as they had robbed him of part of Sclavonia.  This declaration calmed the other princes, but not the Viscontis, who knew that the Emperor would never forget the manner in which they had treated him.  They thought that it would be politic to send an ambassador to Charles, in order to justify themselves before him, or rather to penetrate into his designs, and no person seemed to be more fit for this commission than Petrarch.  Our poet had no great desire to journey into the north, but a charge so agreeable and flattering made him overlook the fatigue of travelling.  He wrote thus to Simonides on the day before his departure:—­“They are sending me to the north, at the time when I am sighing for solitude and repose.  But man was made for toil:  the charge imposed on me does not displease me, and I shall be recompensed for my fatigue if I succeed in the object of my mission.  The Lord of Liguria sends me to treat with the Emperor.  After having conferred with him on public affairs, I reckon on being able to treat with him respecting my own, and be my own ambassador.  I have reproached this prince by letter with his shameful flight from our country.  I shall make him the same reproaches, face to face, and viva voce.  In thus using my own liberty and his patience, I shall avenge at once Italy, the empire, and my own person.  At my return I shall bury myself in a solitude so profound that toil and envy will not be able to find me out.  Yet what folly!  Can I flatter myself to find any place where envy cannot penetrate?”