lan, and passed the autumn at his house, the
Linterno, where he met with an accident, that for some time threatened
dangerous consequences. He thus relates it, in a letter to his friend,
Neri Morandi:--"I have a great volume of the epistles of Cicero, which I
have taken the pains to transcribe myself, for the copyists understand
nothing. One day, when I was entering my library, my gown got entangled
with this large book, so that the volume fell heavily on my left leg, a
little above the heel. By some fatality, I treated the accident too
lightly. I walked, I rode on horseback, according to my usual custom;
but my leg became inflamed, the skin changed colour, and mortification
began to appear. The pain took away my cheerfulness and sleep. I then
perceived that it was foolish courage to trifle with so serious an
accident. Doctors were called in. They feared at first that it would be
necessary to amputate the limb; but, at last, by means of regimen and
fomentation, the afflicted member was put into the way of healing. It is
singular that, ever since my infancy, my misfortunes have always fallen
on this same left leg. In truth, I have always been tempted to believe
in destiny; and why not, if, by the word destiny, we understand
Providence?"

As soon as his leg was recovered, he made a trip to Bergamo. There was
in that city a jeweller named Enrico Capri, a man of great natural
talents, who cherished a passionate admiration for the learned, and
above all for Petrarch, whose likeness was pictured or statued in every
room of his house. He had copies made at a great expense of everything
that came from his pen. He implored Petrarch to come and see him at
Bergamo. "If he honours my household gods," he said, "but for a single
day with his presence, I shall be happy all my life, and famous through
all futurity." Petrarch consented, and on the 13th of October, 1358, the
poet was received at Bergamo with transports of joy. The governor of the
country and the chief men of the city wished to lodge him in some
palace; but Petrarch adhered to his jeweller, and would not take any
other lodging but with his friend.

A short time after his return to Milan, Petrarch had the pleasure of
welcoming to his house John Boccaccio, who passed some days with him.
The author of the Decamerone regarded Petrarch as his literary master.
He owed him a still higher obligation, according to his own statement;
namely, that of converting his heart, which, he