he Italian princes vied with each other in trying to get Petrarch to
their courts, and in heaping favors upon him. He visited nearly all of
them in turn. The life of a palace was perhaps not much more to
Petrarch's taste than the life of a great city. But he was too much a
man of the world not to be gratified by these honors, and besides,
through the intimacy which he thus gained with the chief men of his
country, he was able to work better toward his darling object, the
unity of Italy. Many remarkable persons are briefly mixed up with the
story of the poet in these days of his wanderings from city to city.
We catch a glimpse of him being introduced by the pope to the German
emperor Charles IV. at Avignon. We also see him grasping for a moment
the hand of a man who, although no royal blood runs in his veins,
looks in truth like a king among his fellows--Rienzi, the tribune.

The middle of Petrarch's life was darkened by the loss of many
friends. Laura died, struck down by the plague which raged in Avignon,
and Petrarch, who, without counting all the ideal romance with which
he had surrounded her, had for her a strong, warm friendship, mourned
her very deeply. Several other friends of his youth at this time also
passed away from the earth. The heart of the poet was cruelly wounded
by these losses, but he sought comfort in work and study, and devoted
himself more entirely to the interests of his country.

As years went on the poet's love of a country life revived. He had
done his utmost for Italy, but the result of that utmost had been
nothing. The rest of his days should be given alone to literature. He
therefore gave up frequenting courts, and bought a little estate at
Arqua, a village among the Lombard hills, whither he retired. We like
to fancy him in this pleasant home of his age, with his tall, lithe
figure still unbent, his face, though careworn, still shining with
intellectual light, his hand busy with the pen. Petrarch always loved
the little elegancies of life, and no doubt, even in this country
retreat, we should have seen him (unlike most of the literary
brotherhood, whose very livery is untidiness) neatly dressed, and
surrounded by as many pretty knick-knacks as the fourteenth century
could afford. We should not ever have found his table very splendidly
spread. Eletta's son kept the simple tastes acquired at Ancisa at her
side, and liked best a diet of fruit and vegetables.

[Illustration: Petrarch and Laur