From “On Solitude.”

SOLITUDE and the love of liberty rendered all the pleasures of the world odious to the mind of Petrarch. In his old age he was solicited to officiate as secretary to different popes, at whatever salary he thought proper to fix; and, indeed, every inducement that emolument could afford was insidiously made use of to turn his views that way. But Petrarch replied, “Riches acquired at the expense of liberty are the cause of real misery; a yoke made of gold or silver is not less oppressive than if made of wood or lead.” He represented to his patrons and friends that he could not persuade himself to give up his liberty and his leisure, because, in his opinion, the world afforded no wealth of equal value; that he could not renounce the pleasures of science; that he had despised riches at a time when he was most in need of them, and it would be shameful to seek them now, when it was more easy for him to do without them; that he should apportion the provision for his journey according to the distance he had to travel; and that having almost reached the end of his course, he ought to think more of his reception at the inn than of his expenses on the road.

  A distaste of the manners of a court led Petrarch into solitude when he was only three-and-twenty years of age, although in his outward appearance, in his attention to dress, and even in his constitution, he possessed everything that could be expected from a complete courtier. He was in every respect formed to please; the beauty of his figure caused people to stop in the street, and point him out as he walked along. His eyes were bright, and full of fire; and his lively countenance proclaimed the vivacity of his mind. The freshest color adorned his cheeks; his features were distinct and manly; his shape fine and elegant; his person tall, and his presence noble. The genial climate of Avignon increased the warmth of his constitution. The fire of youth, the beauty of so many women assembled at the court of the Pope from every nation in Europe, and, above all, the dissolute manners of the court, led him, very early in life, into connections with women. A great portion of the day was spent at his toilet in the decorations of dress. His habit was always white, and the least spot or an improper fold gave his mind the greatest uneasiness. Even in the fashion of his shoes he avoided every form that appeared to him inelegant; they were extremely tight, and cramped his feet to such a degree that it would in a short time have been impossible for him to walk, if he had not recollected that it was much better to shock the eyes of the ladies than to make himself a cripple. In walking through the streets, he endeavored to avoid the rudeness of the wind by every possible means; not that he was afraid of taking cold, but because he was fearful that the dress of his hair might be deranged. A love, however, much more elevated and ardent for virtue and belles-lettres always counterbalanced his devotion to the fair sex. In truth, to express his passion for the sex, he wrote all his poetry in Italian, and only used the learned languages upon serious and important subjects. But notwithstanding the warmth of his constitution, he was always chaste. He held all debauchery in the utmost detestation; repentance and disgust immediately seized his mind upon the slightest indulgence with the sex; and he often regretted the sensibility of his feelings; “I should like,” said he, “to have a heart as hard as adamant, rather than be so continually tormented by such seducing passions.” Among the number of fine women, however, who adorned the court of Avignon, there were some who endeavored to captivate the heart of Petrarch. Seduced by their charms, and drawn aside by the facility with which he obtained the happiness of their company, he became upon closer acquaintance obedient to all their wishes; but the inquietudes and torments of love so much alarmed his mind that he endeavored to shun its toils. Before his acquaintance with Laura, he was wilder than a stag; but, if tradition is to be believed, he had not, at the age of thirty-five, any occasion to reproach himself with misconduct. The fear of God, the idea of death, the love of virtue, the principles of religion, the fruits of the education he received from his mother, preserved him from numerous dangers by which he was surrounded. The practice of the civil law was at this period the only road to eminence at the court of the Pope; but Petrarch held the law in detestation, and reprobated this venal trade. Previous to devoting himself to the church, he exercised for some time the profession of an advocate, and gained many causes; but he reproached himself with it afterwards. “In my youth,” says he, “I devoted myself to the trade of selling words, or rather of telling lies; but that which we do against our inclinations is seldom attended with success. My fondness was for solitude, and I therefore attended the practice of the bar with the greater detestation.” The secret consciousness which Petrarch entertained of his own merit gave him, it is true, all the vain confidence of youth, and filled his mind with that lofty spirit which begets the presumption of being equal to everything; but his inveterate hatred of the manners of the court impeded his exertions. “I have no hope,” said he, in the thirty-fifth year of his age, “of making my fortune in the court of the Vicar of Jesus Christ; to accomplish that I must assiduously visit the palaces of the great; I must flatter, lie, and deceive.” Petrarch was not capable of doing this. He neither hated men nor disliked advancement, but he detested the means that he must necessarily use to attain it. He loved glory, and ardently sought it, though not by the ways in which it is generally obtained. He delighted to walk in the most unfrequented paths, and, in consequence, he renounced the world.

  The aversion which Petrarch felt to the manners which are peculiar to courts was the particular occasion of his essay “On Solitude.” In the year 1346 he was, as usual during Lent, at Vaucluse. The Bishop of Cavailion, anxious to enter into conversation with him, and to taste the fruits of solitude, fixed his residence at the castle, which is situated upon the summit of a high rock, and appears to be constructed more for the habitation of birds than men; at present the ruins of it only remain to be seen. All that the Bishop and Petrarch had seen at Avignon and Naples had inspired them with disgust of residence in cities, and the highest contempt for the manners of a court. They weighed all the unpleasant circumstances they had before experienced, and opposed the situations which produced them to the advantages of solitude. This was the usual subject of their conversation at the castle, and that which gave birth in the mind of Petrarch to the resolution of exploring, and uniting into one work, all his own ideas and those of others upon this delightful subject. This work was begun in Lent and finished at Easter, but he revised and corrected it afterwards, making many alterations, and adding everything which occurred to his mind previous to the publication. It was not till the year 1366 (twenty years afterwards) that he sent it to the Bishop of Cavailion, to whom it was dedicated.

  If all that I have said of Petrarch in the course of this work were to be collected into one point of view, it would be seen what very important sacrifices he made to solitude. But his mind and his heart were framed to enjoy the advantages it affords, with a degree of delight superior to that in which any other person could have enjoyed them, and all this happiness he obtained from his disgust to a court, and from his love of liberty.