To the last he interested himself deeply in the political state of his country. He exceedingly exulted when, on the death of Innocent VI., pope Urban V. removed his court to Rome. At the same time that he refused the reiterated offer of the place of apostolic secretary, he asked his friends to solicit church-preferment for him—he cared not what, so that it did not demand the sacrifice of his liberty, nor include the responsibility attendant on the care of souls. It would seem that his income had become diminished at this time, for he often said that it was not in old age that he should seek to increase his means; doubtless his expenses increased on his daughter's account, and he had given up several of his canonicates to his friends, lie was a generous man, and had many dependents always about him; so that it is no wonder that he wished not to find his capacity of benefiting others inconveniently straitened.

1363.
Ætat.
59.

Boccaccio became warmly attached to Petrarch; at one time he spent the three summer months of June, July, and August, with him at Venice, in company with a Greek named Leonzio Pilato—a singular man, of a sombre, acid, and irritable disposition, but valuable to the friends as an expounder of the Greek language. Pilato left them to return to Constantinople; but his restless gloomy spirit quickly prompted him to wish to revisit Italy. He wrote Petrarch a letter, "as long and dirty," says the poet, as his own hair and beard. "This Greek," he continues, in a letter to Boccaccio, "would be useful to us in our studies, were he not an absolute savage; but I will never invite him here again. Let him go, if he will, with his mantle and ferocious manners, and inhabit the labyrinth of Crete, in which he has already spent many years." 1365.
Ætat.
61. This severity was tempered afterwards, when he heard of the death of Pilato, who was struck by lightning during a storm on board ship, while returning by sea to Italy. "This unhappy man," writes Petrarch, "died as he lived, miserably. I do not think he ever enjoyed a tranquil hour: I cannot imagine how the spirit of poetry contrived to enter his tempestuous soul."

1367.
Ætat.
63.

When Urban V. arrived at Rome, Petrarch wrote him a long letter, expressive of the transport he felt on this auspicious event. He praised his courage in having vanquished every obstacle; adding, "Permit me to praise you; I shall not be suspected of flattery, for I ask nothing except your benediction." The pope replied to this letter by an eulogium on its eloquence; declaring, at the same time, that he had the greatest desire to see and be of service to him.

But old age had advanced on Petrarch. He had for several years suffered, each autumn, the attacks of a tertian fever, probably the effect of the climate of Lombardy, where that malady is prevalent; and this tended rapidly to diminish his strength. 1369.
Ætat.
65. When Urban V. wrote to him with his own hand to reproach him for not having come to Rome, and urging his instant journey, his letter found Petrarch at Padua, recovering slowly from an attack of this kind. He was unable to mount a horse, and was obliged to defer obeying the mandate. Somewhat recovered during the following winter, he prepared for his journey, making his will, which he wrote with his own hand. April
4.
1370.
Ætat.
66. He then set out, but got no further than Ferrara; he there fell into a sort of swoon, in which he continued for thirty hours without giving any sign of life. The most violent remedies were administered, and he felt them no more than a marble statue. The report went abroad that he was dead, and the city was filled with mourning and lamentation. As soon as he was somewhat recovered, he would have proceeded on his journey, notwithstanding the representations of the physicians, who declared that he would not arrive at Rome alive: but he was too weak to get on horseback; so he was carried back to Padua in a gondola, and was received, on his unexpected arrival, with the liveliest demonstrations of joy, by Francesco da Carrara, the lord of the town, and by its inhabitants.

For the sake of tranquillity, and to recover his health, he sought a house in the country, and established himself at Arquà, a village situated north of Padua, among the Euganean hills, not far from the ancient and picturesque town of Este. The country around, presenting the vast plains of Lombardy in prospect, and the dells and acclivities of the hills in the immediate vicinity, is charming beyond description. There is a luxuriance of vegetation, a richness of produce, which belongs to Italy, while the climate affords a perpetual spring. Petrarch built a small but agreeable house at the end of the village, surrounded by vineyards and gardens.

He busied himself in this retreat by finishing a work begun three years before, which he had better have left wholly undone. It was founded on a curious incident, of which he has preserved the knowledge, and which otherwise would have sunk into oblivion. There were a set of young men at Venice, disciples of Aristotle, or rather of his Arabian translator, Averroes, who set up his philosophy as the law of the world, who despised the Christian religion, and turned the apostles and fathers of the church into ridicule: there was an open war of opinion between these men and the pious Petrarch. Four among them, in the presumption and vivacity of youth, instituted a kind of mock tribunal, at which they tried the merits of their amiable and learned countryman; and pronounced the sentence, that "Petrarch was a good sort of a man, but exceedingly ignorant." He relates this incident in his treatise, "On my own Ignorance and that of others," which he commences by pretending to be satisfied with the decision. "Be it so," he says, "I am content; let my judges be wise, while I am virtuous!" and then he goes on to prove the fallacy of their judgment by a great display of erudition.

May
7.
1371.
Ætat.
67.

He continued to get weaker, and his illnesses were violent, though transient. On one occasion he was attacked by a fever, and the physician sent to him by Francesco da Carrara, declared that he could not survive the night. The next morning he was found, apparently well, risen from his bed and occupied by his books. "This," he says, "has happened to me ten times in the course of ten years." The vital powers were thus exhausted, and it was not likely that he could live to extreme age.