PETRARCH 25 PETRARCH By Alice King I (1304-13 74) T was in the days of civil strife in Florence The Republic, like the fickle mistress that she was, was stripping and turning out of doors hei best servants, and was petting and clothing with honor her worst ones. Among those who, driven by the decree of banishment, hurried out of the city's southern gate were the parents of Fran- cesco Petrarch. They retired to the little town of Arezzo, and there he was born in 1304, soon af- ter their banishment. As she looked at her boy, his mother, Eletta, very likely mourned to think that he would not be able in after life to boast of being a native of fair Florence. She did not know that in future ages Florence was to count it among her highest distinctions that this child was of Florentine race. Francesco was hardly freed from his swaddling-clothes when his father, with that restlessness peculiar to exiles, removed the whole family from Arezzo to Pisa. There they stayed for about two years ; and the little fellow's first totter- ing, baby footsteps were traced on the banks of the Arno. When he was three the decree of banishment was, through the influence of friends in Florence, re voked toward the Petrarch family, as far as Eletta and her son were concerned- and a part of their property was restored to them. The father was glad to secure to his dear ones a safer and more comfortable home than he could find for them in his wanderings ; and Eletta, though she wept at parting from her hus- band, smiled again when relations and old familiar companions crowded round her to admire her gallant boy. She did not, however, stay long in the town. She withdrew to Ancisa, a vil- lage about fourteen miles from Florence, and settled there on a small estate be- longing to her husband. This she did partly, perhaps, to keep down her ex- penses, and partly, perhaps, to devote herself more entirely to her son. Here his mother, who must have been a clever woman in her way, breathed into the boy Petrarch that high religious feeling which strengthened his whole life, and led him up the first steps of the ladder of knowledge ; and here he acquired that taste for the sights and sounds of the country, and that love of its quiet which clung to him till the end of his days. The song of the nightingale, the whisper of the wind, the murmur of the stream, all re-echo constantly through his verse :
