Volume I Part 5 (1/2)
LAURA AND PETRARCH CONTINUED.
Much power of lively ridicule, much coa.r.s.e wit,--princ.i.p.ally French wit,--has been expended on the subject of Laura's virtue; by those, I presume, who under similar circ.u.mstances would have found such virtue ”too painful an endeavour.”[29] Much depraved ingenuity has been exerted to twist certain lines and pa.s.sages in the Canzonire into a sense which shall blot with frailty the memory of this beautiful and far-famed being: once believe these interpretations, and all the peculiar and graceful charm which now hangs round her intercourse with Petrarch vanishes,--the reverential delicacy of the poet's homage becomes a mockery, and all his exalted praises of her unequalled virtue, and her invincible chast.i.ty, are turned to satire, and insult our moral feeling.
But the question, I believe, is finally set at rest, and it were idle to war with epigrams. All the evidence that has been collected, external and internal, prose and poetry, critical and traditional, tends to prove, first, that Laura preserved her virtue to the last; and, secondly, that she did not preserve it una.s.sailed; that Petrarch, true to his s.e.x,--a very man, (as Laura has been called a _very woman_,) used at first every art, every effort, every advantage, which his diversified accomplishments of mind and person lent him, to destroy the very virtue he adored. He only _hints_ this in his poetry, just sufficiently to enhance the glory which he has thrown round his divinity; but he speaks more plainly in prose.
”Untouched by my prayers, unvanquished by my arguments, unmoved by my flattery, she remained faithful to her s.e.x's honour; she resisted her own young heart, and mine, and a thousand, thousand, thousand things, which must have conquered any other. She remained unshaken. A woman taught me the duty of a man! to persuade me to keep the path of virtue, her conduct was at once an example and a reproach; and when she beheld me break through all bounds, and rush blindly to the precipice, she had the courage to abandon me, rather than follow me.”[30]
But whether, in this long conflict, Laura preserved her heart untouched, as well as her virtue immaculate; whether she shared the love she inspired; or whether she escaped from the captivating a.s.siduities and intoxicating homage of her lover, ”_fancy-free_;”--whether coldness, or prudence, or pride, or virtue, or the mere heartless love of admiration, or a mixture of all together, dictated her conduct, is at least as well worth inquiry, as the exact colour of her eyes, or the form of her nose, upon which we have pages of grave discussion. She might have been _coquette par instinct_, if not _par calcul_; she might have felt, with feminine _tacte_, that to preserve her influence over Petrarch, it was necessary to preserve his respect. She was evidently proud of her conquest: she had else been more or less than woman; and at every hazard, but that of self-respect, she was resolved to retain him. If Petrarch absented himself for a few days, he was generally better treated on his return.[31] If he avoided her, then her eye followed him with a softer expression. When he looked pale from sickness of heart and agitation of spirits, Laura would address him with a few words of pitying tenderness. He thanks her in those exquisite lines, which seem to glow with all the renovation of hope,
Volgendo gli occhi al mio novo colore Che fa di morte rimembrar le gente Piet vi mosse, onde benignamente Salutando teneste in vita il core.
La frale vita ch'ancor meco alberga, Fu de' begli occhi vostri aperto dono, E della voce angelica soave![32]
He presumes upon this benignity, and is again dashed back with frowns.
He flies to solitude,--solitude!--Never let the proud and torn heart, wrung with the sense of injury, and sick with unrequited pa.s.sion, seek that worst resource against pain, for there grief grows by contemplation of itself, and every feeling is sharpened by collision. Petrarch sought to ”mitigate the fever of his heart” amid the shades of Vaucluse, a spot so gloomy and so solitary, that his very servants forsook him; and Vaucluse, its fountains, its forests, and its hanging cliffs, reflected only the image of Laura.
L'acque parlan d'amore, e l'aura, e i rami E gli augeletti, e i pesci e i fiori e l'erba; Tutti insieme pregando ch' io sempr'ami![33]
He is driven again to her feet by his own insupportable thoughts--and in terror of himself;--
Tal paura ho di ritrovarmi solo!
He endeavours to maintain in her presence that self-constraint she had enjoined. He a.s.sumes a cold and calm deportment, and Laura, as she pa.s.ses him, whispers in a tone of gentle reproach, ”Petrarch! are you so soon weary of loving me?” (ten or eleven years of adoration were, in truth, nothing--_to signify_!) At length, he resolved to leave Laura and Avignon for ever; and instead of plunging into solitude, to seek the wiser resource of travel and society. He announced this intention to Laura, and bade her a long farewell; either through surprise, or grief, or the fear of losing her glorious captive, she turned exceedingly pale, a cloud overspread her beautiful countenance, and she fixed her eyes on the ground. This was to her lover an intoxicating moment; in the exultation of sudden delight, he interpreted these symptoms of relenting, this ”vago impallidir,” too favourably to himself. ”She bent those gentle eyes upon the earth, which in their sweet silence said,--to me at least they seemed to say,--'who takes my faithful friend so far from me?'”
Chinava a terra il bel guardo gentile, E tacendo dicea, com' a me parve-- ”Chi m'allontana il mio fedele amico?”
On his return to Avignon, a few months afterwards, Laura received him with evident pleasure; but he is not, therefore, more _avan_; all this was probably the refined coquetterie of a woman of calm pa.s.sions; but not heartless, not really indifferent to the devotion she inspired, nor ungrateful for it.
Petrarch has himself left us a most minute and interesting description of the whole course of Laura's conduct towards him, which by a beautiful figure of poetry he has placed in her own mouth. The pa.s.sage occurs in the TRIONFO DI MORTE, beginning, ”La notte che segui l'orribil caso.”
The apparition of Laura descending on the morning dew, bright as the opening dawn, and crowned with Oriental gems,
Di gemme orientali incoronata,
appears before her lover, and addresses him with compa.s.sionate tenderness. After a short dialogue, full of poetic beauty and n.o.ble thoughts,[34] Petrarch conjures her, in the name of heaven and of truth, to tell him whether the pity she sometimes expressed for him was allied to love? for that the sweetness she mingled with her disdain and reserve--the soft looks with which she tempered her anger, had left him for long years in doubt of her real sentiments, still doating, still suspecting, still hoping without end:
Creovvi amor pensier mai nella testa, D' aver piet del mio lungo martire Non lasciando vostr' alta impresa onest?
Che vostri dolci sdegni e le dolc' ire-- Le dolci paci ne' begli occhi scritte-- Tenner molt' anni in dubbio il mio desire.
She replies evasively, with a smile and a sigh, that her heart was ever with him, but that to preserve her own fair fame, and the virtue of both, it was necessary to a.s.sume the guise of severity and disdain. She describes the arts with which she kept alive his pa.s.sion, now checking his presumption with the most frigid reserve, and when she saw him drooping, as a man ready to die, ”all fancy-sick and pale of cheer,”
gently restoring him with soft looks and kind words:
”Salvando la tua vita e'l nostro onore.”
She confesses the delight she felt in being beloved, and the pride she took in being sung by so great a poet. She reminds him of one particular occasion, when seated by her side, and they were left alone, he sang to his lute a song composed to her praise, beginning, ”Dir pi non osa il nostro amore;” and she asks him whether he did not perceive that the veil had then nearly fallen from her heart?[35]