CHAPTER III.
Pursuant to their plans, the Herberts left the Lago Maggiore towardsthe end of October, and proceeded by gentle journeys to the Apennines.Before they crossed this barrier, they were to rest awhile in one ofthe Lombard cities; and now they were on the point of reaching Arqua,which Venetia had expressed a strong desire to visit.
At the latter part of the last century, the race of tourists, theoffspring of a long peace, and the rapid fortunes made during the war,did not exist. Travelling was then confined to the aristocracy,and though the English, when opportunity offered, have ever been arestless people, the gentle bosom of the Euganean Hills was thenrarely disturbed amid its green and sequestered valleys.
There is not perhaps in all the Italian region, fertile as it is ininteresting associations and picturesque beauty, a spot that traditionand nature have so completely combined to hallow, as the lastresidence of Petrarch. It seems, indeed, to have been formed for theretirement of a pensive and poetic spirit. It recedes from the worldby a succession of delicate acclivities clothed with vineyards andorchards, until, winding within these hills, the mountain hamlet isat length discovered, enclosed by two ridges that slope towards eachother, and seem to shut out all the passions of a troubled race. Thehouses are scattered at intervals on the steep sides of these summits,and on a little knoll is the mansion of the poet, built by himself,and commanding a rich and extensive view, that ends only with theshores of the Adriatic sea. His tomb, a sarcophagus of red marble,supported by pillars, doubtless familiar to the reader, is at hand;and, placed on an elevated site, gives a solemn impression to a scene,of which the character would otherwise be serenely cheerful.
Our travellers were surprised to find that the house of the poet wasinhabited by a very different tenant to the rustic occupier they hadanticipated. They heard that a German gentleman had within the lastyear fixed upon it as the residence of himself and his wife. Thepeasants were profuse in their panegyrics of this visitor, whosearrival had proved quite an era in the history of their village.According to them, a kinder and more charitable gentleman neverbreathed; his whole life was spent in studying and contributing to thehappiness of those around him. The sick, the sorrowful, and the needywere ever sure of finding a friend in him, and merit a generouspatron. From him came portions to the portionless; no village maidenneed despair of being united to her betrothed, while he could assisther; and at his own cost he had sent to the academy of Bologna, ayouth whom his father would have made a cowherd, but whom naturepredisposed to be a painter. The inhabitants believed this benevolentand generous person was a physician, for he attended the sick,prescribed for their complaints, and had once even performed anoperation with great success. It seemed that, since Petrarch, no onehad ever been so popular at Arqua as this kind German. Lady Annabeland Venetia were interested with the animated narratives of theever-active beneficence of this good man, and Lady Annabel especiallyregretted that his absence deprived her of the gratification ofbecoming acquainted with a character so rare and so invaluable. In themeantime they availed themselves of the offer of his servants to viewthe house of Petrarch, for their master had left orders, that hisabsence should never deprive a pilgrim from paying his homage to theshrine of genius.
The house, consisting of two floors, had recently been repaired bythe present occupier. It was simply furnished. The ground-floor wasallotted to the servants. The upper story contained five rooms, threeof which were of good size, and two closets. In one of these were thetraditionary chair and table of Petrarch, and here, according to theirguides, the master of the house passed a great portion of his time instudy, to which, by their account, he seemed devoted. The adjoiningchamber was his library; its windows opened on a balcony looking ontwo lofty and conical hills, one topped with a convent, while thevalley opened on the side and spread into a calm and very pleasantview. Of the other apartments, one served as a saloon, but there wasnothing in it remarkable, except an admirably painted portrait of abeautiful woman, which the servant informed them was their mistress.
'But that surely is not a German physiognomy?' said Lady Annabel.
'The mistress is an Italian,' replied the servant.
'She is very handsome, of whatever nation she may be,' replied LadyAnnabel.
'Oh! how I should have liked to have met these happy people, mamma,'said Venetia, 'for happy they surely must be.'
'They seem to be good people,' said Lady Annabel. 'It really lightenedmy heart to hear of all this gentleman's kind deeds.'
'Ah! if the signora only knew the master,' said their guide, 'shewould indeed know a good man.'
They descended to the garden, which certainly was not like the gardenof their villa; it had been but lately a wilderness of laurels, butthere were evidences that the eye and hand of taste were commencingits restoration with effect.
'The master did this,' said their guide. 'He will allow no one to workin the garden but himself. It is a week since he went to Bologna, tosee our Paulo. He gained a prize at the academy, and his father beggedthe master to be present when it was conferred on him; he said itwould do his son so much good! So the master went, though it is theonly time he has quitted Qua since he came to reside here.'
'And how long has he resided here?' inquired Venetia.
''Tis the second autumn,' said the guide, 'and he came in the spring.If the signora would only wait, we expect the master home to-night orto-morrow, and he would be glad to see her.'
'We cannot wait, my friend,' said Lady Annabel, rewarding the guide;'but you will thank your master in our names, for the kindness we haveexperienced. You are all happy in such a friend.'
'I must write my name in Petrarch's house,' said Venetia. 'Adieu,happy Arqua! Adieu, happy dwellers in this happy valley!'