LOVE AT ARM’S LENGTH

Evening Star, Issue 18998, 21 July 1925, Page 10

LOVE AT ARM’S LENGTH

,»■—— —■■.ftp—-111 'I PETRARCH AMD HIS LAURA In his recent hook, ‘ Old Love Stories Retold,’ Mr Richard ie Gallienne recapitulated some wonderful tales of the loves of poets for lovely ladies. No tale of the kind, however, is more remarkable (says ‘ John o’ London’s Weekly ’), than that of the devotion of Petrarch, poet and scholar of ancient Italy, to his Laura—a devotion as faithful and devout as that of Dante for Beatrice. It fell on a Sunday in April, in tho year of grace thirteen hundred and twenty-seven, that these two immortal spirits (ono may not call them lovers) looked on each other for the first time. As the worshippers came out of the church of tho monastery of St. Claire, at Avignon, the poet saw a lady. “ She was dressed in green, and her gown was embroidered with violets.' Her person was delicate, her eyes tender and sparkling, and her eyebrows black as ebony; golden locks waved over her shoulders, whiter than snow: and the ringlets wore interwoven by the fingers of Love.” THROUGH TWENTY YEARS. From that moment Petrarch loved; and for the next twenty years Laura was the dominating passion of his life. He describes in extravagant terms the emotions aroused. in him by the slightest association with her. In traversing tho forest of Ardonne, his obsession makes him believe her to be m every object he sees; near Lyons he is in ecstasies at tho sight of tho Rhone, because that river passes the walls of tho city in which Laura lives. The spectacle of a country girl washing Laura’s veil produce in him a violent trembling; and ono of the proudest and happiest moments of his life is that occasion when a malady of the eyes, with which his lady has been afflicted, passes from her to him. Some curious linking of ideas in Iris mind makes him refer perpetually to Laura as a reincarnation of Daphne, who, fleeing from Apollo, was changed into a laurel tree. “I run everywhere after Laura,” he says, “ hut she flies from me as Daphne fled from Apollo.” Pleasing himself by supposing that the soul of Daphne had passed into the body of Laura, ho became unable to behold tho laurel without transports; he planted it everywhere in Ids retreat at Yancluso, and would sit for hours by tire riverside laurels where his lady was wont to pass. A REAL WOMAN. Tho very extravagance of Petrarch’s sentiments, and something a little stereotyped in his exprcssii/Sn of them, has created an idea that Laura was not a real person at all, but a fiction 1 of his brain. It became the fashion after him to “ petrarchise,” as it was called; there was no poetaster but had his Cassandra, his Helen, his Marie, in whose praise he wrote volumes of hyperbole, and for love of whom he declared himself sleepless and distracted. But this swarm of insincere rhymesters proves nothing against Petrarch, and it is now generally accepted that Laura had a very real existence, and was, in fact, tho daughter of a knight, Audibort do Noves, and wife of fiugues de Sade of Avignon. _ Tho story of their love seems at first sight to have been a very one-sided affair. Laura, when Petrarch first saw her, was already married; and a sense of honor unusual even among the virtuous prevented her from giving his passion any encouragement. On the earliest suspicion of his emotions she began to avoid the young poet, and in his presence would always veil herself —a severity which caused him such chagrin that in 1332 he left Avignon to travel. On his return, two years later, he hoped to find her feelings towards him softened, but was disappointed, and in his turn resolved to avoid her. But Laura, chaste wife and -virtuous mothen though sire was (before her early death she bore her somewhat tiresome husband ten children, six boys and four girls), was not prepared to lose the adoration of so brilliant an admirer, and now revived his flume _ by looking kindly and indulgently on him. AT ARM’S-LENGTH. And so things went on; Petrarch now determined to forget, and now encouraged by tender looks to remember: now travelling in far countries to put out of his mind tho thought of passion, and now returning, irresistibly drawn, to worship once more at tiro shrine ot Love. As for Laura’s feelings, her discretion served as an almost impenetrable veil, but in her demeanor, irreproachable through it was, there are hints that she was not wholly insensible. Or was she merely happy .in the celebrity with which such admiration invested her? She was once told by sonic busybody that under her name Petrarch concealed tho passion he felt for an- j other lady; she readily believed the i tale, and angrily refused to see the j poet until ho cleared himsell Irom the charge. Whether outraged feminine ; dignity or tho sense of atleciion unrequited prompted her action it is difficult to say—perhaps both entered into the quarrel. On tho whole, it appear.-, that Petrarch’s love nas acceptable Iher as tong as ho did not make proii - tations in person. THE ANNIVERSARY. Laura was greatly respected in la r own city, and, strange to relate, lieloved by her own sex. PelratvliV. love brought her fame, but not happiness. Her children were a perpetual source of care, and ill-health added in later years to the sorrows which beset her. On April G. 1348, tbc anniversary ol the day on which lie hud first seen her, Petrarch, far away from Avignon, hat! a premonitory dream ; on May 9 he learnt that on the day of his dream Laura had died a victim to the plague. “ Since the strongest cord ol my lilt*,” lie wrote, “ is broken, with the Grace of God, I shall easily renounce, a world where my cares have been deceitful and my hopes vain and perishing.” Ho had yet twenty-six years to live; hut with Laura had gone his youth and, hjs ] gaiety. j