le Berchier was engaged to translate Livy: this work was much admired, though never printed: there is a copy of it, with very pretty drawings in water colours, in the library of the Sorbonne. Jane, dutchess of Burgundy, the niece of the cardinal of Bologna, who was second wife to Philip de Valois, concurred with John in the translation of several works. This princess, who had as much wit as beauty, died this year: if she had lived longer, she would have done much towards the revival of letters. Jane of Bourbon, wife of Charles V. followed her steps: it was she who engaged Philip de Vitry, the friend of Petrarch, to translate into French verse the Metamorphoses of Ovid.

Peter le Berchier's best work was his translation of Livy, in which it seems probable he was assisted by Petrarch. He composed another work, called a Moral Reductory, a sort of encyclopedia, where, in the taste of his age, every thing is allegorically represented, and ends with a moral. One passage may serve for an idea of it.. He says, that at Orange the frogs never croak, except one; and the reason of this is, St. Florent, bishop of that city, fatigued with the noise of these animals, commanded them to be silent; but afterwards, touched with compassion, he allowed them all to croak again. The clerk, who was to carry this permission to the frogs, gave it in the singular

instead of the plural, and so but one poor frog was ever heard in that city.' I have mentioned the Romance of the Rose, a famous work of this age, in the same style. There was also a history of the three Marys, full of absurd fables. An abbe published, in three dreams, the pilgrimage of human life, the pilgrimage of the soul when separated from the body, and the pilgrimage of Jesus Christ.

From this view of letters in France, we cannot be surprised at Petrarch's refusing to stay in it. He quitted the dauphin, however, with regret, and presented him with his treatise on good and bad fortune, which the prince had immediately translated by his preceptor; and this book held a distinguished rank in his library, which was said to contain nine hundred volumes; a prodigious number at a time when books were so scarce.

1361. Petrarch set out for Milan at the end of February. In the bad inns he met with it was his custom to write to his friends; and, recollecting the conversations he had had with Peter le Berchier, he wrote him the following letter:

In my youth, the inhabitants of Great Britain, whom they call English, were the most cowardly of all the barbarians, inferior even to the vile Scots. On the contrary, the French militia was then in the most flourishing state. At present the English, become a warlike people, have subdued

the French by frequent and unlooked for successes. Would you know in two words the cause of this change? Listen to Sallust. He says, 'fortune changes with manners, and empire goes from the wicked to the good: strength, genius, virtue, renown, circulate like money, and pass from one people to another.'

Petrarch then, describing the luxury of the French, gives this picture of their militia.

'When you enter into the camp, you would believe yourself in a tavern. They are even delicate, and will be drunk with foreign wines; and when there are none, they complain that the army wants for every thing, that they are dying with drought, and it is no wonder that the soldiers desert. The military emulation has passed from arms to glasses: it is no longer the question with what weapons they shall fight, but with what glasses they shall drink: those who can take off the largest draughts, and bear the most wine, are victors, and gain the laurel crown. Seneca predicted this: "There shall come a day," says he, "when drunkenness shall be honourable, and it will be esteemed a virtue to excel in it." Thus they abide in their tents, eating, drinking, playing, snoring, and swearing, and plunged in debauchery with the women who follow the camp. If called out to fight, they know no chief, obey no command, but run here and there without order,

like bees that have lost their hive, fawning, cowardly, ignorant, and boasting. When called upon to attack the foe, they do nothing for glory, or from valor, but are wholly swayed by interest, vanity, and the love of pleasure.'

Petrarch adds to this an account of the severity of discipline among the Romans, and that from the time it began to relax they may date their overthrow.

Some months after writing this letter, he sent it by a monk who was going to France, having had no opportunity before, who found Peter le Berchier just dead in his priory at Elay.

This year the empress Ann was delivered of a son. The joy of the emperor was so great, that, instead of the avarice generally imputed to his character, he distributed gold by handfuls, and made presents to all the world. He sent sixteen marks of gold to Aix-la-Chapelle, which was the weight of the child, to put him under the protection of the holy virgin, patroness of the church which Charlemagne had built in that city. He loved Petrarch too well to forget him on this occasion. He sent him a golden cup, of admirable workmanship, and a very affectionate letter with it, pressing him to come and live in his court. Petrarch replies to these great favours,

Your letter is conceived in terms too condescending for your rank, and too high for my

condition. The cup, valuable in itself, and still more so for its high workmanship, is a present worthy of you, but unmerited by me. Who will not be astonished to see transferred to my use, a vase consecrated by the mouth of Cesar? But I shall take care not to profane this sacred cup by applying it to my own use. I would destine it to make libations on altars, if this ancient rite was still observed among us. It will be the delight and ornament of my table on solemn days; and when I give feasts, my friends shall behold it with pleasure. I shall preserve it all my life with your letter, as a monument of your goodness and of my glory. You propose a very agreeable journey to me, but I cannot quit Italy without the consent of the master under whose law I live: but my greatest obstacle is my library, which, without being immense, is much above my genius and knowledge: how will my books be able to traverse the Alps, infested as they are by thieves? The longer I live, the more I feel the truth of that saying, “All is trouble and vexation of spirit." He who doubts it, has only to live to a certain term of years, and he will be perfectly convinced of its truth. Nevertheless, I design to obey your orders before the summer is over, if my master permits, and I find a companion for my journey; and I will remain what time you please in your court. The presence of my Cesar