in nature and in church, doing novenas for her on one occasion). That the site Petrarch
identified was St. Clare’s may be significant, since as a disciple of St. Francis
and the nun who founded the order of “poor Clares,” she was most loved for the very
qualities he celebrates in the
Canzoniere,
for her humility, prudence, natural wisdom, generosity, and beauty of soul, as well
as for her charity to the poor. Her example may have provided a needed antithesis
to the Curia that ruled church practice where he worshipped, representing an ideal
he could not bear to see sunk in “mud” (poem 259) without protesting. Protest he did
by making one of the aspects of Laura a personification of St. Clare’s Church in captivity.
On another symbolic level, Laura as Daphne (Ovid’s maiden in
Metamorphoses,
turned into the laurel tree when she spurned the love of Apollo) is the poetic idea
itself, which the poet pursues through the forests of feeling and thought until he
almost seizes her, when she becomes the poem on the page, freed of his desire and
her mortal life, transformed into someone else’s plant to cultivate. This transformation
is given its primary didactic meaning for Petrarch in poem 23, the canzone of the
metamorphoses, when he himself becomes the laurel. Until she is transformed into the
tree, Daphne/ Laura is as light, free, and compelling as the desire which gives rise
to the idea, or the virginal eye and ear which receive the poem in its finished form.
She may at various times be herself, the poem, the poet, or the reader.
That a real Laura existed, however, became legend early in Petrarch’s career. People
searched for a candidate for her as they had for Dante’s Beatrice (one settled on
in the eighteenth century was Laura de Sade of Avignon). But details about her in
the
Canzoniere
are never more than sketchy and ephemeral. “Femina è cosa mobile per natura” (a woman
is by nature changeable) he admits in poem 183, as if responding to a criticism that
her character seems to be too variable, changing as often as his style in these “scattered
rhymes.” Petrarch was well aware of the duplicitous nature of the poetry of any era
written in praise of the
bella donna,
and he capitalized on it in his own way. If she was to be a projection of his better
self, how to make her seductive to the reader? If she was to be the object of his
lust or satirical scorn, how to conceal the edge of his blade in silken trappings?
But Petrarch also insisted that Laura was more than an envisioning, more than an evocative
name: “The living Laura by whose person I seem to be captured” was no deception, he
wrote in a letter to his friend Giacomo Co-lonna, who had questioned her existence.
“I wish indeed that you were joking about this particular matter, and that she indeed
had been a fiction and not a madness” (Bishop, p. 31). Neither here nor anywhere else
does he confirm Laura’s actual identity as a woman, nor his love for her as more than
a transient passion; but that she was a palpable force is undeniable. The marvelous
fecundity of the
Canzoniere
lies in his desire to keep her beauty and virtue alive while acknowledging her power
to lead him astray. Although Petrarch knew that in Augustinian terms he must renounce
her (in his confessional
Secretum,
the dialogue with St. Augustine that he never published, loveof Laura is acknowledged to be a stumbling block to his salvation), not only her usefulness
to him as a medium for teaching but also those very intrinsic qualities that make
the fact or fiction of her being significant continued to hold him hostage to her
all the years of his life. In recantatory writings, he claimed to have given her up
(e.g., “The Letter to Posterity”), but in the course of the
Canzoniere
Laura lives long after her death, and he relinquishes his hold on her only at the
last moment in poem 366 when he gives up