Age and infirmity advanced on him before their time: he was attacked by a painful and disagreeable disease, which rendered life a burthen to him. He lost his strength, and the powers of his understanding; his limbs became heavy, and the light of heaven intolerable; his memory was impaired, and his books no longer afforded him any pleasure. His thoughts were fixed upon the tomb, towards which he believed himself to be rapidly approaching. After having continued in this state for several months, he was one day seized with a violent fever, which increased towards night. His disturbed thoughts turned towards the past: his life appeared to him to have been wasted, and fruitful only of remorse. No friend was near him: his sole attendant was an old nurse, who, unable to penetrate the cause of his disquietude, annoyed him by her meaningless and vulgar consolations. His fever increased; he believed himself to be dying, and he feared to die. His courage, which had until now sustained, all at once deserted him. Hitherto he had avoided physicians, having no faith in the art: he was now driven to send for one, whose remedies afforded him relief, and restored him to some portion of health.[77] The energy of his mind returned with his bodily strength. He had laboured long to induce the Florentine government to bestow some honourable testimonial on the memory of the illustrious Dante. At length, a decree was promulgated, instituting a professorship for the public explanation of the "Divina Commedia," so to promote, as it was expressed, the advancement of learning and virtue among the living and their posterity. The professorship was bestowed upon Boccaccio: he received a salary of one hundred florins a year, and delivered his lectures in the church of San Stefano. The result was his commentary on the first seventeen cantos of the "Inferno," written in a clear, simple, and elegant style, full of excellent criticism and valuable illustrations.