written for "the service of his friends," to be destroyed, except one, beginning

"Or che l'aura mia dolce altrove spira."

It is in truth worthy of being preserved: but was it really written for a friend? Is it not rather one of those in which he addresses, under the name of Laura, her he dared not name? and was it not to prevent any suspicion of the object of his aspirations that he classed it among those written for the use of his friends? Another clause refers to the portion he had finished of his Goffredo; a third proves either that he was improvident, or his patron illiberal; it relates to some tapestry, and other effects, which he had pledged to different Jews for the trifling sums of twenty-five liri and thirteen scudi. In case of his death, he directs all his property to be sold and the money to be laid out on a monument for his father, for which he gives an inscription. Should his friend meet with any obstacles in fulfilling his wishes, he directs him to have recourse to the excellent Princess Leonora, "who," he adds, “will, I hope, lend him her aid for my sake." Thus, in this moment of serious preparation, the care of his poetical fame, his filial piety, and his reliance on the kind interest of Leonora, were the three objects that occupied his thoughts.

At the first visit which the cardinal made to the king of France, he introduced Tasso to him, saying, "This is the poet who is now engaged in celebrating Godfrey of Boulogne and the other French heroes who assisted him to conquer Jerusalem." Charles the Ninthhis name could then be pronounced without horror; he had not as yet rendered himself unworthy of being the patron of literature, and of poetry, which he loved-Charles the Ninth received him graciously, frequently conversed with him, and always treated him with distinction. He pardoned, at his request, an unhappy poet, whom the muses thus rescued from the penalty of death, though they had not restrained him from the commission of the crime that incurred it. It is said that the king had resolved on his death, and had declared with an oath he would reject every petition that might be made on his account. Tasso, nothing daunted, presented himself before him, saying, "I come, Sire, to entreat you not to extend your royal clemency to the unfortunate man who has shown that human frailty cannot be overcome by the power of philosophy." The king, amused at the ingenuity with which he had contrived to evade the consequence of his vow, gave orders that the criminal's life should be spared. He would have bestowed rich presents on Tasso, say both French and Italian historians, if he had not declined his bounty. The nobles followed the example of the king, and vied with each other in their eagerness to see and converse with him.

In the midst of this court favour, can we credit the accounts that are given of his poverty? Balzac and Guy Patin both assert that he was reduced to borrow a crown of a friend for his subsistence. Scrassi thinks it impossible that a gentleman in the suite of so rich and magnificent a cardinal could feel the want of money, or that he who had refused the presents of a king, could stoop to ask a trifle from a friend.

But Scrassi's own narrative enables us to understand this; the favour shown to Tasso excited the envy of the courtiers. Perhaps he gave his opinion too freely on subjects which then heated every mind, and this pretext was seized upon to calumniate him. The cardinal withdrew his favour from him, stopped his pension, and even treated him with personal incivility. Less than this would have determined this highminded man to quit his service, and he asked and obtained leave to return to Italy. It is true that the expenses of his journey were defrayed by Manzuoli, the cardinal's secretary, whom he accompanied to Rome; but, under these circumstances, it is not surprising that at the time of his departure he should find himself in urgent want of money, nor that he should prefer laying himself under this slight obligation to a friend rather than have recourse to the cardinal, who had so unjustly disgraced him.

Their separation, however, took place without any open rupture. The cardinal stood in awe of the censure or the ridicule of the court of France. Tasso wished to be received into the service of the Duke Alphonso. The mission of Manzuoli afforded a convenient opportunity of saving appearances. As the cardinal was sending his confidential secretary to Rome, it could excite no surprise that he should also send the most distinguished gentleman in his suite. They left Paris the end of December, 1570, having remained there a year.

Tasso was welcomed at Rome by his father's friends, and his acquaintance was eagerly sought by men of letters. At the same time he engaged the princess of Urbino and her sister to solicit the Duke Alphonso to nominate him one of his household. The request was granted as soon as made, and Tasso repaired to Ferrara. Alphonso expressed great pleasure at his arrival, appointed him a liberal pension, besides making arrangements for his table and accommodation. His services were entirely dispensed with, and he was able to give himself up to the composition of the poem which had been so long projected, and was now expected with impatience by the literary world.

He had hardly recommenced his work when he was interrupted by a melancholy event. The duchess of Ferrara, whose nuptials were celebrated at the time of his first coming to the court, died shortly after his return. Her death plunged the duke and all the family in affliction, and Tasso shared the general grief. He addressed to the duke a consolatory discourse, in imitation of the ancient philosophers, and composed a very eloquent funeral oration, besides some admirable verses on the same occasion.

When some time had elapsed, the duke made an excursion to Rome, and Tasso, being now more at liberty, before he resumed his great work, composed one which forms an epoch in the history of literature. Six years before, he had seen a kind of pastoral fable, divided into scenes and acts, performed in the university of Ferrara, entitled, "Lo Sfortunato." This piece, which was the work of Agostino degli Argenti, was afterwards printed and much applauded. Tasso himself had commended this new species of dramatic representation; and doubtless immediately perceived the scope it would give to his genius. It is not, therefore, true, as Manso and other writers assert, that Tasso was the inventor of the pastoral drama; but, in his Aminta, he perfected

what had been only attempted before, and left a model which has never been surpassed, or even equalled, in later times.

The subject, the plan, and the characters of the Aminta had been long arranged in his mind, and he only waited for leisure to complete it. He profited by that which the duke's absence afforded him. Devoting himself entirely to this delightful composition, he finished it in the course of two months. Alphonso, on his return, was enchanted with it, and gave orders for its representation as soon as the cardinal should arrive. The universal applause it excited considerably raised him in the duke's estimation, but, at the same time, it provoked the envy of many powerful courtiers, who now resolved on his ruin.

This is not a place to criticise this gem of modern poetry, which differs so totally in style from his epic poem, that it seems almost inconceivable they should have been composed at the same time, and by the same person. Tasso was much gratified by the success of his work, but refused to listen to any solicitations to print it. This seems to have proceeded from his unwillingness to make more public some satirical allusions to Speron Speroni, whom the duke had been induced, by Tasso's commendations, to invite to Ferrara. Being present on one occasion when Tasso recited part of his Goffredo, instead of joining in the praises bestowed upon it, he criticised it so severely, that Tasso lost all heart, and was on the point of abandoning the work; but, on reflection, perceiving the sophistry of the objections, suggested either by an envious disposition, or the wish to display critical acumen, he took a poetical revenge in some lines in the Aminta, plainly alluding to this circumstance.* His gentle nature could not long nourish feelings of resentment; he soon repented of having satirised a man who was the friend of his father, and from whom he had himself received instruction; and in a corrected copy, preserved at Ferrara, these lines are omitted. It was, probably, his intention to publish it at some future time in this form; but copies of the piece as originally written were obtained. One fell into the hands of the younger Aldo, who printed it for the first time at Venice, eight years after it had been represented at the court of Ferrara. The success it had then met with now extended throughout Italy. Editions were multiplied, and an infinite number of imitations made their appearance; but the

* Vidi Febo, e le Muse, e frà le Muse
Elpin seder accolto; ed in quel punto
Sentii me far di me stessa maggiore,
Pien di nuova virtù, pieno di nuova
Deitate; e cantai guerra ed eroi
Sdegnando pastoral ruvido carme.
E sebben poi (come altrui piacque) feci
Ritorno a queste selve, io pur ritenni
Parte di quello spirito, nè già suona
La mia sampogna umil come soleva.
Ma di voce più altera, e più sonora,
Emula della trombe, empie le selve.
Udimmi Mopso poscia, e con maligno
Guardo mirando affascinommi; ond' io
Roco divenni, e poi gran tempo tacqui:
Quando e Pastor credean ch' io fossi stato
Visto dal lupo; e'l lupo era costui.

Pastor Fido of Guarini, and the Filli di Sciro, by Bonarelli, are the only two that have at all approached, and that only at an humble distance, to their admirable model. It was soon translated into French, Spanish, German, English; in short, into every European language, and in each met with the same applause. It may, therefore, be said that this little work would have immortalized him, if the Gerusalemme Liberata had never been written.

Lucretia, the princess of Urbino, was not present at the representation of the Aminta, which was now the universal theme of conversation. Her curiosity was excited, and she invited the author to Pesaro. He was rejoiced to revisit a place where he had passed two happy years of his childhood; to see again his kind protector, the duke Guidubaldo, and the prince, formerly his fellow-student, and, above all, to oblige the princess, to whom he was mostly indebted for his favour at the court of Ferrara. His reception was most gratifying; he read his Aminta, and several cantos of his Goffredo, to circles composed of all the illustrious persons in that court, who listened with enthusiasm. As summer approached, Lucretia and her spouse retired to Castel' Durante, a delightful country residence. There the prince abandoned himself to the two amusements of which he was passionately fond, hunting in the large forests, and swimming in the lakes. Lucretia being consequently left much alone, wished for Tasso's society, and he passed some months in this agreeable retirement, continually occupied with compositions in which Lucretia took great interest. She was then thirty-nine, ten years older than Tasso, and probably relied on this difference of age to silence any remarks on the favour she showed him. The young poet and the princess were, however, almost inseparable, and the authors who deny Tasso's attachment to Leonora, assert, that at this time his preference was manifestly for her sister. Scrassi quotes in favour of this opinion two sonnets, one on the hand, the other the bosom, of his mistress, which are written with a freedom he would not have dared to address to Leonora. In another, and one of the most beautiful he ever wrote, he ingeniously praises the maturity of her charms, and alludes to the bloom of youth which she had lost as no subject for regret. But this, as we shall take occasion to prove, was addressed, not to Lucretia, but to her sister.

He returned to Ferrara, loaded with presents, jewels, and chains of gold, given him by the duke and his sons, and a costly ruby by the princess. Fortune seemed to smile upon him; but the moment

* Nei anni acerbi tuoi purpurea rosa
Sembravi Tu, che ai rai tepidi, all' ora
Non aprè 'l sen, ma nel suo verde ancora
Verginella s'ásconde, e vergognosa.

O piùttosto parei (che mortale cosa
Non s'assomiglia a te) celeste Aurora
Che le campagne imperle e i monti indora.
Lucida in ciel sereno e rugiadosa,

Or la men verde età nulla a te toglie,

Ne te, benchè negletta, in manto adorno
Giovinetta beltà vince o pareggia:

Cosi più vago è'l fior poi che le foglie
Spiega odorate, e'l sol nel mezzo giorno
Vie più che nel mattin, luce e fiammeggia.

approached when he was to experience her fickleness. Soon after his return, Alphonso, accompanied by a numerous suite, went to Venice to meet Henry III., who was then leaving the throne of Poland for that of France. He invited the monarch to his court at Ferrara, and entertained him magnificently. Tasso was obliged to forego the occupation of a poet for that of a courtier. The fatigue of the journey, and the excitement of these royal festivities, brought on a quartan fever, which kept him in a state of languor and suffering till the following spring. It was during his convalescence, in April, 1575, that he at last completed his poem, the fruit of so much labour, and the source of so much misery.

Before he printed it, he wished to submit it to the judgment of his most enlightened friends. He sent a copy to Scipio di Gonzaga, who was then at Rome, requesting him to read it carefully, and criticise it, and to lay it before those whose judgment and taste might be depended upon. Scipio seconded his wishes with all the zeal of friendship, and the most profound scholars, at his request, employed their skill and attention in considering it; but what was the result? they differed in their opinion as to the subject, the plan, the style, the episodes. What one considered defects, others looked upon as beauties. Tasso received their opinions with unwearied patience and docility, and either followed their counsels, or gave reasons at length for not doing so. He also consulted his friends at Ferrara, and even went to Padua for the same purpose, and returned with fresh contradictory opinions, to hesitate, correct, and defend.

The effect of this sort of occupation on the mind is directly opposite to that of composition, in which it becomes absorbed and fixed on one object. In correction, on the contrary, the mind is compelled to pass from one minutiæ to another, and is distracted by being often called to attend to objects quite foreign to each other. The first produces a contemplative frame of thought, in which the poet, wrapped up in his own creative faculty, is almost inaccessible to external impressions. The second, a feverish emotion, alive to all that passes around, open to doubts, suspicions, forebodings, especially when assailed by contradictory opinions, forced to decide hastily, and rendered doubtful by the modesty that usually accompanies true genius. This was precisely the case with Tasso. He had long known he had enemies at the court, but now, for the first time, he began to fear them. Some letters he wrote to Rome were delayed on the road. They all related to his poems. He imagined that his enemies had intercepted them, in order to discover the objections started against it, and to use them against the work when it should be published. Perhaps the agitation of his mind helped to bring on an attack of illness, which, though short, was considered very alarming. Though he recovered in a few days, and resumed his work with the same industry as before, his mind seems to have received a shock of which the sad effects soon became apparent.

The conduct of the duke at this time might have calmed his fears. He showed him more than usual favour, was never weary of hearing him recite his verses, and took him with him, whenever he went to Belriguardo, a retreat in which he passed the violent summer heats. Lucretia d'Este now become duchess of Urbino, by the death of her