On returning to Ferrara in January, 1576, a new tie was created to the reigning family, by his appointment as its historiographer, on the death of Pigna. This was the turning point of his existence, whence the symptoms of mental disease gradually and fatally advanced until June, 1577, when, after that outbreak of insanity in presence of the Duchess of Urbino, to which we have already alluded, he was interdicted by Alfonso from corresponding with her. This command she observed, but Leonora occasionally consoled him by letters during his flight to Naples, of which we have spoken in tracing the progress of his lipemania. It was in the autumn of 1578 that he arrived at Pesaro, after his second flight; and, in this melodious but unfinished canzone, bespoke shelter under the mighty oak [della Rovere] watered by the Metauro:—
"To the River Metauro.
|
"O thou illustrious child Of mighty Apennine, humble though you lie, In story brighter than thy silver tide; O stranger fleet and wild, To this thy friendly and protecting side, Well pleased, for safety and repose I fly. The lofty Oak, with mantling branches wide, Bathed by thy stream, and from thy cisterns fed, Shadowing the mountains and the seas between,— Embower me with its screen! Inviolate screen, and hospitably spread, Thy cool recesses undisturbed and sweet Shroud me in deepest covert, thick entwined, So hid from blind and cruel fortune; blind, But not for me, whom still she sees to meet, Though far by hill or valley I should stray, Or in the lonely way Have passed at midnight, and with noiseless feet; And by this bleeding side well understood, Her aim unerring, as her shaft is good. "Since first I breathed this air, Ah me! since first I met the glorious light, Which never to these eyes unclouded shone, I was her fatal care, Chosen to be her mark and her despite; Nor yet those early hurts by time outgrown. Well to that spirit pure my words are known, Beside whose sainted tomb my cradle stood. Might they have laid me in the peaceful ground When I received the wound! Me from my mother's bosom fortune rude Tore while a child: O yet I feel those last Kisses and burning tears upon my cheek, With sighs remembered; still I hear that weak And ardent prayer, caught by the rising blast, Then parted ever; no more face to face Folded in strict embrace And held by close and loving arms so fast, Ah! but like Ilus or Camilla hied, With steps unequal, by my father's side. "In banishment I grew And rigid want, instructed by our strange Disastrous flight to shed untimely tears, Nor childhood's pleasure knew; But bitterness to me of chance and change Brought immature the bitterness of years. Despoiled and bare, his feeble age appears Before me still. Alas! and is my store Of griefs become so scanty, that my own Are not enough to moan? That others than myself I must deplore? But seldom, though I bid, will come the sigh, Or from these wells the gushing water spring, In measure suited to my suffering. Dear father; now my witness from the sky, Whom sick thou knowest how I moaned, and dead Poured on thy grave and bed My ardent heart; thee, in thy mansions high All bliss beseems, and unalloyed with pain; Only for me the sighs and tears remain."[193] |
The morbid feeling and heart-stricken melancholy which, in the language of Gibbon, "disordered his reason without clouding his genius," and which thus exaggerated the trials of his early life, gave way to another train of thought in the following letter, addressed by him, about the same time, to Duke Francesco Maria, which we insert as the most satisfactory record left us of the friendship and protection bestowed on him by that Prince.
"Tasso to the Duke of Urbino.
"If any action of mine has tended to confirm the rumour of my insanity, it surely was my directing my steps after my flight otherwise than to the court of your Excellency. For certainly I could not have repaired elsewhere without some degree of danger, or at all events some indignity and inconvenience; nor could I hope to find in any other quarter more acquaintance with my real position, nor greater courtesy, knowing no prince more generous, more efficiently compassionate to my misfortunes, or more prompt in the protection of my innocence. Hence, to pass by an asylum near and secure, as well as suitable and honourable, in order to make my way, without comfort, or, at all events, with little credit, to a distant and less safe place, was, if not a sign of folly, at least a proof of impudence and stupidity. Notwithstanding all this, unlike other men who blush and repent when made aware of a blunder, I derive from my ill advised step pleasure and comfort rather than shame and regret, because, being conducted, not where I desired, but whither I ought to go, and having there found the haven which I had supposed far off, across the high seas, I clearly perceive that my steps have been guided by wisdom from on high. And it must be much more pleasing to me to have been brought hither by divine Providence than by human prudence, seeing how much the more infallible guide is the latter to the best appointed end. And although, had I come here in reliance on being received under your Excellency's protection, it would have afforded me much satisfaction to find my hopes realised, and your courtesy equal to my anticipations; yet my gratification is certainly, and beyond comparison, greater, seeing that you have not only anticipated, but overmatched, my desires, and that you have at once equalled and exceeded my expectations. I say exceeded them, because upon the obliging demonstrations of affection and pity which you have shown me, and on your promise to undertake my protection, I found rather an assurance than a hope of safety, peace, and honour. Enough, indeed more than enough, for me, is that which you have promised. Were I to doubt as to the rest, or look forward with such every-day hope as one is apt to entertain regarding uncertain prospects, I should discredit your Excellency's affection, judgment, authority, and power, and I should prove myself unworthy, not only of what you are about to perform, but of what you have already done in my favour. Thus, be assured that I live not only securely, but happily, under your protection. On this account my regrets are less at being so fiercely and iniquitously buffeted and beaten down by fortune, than is my satisfaction at being raised again by the arm of your Excellency; and were there no other way to lead me to you, and to place me in the shadow of your favour, but this most hard and rugged one, with its toils and persecutions, still I should delight to arrive by it; and I account as not only endurable, but as joyful and well-timed, those pangs which brought me to be yours, as it was ever my wish to be, even in my days of less adversity. It is for this reason I dare to appropriate these famous words of Themistocles, 'I were undone, did I not rush upon my ruin.'
"I shall now pass by the long and melancholy tale of my wrongs as indeed superfluous, since the little that your Excellency has heard of my mishaps has sufficed to move your magnanimous heart to extend me aid. Nor shall I try to awaken in your soul any compassion beyond what it voluntarily fostered, without artifice of mine; for I rejoice that in this noble and courteous act my exertions have no part, all being your own, and springing from the greatness and compassion of your individual mind. Most gladly should I thank your Excellency for what you have done, and will do, in my behalf, could I invent words and terms fit for such thanks; but what can I, or what should I say to you? To you I neither can nor ought to use such phrases as servants employ to their masters, benefited to their benefactors, favoured to those who confer obligations, because, as my misery was incomparable and unprecedented, so it would become me to invent expressions signifying how much I owe to your Excellency who rescues me from it. I shall, therefore, say, that since, thanks to you, I emerge from a condition so low, so disgraced, so wretched, and so reduced in reputation and in the opinion of mankind, who looked upon me as virtually dead, I seem to have received a new health from you, by reason whereof I acknowledge your Excellency, not only as a prince and benefactor to whom I owe much, but it may almost be permitted me to add, as a creator, and I seem to say but little in avowing myself your most obliged and highly favoured servant, if I add not creature.[194] Such, accordingly, I shall formally avow myself, and in that light I pray you for the future to regard me, and to contrive that I am regarded by others, taking entire possession of me and of my free will, which I fully submit to your sway. And this I should do with all my affairs, were it in my power; but some of them are not at my own disposal, or they should be placed at that of him to whom I have surrendered myself. And herewith humbly I kiss your hands, assuring you that these words have been engraven by me on my heart, ere they were traced upon this sheet."
The expectations which dictated this touching letter were amply realised. After a reception of singular kindness, the good Duke recommended medical advice for Tasso's now obvious malady; and an issue prescribed for his arm was dressed by the Princess Lavinia della Rovere, whose sedulous care was rewarded in a madrigal. By such solace his restlessness, however, prevented him from long profiting. After reaching Ferrara some months later, his mania broke out in more threatening symptoms, and, on the 21st February, 1579, he was consigned to the hospital of Sant'Anna.
From the sadder scenes and secrets of his life it were useless to raise the veil. Even the year after he entered it, Montaigne, a shrewd and unbiased witness, whose testimony may countervail much hearsay and conjecture, found him in "most pitiable state, surviving himself, neglectful of his person and works." Seven years had worn away in pitiable isolation, when a violent fever nearly closed his darkened existence, after which, whether from an abatement of his phrenetic symptoms, or in the hope of contributing to his physical restoration, Alfonso sanctioned his liberation, at the request of Prince Vincenzo of Mantua, the supposed assassin of our Admirable Crichton, who undertook the watchful care which his case required. Princess Leonora died in 1581, and, on various subsequent occasions, Duchess Lucrezia interfered with little success in his behalf, but, from the time of his leaving the hospital, his intercourse with her family was at an end. He had written from thence several letters to the Duke of Urbino, and, after his convalescence, addressed to him a rambling discourse on his real and imaginary grievances, which shows a mind still shaken, if not unhinged. But, though the kind feelings of his early playmate underwent no change, Tasso returned not to Urbino during many after wanderings, fearing perhaps to revisit, in circumstances so altered, the scenes of his brighter days.[195] The nine remaining years of his life were, on the whole, less afflicted; for, though ever restless in body, and often haunted by imaginary evils and visions, he enjoyed intervals of comparative serenity, especially in his beloved Bay of Naples, and at the house of his kind friend and biographer Manso, of which, half a century later, John Milton was the honoured guest.