E Paradiso, ov'è si bella Donna!"
[As Apollo sheds his golden beams over the snowy summits of the lofty mountains, so flowed her golden tresses over her gown of white. But I need not note the time and place, for where shines so fair a sun it can be naught but day, and where dwells my lady fair can be but Paradise!]
While still preoccupied with what Mrs. Jameson terms his visions of love and poetry, he was called upon by his father, at the age of twenty-one, to marry, for political reasons, a woman whom he had never seen--Clarice Orsini. That the marriage was unexpected is attested by a note in his diary to this effect: "I, Lorenzo, took to wife, Donna Clarice Orsini, or rather she was given to me," on such and such a day. The ceremony was performed in Naples, it appears, but the wedding festivities were celebrated in Florence, and never was there a more brilliant scene in all the city's history. The fête began on a Sunday morning and lasted until midday of the Tuesday following, and for that space of time almost the entire population was entertained and fed by the Medici. On this occasion the wedding presents took a practical turn, in part, for, from friends and from some of the neighboring villages subject to the rule of Florence, supplies were sent in great quantities; among the number, record is made of eight hundred calves and two thousand pairs of chickens! There were music and dancing by day and by night; musicians were stationed in various parts of the city, and about them the dancers filled the streets. An adequate conception of this scene will perhaps be a matter of some difficulty, but those who know something of the way in which the people in modern Paris dance upon the smooth pavements on the night of the national holiday, the Quatorze Juillet, will possess at least a faint idea of what it must have been. That all classes of the population were cared for at this great festival is proved by the fact that one hundred kegs of wine were consumed daily, and that five thousand pounds of sweetmeats and candies were distributed among the people.
The marriage of the poet Ariosto with the beautiful Alessandra Strozzi, widow of Tito Strozzi, a noble Florentine who was famed in his day for his Latin poetry, was not concluded with any such display and magnificence, the author of the Orlando Furioso being in no position which made it necessary for him to entertain the whole population, and having ideas all his own regarding the advantage of publicity in such matters. Long before Ariosto's marriage, however, in the days of his youth and before he had ever set eyes upon the Titian-haired Alessandra, he fell captive to the charms of Ginevra Lapi, a young girl of Florentine family, who lived at or near Mantua. He met her first at a festa di ballo, we are told, and there he was much impressed with her grace and beauty, for she seemed like a young goddess among her less favored companions. Then began that attachment which lasted for long years and which seems to have inspired much of his earlier lyric poetry. Four years after their first meeting he writes that she was "dearer to him than his own soul and fairer than ever in his eyes," and she seems to have made a very strong impression upon his mind, as he mentions her long afterward with most genuine tenderness. What more than this may be said of Ginevra Lapi has not yet come to light, and it is due to the poet alone that her name has been handed down to posterity. If Ariosto had been an expansive and communicative man, we might know far more than we do of Ginevra and of the other friends of his youth, for he was a person of most impressionable nature, who was very susceptible to the allurements of beautiful women, and there is no doubt of the fact that he had a certain compelling charm which made him almost irresistible with the ladies of his entourage. However, the history of his affairs of the heart has baffled all investigators as yet, because the poet, from the very earliest days of his youth, made it a rule never to boast of his conquests or to speak of his friends in any public way. As a symbol of this gallant rule of conduct, there is still preserved at Ferrara one of Ariosto's inkstands, which is ornamented with a little bronze Cupid, finger upon lip in token of silence.
Early biographers and literary historians were inclined to give to Ginevra Lapi all credit for the more serious inspiration which prompted him to write the major part of his amatory verse, and so careful had he been to conceal the facts that it was not until many years after his death that his marriage to Alessandra Strozzi was generally known. Ariosto had been on a visit to Rome in the year 1515, and, on his return, he chanced to stop at Florence, where he intended to spend three or four days during the grand festival which was being held in honor of Saint John the Baptist. Arriving just in time to be present at some social function of importance, the poet there saw for the first time this lady who was to mean so much to him for all the rest of his life. It will be remembered that when Lorenzo de' Medici first met Lucrezia Donati he had been taken to some evening company, much against his will. In the present instance, it was the lady who showed disinclination to go into society, and her recent widowhood gave her good reason for her feeling in the matter; but, won over by the entreaties of her friends, da preghi vinta, she finally consented to go. What she wore and how she looked, and how she bore herself, and much more, do we know from Ariosto's glowing lines which were written in commemoration of this event. Her gown was of black, all embroidered with bunches of grapes and grape leaves in purple and gold. Her luxuriant blond hair, the richissima capellatura bionda, was gathered in a net behind and, parted in the middle, fell to her shoulders in long curls on either side of her face; and on her forehead, just where the hair was parted, she wore a twig of laurel, cunningly wrought in gold and precious stones.
Alessandra's most effective charm was her wonderful hair, of that color which had been made famous by the pictures of Titian and Giorgione, and it really seems that in Ariosto's time this color was so ardently desired that hair dyes were in common use, especially in Venice. It is with a feeling of some regret that we are led to reflect that much of that gorgeous hair which we have admired for so many years in the famous paintings of the Venetian masters may be artificial in its brilliant coloring, but such, alas! is probably the case. The fair Alessandra, nevertheless, had no need to resort to the dye pots of Venice, as Mother Nature had been generous in the extreme, and the poet was inspired by the truth, if the painters of the time were not. How unfortunate, then, that a serious illness was the means of her being shorn of this crowning glory! Her attending physician decided upon one occasion that it would be necessary to cut her hair to save her life, but later events proved that he had been over anxious and that this desperate remedy had been entirely uncalled for. Ariosto, as may well be believed, was indignant at the sacrifice, and wrote three sonnets regarding it before he cooled his anger. In one of these passionate protests occur the following lines, which will give some idea of his highly colored style and at the same time show us what an important place Alessandra Strozzi must have held in his affections: "When I think, as I do a thousand times a day, upon those golden tresses, which neither wisdom nor necessity but hasty folly tore, alas! from that fair head, I am enraged, my cheeks burn with anger, even tears gush forth bathing my face and bosom. I would die, could I but be avenged upon the impious stupidity of that rash hand. O Love, if such wrong goes unpunished, thine be the reproach!... Wilt thou suffer the loveliest and dearest of thy possessions to be boldly ravished and yet bear it in silence?"
Though Ariosto had come to Florence to spend but a summer day or two at Saint John's feast, his visit lengthened into weeks, and full six months had rolled around before he could tear himself away after that first eventful evening. As his time was spent with his friend Vespucci, Alessandra's brother-in-law, he had ample opportunity to bask in her smiles without exciting unfavorable comment; and when he finally did depart, he left his heart behind him. From that day until the time of his death it was known that he loved her, but their names were never coupled in any scandalous way, and it was only after the death of the poet that the fact was known that they had been secretly married. No one has been able to give the exact date of this marriage, but there is now little doubt with regard to the fact itself, and certain evidence leads to the conclusion that the wedding must have taken place in the year 1522. Why this matter was kept a secret has given rise to much speculation, for it would appear to the superficial observer that a public acknowledgment of the fact might have been a matter of pride to either the poet or the Signora Strozzi. Family reasons have been alleged by Baruffaldi, one of Ariosto's many biographers, but they seem entirely inadequate and unsatisfactory, and the whole matter still remains shrouded in mystery.
One side of the question which has not perhaps been presented before is this--would there have been any change in the tone of Ariosto's lyric verse if Alessandra had been known to all the world as his wife? With the possible exceptions of the Brownings and one or two others, the case is hardly recorded where a poet has been inspired to his highest efforts by his wedded wife, and it is extremely problematical whether or not in the present instance the fire and fervor of Ariosto's lines could have been kindled at a domestic hearth which all the world might see. The secret marriage was probably insisted upon by the wife, and all honor to Alessandra Strozzi for her pure heart in that corrupt time! But the fact was probably kept hidden to gratify some whim of the poet. The very situation is tinged with the romantic, the old adage about stolen sweets was undoubtedly as true in that time as it is to-day, and the poet had a restless nature which could ill brook the ordinary yoke of Hymen. So long as he could live in the Via Mirasole, and Alessandra in the stately Casa Strozzi, Ferrara had charms for him, and his muse was all aflame. Would this have been true if one roof had sheltered them?
Whatever the verdict may be in this matter, the fact remains that all of Ariosto's lyric poetry and many of the passages in the Orlando Furioso were inspired by his real love for some woman, and it was this living, burning passion which gives him his preeminence as a poet. He had mannerisms, it is true, and much that he wrote is apt to appear stilted to the ordinary English reader, but such mannerisms are only the national characteristics of most Italian poetry and must be viewed in that light. On the other hand, Ariosto's evident sincerity is in striking contrast to the cold, intellectual, amatory verse of Lorenzo de' Medici, which was, in truth, but an æsthetic diversion for that brilliant prince. And even this was due to the inspiration he received from the sight of a fair lady, many years his senior, for whom he had a most distant, formal, Platonic affection, while it never dawned upon him that his own wife's beauty might deserve a sonnet now and then.