[Footnote 30:  Lettere, vol. i. 257-262.]

[Footnote 31:  Those who adhere to the belief that all Tasso’s troubles came upon him through his liaison with Leonora, are here of course justified in arguing that on this point he could not write openly to the Duke.  Or they may question the integrity of the document.]

Manos, who wrote the history of Tasso’s life in the spirit of a novelist, has painted for us a romantic picture of the poet in a shepherd’s hut.[32] It recalls Erminia among the pastoral people.  Indeed, the interest of that episode in the Gerusalemme is heightened by the fact that its ill-starred author tested the reality of his creation ofttimes in the course of this pathetic pilgrimage.  Artists of the Bolognese Academy have placed Erminia on their canvases.  But, up to the present time, I know of no great painter who has chosen the more striking incident of Tasso exchanging his Court-dress for sheepskin and a fustian jacket in the smoky cottage at Velletri.

He reached Sorrento safely—­’that most enchanting region, which at all times offers a delightful sojourn to men and to the Muses; but at the warm season of the year, when other places are intolerable, affords peculiar solace in the verdure of its foliage, the shadow of its woods, the lightness of the fanning airs, the freshness of the limpid waters flowing from impendent hills, the fertile expanse of tilth, the serene air, the tranquil sea, the fishes and the birds and savory fruits in marvelous variety; all which delights compose a garden for the intellect and senses, planned by Nature in her rarest mood, and perfected by art with most consummate curiosity.’[33] Into this earthly paradise the wayworn pilgrim entered.

[Footnote 32:  Rosini’s edition of Tasso, vol. xxx. p. 144.]

[Footnote 33:  Manso, ib. p. 46.]

It was his birthplace; and here his sister still dwelt with her children.  Tasso sought Cornelia’s home.  After a dramatic scene of suspense, he threw aside his disguise, declared himself to be the poet of Italy and her brother; and for a short while he seemed to forget Courts and schools, pedants and princes, in that genial atmosphere.

Why did he ever leave Sorrento?  That is the question which leaps to the lips of a modern free man.  The question itself implies imperfect comprehension of Tasso’s century and training.  Outside the Court, there was no place for him.  He had been molded for Court-life from childhood.  It was not merely that he had no money; assiduous labor might have supplied him with means of subsistence.  But his friends, his fame, his habits, his ingrained sense of service, called him back to Ferrara.  He was not simply a man, but that specific sort of man which Italians called gentiluomo—­a man definitely modified and wound about with intricacies of association.  Therefore, he soon began a correspondence with the House of Este.  If we may trust Manso, Leonora herself wrote urgently insisting upon his return.[34] Yet in his own letters Tasso says that he addressed apologies to the duke and both princesses.  Alfonso and Lucrezia vouchsafed no answer.  Leonora replied coldly that she could not help him.[35]