ved alike from his friends and foes, his repeated complaints
and occasional violences and extravagances of conduct, may have seemed
to a selfish prince to border closely upon mental derangement. But his
whole conduct during his imprisonment, the nature of the numerous
writings which he produced during that dark period, forbid us to
suppose that his intellect ever crossed the line which separates
reason from insanity. From out the gloom that surrounds the whole case
two points stand out clear and indisputable, that no indiscretion of
conduct or aberration of mind on the part of Tasso can possibly have
merited the sufferings to which he was subjected, and that whatever
may have been Alfonso's suspicions, his fiendish vengeance is one of
history's darkest crimes, and covers the tyrant with everlasting
disgrace.

Three objects attract the steps of the modern pilgrim in desolate
grass-grown Ferrara; the house, distinguished by a tablet, in which
Ariosto was born; the ancient castle in the centre of the town, in
whose courtyard Ugo and Parasina, whom Byron has immortalised, were
beheaded; and next door to the chief hotel--the Europa--and beside the
post-office, the huge hospital of St. Anne, in which Tasso was
confined. This last object is by far the most interesting. The sight
of it is not needed to sadden one more than the deserted streets
themselves do. The dungeon, indicated by a long inscription over the
door, is below the ground-floor of the hospital; it is twelve feet
long, nine feet wide, and seven feet high, and the light penetrates
through its grated windows from a small yard. By several authors,
including Goethe, considerable doubts have been expressed regarding
the authenticity of this cell; and certainly the present features of
the place are not confirmatory of the tradition. This doubt, however,
has not prevented relic-hunters--among whom Shelley may be
included--from carrying off in small fragments the whole of the
bedstead that once stood there, as well as cutting off large pieces
from the door which still survives. Lamartine wrote in pencil some
poetical lines upon the wall; and Byron, with his intense realism,
caused himself to be locked for an hour in it, that he might be able
to form some idea of the sufferings which he recorded in his _Lament
of Tasso_.

Less than sixty years ago the insane were treated with the utmost
inhumanity as accursed of God; and the asylums in which they were shut
up were disma