Even when he is brought into the midst of the action of the time we see that he is apart from it.

As he wanders through the turmoil of the streets of Ferrara in Book iv., he is dreaming still of his own life, of his own soul.

His curiosity, wars and adventures are within.
The various lives he is anxious to live are lived in lonely imaginations.

The individuality he realises is in thought.

At this point then he is apart from his century--an exceptional temperament set in strong contrast to the world around him--the dreamer face to face with a mass of men all acting with intensity.