No More Learning

I shall owe it enough, if it teaches me the better to appre-
ciate the tender generosity of N evil. " -- " N evil is lik e other
men," rej oined the Count; " he will return to his country,
resume his career there, and be reasonable at last; you will
ex pose your reputation most imprudently by going to N aples
with him. " -- " I k now not his intentions," she answered;
" and, perhaps, it would have been better to have reflected
ere I loved him; but now -- what matters one sacrifice
more? Does not my life depend on his love? I ndeed, I
feel some solace in leaving myself without one resource; there
never is any for wounded hearts, but the world may some-
times think that such remains; and I love to k now that
even in this respect my misfortune would be complete, if
N evilabandonedme. " -- " A nddoeshek nowhowfaryou
commit yourself for his sak e? " -- " N o; I have tak en great
pains, as he is but imperfectly acq uainted with the customs
of this country, to ex aggerate the liberty it permits. Give
me your word that you will say nothing to him on this
head. I wish him to be ever free; he cannot constitute
my felicity by giving up any portion of his own. H is love
is the flower of my life; and neither his delicacy nor his
goodness could reanimate it, if once faded. I conj ure you,
then, dear Count, leave me to my fate. N othing that you
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 177
k now of the heart' s affections can suit my case: all you say
is right, and very applicable to ordinary persons and situa-
tions; but you innocently do me great wrong in j udging
ine by the common herd, for whom there are so many
max ims ready made. I enj oy, I suffer, in my own,way;
and it is of me alone that those should think who seek to
influence my welfare. " The self-love of d' E rfeuil was a
little stung by the futility of his advice; and, by the mark
of preference shown to N evil, he k new that he himself
was not dear to Corinne, and that O swald was; yet that all
this should be so publicly evinced was somewhat disagreeable
to him. The success of any man, with any woman, is apt
to displease even his best friends. " I see I can do nothing
here," he added;
will remember me;
you and N evil I
" but, when my words are fulfilled, you
meantime I shall leave R ome* without
should be ennuied to death. I
shall surely
have tak
see you both again in I taly or S cotland; for I
en a
he
fancy to travel, while waiting for better things. F orgive my
counsel, charming Corinne, and ever depend on my devotion
to you. " S he thank ed and parted from him with regret. S
had k
link
d' E
nown him at the same time with O swald; that was a
she lik ed not to see brok en; but she acted as she had told
rfeuil she should do. S ome anx iety still troubled
O swald' s j oy: he would fain have obtained her secret, that
he might be certain they were not to be separated by any
invincible obstacle; but she declared she would ex plain
nothing till they were at N aples; and threw a veil over
what might be said of the step she was tak ing. O swald
lent himself to this illusion: love, in a weak , uncertain cha-
racter, deceives by halves, reason remains half clear, and
present emotions decide which of the two halves shall be-
come the whole. ' The mind of N evil was singularly ex -
pansive and penetrating; yet he could only j udge himself
correctly in the past; his ex isting situation appeared to
him ever in confusion. S usceptible alik e of rashness and
remorse, of passion and timidity, lie was incapable of
understanding his' own state, until events had decided the
combat. W hen the friends of Corinne were apprised of
her plan they were greatly distressed, especially Prince
Castel F orte, who resolved to follow her as soon as possible.
N
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? 178 corik ne; or italy.
H e had not the vanity to oppose her accepted lover, but he
could not support the frightful void left by the absence of
his fair friend; he had no acq uaintance whom he was not
wont to meet at her house; he visited no other. The
society she attracted round her must be dispersed by her
departure, so wreck ed that it would soon be impossible to
restore it. H e was little accustomed to live among his
family; though ex tremely intelligent, study fatigued him;
the day would have been too heavy but for his morn and
evening visit to Corinne. S he was going; he could but
guess why; yet secretly promised himself to rej oin her, not
lik e an ex acting lover, but as one ever ready to console her,
if unhappy, and who might have been but too sure that
such a time would come. Corinne felt some melancholy in
loosening all the ties of habit; the life she had led in R ome
was agreeable to her; she was the centre round which\
circled all its celebrated artists and men of letters -- perfect
freedom had lent charms to her ex istence: what was she
to be now? if destined to be O swald' s wife, he would tak e
her to E ngland: how should she be received there? how
restrain herself to a career so different from that of her last
six years? These thoughts did but pass over her mind;
love for O swald effaced their light track . S he saw him,
heard him, and counted the hours but by his presence or
absence. W ho can refuse the happiness that seek s them?
Corinne, of all women, was the least forethoughted; nor
hope nor fear was made for her; her faith in the future
was indistinct, and in this respect her fancy did her as
little good as harm. The morning of her departure Castel
F orte came to her, with tears in his eyes. " W ill you
returnnomoretoR ome? " heask ed. -- " MyGod,yes! " she
cried; " weshallbeback inamonth. " -- " B ut,ifyouwed
L ordN evil,youwillleaveI taly. " -- " L eaveI taly! " she
sighed " Y es; the country where we speak your language,
and understand you so well; where you are so vividly
admired, and for friends, Corinne,-- where will you be
beloved as you are here? where find the arts, the thoughts
that please you? Can a single attachment constitute your
life? Do not language, customs, and manners, compose
that love of country which inflicts such terrible grief on the
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 179
ex ile? " -- " W hatsayyou? " criedCorinne:" haveI not
ex perienced it? " Did not that very grief decide ray fate? "
S he look ed sadly on the statues that deck ed her room; then
on the Tiber, rolling beneath her windows;
whose smile seemed inviting her to stay;
ment O swald crossed the bridge of S t. A
and the sk y
but at that mo-
ngelo on horse-
back . " H ere he is ! " cried Corinne: she had scarcely said
the words ere he was beside her. S he ran before him, and
both, impatient to set forth, took their places in the carriage;
yet Corinne paid a k ind adieu to Castel F orte; but it was
lost among the shouts of postilions, the neighing of horses,
and all the bustle of departure -- sometimes sad -- some-
times intox icating,-- j ust as fear or hope may be inspired by
the new chances of coming destiny.
BOOKXL
N A PL E S ,A N DTH E H E R MI TA GE O PS T. S A L V A DO R .
CH A PTE R I .
O swald was proud of bearing off his conq uest; though
usually disturbed in his enj oyments by reflections and
regrets, he felt less so now: not that he was decided, but
that he did not trouble himself to be so; he yielded to the
course of events, hoping to be borne towards the haven of
his wishes. They crossed the Campagna d' A lbano, where
still is shown the supposed tomb of the H oratii and
Curatii. (7) They passed near the L ak e of N emi, and the
sacred woods that surround it, where it is said H ippolitus
was restored to life by Diana, who permitted no horses ever to
enter it more, in remembrance of her young favourite' s
misfortune. Thus, in I taly, almost at every step, history
and poetry add to the graces of nature, sweeten the memory
of the past, and seem to preserve it in eternal youth.
O swald and Corinne nex t traversed the Pontine marshes
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? 180 corinne; or italy.
fertile and pestilent at once, unenlivened by a single ha-
bitation. S q ualid-look ing men put to the horses, advising
you to k eep awak e while passing through this air, as sleep
is ever the herald of death. . B uffaloes, of the most stupid
ferocity, draw the plough, which imprudent cultivators some-
times employ upon this fatal land; and the most brilliant
sunshine lights up the whole. Unwholesome swamps in
the north are indicated by their frightful aspects; but in
the most dangerous countries of the south nature deceives
the traveller by her serenest welcome. I f it be true that
slumber is so perilous on these fens, the drowsiness their
heat produces adds still more to our sense of the perfidy
around us. N evil watched constantly over Corinne. W hen
she languidly closed her eyes, or leaned her head on the
shoulder of Theresina, he awak ened her with inex pressible
terror; and, silent as he was by nature, now found inex -
haustible topics for conversation, ever new, to prevent her
submitting for an instant to this murderous sleep. May we
not forgive the heart of woman for the despairing regret
with which it clings to the days when she was beloved?
when her ex istence was so essential to that of another, that
its every instant was protected by his arm? W hat isolation
must succeed that delicious time! H appy they whom the
sacred link of marriage gently leads from love to friendship,
without one cruel moment having torn their hearts.
A t last our voyagers arrived at Terracina, on the coast
bordering the k ingdom of N aples. There the scuth, indeed
begins, and receives the stranger in its full magnificence.
The Campagna F elice seems separated from the rest of
E urope, not only by the sea, but by the destructive land
which must be crossed to reach it. I t is as if nature
wished to k eep her loveliest secret, and therefore rendered
the roads to it so hazardous. N ot far from Terracina
is the promontory chosen by poets as the abode of Circea,
behind rises Mount A nx ur, where Theodoric, k ing of the
Goths, built one of his strongest castles. There are few
traces of these invading barbarians left, and those, being
mere work s of destruction, are confounded with the work s
of time. The northern nations have not given I taly that
warlik e aspect which Germany retains. I t seems as if the
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 181
soft earth of A usonia could not k eep the fortifications and
citadels that bristle through northern snows. R arely is a
Gothic edifice or feudal castle to be found here. The
antiq ue R omans still reign over the memory even of their
conq uerors. The whole of the mountain above Terracina
is covered with orange and lemon trees, that delicately em-
balm the air. N othing in our own climes resembles the
effect of this perfume: it is lik e that of some ex q uisite
melody, ex citing and inebriating talent into poetry. The
aloes and large-leaved cactus that abound here remind one
of A frica' s gigantic vegetation, almost fearfully; they seem
belonging to a realm of tyranny and violence. E very thing
is strange as another world, k nown but by the songs of
antiq ue bards, who, in all their lays, evinced more ima-
gination than truth. A s they entered Terracina, the
children threw into Corinne' s carriage immense heaps of
flowers, gathered by the wayside, or on the hills, and
strewn at random, so confident are they in the prodigality
of nature. The waggons that bring the harvest from the
fields are daily garlanded with roses: one sees and hears,
beside these smiling pictures, the waves that rage unlashed
by storms against the rock s, eternal barriers that chafe the
ocean'
" E
I I
" A
s pride.
non udite ancor come risuona
roco ed alto fremito lnarino ? ' *
nd hear you not still how resounds
The hoarse and deep roar of the sea? "
This endless motion, this aimless strength, renewed eternally,
whose cause and termination are alik e unk nown to us, draws
us to the shore whence so grand a spectacle may be seen,
till we feel a fearful desire to rush into its waves, and stun
our thoughts amid their tumultuous voices.
Towards evening all is calm. Corinne and N eville wan-
dered slowly forth: they stepped on flowers, and scattered
their sweets as they pressed them. The nightingale rests
on the rose-bushes, and blends the purest music with the
richest scents. A ll nature' s charms seem mutually at-
tracted; but the most entrancing and inex pressible of all is
the mildness of the air. I n contemplating a fine northern
n3
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? 182CO R I N N E J O R I TA L Y .
view, the climate always q ualifies our pleasure. L ik e false
notes in a concert, the petty sensations of cold and damp
distract attention; but in approaching N aples you breathe
so freely, feel such perfect ease ; , with such bounteous friend-
ship does nature welcome you, that nothing impairs your
delight. Man' s every relation, in our lands, is with society:
in warm climates his affections overflow among ex terior
obj ects. I t is not that the south has not its melancholy--
in what scenes can human destiny fail to awak en it? but
here it is unmix ed with discontent or anx iety. E lsewhere
life, such as it is, suffices not the faculties of man: here those
faculties suffice not for a life whose superabundance of
sensations induce a pensive indolence, for which those who
feel it can scarce account.
During the night the fire-flies fill the air: one might
suppose that the burning earth thus let her flames escape
in light: these insects wanton through the trees, sometimes
pitching on their leaves; and as the wind waves them, the
uncertain gleam of these little stars is varied in a thousand
ways. The sand also contains a number of small ferru-
ginous stones, that shine through it, as if earth cherished
in her breast the last rays of the vivifying sun. E very
where is united a life and a repose that satisfy at once all
the wishes of ex istence.
Corinne yielded to the charm of such a night with heart-
felt j oy. O swald could not conceal his emotion. O ften he
pressed her hand to his heart, then withdrew, returned, re-'
tired again, in respect for her who ought to be the companion
of his life. S he thought not of her danger: such was her
esteem for him, that, had he demanded the gift of her entire
being, she would not have doubted that such prayer was
but a solemn vow to mak e her his wife; she was glad, how-
ever, that he triumphed over himself, and honoured her by
the sacrifice: her soul was so replete with love and hap-
piness, that she could not form another wish. O swald was
far from this calm: fired by her beauty, he once embraced
her k nees with violence, and seemed to have lost all empire
over his passion; but Corinne look ed on him with so sweet
a fear, as if confessing his power, in entreating him not to
abuse it, that this humble defence ex torted more reverence
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? CO R I N N E ,O R I TA L Y . 183
than any other could have done. They saw reflected in the
wave a torch which some unk nown hand bore along the
beach, to a rendezvous at a neighbouring house. " H e
goes to his love," said O swald; " and for me the happiness
of this day will soon be over. " Corinne' s eyes, then raised
to heaven, were rilled with tears. O swald, fearing he had
offended her, fell at her feet, begging her to pardon the love
which hurried him away. S he gave him her hand, pro-
posing their return together. " O swald," she said, " you
will, I am assured, respect her you love; you k now that
the simplest req uest of yours would be resistless: it is you,
then, who must answer for me; you, who would refuse me
for your wife, if you had rendered me unworthy to be so. "
-- ' ' W ell," saidO swald," sinceyouk nowthecruel
potency of your will over my heart, whence, whence this
sadness? " -- " A las," she replied, " I had told myself that
my last moments passed with you were the happiest of my
life; and, as I look ed gratefully to heaven, I k now not by
what chance a childish superstition came back upon my
mind. The moon was hid by a cloud of fatal aspect. I
have always found the sk y either paternal or angry; and I
tell you, O swald, that to-night it condemns our love. " --
" Dearest," cried he, " the only auguries are good or evil
actions; and have I not this evening immolated my most
ardent desires to virtue ? " -- " I t is well," added Corinne:
" if you are not involved in this presage, it may be that the
stormy heaven menaces but myself. "
CH A PTE R I I .
They arrived atN aples by day, amid its immense population
of animated idlers. They first crossed the S trada del Toledo,
and saw the L azzaroni lying on the pavement, or crouching in
the wick er work s that serve them for dwellings night and
day; this savage state, blending with civilisation, has a very
orginal air. There are many among these men who k now
not even their own names; who come to confession anony-
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? 184? CO R I X N E ; O R I TA L Y .
mously, because they cannot tell what to call the offenders.
There is a subterranean grotto, where thousands of L azzaroni
pass their lives, merely going at noon to look on the sun,
and sleeping during the rest of the day, while their wives
spin. I n climates where food and raiment are so cheap,
it req uires a very active government to spread sufficient
national emulation: material subsistence is so easy there,
that they dispense with the industry req uisite elsewhere for
our daily bread. I dleness and ignorance, combined with
the volcanic air they imbibe, must produce ferocity when
the passions are ex cited; yet these people are no worse
than others: they have imagination which might prove the
parent of disinterested actions, and lead to good results, did
their political and religious institutions set them good
ex amples.
The Calabrese march towards the fields they cultivate
with a musician at their head, to whose tunes they occa-
sionally dance, by way of variety. E very year is held near
N aples a fete to our L ady of the Grotto, at which the girls
dance to the sound of tambourines and castanets; and
they often mak e it a clause in their marriage contracts,
that their husbands shall tak e them annually to this fete.
There was an actor of eighty, who for six ty years diverted
the N eapolitans, in their national part of Polichinello.
W hat immortality does the soul deserve which has thus
long employed the body? The people of N aples k now no
good but pleasure; yet even such taste is preferable to bar-
ren selfishness. I t is true that they love money inordinately:
if you ask your way in the streets the man addressed holds
out his hand as soon as he has pointed: they are often too
lazy for words; but their love of gold is not that of the
miser; they spend as they receive it. I f coin were intro-
duced among savages, they would demand it in the same
way. W hat the N eapolitans want most is a sense of dignity.
They perform generous and benevolent actions rather from
impulse than principle. Their theories are worth nothing;
and public opinion has no influence over them; but, if any
here escape this moral anarchy, their conduct is more
admirable than might be found elsewhere, since nothing in
their ex terior circumstances is favourable to virtue. N or
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 185
laws nor manners are there to reward or punish. The
good are the more heroic, as they are not the more sought or
better considered for their pains. W ith some honourable
ex ceptions, the highest class is very lik e the lowest; the
mind is as little cultivated in the one as in the other.
Dress mak es the only difference. B ut, in the midst of all this,
there is at bottom a natural cleverness and aptitude, which
shows us what such a nation might become, if the govern.
ment devoted its powers to their mental and moral im.
provement. A s there is little education, one finds more
originality of character than of wit; but the distinguished
men of this country, such as the A bbe Galiani, and
Caraccioli, possessed, it is said, both pleasantry and reflec-
tion,-- rare union, without which either pedantry or frivolity
must prevent men from k nowing the true value of things.
I n some respects the N eapolitans are q uite uncivilised; but
their vulgarity is not lik e that of others; their very gross-
ness strik es the imagination. W e feel that the A frican
shore is near us. There is something N umidian in the
wild cries we hear from all sides. The brown faces, and
dresses of red or purple stuff, whose strong colours catch
the eye, those ragged cloak s, draped so artistically, give
something picturesq ue to the populace, in whom, elsewhere,
we can but mark the steps of civilisation. A certain taste for
ornament is here found, contrasted with a total want of all
that is useful. The shops are deck
some of them have a holyday look
private plenty nor public felicity;
ed with fruit and flowers;
, that belongs neither to
but solely to vivacious
fancy, which fain would feast the eye at any rate. The
mild clime permits all k inds of labourers to work in the
streets. Tailors there- mak e clothes, and cook s pastry, --
these household task s performed out of doors much augment
the action of the scene. S ongs, dances, and noisy sports
accompany this spectacle. There never was a country in
which the difference between amusement and happiness
might be more clearly felt; yet leave the interior for the
q uays, look on the sea, and V esuvius, and you forget all that
you k now of the natives. O swald and Corinne reached
N aples while the eruption still lasted. B y day it sent forth but
a black smok e, which might be confounded with the clouds;
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? 186 CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
but in the evening, going to the balcony of their abode,
they received a most unex pected shock . A flood of fire
rolled down to the sea, -- its flaming waves imitating the
rapid succession, and indefatigable movement of the ocean' s
billows. I t might be said that nature, though dividing
herself into different elements, preserved some traces of her
single and primitive design. This phenomenon really
mak es the heart palpitate. W e are so familiarised with
the work s of heaven, that we scarcely notice them with any
new sensation in our prosaic realms j but the wonder which
the universe ought to inspire is suddenly j enewed at the
sight of a miracle lik e this: our whole being is agitated by
its Mak er' s power, -i-- from which our social connections
have turned our thoughts so long: we feel that man is not
the world' s chief mystery; that a strength independent of
his own at once threatens and protects him, by a law to
him unk nown. O swald and Corinne promised themselves
the pleasure of ascending V esuvius, and felt an added de-
light in think ing of the danger they thus should brave
together.
CH A PTE R I I I .
There was at that time in the harbour an E nglish ship of
war, where divine service was performed every S unday.
The captain and other E nglish persons then at N aples in-
vited L ord N evil to attend on the morrow. H e promised;
but while think ing whether he should tak e Corinne, or how
she could be presented to his countrywomen, he was tor-
tured by anx iety. A s he walk ed with her near the port
nex t day, and was about to advise her not to go on board
this vessel, a boat neared the shore, rowed by ten sailors,
dressed in white, wearing black velvet caps, with the L eo-
pard embroidered on them in silver. A young officer
stepped on shore, and entreated Corinne to let him tak e her
to the ship, calling her " L ady N
blushed, and cast down her eyes. O
ment, then said in E nglish, ' '
evil. " A t that name she
swald hesitated a mo-
Come, ray dear:" she
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 187
obeyed. The sound of the waves made her thoughtful,
as did the silence of the well disciplined crew, who, with-
out one superfluous word or gesture, rapidly winged their
bark over the element they had so often traversed. Co-
rinne dared not ask N evil what she was to anticipate; she
strove to guess his proj ects, never hitting on what, at all
times, was most probable, that he had none, but let himself
be borne away by every new occurrence. F or a moment,
she imagined that he was leading her to a church of E ng-
land chaplain to mak e her his wife: this thought alarmed
more than it gratified her. S he felt about to leave I taly
for E ngland, where she had suffered so much: the severity
of its manners returned to her mind, and not even love
could triumph over her fear. H ow she would in other
circumstances have wondered at these fleeting ideas! S he
mounted the vessel' s side: it was arranged with the most
careful neatness. N othing was heard from its deck but
the commands of the captain. S ubordination and serious
regularity here reigned, as emblems of liberty and order,
in contrast with the impassioned turmoil of N aples. O s-
wald eagej ly watched the impression this made on Corinne,
yet he was often diverted from his attention by the love
he bore his country. There is no second country for an
E nglishman, ex cept a ship and the sea. O swald j oined
the B ritons on board to ask the news, and talk politics.
Corinne stood beside some E nglish females who had come
to hear prayers. They were surrounded by children,
beautiful as day, but timid lik e their mothers, and not a
word was spok en before the stranger. This restraint was
sad enough for Corinne: she look ed towards fair N aples,
thought of its flowery shore, its lively habits, and sighed.
H appily O swald heard her not; on the contrary, seeing
her seated among his sisters, as it were, her dark eyelashes
cast down lik e their light ones, and in every way conform-
ing with their customs, he felt a thrill of j oy. V ainly
does an E nglishman tak e a temporary pleasure among
foreign scenes and people; his heart invariably flies back to
his first impressions. I f you find him sailing from the
antipodes, and ask whither he is going, he answers " H ome"
if it is towards E ngland that he steers. H is vows, his
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? 188 corinne; or italy.
sentiments, at whatever distance he may he, are always
turned towards her. * They went helow for divine service.
Corinne perceived that her first conj ecture was unfounded,
and that N evil' s intentions were less solemn than she sup-
posed; then she reproached herself for having feared, and
again felt all the embarrassment of her situation; for every
one present believed her the wife of L ord N evil, and she
could say nothing either to confirm or to destroy this idea.
O swald suffered as cruelly. S uch faults as weak ness and
irresolution are never detected by their possessor, for
whom they tak e new names from each fresh circumstance;
sometimes he tells himself that prudence, sometimes that
delicacy defers the moment of action, and prolongs his
suspense. Corinne, in spite of her painful thoughts, was
deeply impressed by all she witnessed. N othing speak s
more directly to the soul than divine service on board ship,
for which the noble simplicity of the R eformed Church
seems particularly adapted. A young man acted as chap-
lain, with a firm, sweet voice: his face bespok e a purity
of soul: he stood " severe in youthful beauty," a type of the
religion fit to be preached amidst the risk s of . war. A t
certain periods the E nglish minister pronounced prayers,
the last words of which were repeated by the whole assem-
bly: these confused, yet softened tones, coming from vari-
ous distances, re-animated the interest of the whole. S ailors
and officers alik e k nelt to the words, " L ord, have mercy
upon us! " The Captain' s cutlass hung by his side, sug-
gesting the glorious union of humility before God, and
courage among men, which renders the devotion of warriors
so affecting. W hile all these brave fellows addressed the
God of H osts, the sea was seen through the ports; the light
sound of its now peaceful waves was audible, as if to say,
" Y our prayers are heard. " The chaplain concluded with
a petition peculiar to E nglish sailors, " A nd may God
grant us the grace to defend our happy constitution abroad,
* W ho that has one beloved obj ect absent for any considerable space of time,
can read this tribute from a foreigner without tears of pride and rapture, at
the consciousness that whoever is left behind, though little valued while
near, gains a sad importance as part of that home, that E ngland, to which the
dear one must long to return? The natives of great continents may love their
birthplaces as well as we do ours; but it cannot be in the same manner. -- Tj l
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? C0MN N E ; O R I TA L Y . 189
and to find on our Teturn domestic peace at home. "
W hat grandeur is contained in these simple words! The
preparatory and continual study which the navy demands,
the life led in those warlik e and floating cloisters, the uni-
formity of their grave toils, is seldom interrupted, save by
danger or death. N evertheless, sailors often hehave with
ex treme gentleness and pity towards women and children,
if thrown on their care: one is the more touched by this,
from k nowing the heedless coolness with which they ex pose
their lives in battle, and on that main where the presence
of man seems something supernatural. N evil and Corinne
were again rowed on shore: they gazed on N aples, built
lik e an amphitheatre, thence to look on the spectacle of
nature.
A s Corinne' s foot touched the shore, she could not
check a sentiment of j oy: had O swald guessed this, he
would have felt displeased, perhaps ex cusably; yet such
displeasure would have been unj ust, for he was passion-
ately beloved, though the thought of his country always
forced on his adorer the memory of events which had
rendered her miserable. H er fancy was changeful: talent,
especially in a woman, creates a zest for variety that the
deepest passion cannot entirely supply. A monotonous life,
even in the bosom of content, dismays a mind so con-
stituted: without a breeze to fill our sails we may always
hug the shore; but imagination will stray, be sensibility
never so faithful, at least till misfortune slays these trifling
impulses, and leaves us but one thought, one only sorrow.
O swald attributed the reverie of Corinne solely to the
awk ward situation of her having been called L ady N evil:
he blamed himself for not ex tricating her from it, and
feared that she might suspect him of levity. H e, there-
fore, began the long desired ex planation, by offering to
relate his own history. " I shall speak
" and your confidence will follow mine?
first," he said,
" -- " Doubtless
" you wish it -- at
it ought,"
what day --
replied Corinne, trembling;
all. "
" W
-- " H ow sadly you are agitated! " said O swald.
ill you always fear me thus, nor ever learn to trust my
what hour? when you have spok en I will tell
heart? " -- " I t must be," she answered: " I have written
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? 190 ' corinne; or italy.
it, and if yon insist-- to-morrow-- " -- " To-mo<< row we
go to V esuvius: you shall teach me to admire it; and on
our way, if I have strength enough, I will give you the
story of my own doom: that shall precede yours, I am re-
solved. " --
morrow: I
tell if, when I
" W ell," replied Corinne," you give me to-
thank you for that one day more. W ho can
have opened my heart to you, you will re-
main the same? H ow can I help trembling beneath such
doubt? "
CH A PTE R I V .
O ur lovers commenced their route by the ruins of Pom-
peii. B oth were silent, for the decisive moment now drew
nigh; and the vague hope so long enj oyed, so accordant
with the clime, was about to give place to yet unk nown
reality. Pompeii is the most curious ruin of antiq uity.
I n R ome one hardly finds any wreck s, save those of public
work s, associated with the political changes of by-gone
centuries. I n Pompeii you retrace the private life of the
ancients. The volcano which buried it in ashes pre-
served it from decay. N o edifices, ex posed to the air,
could thus have lasted. Pictures and bronzes k eep their
primal beauty, while all domestic implements remain in
overawing perfection. The amphoras are still deck ed
for the morrow' s festival. The flour that was to have
been k neaded into cak es is yet there: the remains of a fe-
male are adorned for this interrupted fete, her fleshless
arm no longer filling the j ewelled bracelet that yet hangs ^ x .
about it. N owhere else can one behold such proofs of /)
death' s abrupt invasion. The track of wheels is visible in
the streets; and the stone-work of the wells bears the
mark s of the cords that had worn away their edges by
degrees. O n the walls of the guard-room are seen the ill-
formed letters, and rudely sk etched figures, which the sol-
diers had scrawled to beguile their time, while Time him-
self was striding to devour them. W hen, from the midst
of the cross-roads, you see all sides of the town, nearly as
it ex isted of yore, you seem to ex pect that some one will
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 191
come fropi these masterless dwellings: this appearance of
life renders the eternal silence of the place still more ap-
palling. Most of the houses are built of lava,-- and fresh
lava destroyed them. The epochs of the world are counted
from fall to fall. The thought of human beings, toiling
by the light that consumed them, fills the breast with me-
lancholy. H ow long it is since man first lived, suffered,
and died! W here can we find the thoughts of the de-
parted? do they still float around these ruins? or are they
gathered for ever to the heaven of immortality? A few
scorched manuscripts, which were partly unrolled at Por-
tici, are all that is left us of these victims to earthq uak e
and volcano. B ut in drawing near such relics we dread
to breathe, lest we should scatter with their dust the noble
ideas perhaps impressed on it. The public buildings,
even of Pompeii, which was one of the smallest I talian
towns, are very handsome. The splendour of the ancients
seemed always intended for the general good. Their
private houses are small, and deck ed but by a taste for the
fine arts. Their interiors possess agreeable pictures, and
tasteful mosaic pavements; on many of them, near the
door-sill, is inlet the word " S alve. " This salutation
was not surely one of simple politeness, but an invitation to
hospitality. The rooms are remark ably narrow, with no
windows towards the street, nearly all of them opening
into a portico, or the marble court round which the rooms
are constructed: in its centre is a simply elegant cistern.
I t is evident that the inhabitants lived chiefly in the open
air, and even received their friends there. N othing can
give a more lux urious idea of life than a climate which
throws man into the bosom of nature. S ociety must have
meant something very different in such habits from what
it is where the cold confines men within doors. W e bet-
ter appreciate the dialogues of Plato while beholding the
porticoes beneath which the ancients passed half of their
day. They were incessantly animated by the beauteous
sk y. S ocial order, they conceived, was not the barren com-
bination of fraud and force, but a happy union of institu-
tions that ex cite the faculties, and develope the mind,
mak ing man' s obj ect the perfection of himself and his fel-
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