No More Learning

Men only resemble each other when sophisticated by
sordid or fashionable life; whatever is natural admits of
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? CO B I N N E ; O B I TA L Y . I I
variety. There is a slight gratification, at least for the
eyes, in that diversity of dress, which seems to promise us
ex perience in eq ually novel ways of feeling and of j
udgment.
The Greek , Catholic, and J ewish forms of worship ex ist
peaceably together in A ncona. Their ceremonies are
strongly contrasted; but the same sigh of distress, the same
petition for support, ascends to H eaven from all.
The Catholic church stands on a height that overlook s
the main, the lash of whose tides freq uently blends with
the chant of the priests. W ithin, the edifice is loaded
by ornaments of indifferent taste; but, pausing beneath the
portico, the soul delights to recall its purest of emotions--
religion, -- while gazing at that superb spectacle, the sea,
on which man never left his trace. H e may plough the
earth, and cut his way through mountains, or contract
rivers into canals, for the transport of his merchandise;
but if his fleets for a moment furrow the ocean, its waves
as instantly efface this slight mark of servitude, and it
again appears such as it was on the first day of its creation. *
L ord N evil had decided to start for R ome on the mor-
row, when he heard, during the night, a terrific cry from
the streets, and hastening from his hotel to learn the cause,
beheld a conflagration which, beginning at the port, spread
from house to house towards the top of the town. The
flames were reflected afar off in the sea; the wind, increasing
their violence, agitated their images on the waves, which
mirrored in a thousand shapes the blood-red features of a
lurid fire. The inhabitants, having no engine in good re-
pair (1), hurriedly bore forth what succour they could;
above their shouts was heard a clank of chains, as the slaves
from the galleys toiled to save the city which served them for
* L ord B yron translated this paragraph in the fourth canto of Clulde H arold,
but without ack nowledging whence the ideas were borrowed: --
" R oll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean -- roll 1
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man mark s the earth with ruin -- his control
S tops with the shore ; -- upon the wafry plain
The wreck s are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man'
>>****
Time writes no wrink
S uch as creation'
s ravage. * *
le on thine azure brow --
s dawn beheld, thou rollest now. "
S ee stanzas 1/9. and 182 Tr.
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? 12CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
a prison. The various people of the L evant, whom com-
merce had drawn to A ncona, betrayed their dread by the
stupor of their look s. The merchants, at sight of their
blazing stores, lost all presence of mind. Trembling for
fortune as much as for life, the generality of men were
scared from that zealous enthusiasm which suggests re-
sources in emergency.
The shouts of^ . sailors have ever something dreary in
their sound; fear now rendered them still more appalling.
The mariners of the A driatic were clad in peculiar red and
brown hoods, from which peeped their animated I talian
faces, under every ex pression of dismay. The natives,
lying on the earth, covered their heads with their cloak s, as
if nothing remained for them to do but ex clude the sight of
their calamity. R eck less fury and blind submission reigned
alternately, but no one evinced that coolness which re-
doubles our means and our strength.
O swald remembered that there were two E nglish vessels
in the harbour: the pumps of both were in perfect order: he
ran to the Captain' s house, and put off with him in a boat,
to fetch them. Those who witnessed this ex claimed to
him, " A h, you foreigners do well to leave our unhappy
town ! " -- " W e shall soon return," said O swald. They
did not believe him, till he came back , and placed one of the
pumps in front of the house nearest to the port, the other
before that which blazed in the centre of the street. Count
d' E rfeuil ex posed his life with gay and careless daring.
The E nglish sailors and L ord N evil' s servants came to his
aid, for the populace remained motionless, scarcely under-
standing what these strangers meant to do, and without the
slightest faith in their success. The bells rung from all
sides; the priests formed processions; weeping females
threw themselves before their sculptured saints ; but no one
thought on the natural powers which God has given man
for his own defence. N evertheless, when they perceived
the fortunate effects of O swald' s activity -- the flames ex -
tinguished, and their homes preserved -- rapture succeeded
astonishment: they pressed around him, and k issed his
hand with such ardent eagerness, that he was obliged by
feigned displeasure to drive them from him, lest they should
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 13
impede the rapid succession of necessary orders for saving
the town. E very one rank ed himself beneath O swald' s
command; for, in trivial as in great events, where danger
is, firmness will find its rightful station; and while men
strongly fear, they cease to feel j ealousy. A mid the general
tumult, N evil now distinguished shriek s more horrible than
aught he had previously heard, as if from the other ex tre-
mity of the town. H e enq uired their source; and was told
that they proceeded from the J ews' q uarter. The officer of
police was accustomed to close its gates every evening; the
fire gained on it, and the occupants could not escape.
O swald shuddered at the thought, and bade them instantly
open the barriers; but the women, who heard him, flung
themselves at his feet, ex claiming, " O h, our good angel!
you must be aware that it is certainly on their account we
have endured this visitation; it is they who bring us ill
fortune; and if you set them free, all the water of the
ocean will never q uench these flames. " They entreated him
to let the J ews be burnt with as much persuasive eloq uence
as if they had been petitioning for an act of mercy. N ot
that they were by nature cruel, but that their superstitious
fancies were forcibly struck by a great disaster. O swald
with difficulty contained his indignation at hearing a prayer
so revolting. H e sent four E nglish sailors, with hatchets,
to cut down the gate which confined these hapless men,
who instantly spread themselves about the town, rushing
to their merchandize, through the flames, with that greedi-
ness of wealth, which impresses us so painfully, when it
drives men to brave even death; as if human beings, in the
present state of society, had nothing to do with the simple
gift of life. There was now but one house, at the upper
part of the town, where the fire mock ed all efforts to sub-
due it. S o little interest had been shown in this abode,
that the sailors, believing it vacant, had carried their pumps
towards the port. O swald himself, stunned by the calls
for aid around him, had almost disregarded it. The con-
flagration had not been early communicated to this place,
but it had made great progress there. H e demanded so
earnestly what the dwelling was, that at last a man in-
formed him,-- the H ospital for Maniacs! O verwhelmed by
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? 1iCO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
these tidings, he look ed in vain for his assistants, or Count
d' E rfeuil, as vainly did he call on the inhabitants: they
were employed in tak ing care of their property, and deemed
it ridiculous to risk their lives for the sak e of men who
were all incurably mad. " I t will be no one' s fault if they
die, but a blessing to themselves and families," was the
general opinion ; but while they ex pressed it, O swald strode
rapidly towards the building, and even those who blamed
involuntarily followed him. O n reaching the house, he
saw, at the only window not surrounded by flame, the un-
conscious creatures, look ing on, with that heart-rending
laughter which proves either an ignorance of all life' s sad
realities, or such deep-seated despair as disarms death' s most
frightful aspect of its power. A n indefinite chill seized
him at this sight. I n the severest period of his own distress
he had felt as if his reason were deserting him; and, since
then, never look ed on insanity without the most painful
sympathy. H e secured a ladder which he found near,
placed it against the wall, ascended through the flames, and
entered, by its window, the room where the unfortunate
lunatics were assembled. Their derangement was suf-
ficiently harmless to j
only one was chained. F
sumed, and O swald'
ustify their freedom within doors;
ortunately the floor was not con-
s appearance in the midst of these
degraded beings had all the effect of enchantment; at first
they obeyed him without resistance. H e bade them de-
scend before him, one after the other, by the ladder, which
might in a few seconds be destroyed. The first of them
complied in silence, so entirely had O swald' s look s and
tones subdued him. A nother, heedless of the danger in
which the least delay must involve O swald and himself,
was inclined to rebel; the people, alive to all the horrors
of the situation, called on L ord N evil to come down,
and leave the senseless wretches to escape as they could;
but their deliverer would listen to nothing that could defeat
his generous enterprise. O f the six patients found in the
hospital, five were already safe. The only one remaining
was the youth who had been fettered to the wall. O swald
loosened his irons, and bade him tak e the same course as
his companions; but, on feeling himself at liberty, after
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 15
two years of bondage, he sprung about the room with frantic
delight, which, however, gave place to fury, when O swald
desired him to get out of the window. B ut finding per-
suasion fruitless, and seeing that the fatal element was fast
ex tending its ravages, he clasped the struggling maniac in
his arms; and, while the smok e prevented his seeing where
to step, leaped from the last bars of the ladder, giving the
rescued man, who still contended with his benefactor, into
the hands of persons whom he charged to guard him
carefully.
O swald, with his lock s disordered, and his countenance
sweetly yet proudly animated by the perils he had braved,
struck the gazing crowd with an almost fanatical admir-
ation ? the women, particularly, ex pressed themselves in that
fanciful language, the universal gift of I taly, which often
lends a dignity to the address of her humblest children.
They cast themselves on their k nees before him, crying, --
" A ssuredly thou art S t. Michael, the patron of A ncona.
S how us thy wings, yet do not fly, save to the top of our
cathedral, where all may see and pray to thee ! " -- " My
child is ill, oh cure him! " said one. -- " ? W here,"
another, " is my husband, who has been absent so many
years? tell me! " O swald was longing to escape, when
added
d' E rfeuil, j oining him, pressed his hand. " Dear N
he began, " could you share nothing with your friend?
' twas cruel to k eep all the glory to yourself. " -- "
from this place ! " returned O swald in a low voice. A
evil! "
H elp me
mo-
ment' s dark ness favoured their flight, and both hastened in
search of post-horses. S weet as was the first sense of the
good he had j ust effected, with whom could he partak e it,
now that his best friend was no more? S o wretched is the
orphan, that felicity and care alik e reminds him of his heart' s
solitude. W hat substitute has life for the affection born
with us? for that mental intercourse, that k indred sym-
pathy, that friendship, formed by H eaven to ex ist but
between parent and child? W e may love again; but the
happiness of confiding the whole soul to another,-- that we
can never regain.
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? 16 CO B I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
CHAPTER V.
O swald sped to R ome, over the Marches of A ncona, and
the Papal S tate, without remark ing or interesting himself
in any thing. B esides its melancholy, his disposition had
a natural indolence, from which it could only be roused by
some strong passion. H is taste was not yet developed; he
had lived but in E ngland and F rance * : in the latter,
society is every thing; in the former, political interests nearly
absorb all others. H is mind, concentrated in his griefs,
could not yet solace itself in the wonders of nature, or the
work
D' E
B ook
s of art.
rfeuil, running through every town, with the Guide-
in his hand, had the double pleasure of mak ing away
with his time, and of assuring himself that there was
nothing to see worthy the praise of any one who had been in
F rance. This nil admirari of his discouraged O swald, who
was also somewhat prepossessed against I taly and I talians.
H e could not yet penetrate the mystery of the people or
their country,-- a mystery that must be solved rather by
imagination than by that spirit of j udgment which an E n-
glish education particularly matures.
The I talians are more remark able for what they have
been, and might be, than for what they are. The wastes
that surround R ome, as if the earth, fatigued by glory,
disdained to become productive, are but uncultivated and
neglected lands to the utilitarian. O swald, accustomed
from his childhood to a love of order and public prosperity,
received, at first, an unfavourable impression in crossing
such abandoned plains as approaches to the former q ueen
of cities. L ook ing on it with the eye of an enlightened
patriot, he censured the idle inhabitants and their rulers.
The Count d' E rfeuil regarded it as a man of the world;
and thus the one from reason, and the other from levity,
remained dead to the effect which the Campagna produces
* This alludes to a previous tour: in his present one, O swald has not ap-
proached F rance. H is longest stay was in Germany. -- Tr.
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? CO R I N N E ; O B I TA L Y . 17
on a mind filled by a regretful memory of those natural
beauties and splendid misfortunes, which invest this country
with an indescribable charm.
The Count uttered the most comic lamentations over
the environs of R ome. " W hat! " said he, " no villas? no
eq uipages? nothing to announce the neighbourhood of a
great city? Good God! how dull! " The same pride
with which the natives of the coast had pointed out the
sea, and the N eapolitans showed their V esuvius, now trans-
ported the postillions, who ex claimed, " L ook ! that is the
cupolaofS t. Peter' s. " -- " O nemighttak eitforthedome
of the I nvalides! " cried d' E rfeuil. This comparison,
rather national than j ust, destroyed the sensation which O s-
wald might have received, in first beholding that magni-
ficent wonder of man' s creation.
They entered R ome, neither on a fair day, nor a lovely
night, but on a dark and misty evening, which dimmed and
confused every obj ect before them. They crossed the
Tiber without observing it; passed through the Porto del
Popolo, which led them at once to the Corso, the largest
street of modern R ome, but that which possesses the least
originality of feature, as being the one which most re-
sembles those of other E uropean towns.
The streets were crowded; puppet-shows and mounte-
bank s formed groups round the base of A ntoninus' pillar. ,
O swald' s attention was caught by these obj ects, and the
name of R ome forgotten. H e felt that deep isolation
which presses on the heart, when we enter a foreign scene,
and look on a multitude to whom our ex istence is unk nown,
and who have not one interest in common with us. These
reflections, so saddening to all men, are doubly so to the
E nglish, who are accustomed to live among themselves,
and find it difficult to blend with the manners of other
lands. I
the R
but lik
n R ome, that vast caravansary, all is foreign, even
omans, who seem to live there, not lik e its possessors,
e pilgrims who repose among its ruins. (2) O ppressed
by labouring thoughts, O swald shut himself in his room,
instead of ex ploring the city; little dreaming that the
country he had entered beneath such a sense of dej ection
would soon become the mine of so many new ideas and
enj oyments.
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? 18 oorinne; or it aly.
BOOKII.
CO B I N N E A TTH E CA PI TO L .
CH A PTE R I .
O swald awok e in R ome. The dazzling sun of I taly met
his first gaze, and his soul was penetrated with sensations
of love and gratitude for that heaven, which seemed to
smile on him in these glorious beams. H e heard the bells
of numerous churches ringing, discharges of cannon from
various distances, as if announcing some high solemnity.
H e enq uired the cause, and was informed that the most
celebrated female in I taly was about that morning to be
crowned at the Capitol, -- Corinne, the poet and improvi.
satrice, one of the loveliest women of R ome. H e ask ed
some q uestions respecting this ceremony, hallowed by the
names of Petrarch and of Tasso: every reply he received
warmly ex cited his curiosity.
, There can be nothing more hostile to the habits and
opinions of an E nglishman than any great publicity given
to the career of a woman. B ut the enthusiasm with which
all imaginative talents inspire the I talians, infects, at least
for the time, even strangers, who forget prej udice itself
among people so lively in the ex pression of their senti-
ments.
The common populace of R ome discuss their statues,
pictures, monuments, and antiq uities, with much taste;
and literary merit, carried to a certain height, becomes with
them a national interest.
O n going forth into the public resorts, O swald found
that the streets through which Corinne was to pass had
been adorned for her reception. The herd, who generally
throng but the path of fortune or of power, were almost in
a tumult of eagerness to look on one whose soul was her
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 19
only distinction. I n the present state of the I talians, the
glory of the fine arts is all their fate allows them; and
they appreciate genius of that order with a vivacity which
might raise up a host of great men, if applause could, suffice
to produce them-- if a hardy life, strong interest, and an
independent station were not the food req uired to nourish
thought.
O swald walk ed the streets of R ome, awaiting the arrival
of Corinne: he heard her named every instant; every one
related some new trait, proving that she united all the
talents most captivating to the fancy. O ne asserted that
her voice was the most touching in I taly; another, that, in
tragic acting, she had no peer; a third, that she danced
lik e a nymph, and drew with eq ual grace and invention:
all said that no one had ever written or ex temporised verses
so sweet; and that, in daily conversation, she displayed
alternately an ease and an eloq uence which fascinated all
who heard her. They disputed as to which part of I taly
had given her hirth; some earnestly contending that she
must be a R oman, or she could not speak the language with
such purity. H er family name was unk nown. H er first' '
work , which had appeared five years since, bore but that
of Corinne. N o one could tell where she had lived, nor what
she had been, before that period; and she was now nearly
six and twenty. S uch mystery and publicity, united in the
fate of a female of whom every one spok e, yet whose real
name no one k new, appeared to N evil as among the won-
ders of the land he came to see. H e would have j udged
such a woman very severely in E ngland; but he applied
not her social etiq uettes to I taly; and the crowning of Co-
rinne awok e in his breast the same sensation which he
would have felt on reading an adventure of A riosto' s.
A burst of ex q uisite melody preceded the approach of
the triumphal procession. H ow thrilling is each event
that is heralded by music! A great number of R oman
nobles, and not a few foreigners, came first. " B ehol
her retinue of admirers! " said one. " Y es," replied an-
other; " she receives a whole world' s homage, but accords
her preference to none. S he is rich, independent; it j s even
believed, from her noble air, that she is a lady of high
c2
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? 20
corinne,' or italy.
birth, who wishes to remain unk nown. " -- " A divinity
veiled in clouds," concluded a third. O
man who spok e thus: every thing betok
swald look ed on the
ened him a person
of the humblest class; but the natives of the S outh converse
as naturally in poetic phrases as if they imbibed them with
the air, or were inspired by the sun.
A t last four spotless steeds appeared in the midst of the
crowd, drawing an antiq uely shaped car, beside which
walk ed a maiden band in snowy vestments. W herever
Corinne passed, perfumes were thrown upon the air; the
windows, deck ed with flowers and scarlet hangings, were
peopled by gazers, who shouted, " L ong live Corinne!
Glory to beauty and to genius! "
This emotion was general; but, to partak e it, one must
lay aside E nglish reserve and F rench raillery; N evil could
not yield to the spirit of the scene, till he beheld Corinne.
A ttired lik e Domenichino' s S ibyl, an I ndian shawl was
twined among her lustrous black curls, a blue drapery fell
over her robe of virgin white, and her whole costume was
picturesq ue, without sufficiently varying from modern
usage to appear tainted by affectation. H er attitude was
noble and modest: it might, indeed, be perceived that she
was content to be admired; yet a timid air blended with
her j oy, and seemed to ask pardon for her triumph. The
ex pression of her features, her eyes, her smile, created
a solicitude in her favour, and made L ord N evil her
friend even before any more ardent sentiment subdued
him. H er arms were transcendently beautiful; her figure
tall, and, as we freq uently see among the Grecian statues,
rather robust -- energetically characteristic of youth and
happiness. There was something inspired in her air;
yet the very manner in which she bowed her thank s for
the applause she received, betrayed a natural disposition
sweetly contrasting the pomp of her ex traordinary situ-
ation. S he gave you at the same instant the idea of a
priestess of A pollo advancing towards his temple, and of
a woman bor n to fulfil the usual duties of life with per-
fect simplicity; in truth, her every gesture elicited not
more wondering conj ecture, than it conciliated sympathy
and affection. The nearer she approached the Capitol, so
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 21
fruitful in classic associations, the more these admiring
tributes increased: the raptures of the R omans, the clear.
ness of their sk y, and, above all, Corinne herself, took
electric effect on O swald. H e had often, in his own land,
seen statesmen drawn in triumph by the people; but this
was the first time that he had ever witnessed the tender of
such honours to a woman, illustrious only in mind. H er
car of victory cost no fellow mortal' s tear; nor terror nor
regret could check his admiration for those fairest gifts of
nature -- creative fancy, sensibility, and reason. These new
ideas so intensely occupied him, that he noticed none of the
long-famed spots over which Corinne proceeded. A t the
foot of the steps leading to the Capitol the car stopped, and
all her friends rushed to offer their hands: she took that of
Prince Castel F orte, the nobleman most esteemed in R ome
for his talents and character. E very one approved her choice.
S he ascended to the Capitol, whose imposing maj esty seemed
graciously to welcome the light footsteps of woman. The
instruments sounded with fresh vigour, the cannon shook
the air, and the all-conq uering S ibyl entered the palace
prepared for her reception.
I n the centre of the hall stood the senator who was to
crown Corinne, surrounded by his brothers in office; on
one side, all the cardinals and most distinguished ladies of
R ome; on the other, the members of the A cademy;
the opposite ex tremity was filled by some portion of the
multitude who had followed Corinne. The chair destined
while
for her was placed a step lower than that of the senator. E re
seating herself in presence of that august assembly, she
complied with the custom of bending one k nee to the earth:
the gentle dignity of this action filled O swald' s eyes with
tears, to his own surprise; but, in the midst of all this
success, it seemed as if the look s of Corinne implored the
protection of a friend, with which no woman, however
superior, can dispense; and he thought how delicious it
were to be the stay of her, whose sensitiveness alone could
render such a prop necessary. A s soon as Corinne was
seated, the R oman poets recited the odes and sonnets com-
posed for this occasion: all praised her to the highest; but
in styles that described her no more than they would have
c3
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? 22CO R I N N E ,' O B I TA L Y .
done any other woman of genius. The same mythological
images and allusions must have been addressed to such beings
from the days of S appho to our own. A lready N evil dis-
lik ed this k ind of incense for her: he fancied that he could
that moment have drawn a truer, a more finished portrait;
such, indeed, as could have belonged to no one but Co-
tinne.
CH A PTE R I I .
Prince Castel F orte now took up the discourse, in a
manner which riveted the attention of his audience. H e
was a man of fifty, with a measured address and com-
manding carriage. The assurance which N evil had re-
ceived, that he was but the friend of Corinne, enabled him
to listen with unq ualified delight to what, without such
safeguard, he could not, even thus early, have heard, save
with a confused sense of j ealousy.
The Prince read some pages of unpretending prose, sin-
gularly fitted, notwithstanding to display the spirit of
Corinne. H e pointed out the particular merit of her
work s as partly derived from her profound study of fo-
reign literature, teaching her to unite the graphic descrip-
tions of the S outh, with that observant k nowledge of the
human heart which appears the inheritance of those whose
countries offer fewer obj ects of ex ternal beauty. H e lauded
her graceful gaiety, that, free from ironical satire, seemed
to spring but from the freshness of her fancy. H e strove
to speak of her tenderness; but it was easily to be seen
that personal regret mingled with this theme. H e touched
on the difficulty for a woman so endowed to meet, in real
life, with any obj ect resembling the ideal image clad in
the hues of her own heart; then contented himself by de-
picting the impassioned feelings which k indled her poetry,
-- her art of seizing on the most touching charms of nature,
the deepest emotions of the soul. H e complimented the
originality of her ex pressions, which, arising from her own
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 23
peculiar turn of thought, constituted an involuntary spell,
untarnished by the slightest cloud of mannerism. H e
spok e of her eloq uence as a resistless power, which must
transport most those who possessed the best sense and
the truest susceptibility. " Corinne," said he, ' ' is doubt-
less more celebrated than any other of our countrywomen;
and yet it is only her friends who can describe her. The
q ualities of the soul, if real, always req uire to be guessed;
fame, as well as obscurity, might prevent their detection,
if some congenial sympathy came not to our aid. " H e
dilated on her talent as an improvisatrice, as distinct from
every thing which had been k nown by that name in I taly.
" I t is not only attributable," he continued, " to the fer-
tility of her mind, but to her deep enthusiasm for all ge-
nerous sentiments: she cannot pronounce a word that
recalls them, but that inex haustible source of thought
overflows at her lips in strains ever pure and harmonious;
her poetry is intellectual music, such as alone can embody
the fleeting and delicate reveries of the heart. " H e ex -
tolled the conversation of Corinne, as one who had tasted
all its delights. " There," he said, " is united all that is
natural, fanciful, j ust, sublime, powerful, and sweet, to
vary the mental banq uet every instant; it is what Petrarch
termed --
' I I parlar cbe nell' anima si sente,' --
a language that is felt to the heart' s core, and must possess
much of the vaunted O riental magic which has been given
. by the ancients to Cleopatra. The scenes I have visited
with her, the lays we have heard together, the pictures she
has shown me, the book s she has taught me to enj oy, com-
pose my universe. I n all these is some spark of her life;
and were I forced to dwell afar from her, I would, at
least, surround myself with them, though certain to seek
in vain for her radiant traces amongst them, when once
she had departed. "
" Y es ! " he cried, as his glance accidentally fell upon
O swald; " look on Corinne, if you may pass your days
with her--
if that twofold ex istence can be long secured to
you; but behold her not, if you must be condemned to
o4
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? 24 corinne; or italy.
leave her. V ainly would you seek , however long you might
survive, the creative spirit which multiplied in partak ing
all your thoughts and feelings: you would never find it
more! "
O swald shuddered at these words; his eyes were
fix ed on Corinne, who listened with an agitation self-love
cannot produce; it belongs only to humility and to grati-
tude. Castel F orte resumed the address, which a mo-
mentary weak ness had suspended. H e spok e of Corinne
as a painter and a musician; of her declamation and her
dancing. " I n all these ex ertions," he said, "
herself-- confined to no one mode, nor rule -- but ex
in various languages, the enchantments of A rt and I
she is still
pressing,
magin-
ation. I cannot flatter myself on having faithfully repre-
sented one of whom it is impossible to form an idea till
she herself is k nown; but her presence is left to R ome, as
among the chief blessings beneath its brilliant sk y. Corinne
is the link that binds her friends to each other. S he is
the motive, the interest of our lives; we rely on her worth,
pride in her genius, and say to the sons of other lands,
' L ook on the personation of our own fair I taly. S he is
what we might be, if freed from the ignorance, envy, dis-
cord, and sloth, to which fate has reduced us. ' W e love
to contemplate her, as a rare production of our climate,
and our fine arts; a relic of the past, a prophetess of the
future; and when strangers, pitiless of the faults born of
our misfortunes, insult the country whence have arisen the
planets that illumed all E urope, still we but say to them,
' L ook upon Corinne. ' Y es; we will follow in her track ,
and be such men as she is a woman; if, indeed, men can,
lik e women, mak e worlds in their own hearts; if our moral
temperaments, necessarily dependent on social obligations
and ex terior circumstances, could, lik e hers, owe all their
light to the glorious torch of poesy! "
The instant the Prince ceased to speak , was followed by
an unanimous outbreak of admiration, even from the
leaders of the S tate, although the discourse had ended by
an indirect censure on the present situation of I taly; so
true it is, that there men practise a degree of liberality
which, though it ex tends not to any improvement of their
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? CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y . 25
institutions, readily pardons superior minds, for a mild
dissent from ex isting prej udices. Castel F orte was a man
of high repute in R ome. H e spok e with a sagacity re-
mark able among a people usually wiser in actions than in
words. H e had not, in the affairs of life, that ability which
often distinguishes an I talian; but he shrank not from
the fatigue of think ing, as his happy countrymen are wont
to do; trusting to arrive at all truths by intuition, even as
their soil bears fruit, unaided, save by the favour of heaven.
CH A PTE R I I I .
Corinne rose, as the Prince finished his oration. S he
thank ed him by an inclination of the head, which diffi-
dently betrayed her sense of having been praised in a strain
after her own heart. I t was the custom for a poet crowned
at the Capitol to ex temporise or recite in verse, ere re-
ceiving the destined bays. Corinne sent for her chosen
instrument, the lyre, more antiq ue in form and simpler
in sound than the harp: while tuning it, she was op-
pressed by so violent a tremor, that her voice trembled as
she ask ed what theme she was to attempt. " The glory
andwelfareofI taly! " criedallnearher. " A h,yes! " she
ex claimed, already sustained by her own talents; " the
glory and welfare of I taly! " Then, animated by her love
of country, she breathed forth thoughts to which prose or
another language can do but imperfect j
ustice.
A TTH E
orld!
CH A N TO F
Cradle of L etters!
CO R I N N E
Mistress of the W
CA PI
TO L . *
S oil of the S un! I talia! I salute thee!
H ow oft the human race have worn thy yok e,
The vassals of thine arms, thine arts, thy sk y!
O lympus for A usonia once was left,
A ndbyaGod. O fsuchalandareborn
Dreams of the golden time, for there man look s
Too happy to suppose him criminal.
* F or the translation of this O de, the proprietor of the S
indebted to the pen of Miss L . E . L andon.
tandard N
ovels is
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? 26
B
corinne; or itaiy.
y genius R ome subdued the world, then reign'
d
s;
A q ueen by liberty. The R oman mind
S
A
et its own stamp upon the universe;
nd, when barbarian hordes whelm' d I taly,
Then dark ness was entire upon the earth.
I talia reappear' d, and with her rose
Treasures divine, brought by the wandering Greek
To her were then reveal' d the laws of H eaven.
H er daring children made discovery
O f a new hemisphere: Q ueen still she held
Thought' s sceptre; but that laurell' d sceptre made
Ungrateful subj ects.
4 I
W
E
H
F
F
magination gave her back the world
hich she had lost. Painters and poets shaped
arth and O lympus, and a heaven and hell.
er animating fire, by Genius k ept,
ar better guarded than the Pagan God' s,
ound not in E urope a Prometheus
To bear it from her.
A nd wherefore am I at the Capitol?
W hy should my lowly brow receive the crown
W hich Petrarch wore? which yet suspended hangs
W here Tasso' s funeral cypress mournful waves:
W hy? oh, my countrymen! but that you love
Glory so well, that you repay its search
A lmost lik e its success.
N ow, if you love that glory which too oft
Chooses its victims from its vanq
Those which itself has crown' d;
O f days which saw the perish'
uishers,
think , and be proud
d A rts reborn.
Y our Dante! H omer of the Christian age,
The sacred poet of F aith' s mysteries, --
. -' H ero of thought, -- whose gloomy genius plunged
I n S
W as lik
I talia!
tyx , and pierced to hell; and whose deep soul
e the abyss it fathom' d.
as she was in days of power
R evived in Dante: such a spirit stirr' d
I n old republics: bard and warrior too,
H e lit the fire of action ' mid the dead,
Till e' en his shadows had more vigorous life
Than real ex istence; still were they pursued
B y earthly memories: passions without aim
Gnaw' d at their heart, still fever' d by the past;
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