O swald
alighted
first.
Madame de Stael - Corinna, or Italy
O ne evening, when O swald and Corinne were
alone together, and he more depressed than usual by her
altered manner, he heard, beneath the windows, these
dreary sounds, announcing a funeral: he listened awhile
in silence, and then said, " Perhaps to-morrow I may be
seized by this same malady, against which there is no
defence; you will then wish that you had said a few k ind
words to me on the day that may be my last. Corinne,
death threatens us both closely. A re there not miseries
enough in life, that we should thus mutually augment
each other' s? " S truck by the idea of his danger, she now
entreated him to leave R ome instantly; he stubbornly
refused: she then proposed their going to V enice; to this
he cheerfully assented: it was for her alone that he had
trembled. Their departure was fix ed for the second day
from this; but on that morning O swald, who had not
seen Corinne the night before, received a note, informing
him that indispensable business obliged her to visit F lo-
rence; but that she should rej oin him at V enice in a fort-
night: she begged him to tak e A ncona in his way, and
gave him a seemingly important commission to ex ecute
for her there. H er style was more calm and considerate
than he had found it since they left N aples. H e believed
her implicitly, and prepared for his j ourney; but, wishing
once more to behold the dwelling of Corinne ere he left
R ome, he went thither, found it shut up, and rapped at the
door. A n old woman appeared, told him that all the other
servants had gone with her mistress, and would not answer
another word to his numerous q uestions. H e hastened to
Prince Castel F orte, who was as surprised as himself at
Corinne' s abrupt retirement. N evil, all anx iety, imagined
that her agent at Tivoli must have received some in-
structions as to her affairs. H e mounted his horse with
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 2fl5
a promptitude unusual to him, and, in ex treme agitation,
rode to her country house: its doors were open; he en-
tered, passed some of the rooms without meeting any one,
till he reached that of Corinne: though dark ness reigned
there, he saw her on her bed, with There' sina alone beside
her: he uttered a cry of recognition; it recalled her to
consciousness: she raised herself, saying eagerly, -- " Do
not come near me! I forbid you! I die if you do! "
O swald felt as if his beloved were accusing him of some
crime which she had all at once suspected: believing him-
self hated-- scorned-- he fell on his k nees, with a despair-
ing submission which suggested to Corinne the idea of
profiting by this mistak e, and she commanded him to leave
her for ever, as if he had in truth beerj guilty. S peechless
with wonder, he would have obeyed, when Theresina
sobbed forth, --
dear lady? S
banish me too;
" O h, my L ord! will you then desert my
he has sent every one away, and would fain
for she has caught the infectious fever! "
These words instantly ex plained the affecting stratagem
of Corinne; and O swald clasped, her to his heart, with a
transport of tenderness, such as he had never before ex -
perienced. I n vain she repelled him; in vain she re-
proached Theresina. O swald bade the good creature with-
draw, and lavished his tearful k isses on the face of his
adored. " N ow, now," he cried, " thou shalt not die
without me: if the fatal poison be in thy veins, at least,
thank H
eaven, I breathe it in thine arms. " -- " Dear, cruel
O swald! " she sighed, " to what tortures you condemn
me! O
h God! since he will not live without me, let not
my better angel perish! no, save him, save him! " H ere
her strength was lost, and, for eight days, she remained in
the greatest danger. I n the midst of her delirium, she
would cry, -- " K eep O swald from me!
here! never tell him where I am! " W
returned, she gazed on him, murmuring, -- "
let him not come
hen her reason
O swald! in
death as in life you are with me; we shall be re-united. "
W hen she perceived how pale he was, a deadly terror
seized her, and she called to his aid the physicians who
had given her a strong proof of devotion in never having
abandoned her. O swald constantly held her burning hands
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? 26 6 CO R I N N e' ; O R I TA L Y .
c
in his, and finished the cup of which she had drank ; in
fact, with such avidity did he share her perils, that she
herself ceased at last to combat this passionate self-sacri-
fice. L eaning her head upon his arm, she resigned herself
to his will. Two beings who so love that they feel the
impossibility of living without each other, may well attain
the noble and tender intimacy which puts all things in com-
mon, even death itself. (2) H appily L ord N evil did not
tak e the disease through which he so carefully nursed
Corinne. S he recovered; but another malady penetrated
yet deeper into her breast. The generosity of her lover,
alas! redoubled the attachment she had borne him.
CH A PTE R I V .
I t was agreed that N evil and Corinne should visit V enice.
They had relapsed into silence on their future prospects,
but spok e of their affection more confidingly than ever:
both avoided all topics that could disturb their present
mutual peace. A day passed with him was to her such
enj oyment! he seemed so to revel in her conversation; he
followed her every impulse; studied her slightest wish,
with so sustained an interest, that it appeared impossible he
could bestow so much felicity without himself being happy.
Corinne drew assurances of safety from the bliss she tasted.
A fter some months of such habits we believe them insepar-
able from our ex istence. H er agitation was calmed again,
and her natural heedlessness of the future returned. Y et,
on the eve of q uitting R ome, she became ex tremely melan-
choly: this time she both hoped and feared that it was for
ever. The night before her departure, unable to sleep,
she heard a troop of R omans singing in the moonlight.
S he could not resist her desire to follow them, and once
more wander through that beloved scene. S he dressed; and
bidding her servants k eep the carriage within sight of her,
put on a veil, to avoid recognition, and, at some distance,
pursued the musicians. They paused on the bridge of
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 26 * 7
S t. A ngelo, in front of A drian' s tomb: in such a spot
music seems to ex press the vanities and splendours of the
world. O ne might fancy one beheld in the air the im-
perial shade wondering to find no other trace left of his
power on earth ex cept a tomb. The band continued their
walk , singing as they went, to the silent night, when the
happy ought to sleep: their pure and gentle melodies
seemed designed to solace wak eful suffering. Drawn on-
ward by this resistless spell, Corinne, insensible to fatigue,
seemed winging her way along. They also sang before
A ntoninus' pillar, and then at Traj an' s column: they sa-
luted the obelisk of S t. J ohn L
of music worthily mates the ideal ex
ateran. The ideal language
these: enthusiasm reigns alone, while vulgar interests
slumber. A t last the singers departed, and left Corinne
near the Coliseum: she wished to enter its enclosure and
bid adieu to ancient R ome.
Those who have seen this place but by day cannot
j udge of the impression it may mak e. The sun of I
should shine on festivals; but the moon is the light for
ruins. S ometimes, through the openings of the amphi-
theatre, which seems towering to the clouds, a portion of
heaven' s vault appears lik e a dark blue curtain. The
plants that cling to the brok en walls all wear the hues of
night. The soul at once shudders and melts on finding
itself alone with nature. O ne side of this edifice is much
more fallen than the other: the two contemporaries mak e
an uneq ual struggle against time. H e fells the weak est;
the other still resists, but soon must yield.
" Y e solemn scenes! " cried Corinne, " where, at this
hour, no being breathes beside me, -- where but the
echoes of my own voice answer me, -- how are the storms
of passion calmed by nature, who thus peacefully permits so
many generations to glide by! H as not the universe some
better end than man? or are its marvels scattered here,
merely to be reflected in his mind? O swald! why do I
love with such idolatry? why live but for the feelings of a
day, compared to the infinite hopes that unite us with
divinity? My God! if it be true, as I believe, that we
admire thee the more the more capable we are of reflection,
pression of work
s lik e
taly
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? 2b8 corinne; or I taly.
mak e my own mind my refuge against my heart! The
noble being whose gentle look s I can never forget is but a
perishable mortal lik e myself. A mong the stars there is
eternal love, alone sufficing to a boundless heart. " Corinne
remained long lost in these ideas, and, at last, turned slowly
towards her own abode; but, ere she re-entered it, she
wished to await the dawn at S t. Peter' s, and from its
dome tak e her last leave of all beneath. H er imagination
represented this edifice as it must be, when, in its turn,
a wreck , -- the theme of wonder for yet unborn ages.
The columns, now erect, half bedded in earth; the porch
dilapidated, with the E gyptian obelisk ex ulting over the
decay of novelties, wrought for an earthly immortality.
F rom the summit of S t. Peter' s Corinne beheld day rise
over R ome, which, in its uncultivated Campagna, look
the O asis of a L ibyan desert. Devastation is around it;
but the multitude of spires and cupolas, over which S t.
Peter' s rises, give a strange beauty to its aspect. This
city may boast one peculiar charm: we love it as an ani-
mated being: its very ruins are as friends, from whom we
cannot part without farewell.
s lik e
Corinne addressed the Pantheon, S t. A ngelo' s, and all
the sites that once renewed the pleasures of her fancy.
" A dieu! " she said, " land of remembrances! scenes
where life depends not on events, nor on society; where
enthusiasm refreshes itself through the eyes, and link s the
soul to each ex ternal obj ect. I leave you, to follow O swald,
not k nowing to what fate he may consign me. I prefer
him to the independence which here afforded me such
happy days. I may return no more ; -- but for a brok en
heart and blighted mind, ye arts and monuments so oft
invok ed, while I was ex iled beneath his stormy sk y, ye
could do nothing to console! "
S he wept; yet thought not, for an instant, of letting
O swald depart without her. R esolutions springing from the
neart we often j ustly blame, yet hesitate not to adopt.
W hen passion masters a superior mind, it separates our
j udgment from our conduct, and need not cloud the one
in order to over-rule the other.
Corinne' s black curls and veil floating on the breeze
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? corinne; O R I TA L Y . 26 9
gave her so picturesq ue an air, that, as she left the church,
the common people recognised and followed her to her
carriage with the warmest testimonials of respect. S he
sighed again, at parting from a race so ardent and so
graceful in their ex pressions of esteem. N or was this all.
S he had to endure the regrets of her friends. They
devised fetes in order to delay her departure: their poetical
tributes strove in a thousand ways to convince her that she
ought to stay; and finally they accompanied her on horse-
back for twenty miles. S he was ex tremely affected. O s-
wald cast down his eyes in confusion, reproaching himself
for tearing her from so much delight, though he k new that
an offer of remaining there would be more barbarous still.
H e appeared selfish in removing Corinne from R ome; yet
he was not so; for the fear of afflicting her, by setting forth
alone, had more weight with him than even the hope of
retaining her presence. H e k new not what he was about
to do, -- saw nothing beyond V enice. H e had written to
enq uire how soon his regiment would be actively employed
in the war, and awaited a reply. S ometimes he thought
of tak ing Corinne with him to E ngland; yet instantly re-
membered that he should for ever ruin her reputation by
so doing, unless she were his wife; then he wished to
soften the pangs of separation by a private marriage; but
a moment afterwards gave up that plan also. " W e can
k eep no secrets from the dead," he cried; " and what
should I gain by mak ing a mystery of an union prohibited
by nothing but my worship of a tomb? " H is mind, so
weak in all that concerned his affections, was sadly agitated
by contending sentiments. Corinne resigned herself to
him, lik e a victim, ex ulting, amid her sorrows, in the
sacrifices she made; while O swald, responsible for the
welfare of another, bound himself to her daily by new
ties, without the power of yielding to them; and, unhappy
in his love as in his conscience, felt the presence of both
but in their combats with each other.
W hen the friends of Corinne took
mended her earnestly to his care;
the love of so eminent a woman;
ing lik e mock ery and upbraiding. S he felt this; hastily
leave, they com-
congratulated him on
their every word sound-
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? 270CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
concluded the trying scene; and when, after turning from
time to time to salute her, they were at last lost to her
sight, she only said to her lover, " O swald! I have now
noonebutyouintheworld! " H owdidhelongtoswear
he would be hers! B ut freq uent disappointments teach us
to mistrust our own inclinations, and shrink even from the
vows our hearts may prompt. Corinne read his thoughts,
and delicately strove to fix his attention on the country
through which they travelled.
CHAPTER V.
I t was the beginning of S eptember, and the weather su-
perb till they neared the A pennines, where they felt the
approach of winter. A soft air is seldom united with the
pleasure of look ing on picturesq ue mountains. O ne even-
ing a terrible hurricane arose: the thick est dark ness closed
around them; and the horses, so wild there that they are
even harnessed by stratagem, set off with inconceivable
rapidity. O ur lovers felt much ex cited by being thus
hurried on together. " A
could bear us from all I
k
h! " cried O swald, " if they
now on earth,-- if they could
climb these hills, and dash into another life, where we
should regain my father, who would receive and bless us,
would you not go with me, beloved? " H e. pressed her
vehemently to his bosom. Corinne, enamoured as himself,
replied, " Dispose of me as you will; chain me lik e a
slave to your fate: had not the slaves of other days talents
that soothed their masters? S uch would I be to thee.
B ut, O swald, yet respect her who thus trusts thee: con-
demned by all the world, she must not blush to meet thine
eye. " -- " N o," heex claimed," I willloseall,orallob-
tain. I ought, I must either live thy husband, or die in
stifling the transports of my passion: but I will hope to
be thine before the world, and glory in thy tenderness.
Y et tell me, I conj ure thee, have I not sunk in thine
esteem by all these struggles? Canst thou believe thyself
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? corinne; O R MA L T. 271
less dear than ever? " H is accents were so sincere that,
for awhile, they gave her back her confidence, and the
purest, sweetest rapture animated them both.
Meanwhile the horses stopped.
O swald alighted first.
The cold sharp wind almost made him fancy himself landing
in E ngland: this freezing air was not lik e that of I taly,
which bids young breasts forget all things save love. O swald
sunk back into his gloom. Corinne, who k new the un-
settled nature of his fancy, but too well guessed the cause.
O n the morrow they arrived at our L ady of L oretto,
which stands upon an eminence, from whence is seen the
A driatic. W hile O swald gave some orders for their
j ourney, Corinne entered the church, where the image of
the V irgin is enclosed in the choir of a small chapel,
adorned with bas-reliefs. The marble pavement that sur-
rounds the sanctuary is worn by pilgrim k nees. Corinne,
moved by these mark s of prayer, k nelt on the stones so
often pressed by the unfortunate, and addressed the type
of heavenly truth and sensibility. O swald here found her
bathed in tears. H e did not understand how a woman of
her mind could bow to the practices of the ignorant. S he
guessed this by his look s, and said, " Dear O swald, are
there not many moments when we dare not raise our hopes
to the S upreme B eing, or breathe to him the sorrows of
our hearts? I s it not pleasing, then, to behold a woman as
intercessor for our human weak ness? S he suffered on
this earth, for she lived on it; to her I blush not to pray
for you, when a petition to God himself would overawe
me. " -- " J cannot always directly supplicate my Mak er,"
replied O swald. " I , too, have my intercessor: the guardian
angel of children is their father: and since mine has been
in heaven, I have oft received an unex pected solace, aid,
and composure, which I
culous protection whence I
perplex ities. " -- " I
can but attribute to the mira-
still hope to escape from my
comprehend you," said Corinne, " and
believe there is no one who has not some mysterious idea of
his own destiny,-- one event which he has always dreaded,
and which, though improbable, is sure to happen. The
punishment of some fault, though it be impossible to trace
the connection our misfortunes have with it, often strik es
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? 272 corinne; or italt.
the imagination. F rom my childhood I trembled at the
idea of living in E ngland. W ell; my inability to do so
may be my worst regret; and on that point I feel there is
something unconq uerable in my fate, against which I
i struggle in vain. E very one conceives his life interiorly a
contrast to what it seems: we have a confused sense of
some supernatural power, disguised in the form of ex ternal
circumstance, while itself alone is the source of all our
actions. Dear friend, minds capable of reasoning for ever
plunge into their own abyss, but always fail to fathom it. "
O swald, as he heard her speak thus, wondered to find
that, while she was capable of such glowing sentiments, her
j udgment still could hover over them, lik e their presiding
genius. " N o," he freq uently said to himself, " no other
society on earth can satisfy the man who has possessed
such a companion as this. "
They entered A ncona at night, as he wished not to be
recognised: in spite of his precautions, however, he was
so; and the nex t morning all the inhabitants crowded
about the house in which he stayed, awak ing Corinne by
shouts of " L ong live L ord N evil, our benefactor! " S he
started, rose hastily, and mingled with the crowd, to hear
their praises of the man she loved. O swald, informed that
the people were impatiently calling for him, was at last
obliged to appear. H e believed Corinne still slept: what
was his astonishment at finding her already k nown and
cherished by the grateful multitude, who entreated her to
be their-interpretress! Corinne' s imagination -- by turns
her charm and her defect -- delighted in ex traordinary ad-
ventures. S he thank ed L ord N evil, in the name of the
people, with a grace so noble that the natives were in
ecstasies. S peak ing for them, she said, " Y ou preserved
us, -- we owe you our lives! " B ut when she offered him
the oak and laurel crown they had entwined, an indefinite
timidity beset her: the enthusiastic populace prostrated
themselves before him, and Corinne involuntarily bent her
k nee in tendering him the garland. O swald was so over-
whelmed at the sight, that he could no longer support this
scene, nor the public homage of his beloved; but drew her
away with him. S he wept, and thank ed the good inhabit-
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? CO R I K K E J O R I TA L Y . 273
ants of A ncona, who followed them with blessings, as
O swald, hiding himself in his carriage, murmured, " Co-
rinne at my feet! Corinne, in whose path I ought to k neel!
H ave I deserved this? Do you suspect me of such unworthy
pride? " -- " N o, no," she said; " but I was suddenly
seized with the respect a woman always feels for him she
loves. To us, indeed, is ex ternal deference most directed;
but in truth, in nature, it is the woman who reveres the
being capable of defending her. "
" Y es, I will be thy defender, to the last hour of my
life! " he answered. " H
genius shall not in vain seek
love! " -- " A las ! "
eaven be my witness, such a
refuge in the harbour of my
she sighed, " that love is all I need;
and what promise can secure it to me? N o matter. I
feel that you love me now better than ever: let us not
trouble this return of affection. " -- " R eturn! " interrupted
O swald. -- " I cannot retract the ex pression; but let us not
seek to ex plain it; " and she made a gentle sign for N evil
to be silent.
CH A PTE R V I .
F or two days they proceeded on the shore of the A driatic;
but this sea, on the R omagnan side, has not the effect of
the ocean, nor even of the Mediterranean. The high road
winds close to its waves, and grass grows on its bank s:
it is not thus that we would represent the mighty realm
of tempests. A t R imini and Cesena, you q uit the classic
scenes of history: their latest remembrancer is the R u-
bicon, which Ca? sar passed, to become the lord of R
ome.
N ot far from hence is the republic of S t. Marino, the last
weak vestige of liberty, besides the spot on which was re-
solved the destruction of the world' s chief republic. B y
degrees, you now advance towards a country very opposite
in aspect to the Papal state. B ologna, L ombardy, the en-
virons of F errara and R ovigo, are remark able for beauty
and cultivation -- how unlik e the poetic barrenness and
T
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? 274. corinne; or italy.
decay that announce an approach to R ome, and tell of the
terrible events that have occurred there!
Y ou then q uit what S abran calls ' black pines, the sum-
mer' s mourning, but the winter' s bravery,' and the. conical
cypresses that remind one of obelisk s, mountains, and the
sea. N ature, lik e the traveller, now parts from the south-
ern rays. A t first, the oranges are found no longer in the
open air, -- they are succeeded by olives, whose pale and
tender foliage might suit the bowers of the E lysian fields.
F arther on, even the olive disappears.
O n entering B ologna' s smiling plain, the vines garland
the elms together, and the whole land is deck ed as for a
festival. Corinne was sensible of the contrast between her
present state of mind and the resplendent scene she now
beheld. -- " A h, O swald! " she sighed, " ought nature to
spread such images of happiness before two friends per-
haps about to lose each other ? " -- " N o, Corinne ! never!
each day I feel less able to resign thee: that untiring gen-
tleness unites the charm of habit with the love I bear thee.
O ne lives as contentedly with you as if you were not the
finest genius in the world, or, rather, because you are so;
for real superiority confers a perfect goodness, that mak es
one' s peace with one' s self and all the world. W hat angry
thoughts can live in such a presence? " They arrived at
F errara, one of the saddest towns in I taly, vast and de-
serted. The few inhabitants found there, at distant intervals,
loiter on slowly, as if secure of time for all they have to
do. I t is hard to conceive this the scene of that gay
court sung both by Tasso and A riosto; yet still are shown
their manuscripts, with that also of the Pastor F ido. A riosto
k new how to live at ease here, amid courtiers; but the
house is yet to be seen wherein they dared confine Tasso
as a maniac. I t is sad to read the various letters which
he wrote ask ing the death it was so long ere he obtained.
Tasso was so peculiarly organised, that his talent became
its owner' s formidable foe. H is genius dissected his own
heart. H e could not so have read the secrets of the soul
if he had felt less sorrow. The man who has not suffered,
says a prophet, what does he k now 9 I n some respects,
Corinne resembled him. S he was more cheerful and more
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? CO R I N N E J O R I TA L Y . 275
versatile, but her imagination req uired ex treme govern-
ment: far from assuaging any grief, it lent each pang
fresh might. N evil deceived himself if he believed her
brilliant faculties could give her means of happiness apart
from her affections. W hen genius is united with true
feeling, our talents multiply our woes. W e analyse, we
mak e discoveries, and, the heart' s urn of tears being ex -
haustless, the more we think the more we feel it flow.
CH A PTE R V I I .
They embark ed for V enice on the B renta. A t each side
they beheld its palaces, grand but dilapidated, lik e all
I talian magnificence. They are too wildly ornamented
to remind us of the antiq ue: V enetian architecture betrays
a commerce with the E ast: there is a blendure of the
Gothic and Moresco that tak es the eye, though it offends
the taste. The poplar, regular almost as architecture
itself, borders the canals. The sk y' s bright blue sets off
the splendid verdure of the country, which owes its green
to the abundant waters. N ature seems to wear these two
colours in mere coq uetry; and the vague beauty of the
south is found no more. V enice astonishes more than it
pleases at first sight: it look s a city under water; and one
can scarce admire the ambition which disputed this space
with the sea. The amphitheatre of N aples is built as if to
welcome it; but, on the flats of V enice, steeples appear,
lik e masts, immovable in the midst of waves. I n entering
the city, one tak es leave of vegetation; one sees not even
a fly there: all animals are banished ; man alone remains to
battle with the waves. I n a city whose streets are all
canals the silence is profound-- the dash of oars its only
interruption. Y ou cannot fancy yourself in the country,
for you see no trees; nor in a town, for you hear no
bustle; or even on board ship, for you mak e no way; but
in a place which storms would convert into a prison, -- for
T2
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? 276 corinne; or italy.
there are times when you cannot leave the city, nor even
your own house.
Many men in V enice never went from one q uarter to
another,-- never heheld S t. Mark ' s,-- a horse or a tree were
actual miracles to them. The black gondolas glide along
lik e biers or cradles, the last and the first beds of human
k ind. A t night, their dark colour renders them invisible,
and they are only traced by the reflection of the lights
they carry -- one might call them phantoms, guided by
faint stars. I n this abode all is mysterious -- the govern-
ment, the habits, love itself. Doubtless the heart and
reason find much food when they can penetrate this
secrecy, but strangers always feel the first impression sin-
gularly sad.
Corinne, who was a believer in presentiments, and now
made presages of every thing, said to N evil, -- " I
s not the
melancholy that I feel on entering this place a proof that
some great misfortune will befall me here? " A s she said
this, she heard three reports of cannon, from one of the isles
of the L agune -- she started, and enq uired the cause of a
gondolier. -- " I t is a woman tak ing the veil," he said,
" at one of those convents in the midst of the sea. The
custom here is, that the moment such vow is uttered, the
female throws the flowers she wore during the ceremony
behind her, as a sign of her resigning the world, and the
firing you have j ust heard announces this event. " Corinne
shuddered. O swald felt her hand grow cold in his, and
saw a death-lik e pallor overspread her face. -- " My life!
he cried, " why give this importance to so simple a
chance ? " -- " I t is not simple," she replied. " I
have thrown the flowers of youth behind me. " -- " H ow!
"
, too,
' when I love thee more than ever? when my whole soul is
thine ? " -- " The thunders of war," she continued, " else-
where devoted to victory or death, here celebrate the
obscure sacrifice of a maiden -- an innocent employment
for the arms that shak e the world with terror: -- a solemn
message from a resigned woman to those of her sisters
who still contend with fate. "
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 277
CH A PTE R V I I I .
The power of V enetian government, during its latter years,
has almost entirely consisted in the empire of habit and
association of ideas. I t once was formidably daring, it
has become lenient and timorous: hate of its past potency
is easily revived, and easily subdued, by the thought that
its might is over. The aristocracy woo the favour of the
people, and yet by a k ind of despotism, since they rather
amuse than enlighten them; an agreeable state enough,
while the common herd are afforded no pleasures that can
brutify their minds, while the government watches over its
subj ects lik e a sultan over his harem, forbidding them to
meddle with politics, or presume to form any j udgment of
ex isting authorities, but allowing them sufficient diversion,
and not a little glory. The spoils of Constantinople enrich
the churches; the standards of Cyprus and Candia float over
the Piazza; the Corinthian horses delight the eye; and the
winged lion of S t. Mark ' s appears the type of fame. The
situation of the city rendering agriculture and the chase
impossible, nothing is left for the V enetians but dissipation.
Their dialect is soft and light as a zephyr. O ne can hardly
conceive how the people who resisted the league of Cambray
should speak so flex ible a tongue: it is charming while ex -
pressive of graceful pleasantry, but suits not graver themes;
verses on death, for instance, breathed in these delicate and
almost infantine accents, sound more lik e the descriptions
of poetic fable. The V enetians are the most intelligent
men in I taly; they think more deeply, though with less
ardent fancies than their southern countrymen; yet, for
the most part, the women, though very agreeable, have
acq uired a sentimentality of language, which, without
restraining their morals, merely lends their gallantry an
air of affectation. There is more vanity, as there is more
society, here, than in the rest of I taly. W here applause is
q uick and freq uent, conceit calculates all debts instan-
taneously; k nows what success is owed, and claims its due,
i3
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? 278 corinne; or italy.
without giving a minute' s credit. I ts bills must be paid
at sight. S till much originality may be found in V enice.
L adies of the highest rank receive visits in the cafes, and
this strange confusion prevents their salons becoming the
arenas of serious self-love. There yet remain here some
ancient usages that evince a respect for their forefathers,
and a certain youth of heart which tires not of the past,
nor shrink s from melting recollections. The sight of the
city itself is always sufficient to awak en a host of memories.
The Piazza is crowded by blue tents, beneath which rest
Turk s, Greek s, and A rmenians, who sometimes also loll
carelessly in open boats, with stands of flowers at their
feet. S t. Mark ' s,too,look sratherlik eamosq uethana
Christian temple; and its vicinity gives a true idea of
the oriental indolence with which life is spent here, in
drink ing sherbet, and smok ing perfumed pipes.
Men and women of q uality never leave their houses,
ex cept in black mantles; while the gondolas are often
winged along by rowers clad in white, with rose-colour
sashes, as if holiday array were abandoned to the vulgar,
while the nobility k ept up a vow of perpetual mourning.
alone together, and he more depressed than usual by her
altered manner, he heard, beneath the windows, these
dreary sounds, announcing a funeral: he listened awhile
in silence, and then said, " Perhaps to-morrow I may be
seized by this same malady, against which there is no
defence; you will then wish that you had said a few k ind
words to me on the day that may be my last. Corinne,
death threatens us both closely. A re there not miseries
enough in life, that we should thus mutually augment
each other' s? " S truck by the idea of his danger, she now
entreated him to leave R ome instantly; he stubbornly
refused: she then proposed their going to V enice; to this
he cheerfully assented: it was for her alone that he had
trembled. Their departure was fix ed for the second day
from this; but on that morning O swald, who had not
seen Corinne the night before, received a note, informing
him that indispensable business obliged her to visit F lo-
rence; but that she should rej oin him at V enice in a fort-
night: she begged him to tak e A ncona in his way, and
gave him a seemingly important commission to ex ecute
for her there. H er style was more calm and considerate
than he had found it since they left N aples. H e believed
her implicitly, and prepared for his j ourney; but, wishing
once more to behold the dwelling of Corinne ere he left
R ome, he went thither, found it shut up, and rapped at the
door. A n old woman appeared, told him that all the other
servants had gone with her mistress, and would not answer
another word to his numerous q uestions. H e hastened to
Prince Castel F orte, who was as surprised as himself at
Corinne' s abrupt retirement. N evil, all anx iety, imagined
that her agent at Tivoli must have received some in-
structions as to her affairs. H e mounted his horse with
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 2fl5
a promptitude unusual to him, and, in ex treme agitation,
rode to her country house: its doors were open; he en-
tered, passed some of the rooms without meeting any one,
till he reached that of Corinne: though dark ness reigned
there, he saw her on her bed, with There' sina alone beside
her: he uttered a cry of recognition; it recalled her to
consciousness: she raised herself, saying eagerly, -- " Do
not come near me! I forbid you! I die if you do! "
O swald felt as if his beloved were accusing him of some
crime which she had all at once suspected: believing him-
self hated-- scorned-- he fell on his k nees, with a despair-
ing submission which suggested to Corinne the idea of
profiting by this mistak e, and she commanded him to leave
her for ever, as if he had in truth beerj guilty. S peechless
with wonder, he would have obeyed, when Theresina
sobbed forth, --
dear lady? S
banish me too;
" O h, my L ord! will you then desert my
he has sent every one away, and would fain
for she has caught the infectious fever! "
These words instantly ex plained the affecting stratagem
of Corinne; and O swald clasped, her to his heart, with a
transport of tenderness, such as he had never before ex -
perienced. I n vain she repelled him; in vain she re-
proached Theresina. O swald bade the good creature with-
draw, and lavished his tearful k isses on the face of his
adored. " N ow, now," he cried, " thou shalt not die
without me: if the fatal poison be in thy veins, at least,
thank H
eaven, I breathe it in thine arms. " -- " Dear, cruel
O swald! " she sighed, " to what tortures you condemn
me! O
h God! since he will not live without me, let not
my better angel perish! no, save him, save him! " H ere
her strength was lost, and, for eight days, she remained in
the greatest danger. I n the midst of her delirium, she
would cry, -- " K eep O swald from me!
here! never tell him where I am! " W
returned, she gazed on him, murmuring, -- "
let him not come
hen her reason
O swald! in
death as in life you are with me; we shall be re-united. "
W hen she perceived how pale he was, a deadly terror
seized her, and she called to his aid the physicians who
had given her a strong proof of devotion in never having
abandoned her. O swald constantly held her burning hands
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? 26 6 CO R I N N e' ; O R I TA L Y .
c
in his, and finished the cup of which she had drank ; in
fact, with such avidity did he share her perils, that she
herself ceased at last to combat this passionate self-sacri-
fice. L eaning her head upon his arm, she resigned herself
to his will. Two beings who so love that they feel the
impossibility of living without each other, may well attain
the noble and tender intimacy which puts all things in com-
mon, even death itself. (2) H appily L ord N evil did not
tak e the disease through which he so carefully nursed
Corinne. S he recovered; but another malady penetrated
yet deeper into her breast. The generosity of her lover,
alas! redoubled the attachment she had borne him.
CH A PTE R I V .
I t was agreed that N evil and Corinne should visit V enice.
They had relapsed into silence on their future prospects,
but spok e of their affection more confidingly than ever:
both avoided all topics that could disturb their present
mutual peace. A day passed with him was to her such
enj oyment! he seemed so to revel in her conversation; he
followed her every impulse; studied her slightest wish,
with so sustained an interest, that it appeared impossible he
could bestow so much felicity without himself being happy.
Corinne drew assurances of safety from the bliss she tasted.
A fter some months of such habits we believe them insepar-
able from our ex istence. H er agitation was calmed again,
and her natural heedlessness of the future returned. Y et,
on the eve of q uitting R ome, she became ex tremely melan-
choly: this time she both hoped and feared that it was for
ever. The night before her departure, unable to sleep,
she heard a troop of R omans singing in the moonlight.
S he could not resist her desire to follow them, and once
more wander through that beloved scene. S he dressed; and
bidding her servants k eep the carriage within sight of her,
put on a veil, to avoid recognition, and, at some distance,
pursued the musicians. They paused on the bridge of
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 26 * 7
S t. A ngelo, in front of A drian' s tomb: in such a spot
music seems to ex press the vanities and splendours of the
world. O ne might fancy one beheld in the air the im-
perial shade wondering to find no other trace left of his
power on earth ex cept a tomb. The band continued their
walk , singing as they went, to the silent night, when the
happy ought to sleep: their pure and gentle melodies
seemed designed to solace wak eful suffering. Drawn on-
ward by this resistless spell, Corinne, insensible to fatigue,
seemed winging her way along. They also sang before
A ntoninus' pillar, and then at Traj an' s column: they sa-
luted the obelisk of S t. J ohn L
of music worthily mates the ideal ex
ateran. The ideal language
these: enthusiasm reigns alone, while vulgar interests
slumber. A t last the singers departed, and left Corinne
near the Coliseum: she wished to enter its enclosure and
bid adieu to ancient R ome.
Those who have seen this place but by day cannot
j udge of the impression it may mak e. The sun of I
should shine on festivals; but the moon is the light for
ruins. S ometimes, through the openings of the amphi-
theatre, which seems towering to the clouds, a portion of
heaven' s vault appears lik e a dark blue curtain. The
plants that cling to the brok en walls all wear the hues of
night. The soul at once shudders and melts on finding
itself alone with nature. O ne side of this edifice is much
more fallen than the other: the two contemporaries mak e
an uneq ual struggle against time. H e fells the weak est;
the other still resists, but soon must yield.
" Y e solemn scenes! " cried Corinne, " where, at this
hour, no being breathes beside me, -- where but the
echoes of my own voice answer me, -- how are the storms
of passion calmed by nature, who thus peacefully permits so
many generations to glide by! H as not the universe some
better end than man? or are its marvels scattered here,
merely to be reflected in his mind? O swald! why do I
love with such idolatry? why live but for the feelings of a
day, compared to the infinite hopes that unite us with
divinity? My God! if it be true, as I believe, that we
admire thee the more the more capable we are of reflection,
pression of work
s lik e
taly
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? 2b8 corinne; or I taly.
mak e my own mind my refuge against my heart! The
noble being whose gentle look s I can never forget is but a
perishable mortal lik e myself. A mong the stars there is
eternal love, alone sufficing to a boundless heart. " Corinne
remained long lost in these ideas, and, at last, turned slowly
towards her own abode; but, ere she re-entered it, she
wished to await the dawn at S t. Peter' s, and from its
dome tak e her last leave of all beneath. H er imagination
represented this edifice as it must be, when, in its turn,
a wreck , -- the theme of wonder for yet unborn ages.
The columns, now erect, half bedded in earth; the porch
dilapidated, with the E gyptian obelisk ex ulting over the
decay of novelties, wrought for an earthly immortality.
F rom the summit of S t. Peter' s Corinne beheld day rise
over R ome, which, in its uncultivated Campagna, look
the O asis of a L ibyan desert. Devastation is around it;
but the multitude of spires and cupolas, over which S t.
Peter' s rises, give a strange beauty to its aspect. This
city may boast one peculiar charm: we love it as an ani-
mated being: its very ruins are as friends, from whom we
cannot part without farewell.
s lik e
Corinne addressed the Pantheon, S t. A ngelo' s, and all
the sites that once renewed the pleasures of her fancy.
" A dieu! " she said, " land of remembrances! scenes
where life depends not on events, nor on society; where
enthusiasm refreshes itself through the eyes, and link s the
soul to each ex ternal obj ect. I leave you, to follow O swald,
not k nowing to what fate he may consign me. I prefer
him to the independence which here afforded me such
happy days. I may return no more ; -- but for a brok en
heart and blighted mind, ye arts and monuments so oft
invok ed, while I was ex iled beneath his stormy sk y, ye
could do nothing to console! "
S he wept; yet thought not, for an instant, of letting
O swald depart without her. R esolutions springing from the
neart we often j ustly blame, yet hesitate not to adopt.
W hen passion masters a superior mind, it separates our
j udgment from our conduct, and need not cloud the one
in order to over-rule the other.
Corinne' s black curls and veil floating on the breeze
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? corinne; O R I TA L Y . 26 9
gave her so picturesq ue an air, that, as she left the church,
the common people recognised and followed her to her
carriage with the warmest testimonials of respect. S he
sighed again, at parting from a race so ardent and so
graceful in their ex pressions of esteem. N or was this all.
S he had to endure the regrets of her friends. They
devised fetes in order to delay her departure: their poetical
tributes strove in a thousand ways to convince her that she
ought to stay; and finally they accompanied her on horse-
back for twenty miles. S he was ex tremely affected. O s-
wald cast down his eyes in confusion, reproaching himself
for tearing her from so much delight, though he k new that
an offer of remaining there would be more barbarous still.
H e appeared selfish in removing Corinne from R ome; yet
he was not so; for the fear of afflicting her, by setting forth
alone, had more weight with him than even the hope of
retaining her presence. H e k new not what he was about
to do, -- saw nothing beyond V enice. H e had written to
enq uire how soon his regiment would be actively employed
in the war, and awaited a reply. S ometimes he thought
of tak ing Corinne with him to E ngland; yet instantly re-
membered that he should for ever ruin her reputation by
so doing, unless she were his wife; then he wished to
soften the pangs of separation by a private marriage; but
a moment afterwards gave up that plan also. " W e can
k eep no secrets from the dead," he cried; " and what
should I gain by mak ing a mystery of an union prohibited
by nothing but my worship of a tomb? " H is mind, so
weak in all that concerned his affections, was sadly agitated
by contending sentiments. Corinne resigned herself to
him, lik e a victim, ex ulting, amid her sorrows, in the
sacrifices she made; while O swald, responsible for the
welfare of another, bound himself to her daily by new
ties, without the power of yielding to them; and, unhappy
in his love as in his conscience, felt the presence of both
but in their combats with each other.
W hen the friends of Corinne took
mended her earnestly to his care;
the love of so eminent a woman;
ing lik e mock ery and upbraiding. S he felt this; hastily
leave, they com-
congratulated him on
their every word sound-
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? 270CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
concluded the trying scene; and when, after turning from
time to time to salute her, they were at last lost to her
sight, she only said to her lover, " O swald! I have now
noonebutyouintheworld! " H owdidhelongtoswear
he would be hers! B ut freq uent disappointments teach us
to mistrust our own inclinations, and shrink even from the
vows our hearts may prompt. Corinne read his thoughts,
and delicately strove to fix his attention on the country
through which they travelled.
CHAPTER V.
I t was the beginning of S eptember, and the weather su-
perb till they neared the A pennines, where they felt the
approach of winter. A soft air is seldom united with the
pleasure of look ing on picturesq ue mountains. O ne even-
ing a terrible hurricane arose: the thick est dark ness closed
around them; and the horses, so wild there that they are
even harnessed by stratagem, set off with inconceivable
rapidity. O ur lovers felt much ex cited by being thus
hurried on together. " A
could bear us from all I
k
h! " cried O swald, " if they
now on earth,-- if they could
climb these hills, and dash into another life, where we
should regain my father, who would receive and bless us,
would you not go with me, beloved? " H e. pressed her
vehemently to his bosom. Corinne, enamoured as himself,
replied, " Dispose of me as you will; chain me lik e a
slave to your fate: had not the slaves of other days talents
that soothed their masters? S uch would I be to thee.
B ut, O swald, yet respect her who thus trusts thee: con-
demned by all the world, she must not blush to meet thine
eye. " -- " N o," heex claimed," I willloseall,orallob-
tain. I ought, I must either live thy husband, or die in
stifling the transports of my passion: but I will hope to
be thine before the world, and glory in thy tenderness.
Y et tell me, I conj ure thee, have I not sunk in thine
esteem by all these struggles? Canst thou believe thyself
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? corinne; O R MA L T. 271
less dear than ever? " H is accents were so sincere that,
for awhile, they gave her back her confidence, and the
purest, sweetest rapture animated them both.
Meanwhile the horses stopped.
O swald alighted first.
The cold sharp wind almost made him fancy himself landing
in E ngland: this freezing air was not lik e that of I taly,
which bids young breasts forget all things save love. O swald
sunk back into his gloom. Corinne, who k new the un-
settled nature of his fancy, but too well guessed the cause.
O n the morrow they arrived at our L ady of L oretto,
which stands upon an eminence, from whence is seen the
A driatic. W hile O swald gave some orders for their
j ourney, Corinne entered the church, where the image of
the V irgin is enclosed in the choir of a small chapel,
adorned with bas-reliefs. The marble pavement that sur-
rounds the sanctuary is worn by pilgrim k nees. Corinne,
moved by these mark s of prayer, k nelt on the stones so
often pressed by the unfortunate, and addressed the type
of heavenly truth and sensibility. O swald here found her
bathed in tears. H e did not understand how a woman of
her mind could bow to the practices of the ignorant. S he
guessed this by his look s, and said, " Dear O swald, are
there not many moments when we dare not raise our hopes
to the S upreme B eing, or breathe to him the sorrows of
our hearts? I s it not pleasing, then, to behold a woman as
intercessor for our human weak ness? S he suffered on
this earth, for she lived on it; to her I blush not to pray
for you, when a petition to God himself would overawe
me. " -- " J cannot always directly supplicate my Mak er,"
replied O swald. " I , too, have my intercessor: the guardian
angel of children is their father: and since mine has been
in heaven, I have oft received an unex pected solace, aid,
and composure, which I
culous protection whence I
perplex ities. " -- " I
can but attribute to the mira-
still hope to escape from my
comprehend you," said Corinne, " and
believe there is no one who has not some mysterious idea of
his own destiny,-- one event which he has always dreaded,
and which, though improbable, is sure to happen. The
punishment of some fault, though it be impossible to trace
the connection our misfortunes have with it, often strik es
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? 272 corinne; or italt.
the imagination. F rom my childhood I trembled at the
idea of living in E ngland. W ell; my inability to do so
may be my worst regret; and on that point I feel there is
something unconq uerable in my fate, against which I
i struggle in vain. E very one conceives his life interiorly a
contrast to what it seems: we have a confused sense of
some supernatural power, disguised in the form of ex ternal
circumstance, while itself alone is the source of all our
actions. Dear friend, minds capable of reasoning for ever
plunge into their own abyss, but always fail to fathom it. "
O swald, as he heard her speak thus, wondered to find
that, while she was capable of such glowing sentiments, her
j udgment still could hover over them, lik e their presiding
genius. " N o," he freq uently said to himself, " no other
society on earth can satisfy the man who has possessed
such a companion as this. "
They entered A ncona at night, as he wished not to be
recognised: in spite of his precautions, however, he was
so; and the nex t morning all the inhabitants crowded
about the house in which he stayed, awak ing Corinne by
shouts of " L ong live L ord N evil, our benefactor! " S he
started, rose hastily, and mingled with the crowd, to hear
their praises of the man she loved. O swald, informed that
the people were impatiently calling for him, was at last
obliged to appear. H e believed Corinne still slept: what
was his astonishment at finding her already k nown and
cherished by the grateful multitude, who entreated her to
be their-interpretress! Corinne' s imagination -- by turns
her charm and her defect -- delighted in ex traordinary ad-
ventures. S he thank ed L ord N evil, in the name of the
people, with a grace so noble that the natives were in
ecstasies. S peak ing for them, she said, " Y ou preserved
us, -- we owe you our lives! " B ut when she offered him
the oak and laurel crown they had entwined, an indefinite
timidity beset her: the enthusiastic populace prostrated
themselves before him, and Corinne involuntarily bent her
k nee in tendering him the garland. O swald was so over-
whelmed at the sight, that he could no longer support this
scene, nor the public homage of his beloved; but drew her
away with him. S he wept, and thank ed the good inhabit-
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? CO R I K K E J O R I TA L Y . 273
ants of A ncona, who followed them with blessings, as
O swald, hiding himself in his carriage, murmured, " Co-
rinne at my feet! Corinne, in whose path I ought to k neel!
H ave I deserved this? Do you suspect me of such unworthy
pride? " -- " N o, no," she said; " but I was suddenly
seized with the respect a woman always feels for him she
loves. To us, indeed, is ex ternal deference most directed;
but in truth, in nature, it is the woman who reveres the
being capable of defending her. "
" Y es, I will be thy defender, to the last hour of my
life! " he answered. " H
genius shall not in vain seek
love! " -- " A las ! "
eaven be my witness, such a
refuge in the harbour of my
she sighed, " that love is all I need;
and what promise can secure it to me? N o matter. I
feel that you love me now better than ever: let us not
trouble this return of affection. " -- " R eturn! " interrupted
O swald. -- " I cannot retract the ex pression; but let us not
seek to ex plain it; " and she made a gentle sign for N evil
to be silent.
CH A PTE R V I .
F or two days they proceeded on the shore of the A driatic;
but this sea, on the R omagnan side, has not the effect of
the ocean, nor even of the Mediterranean. The high road
winds close to its waves, and grass grows on its bank s:
it is not thus that we would represent the mighty realm
of tempests. A t R imini and Cesena, you q uit the classic
scenes of history: their latest remembrancer is the R u-
bicon, which Ca? sar passed, to become the lord of R
ome.
N ot far from hence is the republic of S t. Marino, the last
weak vestige of liberty, besides the spot on which was re-
solved the destruction of the world' s chief republic. B y
degrees, you now advance towards a country very opposite
in aspect to the Papal state. B ologna, L ombardy, the en-
virons of F errara and R ovigo, are remark able for beauty
and cultivation -- how unlik e the poetic barrenness and
T
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? 274. corinne; or italy.
decay that announce an approach to R ome, and tell of the
terrible events that have occurred there!
Y ou then q uit what S abran calls ' black pines, the sum-
mer' s mourning, but the winter' s bravery,' and the. conical
cypresses that remind one of obelisk s, mountains, and the
sea. N ature, lik e the traveller, now parts from the south-
ern rays. A t first, the oranges are found no longer in the
open air, -- they are succeeded by olives, whose pale and
tender foliage might suit the bowers of the E lysian fields.
F arther on, even the olive disappears.
O n entering B ologna' s smiling plain, the vines garland
the elms together, and the whole land is deck ed as for a
festival. Corinne was sensible of the contrast between her
present state of mind and the resplendent scene she now
beheld. -- " A h, O swald! " she sighed, " ought nature to
spread such images of happiness before two friends per-
haps about to lose each other ? " -- " N o, Corinne ! never!
each day I feel less able to resign thee: that untiring gen-
tleness unites the charm of habit with the love I bear thee.
O ne lives as contentedly with you as if you were not the
finest genius in the world, or, rather, because you are so;
for real superiority confers a perfect goodness, that mak es
one' s peace with one' s self and all the world. W hat angry
thoughts can live in such a presence? " They arrived at
F errara, one of the saddest towns in I taly, vast and de-
serted. The few inhabitants found there, at distant intervals,
loiter on slowly, as if secure of time for all they have to
do. I t is hard to conceive this the scene of that gay
court sung both by Tasso and A riosto; yet still are shown
their manuscripts, with that also of the Pastor F ido. A riosto
k new how to live at ease here, amid courtiers; but the
house is yet to be seen wherein they dared confine Tasso
as a maniac. I t is sad to read the various letters which
he wrote ask ing the death it was so long ere he obtained.
Tasso was so peculiarly organised, that his talent became
its owner' s formidable foe. H is genius dissected his own
heart. H e could not so have read the secrets of the soul
if he had felt less sorrow. The man who has not suffered,
says a prophet, what does he k now 9 I n some respects,
Corinne resembled him. S he was more cheerful and more
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? CO R I N N E J O R I TA L Y . 275
versatile, but her imagination req uired ex treme govern-
ment: far from assuaging any grief, it lent each pang
fresh might. N evil deceived himself if he believed her
brilliant faculties could give her means of happiness apart
from her affections. W hen genius is united with true
feeling, our talents multiply our woes. W e analyse, we
mak e discoveries, and, the heart' s urn of tears being ex -
haustless, the more we think the more we feel it flow.
CH A PTE R V I I .
They embark ed for V enice on the B renta. A t each side
they beheld its palaces, grand but dilapidated, lik e all
I talian magnificence. They are too wildly ornamented
to remind us of the antiq ue: V enetian architecture betrays
a commerce with the E ast: there is a blendure of the
Gothic and Moresco that tak es the eye, though it offends
the taste. The poplar, regular almost as architecture
itself, borders the canals. The sk y' s bright blue sets off
the splendid verdure of the country, which owes its green
to the abundant waters. N ature seems to wear these two
colours in mere coq uetry; and the vague beauty of the
south is found no more. V enice astonishes more than it
pleases at first sight: it look s a city under water; and one
can scarce admire the ambition which disputed this space
with the sea. The amphitheatre of N aples is built as if to
welcome it; but, on the flats of V enice, steeples appear,
lik e masts, immovable in the midst of waves. I n entering
the city, one tak es leave of vegetation; one sees not even
a fly there: all animals are banished ; man alone remains to
battle with the waves. I n a city whose streets are all
canals the silence is profound-- the dash of oars its only
interruption. Y ou cannot fancy yourself in the country,
for you see no trees; nor in a town, for you hear no
bustle; or even on board ship, for you mak e no way; but
in a place which storms would convert into a prison, -- for
T2
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? 276 corinne; or italy.
there are times when you cannot leave the city, nor even
your own house.
Many men in V enice never went from one q uarter to
another,-- never heheld S t. Mark ' s,-- a horse or a tree were
actual miracles to them. The black gondolas glide along
lik e biers or cradles, the last and the first beds of human
k ind. A t night, their dark colour renders them invisible,
and they are only traced by the reflection of the lights
they carry -- one might call them phantoms, guided by
faint stars. I n this abode all is mysterious -- the govern-
ment, the habits, love itself. Doubtless the heart and
reason find much food when they can penetrate this
secrecy, but strangers always feel the first impression sin-
gularly sad.
Corinne, who was a believer in presentiments, and now
made presages of every thing, said to N evil, -- " I
s not the
melancholy that I feel on entering this place a proof that
some great misfortune will befall me here? " A s she said
this, she heard three reports of cannon, from one of the isles
of the L agune -- she started, and enq uired the cause of a
gondolier. -- " I t is a woman tak ing the veil," he said,
" at one of those convents in the midst of the sea. The
custom here is, that the moment such vow is uttered, the
female throws the flowers she wore during the ceremony
behind her, as a sign of her resigning the world, and the
firing you have j ust heard announces this event. " Corinne
shuddered. O swald felt her hand grow cold in his, and
saw a death-lik e pallor overspread her face. -- " My life!
he cried, " why give this importance to so simple a
chance ? " -- " I t is not simple," she replied. " I
have thrown the flowers of youth behind me. " -- " H ow!
"
, too,
' when I love thee more than ever? when my whole soul is
thine ? " -- " The thunders of war," she continued, " else-
where devoted to victory or death, here celebrate the
obscure sacrifice of a maiden -- an innocent employment
for the arms that shak e the world with terror: -- a solemn
message from a resigned woman to those of her sisters
who still contend with fate. "
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 277
CH A PTE R V I I I .
The power of V enetian government, during its latter years,
has almost entirely consisted in the empire of habit and
association of ideas. I t once was formidably daring, it
has become lenient and timorous: hate of its past potency
is easily revived, and easily subdued, by the thought that
its might is over. The aristocracy woo the favour of the
people, and yet by a k ind of despotism, since they rather
amuse than enlighten them; an agreeable state enough,
while the common herd are afforded no pleasures that can
brutify their minds, while the government watches over its
subj ects lik e a sultan over his harem, forbidding them to
meddle with politics, or presume to form any j udgment of
ex isting authorities, but allowing them sufficient diversion,
and not a little glory. The spoils of Constantinople enrich
the churches; the standards of Cyprus and Candia float over
the Piazza; the Corinthian horses delight the eye; and the
winged lion of S t. Mark ' s appears the type of fame. The
situation of the city rendering agriculture and the chase
impossible, nothing is left for the V enetians but dissipation.
Their dialect is soft and light as a zephyr. O ne can hardly
conceive how the people who resisted the league of Cambray
should speak so flex ible a tongue: it is charming while ex -
pressive of graceful pleasantry, but suits not graver themes;
verses on death, for instance, breathed in these delicate and
almost infantine accents, sound more lik e the descriptions
of poetic fable. The V enetians are the most intelligent
men in I taly; they think more deeply, though with less
ardent fancies than their southern countrymen; yet, for
the most part, the women, though very agreeable, have
acq uired a sentimentality of language, which, without
restraining their morals, merely lends their gallantry an
air of affectation. There is more vanity, as there is more
society, here, than in the rest of I taly. W here applause is
q uick and freq uent, conceit calculates all debts instan-
taneously; k nows what success is owed, and claims its due,
i3
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? 278 corinne; or italy.
without giving a minute' s credit. I ts bills must be paid
at sight. S till much originality may be found in V enice.
L adies of the highest rank receive visits in the cafes, and
this strange confusion prevents their salons becoming the
arenas of serious self-love. There yet remain here some
ancient usages that evince a respect for their forefathers,
and a certain youth of heart which tires not of the past,
nor shrink s from melting recollections. The sight of the
city itself is always sufficient to awak en a host of memories.
The Piazza is crowded by blue tents, beneath which rest
Turk s, Greek s, and A rmenians, who sometimes also loll
carelessly in open boats, with stands of flowers at their
feet. S t. Mark ' s,too,look sratherlik eamosq uethana
Christian temple; and its vicinity gives a true idea of
the oriental indolence with which life is spent here, in
drink ing sherbet, and smok ing perfumed pipes.
Men and women of q uality never leave their houses,
ex cept in black mantles; while the gondolas are often
winged along by rowers clad in white, with rose-colour
sashes, as if holiday array were abandoned to the vulgar,
while the nobility k ept up a vow of perpetual mourning.
