H e forgave his own hap-
piness while beside her; but all that charmed him then
would have redoubled the pangs of his ex ile.
piness while beside her; but all that charmed him then
would have redoubled the pangs of his ex ile.
Madame de Stael - Corinna, or Italy
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 153
O n entering her box , she was immediately recognised;
and a remembrance of her coronation, adding to the interest
she usually created, all parts of the house resounded with
applause, and cries of " V iva Corinne! " The musicians
themselves, electrified by this unanimous sensation, sent
forth strains of victory; for triumph, of whatever k ind,
awak ens in our recollection " the pomp and circumstance
of glorious war. " Corinne was much moved by these tes-
timonies of admiring affection. The indescribable im-
pression always made by a human mass, simultaneously
ex pressing the same sentiment, so deeply touched her heart,
that she could not restrain her tears: her bosom heaved
beneath her dress; and O swald, with a sense of piq ue,
whispered, " Y ou must not, Madame, be torn from such
success: it outvalues love, since it mak es your heart beat
thus; " he then retired to the back of the box , without
waiting for her answer. I n one instant had he swept
away all the pleasure which she had owed to a reception
prized most because he was its witness.
Those who have not heard I talian singing can form no
idea of music. The human voice is soft and sweet as the
flowers and sk ies. This charm was made but for such a
clime: each reflect the other. The world is the work of a
single thought, ex pressed in a thousand different ways. The
I talians have ever devotedly loved music. Dante, in his
Purgatory, meets the best, singer of his day, and ask s him
for one of his delicious airs. The entranced spirits forget
themselves as they hear it, until their guardian recalls them
to the truth. The Christians, lik e the Pagans, believe the
empire of music to ex tend beyond the grave: of all the fine
arts, none act so immediately upon the soul: the others
direct it towards such or such ideas; but this alone ad-
dresses the very source of life, and transforms the whole
being at once, humanly speak ing, as Divine Grace is said to
change the heart. A mong all our presentiments of futurity,
those to which melody gives birth are not the least worthy
of reverence. E ven the mirth ex cited by buffo singing is
not vulgar, but fanciful; beneath it lie poetic reveries, such
as spok en wit never yet created. Music is so volatile a
pleasure,-- we are so sensible that it escapes from us even
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? 15b corink e; or I taly.
as we enj oy it,-- that it always leaves a tender impression
on the mind; yet, when ex pressive of grief, it sheds gen-
tleness even over despair. The heart beats more q uick ly to
its regular measure, and, reminding us of life' s brevity, bids s
us enj oy what we can: the silent void is filled; you feel
within yourself the active energies that fear no obstacle
from without. Music doubles our computation of our own
faculties, and mak es us feel capable of the noblest efforts;
teaches us to march towards death with enthusiasm, and is'
happily powerless to ex plain any base or artful sentiment.
Music lifts from the breast the weight it so often feels
beneath serious affections, and which we tak e for the hea-
viness of life, so habitual is its pressure: we hang on such
pure sounds, till we seem to discover the secrets of the
E ternal, and penetrate the mysteries of nature: no words
can ex plain this; for words but copy primitive sensations,
as prose translators follow poetry. L ook s alone resemble
its effect: the long look of love, that gradually sink s into
the breast, till one' s eyes fall, unable to support so vast a
bliss, lest this ray from another' s soul should consume us.
The admirable union of two voices perfectly in tune pro-
duces an ecstasy that cannot be prolonged without pain: it
is a blessing too great for humanity, which vibrates lik e an
instrument brok en beneath too perfect a harmony. O swald
had remained perversely apart from Corinne during the\
first act of the concert; but when the duets began in low
voices, accompanied by the notes of clarionets and hautboys,
purer even than their own, Corinne veiled her face, absorbed
by emotion; she wept without suffering, and loved without
dread; the image of O swald was in her bosom; but a host
of thoughts wandered too far to be distinct, even to herself.
I t is said that a prophet, in one moment, ex plored seven
regions of heaven. W hoever can thus conceive the all
which an instant may contain must have heard sweet
music beside the obj ect of his love. O swald felt its power;
his resentment decreased: the tenderness of Corinne ex -
plained and j ustified every thing; he drew near her;
she
heard him breathing close by, at the most enchanting period
of this celestial harmony: it was too much; the most
pathetic tragedy could not have so overwhelmed her as did
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 157
the sense of their both being eq ually penetrated by the same
sounds, at the same instant: each fresh tone ex alted this
consciousness. The words sung were nothing; now and
then allusions to lova and death induced some recollection;
but oftener did music alone suggest and realise the formless
wish, as doth some pure and tranq uil star, wherein we seem
to see the image of all we could desire on earth. " L et us
go," sighed Corinne: " I feel fainting. " -- " W hat is it,
love? " ask ed O swald, anx iously: " you are pale. Come
into the air with me. " They went together: her strength
returned, as she leaned upon his arm; and she faltered
forth, " Dear O swald, I am about to leave you for eight
days. " -- " W hatsayyou? " hecried. -- " E veryyear," she
answered, " I spend Passion week in a convent, to prepare
for E aster. " O swald could not oppose, aware that most of
the R oman ladies devoted themselves to pious severities at
that time, even if careless of religion during the rest of the
year; but he remembered that Corinne' s faith and his own
were not the same: they could not pray together. " W hy
are you not my countrywoman? " he ex claimed "
souls have but one country," she replied. -- " True,"
O ur
he
said; " yet I cannot the less feel every thing that divides
us. " A nd this coming absence so dismayed him, that neither
to Corinne, nor the friends who now j oined them, could he
speak another word that evening.
CH A PTE R I I I .
O swald called at Corinne' s house early nex t day, in some
uneasiness: her maid gave him a note, announcing her
mistress' s retirement to the convent that morning, and that
she could not see him till after Good F riday. S he confessed
that she had not the courage to tell him the whole of this
truth the night before. O swald was struck as by an un-
ex pected blow. The house in which he had always found
Corinne now appeared sadly lone: her harp, book s, draw-
ings, all her household gods were there, but she was gone.
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? 158 corinnb; or italy.
A shudder crept through his veins: he thought on the
chamber of his father, and sunk upon a seat. " I t may
be," he cried, " that I shall live to lose her too-- that ani-
mated mind, that warm heart, that form so brilliantly
fresh: the bolt may strik e, and the tomb of youth is mute
as that of age. W hat an illusion, then, is happiness! I n-
flex ible Time, who watches ever o' er his prey, may tear it
from us in a moment. Corinne! Corinne! why did3t thou
leave me? Thy magic alone can still my memory: dazzled
by the hours of rapture passed with thee -- but now-- I
am alone. I am again my wretched, wretched self! " H e
called upon Corinne with a desperation disproportionate to
such brief absence, but attributable to the habitual anguish
of his heart. The maid, Theresina, heard his groans, and
gratified by this regret for her mistress, re-entered, saying,
" My L ord, for your consolation, I will even betray a secret
of my lady' s: I hope she will forgive me. Come to her
bed-room, and you shall see your own portrait! " -- " My
portrait! " he repeated " Y es; she drew it from memory,
and has risen, for the last week , at five in the morning, to
have it finished before she went to the convent. " The
lik eness was very strong, and painted with perfect grace.
This pledge, indeed, consoled him: facing it was an ex -
q uisite Madonna, before which Corinne had formed her
oratory. This " love and religion mingled," ex ists in I taly
under circumstances far more ex traordinary; for the image
of O swald was associated but with the purest hopes of his
adorer.
Y et thus to place it near so divine an emblem, and to
prepare herself for a convent by a week of such occupation,
were traits that rather characterised Corinne' s country
than herself. I talian women are devout from sensibility,
not principle; and nothing was more hostile to O swald' s
opinions than their manner of think ing on this subj ect;
yet how could he blame Corinne, while receiving so touch-
ing a proof of her affection? H is look s strayed tenderly
through this chamber, where he now stood for the first
time. A t the head of the bed he beheld the miniature of
an aged man, evidently not an I talian: two bracelets hung
near it, one formed by braids of black and of silver hair,
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? corinne; or italy. 159
the other of beautifully fair tresses, that, by a strange
chance, reminded him of L ucy E dgarmond' s, which he had
attentively remark ed three years since. O swald did not
speak ; but Theresina, as if to banish any j ealous suspicion,
told him, " that during the eleven years she had lived with
her lady she had always seen these bracelets, which she
k new contained the hair of Corinne' s father, mother, and
sister. " -- " E leven years! " cried O swald; " you were
then -- " he check ed himself, blushing at the q uestion he
had begun, and precipitately left the house that he might
escape further temptation. H e freq uently turned back to
gaze on the windows, and when he lost sight of them he
felt all the misery of solitude. That evening he went to
an assembly, in search of something to divert his thoughts;
for in grief, as j oy, reverie can only be indulged by those
at peace with themselves; but society was insupportable: he
was more than ever convinced that for him Corinne alone had
lent it charms, by the void which her absence rendered it
now. H e attempted to chat with the ladies, who replied
by those insipid phrases which, ex plaining nothing, are so
convenient for those who have something to conceal. H e
saw groups of men, who, by their voices and gestures,
seemed warmly discussing some important topic: he drew
near, and found the matter of their discourse as despicable
as its manner. H e mused over this causeless, aimless,
vivacity, so freq uently found in large parties: -- though
I talian mediocrity is a good sort of animal enough, with
but little j ealous vanity, much regard for superior minds,
and, if fatiguing them by dulness, at least never wounding
them by pretence. S uch was the society that, a few days
since, O swald had found so interesting. The slight ob-
stacles which it opposed to his conversation with Corinne;
her anx iety to be near him, as soon as she had been suffi-
ciently polite to others; the intelligence ex isting between
them on subj ects suggested by their company; her pride,
in speak ing before him, to whom she indirectly addressed
remark s, he alone could fully understand. A ll this had
varied his evenings: every part of these same halls brought
back the pleasant hours which had persuaded him that
there might be some amusement even at an assembly.
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? 16 0CO B I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
" O h! " he sighed, as he left it, " here, as elsewhere, she
alone can give us life; let me fly rather to some desert
spot till she returns. I shall less sadly feel her absence,
where nought is near me that resembles pleasure. "
BOOKX.
PA S S I O N W E E K .
CH A PTE R I .
O swald passed nex t day in the gardens of the monasteries;
going first to that of the Carthusians, and paused, ere he
entered, to ex amine two E gyptian lions at a little distance
from its gate. There is something in their physiognomy
belonging neither to animals nor to man: it is as if two
heathen gods had been represented in this shape. Char-
treux is built on the ruins of Diocletian' s baths; and its
church is adorned by the granite pillars which were found
there. The monk s show this place with much zeal: they
belong to the world but by their interest in its ruins.
Their way of life presupposes either very limited minds
or the most ex alted piety. The monotony of their routine
recalls that celebrated line,--
" Time o' er wreck ed worlds sleeps motionless. "
Their life seems but to be employed in contemplating
death. Q uick ness of thought, in so uniform an ex istence,
would be the cruelest of tortures. I n the midst of the
cloister stand two cypresses, whose heavy black ness the
wind can scarcely stir. N ear them is an almost unheard
fountain, slow and chary; -- fit hour-glass for a seclusion in
which time glides so noiselessly. S ometimes the moon' s
pale glimmer penetrates these shades-- its absence or return
forming q uite an event; and yet these monk s might have
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? corinne; or italy. I 6 l
found all the activity of war insufficient for their spirits,
had they been used to it. W hat an inex haustible field for
conj ecture we find in the combinations of human destiny!
W hat habits are thrust on us by chance, forming each in-
dividual' s world and history. To k now another perfectly,
would cost the study of a life. W hat, then, is meant by
k nowledge of mank ind? Governed they may be by each
other, but understood by God alone.
O swald went nex t to the monastery of B onaventure,
built on the ruins of N ero' s palace: and where so many
crimes had reigned remorselessly, poor friars, tormented
by conscientious scruples, doom themselves to fasts and
stripes for the least omission of duty. " O ur only hope,"
said one, " is, that, when we die, our faults will not have
ex ceeded our penances. " N evil, as he entered, stumbled
over a trap, and ask ed its purpose. " I t is through that
we are interred," answered one of the youngest, already a
prey to the bad air. The natives of the S outh fear death
so much, that it is wondrous to find there these perpetual
mementos: yet nature is often fascinated by what she
dreads; and such an intox ication fills the soul ex clusively.
The antiq ue sarcophagus of a child serves as the fountain
of this institution. The boasted palm of R ome is the
only tree of its garden; but the monk s pay no attention to
ex ternal obj ects. Their rigorous discipline allows them
no mental liberty; their downcast eyes and stealthy pace
show that they have forgotten the use of free will, and
abdicated the government of self, -- an empire which may
well be called a ' heritage of woe! ' This retreat, however,
acted but feebly on the mind of O swald. I magination re-
volts at so manifest a desire to remind it of death in every
possible way. W hen such remembrancers are unex pected,
when nature, and not man, suggests them, the impression
is far more salutary. O swald grew calmer as he strayed
through the garden of S an Giovanni et Paulo, whose
brethren are subj ected to ex ercises less austere. Their
dwelling lords over all the ruins of old R ome. W hat a
site for such asylum! The recluse consoles himself for
his nothingness, in contemplating the wreck s of ages past
H
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? 16 2 corinne; or italy.
away. O swald walk ed long beneath the shady trees, so
rare in I taly: sometimes they intercepted his view of the
city, only to augment the pleasure of his nex t glimpse at
it. A ll the steeples now sounded the A ve Maria, --
? ? * " sq uilla de lontano
Che paj a il giorno pianger, che si muore. " -- Dante.
" The bell from far mourneth the dying day. " This even-
ing prayer serves to mark all time. " I will meet you an
hour before, or an hour after A ve Maria," say the I talians,
so devoutly are the eras of night and day distinguished.
O swald then enj oyed the spectacle of sunset, as the lumi-
nary sunk slowly amid ruins, and seemed submitting to
decline, even lik e the work s of man. This brought back
all his wonted thoughts. The image of Corinne appeared
too promising, too hopeful, for such a moment. H is soul
sought for its father' s, in the home of heavenly spirits.
This affection animated the clouds on which he gazed, and
lent them the sublime aspect of his immortal friend: he
trusted that his prayers at last might call down some bene-
ficent pity, resembling a good father' s benediction.
CH A PTE R I I .
O swald, in his anx iety to study the religion of the
country, resolved to hear some of its preachers, during
Passion-week . H e counted the days that must elapse ere
his reunion with Corinne; while she was away he could
endure no imaginative researches.
H e forgave his own hap-
piness while beside her; but all that charmed him then
would have redoubled the pangs of his ex ile.
I t is at night, and by half-ex tinguished tapers, that the
preachers, at this period, hold forth. A ll the women are in
black , to commemorate the death of J esus: there is some-
thing very affecting in these yearly weeds, that have been
renewed for so many centuries. O ne enters the noble
churches with true emotion; their tombs prepare us for \
serious thought, but the preacher too often dissipates all
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? corinne; or italy. 16 3
this in an instant. H is pulpit is a somewhat long tribunal,
from one end. to the other of which he walk s, with a
strangely mechanical agitation. H e fails not to start with
some phrase to which, at the end of the sentence, he re-
turns, lik e a pendulum; though, by his impassioned ges-
tures, you would think him very lik ely to forget it: but
this is a systematic fury, " a fit of regular and voluntary
distraction," often seen in I taly, and indicating none but
superficial or artificial feelings. A crucifix is hung in the
pulpit; the preacher tak es it down, k isses, presses it in his
arms, and then hangs it up again, with perfect coolness, as
soon as the pathetic passage is got through. A nother
method for producing effect is pulling off and putting on
his cap, with inconceivable rapidity. O ne of these men
attack ed V oltaire and R ousseau on the scepticism of the
age. H e threw his cap into the middle of the rostrum, as
the representative of J ean J acq ues, and then cried, "
philosopher of Geneva, what have you to say against my
N ow,
arguments? " H e was silent for some seconds, as if ex -
pecting a reply; but, as the cap said nothing, he replaced
it on his head, and terminated the discourse by adding,--
" W ell, since I ' ve convinced you, let us say no more about
it. " These uncouth scenes are freq uent in R ome, where
real pulpit oratory is ex tremely rare. R eligion is there
respected as an all-powerful law; its ceremonies captivate
the senses; but its preachers deal less in morals than in
dogmas, that never reach the heart. E loq uence, in this,
as in many other branches of literature, is there devoted
to common-places, that can neither describe nor ex plain.
A new thought raises a k ind of rebellion in minds at once
so ardent and so languid, that they need uniformity to calm
them; and love it for the repose it brings. There is an
etiq uette in these sermons, by which words tak e prece-
dence of ideas; and this order would be deranged, if the
preacher spok e from his own heart, or searched his soul for
what he ought to say. Christian philosophy, which finds
analogies between religion and humanity, is as little under-
stood in I taly, as philosophy of every other sort. To spe-
culate on religion is deemed almost as scandalous as
scheming against it; so wedded are all men to mere forms
ii 2
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? 16 4 corinne; or italy.
and old usages. The worship of the V irgin is particularly
dear to southern people; it seems allied to all that is most
chaste and tender in their love of woman; but every
preacher treats this subj ect with the same ex aggerated rhe-
toric, unconscious that his gestures perpetually turn it
into ridicule. There is scarcely to be heard, from one
I talian pulpit, a single specimen of correct accent, or na-
tural delivery.
O swald fled from this most fatiguing of inflictions -- that
of affected vehemence -- and sought the Coliseum, where a
Capuchin was to preach in the open air, at the foot of an
altar, in the centre of the enclosure which mark s the road
to the cross. W hat a theme were this arena, where mar-
tyrs succeeded gladiators: but there was no hope of hear-
ing it dilated on by the poor capuchin, who k new nothing
of the history of man, save in his own life. W ithout,
however, coming there to hear his bad sermon, O swald
felt interested by the obj ects around him. The congre-
gation was principally composed of the Camaldoline fra-
ternity, at that time attired in grey gowns that covered
both head and body, leaving but two little openings for the
eyes, and having a most ghostly air. Their unseen faces
were prostrated to the earth; they beat their breasts; and
when their preacher threw himself on his k nees, crying--
" Mercy and pity! " they followed his ex ample. A s this
appeal from wretchedness to compassion, from earth to
H eaven, echoed through the classic porticoes, it was im-
possible not to ex perience a deeply pious feeling in the
soul' s inmost sanctuary. O swald shuddered; he remained
standing, that he might not pretend to a faith which was
not his own; yet it cost him an effort to forbear from this
fellowship with mortals, whoever they were, thus hum-
bling themselves before their God; -- for, does not an invo-
cation to heavenly sympathy eq ually become us all?
The people were struck by his noble and foreign aspect,
but not displeased with his omitting to j oin them; for no
men on earth can be more tolerant than the R omans.
They are accustomed to persons who come amongst them
but as sight-seers; and, either from pride or indolence,
never seek to mak e strangers participate their opinions.
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? CO riN N E ; O R I TA L Y . l6 5
I t is a still more ex traordinary fact, that, at this period
especially, there are many who tak e on themselves the
strictest punishments; yet, while the scourge is in their
hands, the church-door is still open, and every stranger
welcome to enter as usual. They do nothing for the sak e
of being look ed at, nor are they frightened from any
thing because they happen to be seen; they proceed to-
wards their own aims, or pleasures, without k nowing that
there is such a thing as vanity, whose only aim and plea-
sure consists in the applause of others.
CH A PTE R I I I .
Much has been said of Passion-week in R ome. A num-
ber of foreigners arrive during L ent, to enj oy this spec-
tacle; and as the music at the S ix tine Chapel, and the
illumination of S t Peter' s, are uniq ue of their k inds, they
naturally attract much curiosity, which is not always satis-
fied. The dinner served by the Pope to the twelve
representatives of the A postles, whose feet he bathes, must
recall solemn ideas; yet a thousand inevitable circum-
stances often destroy their dignity. A ll the contributors
to these customs are not eq ually absorbed by devotion;
ceremonies so oft repeated become mechanical to most of
their agents; the young priests hurry over the service
with a dex trous activity any thing but imposing. A ll the
mysteries that should veil religion are dissipated, by the at- \
tention we cannot help giving to the manner in which each
performs his function. The avidity of the one party for
the meat set before them, the indifference of the other to
their prayers and genuflections, deprive the whole of its
due sublimity.
The ancient costumes still worn by the ecclesiastics ill
accord with their modern heads. The bearded Patriarch
of the Greek Church is the most venerable figure left for
such offices. The old fashion, too, of men curtseying lik e
women is dangerous to decorum. The past and the pre-
m3
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? 16 6 CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y .
sent, indeed, rather j ostle than harmonise; little care is
tak en to strik e the imagination, and none to prevent its
being distracted. A worship so brilliantly maj estic in its
ex ternals is certainly well fitted to elevate the soul; but
more caution should be observed, lest its ceremonies de-
generate into plays, in which the actors get by rote what
they have to do, and at what time; when to pray, when to
have done praying; when to k neel, and when to rise.
Court rules introduced at church restrain that soaring
elasticity which alone can give man hope of drawing near
his Mak er.
The generality of foreigners observe this; yet few R o-
mans but yearly find fresh pleasure in these sacred fetes.
I t is a peculiarity in I talian character, that versatility of
taste leads not to inconstancy; and that vivacity removes
all necessity for truth; it deems every thing more grand,
more beautiful than reality. The I talians, patient and
persevering even in their amusements, let imagination em-
bellish what they possess, instead of bidding them crave
what they have not: and as elsewhere vanity teaches
men to seem fastidious, in I taly, warmth of temperament
mak es it a pleasure to admire.
A fter all the R omans had said to N evil of their Passion-
week , he had ex pected much more than he had found.
H e sighed for the august simplicity of the E nglish Church,
and returned home discontented with himself, for not hav-
ing been affected by that which he ought to have felt. I n
such cases we fancy that the soul is withered, and fear that
we have lost that enthusiasm, without which reason itself
would serve but to disgust us with life.
CH A PTE R I V .
Good F riday restored all the religious emotions of L ord
N evil; he was about to. regain Corinne: the sweet hopes of
love blended with that piety, from which nothing save the
factitious career of the world can entirely wean us. H e
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . l6 7
sought the S ix tine Chapel, to hear the far-famed Miserere.
I t was yet light enough for him to see the pictures of
Michael A ngelo. The Day of J udgment, treated by a
genius worthy so terrible a subj ect. Dante had infected
this painter with the bad taste of representing mythological
beings in the presence of Christ; but it is chiefly as demons
that he has characterised these Pagan creations. B eneath
the arches of the roof are seen the prophets and heathen
priestesses; called as witnesses by the Christians { teste David
cum, S ybilla); a host of angels surround them. The roof
is painted as if to bring heaven nearer to us; but that
heaven is gloomy and repulsive. Day scarcely penetrates
me windows, which throw on the pictures more shadows
than beams. This dimness, too, enlarges the already com-
manding figures of Michael A ngelo. The funereal perfume
of incense fills the aisles, and every sensation prepares us
for that deeper one which awaits the touch of music.
W hile O swald was lost in these reflections, he beheld Co-
rinne, whom he had not ex pected yet to see, enter that
part of the chapel devoted to females, and separated by a
grating from the rest. S he was in black ; pale with ab-
stinence, and so tremulous, as she perceived him, that she
was obliged to support herself by the balustrade. A t this
moment the Miserere commenced. V oices well practised in
this pure and antiq ue chant rose from an unseen gallery;
every instant rendered the chapel dark er. The music
seemed to float in the air; no longer in the voluptuously
impassioned strains which the lovers had heard together a
week since, but such as seemed bidding them renounce all
earthly things. Corinne k nelt before the grate. O swald
himself was forgotten. A t such a moment she would have
loved to die. I f the separation of soul and body were but
pangless; if an angel would bear away thought and feeling
on his wings, -- divine spark s that shall return to their
source, -- death would be then the heart' s spontaneous act,
an ardent prayer most mercifully granted. The verses of
this psalm are sung alternately, and in very contrasted
styles. The heavenly harmony of one is answered by
murmured recitative, heavy and even harsh, lik e the reply
of worldlings to the appeal of sensibility, or the realities of
m4
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? 16 8CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
life defeating the vows of generous souls : when the soft
choir reply, hope springs again, again to be frozen by that
dreary sound which inspires not terror, but utter discou-
ragement; yet the last burst, most reassuring of all, leaves
j ust the stainless and ex q uisite sensation in the soul which
we would pray to be accorded when we die. The lights
are ex tinguished; night advances; the pictures gleam lik e
prophetic phantoms through the dusk ; the deepest silence
reigns: speech would be insupportable in this state of
self-communion; every one steals slowly away, reluctant
to resume the vulgar interests of the world.
Corinne followed the procession to S t. Peter' s, as yet
illumined but by a cross of fire: this type of grief shining
alone through the immense obscure, fair image of Chris-
tianity amid the shades of life! A wan light falls over the
statues on the tombs. The living, who throng these arches,
appear but pigmies, compared with the effigies of the dead.
A round the cross is a space cleared, where the Pope, ar-
rayed in white, with all the cardinals behind him, prostrate
themselves to the earth, and remain nearly half an hour
profoundly mute. N one hear what they req uest; but they
are old, going before us towards the tomb, whither we /
must follow. Grant us, O God! the grace so to ennoble
age, that the last days of life may be the first of immor-
tality. Corinne, too, the young and lovely Corinne, k nelt
near the priests; the mild light weak ened not the lustre
of her eyes. O swald look ed on her as an entrancing pic-
ture, as well as an adored woman. H er orison concluded,
she rose: her lover dared not approach, revering the me-
ditations in which he believed her still plunged; but she
came to him, with all the rapture of reunion: happiness
was so shed over her every action, that she received the
greetings of her friends with unwonted gaiety. S t. Peter' s,
indeed, had suddenly become a public promenade, where
every one made appointments of business or of pleasure.
O swald was astonished at this power of running from one ,
ex treme to another; and, much as he rej oiced in the vivacity
of Corinne, he felt surprised at her thus instantly banishing
all traces of her late emotions. H e could not conceive
how this glorious edifice, on so solemn a day, could be
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 16 9
converted into the Cafe of R ome, where people met for
amusement; and seeing Corinne encircled by admirers, to
whom she chatted cheerfully, as if no longer conscious
where she stood, he felt some mistrust as to the levity of
which she might be capable. S he read his thoughts, and
hastily break ing from her party, took his arm to walk the
church with him, saying, " I have never spok en to you of
my religious sentiments; let me do so now; perhaps I
may thus disperse the clouds I see rising in your mind. "
CHAPTER V.
" The difference of our creeds, my dear O swald," con-
tinued Corinne, " is the cause of the unspok en displeasure
you cannot prevent me from detecting. Y our faith is
serious and severe, ours lively and tender. I t is generally
believed that my church is the most rigorous: it may be
so, in a country where struggles ex ist between the two;
but here we have no doctrinal dissensions. E ngland has
ex perienced many. The result is, that Catholicism here
has tak en an indulgent character, such as it cannot have
where R eformation is armed against it. O ur religion, lik e
that of the ancients, animates the arts, inspires the poets,
and mak es part of all the j oys of life; while yours, esta-
blished in a country where reason predominates over fancy,
is stamped with a moral sternness that will never be effaced.
O urs calls on us in the name of love; yours in that of
duty. Y our principles are liberal; our dogmas bigoted:
yet our orthodox despotism has some fellowship with private
circumstances; and your religious liberty ex acts respect for
its own laws, without any ex ception. I t is true that our
monastics undergo sad hardships, but they choose them
freely; their state is a mysterious engagement between God
and man. A mong the secular Catholics here, love, hope,
and faith are the chief virtues; all announcing, all bestow-
ing peace. F ar from our priests forbidding us to rej oice,
they tell us that we thus evince our gratitude for the gifts
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? ] 70CO R I N N B ; O R I TA L Y .
of H eaven. They enj oin us to practise charity and repent.
ance, as proofs of our respect for our faith, and our desire
to please its founder; but they refuse us not the absolution
we zealously implore; and the errors of the heart meet
here a mercy elsewhere denied. Did not our S aviour tell
the Magdalene that much should be pardoned to the great-
ness of her love? A s fair a sk y as ours echoed these words:
shall we then despair of our Creator' s pity? " -- " Corinne,"
returned N evil, " how can I
so needful to me? and yet I
love Corinne; to her I look
combat arguments so sweet,
must I t is not for a day I
for a long futurity of content
and virtue. The purest religion is that which sacrifices
passion to duty, as a continual homage to the S upreme
B eing. A moral life is the best offering. W e degrade the
Creator by attributing to him a wish that tends notH owards
our intellectual perfection. Paternity, that godlik e symbol
of faultless sway, seek s but to render its children better
and happier. - H ow, then, suppose that God demands of
man, actions that have not the welfare of man for their
obj ect? what confused notions spring from the habit of
attaching more importance to religious ceremonies than to
active worth! Y ou k now that it is j ust after Passion-week
the greatest number of murders are committed in R ome.
The long fast has, in more senses than one, put its
votaries in possession of funds, and they spend the trea-
sures of their penitence in assassinations. The most dis-
gusting criminal here scruples to eat meat on F ridays;
convinced that the greatest of crimes were that of disobey-
ing the ordinances of the Church: all conscience is la-
vished on that point; as if the Divinity were lik e one
of this world' s rulers, who preferred flattering submission
to faithful service. I s this courtier-lik e behaviour to be
substituted for the respect we owe the E ternal, as the
source and the recompence of a forbearing and spotless
life? The ex ternal demonstrations of I talian Catholicism
ex cuse the soul from all interior piety. The spectacle
over, the feeling ends -- the duty is done; no one remains,
as with us, long occupied by thoughts born of strict and
sincere self-ex amination. "
" Y ou are severe, my dear O swald," said Corinne;
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 153
O n entering her box , she was immediately recognised;
and a remembrance of her coronation, adding to the interest
she usually created, all parts of the house resounded with
applause, and cries of " V iva Corinne! " The musicians
themselves, electrified by this unanimous sensation, sent
forth strains of victory; for triumph, of whatever k ind,
awak ens in our recollection " the pomp and circumstance
of glorious war. " Corinne was much moved by these tes-
timonies of admiring affection. The indescribable im-
pression always made by a human mass, simultaneously
ex pressing the same sentiment, so deeply touched her heart,
that she could not restrain her tears: her bosom heaved
beneath her dress; and O swald, with a sense of piq ue,
whispered, " Y ou must not, Madame, be torn from such
success: it outvalues love, since it mak es your heart beat
thus; " he then retired to the back of the box , without
waiting for her answer. I n one instant had he swept
away all the pleasure which she had owed to a reception
prized most because he was its witness.
Those who have not heard I talian singing can form no
idea of music. The human voice is soft and sweet as the
flowers and sk ies. This charm was made but for such a
clime: each reflect the other. The world is the work of a
single thought, ex pressed in a thousand different ways. The
I talians have ever devotedly loved music. Dante, in his
Purgatory, meets the best, singer of his day, and ask s him
for one of his delicious airs. The entranced spirits forget
themselves as they hear it, until their guardian recalls them
to the truth. The Christians, lik e the Pagans, believe the
empire of music to ex tend beyond the grave: of all the fine
arts, none act so immediately upon the soul: the others
direct it towards such or such ideas; but this alone ad-
dresses the very source of life, and transforms the whole
being at once, humanly speak ing, as Divine Grace is said to
change the heart. A mong all our presentiments of futurity,
those to which melody gives birth are not the least worthy
of reverence. E ven the mirth ex cited by buffo singing is
not vulgar, but fanciful; beneath it lie poetic reveries, such
as spok en wit never yet created. Music is so volatile a
pleasure,-- we are so sensible that it escapes from us even
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? 15b corink e; or I taly.
as we enj oy it,-- that it always leaves a tender impression
on the mind; yet, when ex pressive of grief, it sheds gen-
tleness even over despair. The heart beats more q uick ly to
its regular measure, and, reminding us of life' s brevity, bids s
us enj oy what we can: the silent void is filled; you feel
within yourself the active energies that fear no obstacle
from without. Music doubles our computation of our own
faculties, and mak es us feel capable of the noblest efforts;
teaches us to march towards death with enthusiasm, and is'
happily powerless to ex plain any base or artful sentiment.
Music lifts from the breast the weight it so often feels
beneath serious affections, and which we tak e for the hea-
viness of life, so habitual is its pressure: we hang on such
pure sounds, till we seem to discover the secrets of the
E ternal, and penetrate the mysteries of nature: no words
can ex plain this; for words but copy primitive sensations,
as prose translators follow poetry. L ook s alone resemble
its effect: the long look of love, that gradually sink s into
the breast, till one' s eyes fall, unable to support so vast a
bliss, lest this ray from another' s soul should consume us.
The admirable union of two voices perfectly in tune pro-
duces an ecstasy that cannot be prolonged without pain: it
is a blessing too great for humanity, which vibrates lik e an
instrument brok en beneath too perfect a harmony. O swald
had remained perversely apart from Corinne during the\
first act of the concert; but when the duets began in low
voices, accompanied by the notes of clarionets and hautboys,
purer even than their own, Corinne veiled her face, absorbed
by emotion; she wept without suffering, and loved without
dread; the image of O swald was in her bosom; but a host
of thoughts wandered too far to be distinct, even to herself.
I t is said that a prophet, in one moment, ex plored seven
regions of heaven. W hoever can thus conceive the all
which an instant may contain must have heard sweet
music beside the obj ect of his love. O swald felt its power;
his resentment decreased: the tenderness of Corinne ex -
plained and j ustified every thing; he drew near her;
she
heard him breathing close by, at the most enchanting period
of this celestial harmony: it was too much; the most
pathetic tragedy could not have so overwhelmed her as did
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 157
the sense of their both being eq ually penetrated by the same
sounds, at the same instant: each fresh tone ex alted this
consciousness. The words sung were nothing; now and
then allusions to lova and death induced some recollection;
but oftener did music alone suggest and realise the formless
wish, as doth some pure and tranq uil star, wherein we seem
to see the image of all we could desire on earth. " L et us
go," sighed Corinne: " I feel fainting. " -- " W hat is it,
love? " ask ed O swald, anx iously: " you are pale. Come
into the air with me. " They went together: her strength
returned, as she leaned upon his arm; and she faltered
forth, " Dear O swald, I am about to leave you for eight
days. " -- " W hatsayyou? " hecried. -- " E veryyear," she
answered, " I spend Passion week in a convent, to prepare
for E aster. " O swald could not oppose, aware that most of
the R oman ladies devoted themselves to pious severities at
that time, even if careless of religion during the rest of the
year; but he remembered that Corinne' s faith and his own
were not the same: they could not pray together. " W hy
are you not my countrywoman? " he ex claimed "
souls have but one country," she replied. -- " True,"
O ur
he
said; " yet I cannot the less feel every thing that divides
us. " A nd this coming absence so dismayed him, that neither
to Corinne, nor the friends who now j oined them, could he
speak another word that evening.
CH A PTE R I I I .
O swald called at Corinne' s house early nex t day, in some
uneasiness: her maid gave him a note, announcing her
mistress' s retirement to the convent that morning, and that
she could not see him till after Good F riday. S he confessed
that she had not the courage to tell him the whole of this
truth the night before. O swald was struck as by an un-
ex pected blow. The house in which he had always found
Corinne now appeared sadly lone: her harp, book s, draw-
ings, all her household gods were there, but she was gone.
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? 158 corinnb; or italy.
A shudder crept through his veins: he thought on the
chamber of his father, and sunk upon a seat. " I t may
be," he cried, " that I shall live to lose her too-- that ani-
mated mind, that warm heart, that form so brilliantly
fresh: the bolt may strik e, and the tomb of youth is mute
as that of age. W hat an illusion, then, is happiness! I n-
flex ible Time, who watches ever o' er his prey, may tear it
from us in a moment. Corinne! Corinne! why did3t thou
leave me? Thy magic alone can still my memory: dazzled
by the hours of rapture passed with thee -- but now-- I
am alone. I am again my wretched, wretched self! " H e
called upon Corinne with a desperation disproportionate to
such brief absence, but attributable to the habitual anguish
of his heart. The maid, Theresina, heard his groans, and
gratified by this regret for her mistress, re-entered, saying,
" My L ord, for your consolation, I will even betray a secret
of my lady' s: I hope she will forgive me. Come to her
bed-room, and you shall see your own portrait! " -- " My
portrait! " he repeated " Y es; she drew it from memory,
and has risen, for the last week , at five in the morning, to
have it finished before she went to the convent. " The
lik eness was very strong, and painted with perfect grace.
This pledge, indeed, consoled him: facing it was an ex -
q uisite Madonna, before which Corinne had formed her
oratory. This " love and religion mingled," ex ists in I taly
under circumstances far more ex traordinary; for the image
of O swald was associated but with the purest hopes of his
adorer.
Y et thus to place it near so divine an emblem, and to
prepare herself for a convent by a week of such occupation,
were traits that rather characterised Corinne' s country
than herself. I talian women are devout from sensibility,
not principle; and nothing was more hostile to O swald' s
opinions than their manner of think ing on this subj ect;
yet how could he blame Corinne, while receiving so touch-
ing a proof of her affection? H is look s strayed tenderly
through this chamber, where he now stood for the first
time. A t the head of the bed he beheld the miniature of
an aged man, evidently not an I talian: two bracelets hung
near it, one formed by braids of black and of silver hair,
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? corinne; or italy. 159
the other of beautifully fair tresses, that, by a strange
chance, reminded him of L ucy E dgarmond' s, which he had
attentively remark ed three years since. O swald did not
speak ; but Theresina, as if to banish any j ealous suspicion,
told him, " that during the eleven years she had lived with
her lady she had always seen these bracelets, which she
k new contained the hair of Corinne' s father, mother, and
sister. " -- " E leven years! " cried O swald; " you were
then -- " he check ed himself, blushing at the q uestion he
had begun, and precipitately left the house that he might
escape further temptation. H e freq uently turned back to
gaze on the windows, and when he lost sight of them he
felt all the misery of solitude. That evening he went to
an assembly, in search of something to divert his thoughts;
for in grief, as j oy, reverie can only be indulged by those
at peace with themselves; but society was insupportable: he
was more than ever convinced that for him Corinne alone had
lent it charms, by the void which her absence rendered it
now. H e attempted to chat with the ladies, who replied
by those insipid phrases which, ex plaining nothing, are so
convenient for those who have something to conceal. H e
saw groups of men, who, by their voices and gestures,
seemed warmly discussing some important topic: he drew
near, and found the matter of their discourse as despicable
as its manner. H e mused over this causeless, aimless,
vivacity, so freq uently found in large parties: -- though
I talian mediocrity is a good sort of animal enough, with
but little j ealous vanity, much regard for superior minds,
and, if fatiguing them by dulness, at least never wounding
them by pretence. S uch was the society that, a few days
since, O swald had found so interesting. The slight ob-
stacles which it opposed to his conversation with Corinne;
her anx iety to be near him, as soon as she had been suffi-
ciently polite to others; the intelligence ex isting between
them on subj ects suggested by their company; her pride,
in speak ing before him, to whom she indirectly addressed
remark s, he alone could fully understand. A ll this had
varied his evenings: every part of these same halls brought
back the pleasant hours which had persuaded him that
there might be some amusement even at an assembly.
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? 16 0CO B I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
" O h! " he sighed, as he left it, " here, as elsewhere, she
alone can give us life; let me fly rather to some desert
spot till she returns. I shall less sadly feel her absence,
where nought is near me that resembles pleasure. "
BOOKX.
PA S S I O N W E E K .
CH A PTE R I .
O swald passed nex t day in the gardens of the monasteries;
going first to that of the Carthusians, and paused, ere he
entered, to ex amine two E gyptian lions at a little distance
from its gate. There is something in their physiognomy
belonging neither to animals nor to man: it is as if two
heathen gods had been represented in this shape. Char-
treux is built on the ruins of Diocletian' s baths; and its
church is adorned by the granite pillars which were found
there. The monk s show this place with much zeal: they
belong to the world but by their interest in its ruins.
Their way of life presupposes either very limited minds
or the most ex alted piety. The monotony of their routine
recalls that celebrated line,--
" Time o' er wreck ed worlds sleeps motionless. "
Their life seems but to be employed in contemplating
death. Q uick ness of thought, in so uniform an ex istence,
would be the cruelest of tortures. I n the midst of the
cloister stand two cypresses, whose heavy black ness the
wind can scarcely stir. N ear them is an almost unheard
fountain, slow and chary; -- fit hour-glass for a seclusion in
which time glides so noiselessly. S ometimes the moon' s
pale glimmer penetrates these shades-- its absence or return
forming q uite an event; and yet these monk s might have
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? corinne; or italy. I 6 l
found all the activity of war insufficient for their spirits,
had they been used to it. W hat an inex haustible field for
conj ecture we find in the combinations of human destiny!
W hat habits are thrust on us by chance, forming each in-
dividual' s world and history. To k now another perfectly,
would cost the study of a life. W hat, then, is meant by
k nowledge of mank ind? Governed they may be by each
other, but understood by God alone.
O swald went nex t to the monastery of B onaventure,
built on the ruins of N ero' s palace: and where so many
crimes had reigned remorselessly, poor friars, tormented
by conscientious scruples, doom themselves to fasts and
stripes for the least omission of duty. " O ur only hope,"
said one, " is, that, when we die, our faults will not have
ex ceeded our penances. " N evil, as he entered, stumbled
over a trap, and ask ed its purpose. " I t is through that
we are interred," answered one of the youngest, already a
prey to the bad air. The natives of the S outh fear death
so much, that it is wondrous to find there these perpetual
mementos: yet nature is often fascinated by what she
dreads; and such an intox ication fills the soul ex clusively.
The antiq ue sarcophagus of a child serves as the fountain
of this institution. The boasted palm of R ome is the
only tree of its garden; but the monk s pay no attention to
ex ternal obj ects. Their rigorous discipline allows them
no mental liberty; their downcast eyes and stealthy pace
show that they have forgotten the use of free will, and
abdicated the government of self, -- an empire which may
well be called a ' heritage of woe! ' This retreat, however,
acted but feebly on the mind of O swald. I magination re-
volts at so manifest a desire to remind it of death in every
possible way. W hen such remembrancers are unex pected,
when nature, and not man, suggests them, the impression
is far more salutary. O swald grew calmer as he strayed
through the garden of S an Giovanni et Paulo, whose
brethren are subj ected to ex ercises less austere. Their
dwelling lords over all the ruins of old R ome. W hat a
site for such asylum! The recluse consoles himself for
his nothingness, in contemplating the wreck s of ages past
H
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? 16 2 corinne; or italy.
away. O swald walk ed long beneath the shady trees, so
rare in I taly: sometimes they intercepted his view of the
city, only to augment the pleasure of his nex t glimpse at
it. A ll the steeples now sounded the A ve Maria, --
? ? * " sq uilla de lontano
Che paj a il giorno pianger, che si muore. " -- Dante.
" The bell from far mourneth the dying day. " This even-
ing prayer serves to mark all time. " I will meet you an
hour before, or an hour after A ve Maria," say the I talians,
so devoutly are the eras of night and day distinguished.
O swald then enj oyed the spectacle of sunset, as the lumi-
nary sunk slowly amid ruins, and seemed submitting to
decline, even lik e the work s of man. This brought back
all his wonted thoughts. The image of Corinne appeared
too promising, too hopeful, for such a moment. H is soul
sought for its father' s, in the home of heavenly spirits.
This affection animated the clouds on which he gazed, and
lent them the sublime aspect of his immortal friend: he
trusted that his prayers at last might call down some bene-
ficent pity, resembling a good father' s benediction.
CH A PTE R I I .
O swald, in his anx iety to study the religion of the
country, resolved to hear some of its preachers, during
Passion-week . H e counted the days that must elapse ere
his reunion with Corinne; while she was away he could
endure no imaginative researches.
H e forgave his own hap-
piness while beside her; but all that charmed him then
would have redoubled the pangs of his ex ile.
I t is at night, and by half-ex tinguished tapers, that the
preachers, at this period, hold forth. A ll the women are in
black , to commemorate the death of J esus: there is some-
thing very affecting in these yearly weeds, that have been
renewed for so many centuries. O ne enters the noble
churches with true emotion; their tombs prepare us for \
serious thought, but the preacher too often dissipates all
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? corinne; or italy. 16 3
this in an instant. H is pulpit is a somewhat long tribunal,
from one end. to the other of which he walk s, with a
strangely mechanical agitation. H e fails not to start with
some phrase to which, at the end of the sentence, he re-
turns, lik e a pendulum; though, by his impassioned ges-
tures, you would think him very lik ely to forget it: but
this is a systematic fury, " a fit of regular and voluntary
distraction," often seen in I taly, and indicating none but
superficial or artificial feelings. A crucifix is hung in the
pulpit; the preacher tak es it down, k isses, presses it in his
arms, and then hangs it up again, with perfect coolness, as
soon as the pathetic passage is got through. A nother
method for producing effect is pulling off and putting on
his cap, with inconceivable rapidity. O ne of these men
attack ed V oltaire and R ousseau on the scepticism of the
age. H e threw his cap into the middle of the rostrum, as
the representative of J ean J acq ues, and then cried, "
philosopher of Geneva, what have you to say against my
N ow,
arguments? " H e was silent for some seconds, as if ex -
pecting a reply; but, as the cap said nothing, he replaced
it on his head, and terminated the discourse by adding,--
" W ell, since I ' ve convinced you, let us say no more about
it. " These uncouth scenes are freq uent in R ome, where
real pulpit oratory is ex tremely rare. R eligion is there
respected as an all-powerful law; its ceremonies captivate
the senses; but its preachers deal less in morals than in
dogmas, that never reach the heart. E loq uence, in this,
as in many other branches of literature, is there devoted
to common-places, that can neither describe nor ex plain.
A new thought raises a k ind of rebellion in minds at once
so ardent and so languid, that they need uniformity to calm
them; and love it for the repose it brings. There is an
etiq uette in these sermons, by which words tak e prece-
dence of ideas; and this order would be deranged, if the
preacher spok e from his own heart, or searched his soul for
what he ought to say. Christian philosophy, which finds
analogies between religion and humanity, is as little under-
stood in I taly, as philosophy of every other sort. To spe-
culate on religion is deemed almost as scandalous as
scheming against it; so wedded are all men to mere forms
ii 2
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? 16 4 corinne; or italy.
and old usages. The worship of the V irgin is particularly
dear to southern people; it seems allied to all that is most
chaste and tender in their love of woman; but every
preacher treats this subj ect with the same ex aggerated rhe-
toric, unconscious that his gestures perpetually turn it
into ridicule. There is scarcely to be heard, from one
I talian pulpit, a single specimen of correct accent, or na-
tural delivery.
O swald fled from this most fatiguing of inflictions -- that
of affected vehemence -- and sought the Coliseum, where a
Capuchin was to preach in the open air, at the foot of an
altar, in the centre of the enclosure which mark s the road
to the cross. W hat a theme were this arena, where mar-
tyrs succeeded gladiators: but there was no hope of hear-
ing it dilated on by the poor capuchin, who k new nothing
of the history of man, save in his own life. W ithout,
however, coming there to hear his bad sermon, O swald
felt interested by the obj ects around him. The congre-
gation was principally composed of the Camaldoline fra-
ternity, at that time attired in grey gowns that covered
both head and body, leaving but two little openings for the
eyes, and having a most ghostly air. Their unseen faces
were prostrated to the earth; they beat their breasts; and
when their preacher threw himself on his k nees, crying--
" Mercy and pity! " they followed his ex ample. A s this
appeal from wretchedness to compassion, from earth to
H eaven, echoed through the classic porticoes, it was im-
possible not to ex perience a deeply pious feeling in the
soul' s inmost sanctuary. O swald shuddered; he remained
standing, that he might not pretend to a faith which was
not his own; yet it cost him an effort to forbear from this
fellowship with mortals, whoever they were, thus hum-
bling themselves before their God; -- for, does not an invo-
cation to heavenly sympathy eq ually become us all?
The people were struck by his noble and foreign aspect,
but not displeased with his omitting to j oin them; for no
men on earth can be more tolerant than the R omans.
They are accustomed to persons who come amongst them
but as sight-seers; and, either from pride or indolence,
never seek to mak e strangers participate their opinions.
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? CO riN N E ; O R I TA L Y . l6 5
I t is a still more ex traordinary fact, that, at this period
especially, there are many who tak e on themselves the
strictest punishments; yet, while the scourge is in their
hands, the church-door is still open, and every stranger
welcome to enter as usual. They do nothing for the sak e
of being look ed at, nor are they frightened from any
thing because they happen to be seen; they proceed to-
wards their own aims, or pleasures, without k nowing that
there is such a thing as vanity, whose only aim and plea-
sure consists in the applause of others.
CH A PTE R I I I .
Much has been said of Passion-week in R ome. A num-
ber of foreigners arrive during L ent, to enj oy this spec-
tacle; and as the music at the S ix tine Chapel, and the
illumination of S t Peter' s, are uniq ue of their k inds, they
naturally attract much curiosity, which is not always satis-
fied. The dinner served by the Pope to the twelve
representatives of the A postles, whose feet he bathes, must
recall solemn ideas; yet a thousand inevitable circum-
stances often destroy their dignity. A ll the contributors
to these customs are not eq ually absorbed by devotion;
ceremonies so oft repeated become mechanical to most of
their agents; the young priests hurry over the service
with a dex trous activity any thing but imposing. A ll the
mysteries that should veil religion are dissipated, by the at- \
tention we cannot help giving to the manner in which each
performs his function. The avidity of the one party for
the meat set before them, the indifference of the other to
their prayers and genuflections, deprive the whole of its
due sublimity.
The ancient costumes still worn by the ecclesiastics ill
accord with their modern heads. The bearded Patriarch
of the Greek Church is the most venerable figure left for
such offices. The old fashion, too, of men curtseying lik e
women is dangerous to decorum. The past and the pre-
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? 16 6 CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y .
sent, indeed, rather j ostle than harmonise; little care is
tak en to strik e the imagination, and none to prevent its
being distracted. A worship so brilliantly maj estic in its
ex ternals is certainly well fitted to elevate the soul; but
more caution should be observed, lest its ceremonies de-
generate into plays, in which the actors get by rote what
they have to do, and at what time; when to pray, when to
have done praying; when to k neel, and when to rise.
Court rules introduced at church restrain that soaring
elasticity which alone can give man hope of drawing near
his Mak er.
The generality of foreigners observe this; yet few R o-
mans but yearly find fresh pleasure in these sacred fetes.
I t is a peculiarity in I talian character, that versatility of
taste leads not to inconstancy; and that vivacity removes
all necessity for truth; it deems every thing more grand,
more beautiful than reality. The I talians, patient and
persevering even in their amusements, let imagination em-
bellish what they possess, instead of bidding them crave
what they have not: and as elsewhere vanity teaches
men to seem fastidious, in I taly, warmth of temperament
mak es it a pleasure to admire.
A fter all the R omans had said to N evil of their Passion-
week , he had ex pected much more than he had found.
H e sighed for the august simplicity of the E nglish Church,
and returned home discontented with himself, for not hav-
ing been affected by that which he ought to have felt. I n
such cases we fancy that the soul is withered, and fear that
we have lost that enthusiasm, without which reason itself
would serve but to disgust us with life.
CH A PTE R I V .
Good F riday restored all the religious emotions of L ord
N evil; he was about to. regain Corinne: the sweet hopes of
love blended with that piety, from which nothing save the
factitious career of the world can entirely wean us. H e
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . l6 7
sought the S ix tine Chapel, to hear the far-famed Miserere.
I t was yet light enough for him to see the pictures of
Michael A ngelo. The Day of J udgment, treated by a
genius worthy so terrible a subj ect. Dante had infected
this painter with the bad taste of representing mythological
beings in the presence of Christ; but it is chiefly as demons
that he has characterised these Pagan creations. B eneath
the arches of the roof are seen the prophets and heathen
priestesses; called as witnesses by the Christians { teste David
cum, S ybilla); a host of angels surround them. The roof
is painted as if to bring heaven nearer to us; but that
heaven is gloomy and repulsive. Day scarcely penetrates
me windows, which throw on the pictures more shadows
than beams. This dimness, too, enlarges the already com-
manding figures of Michael A ngelo. The funereal perfume
of incense fills the aisles, and every sensation prepares us
for that deeper one which awaits the touch of music.
W hile O swald was lost in these reflections, he beheld Co-
rinne, whom he had not ex pected yet to see, enter that
part of the chapel devoted to females, and separated by a
grating from the rest. S he was in black ; pale with ab-
stinence, and so tremulous, as she perceived him, that she
was obliged to support herself by the balustrade. A t this
moment the Miserere commenced. V oices well practised in
this pure and antiq ue chant rose from an unseen gallery;
every instant rendered the chapel dark er. The music
seemed to float in the air; no longer in the voluptuously
impassioned strains which the lovers had heard together a
week since, but such as seemed bidding them renounce all
earthly things. Corinne k nelt before the grate. O swald
himself was forgotten. A t such a moment she would have
loved to die. I f the separation of soul and body were but
pangless; if an angel would bear away thought and feeling
on his wings, -- divine spark s that shall return to their
source, -- death would be then the heart' s spontaneous act,
an ardent prayer most mercifully granted. The verses of
this psalm are sung alternately, and in very contrasted
styles. The heavenly harmony of one is answered by
murmured recitative, heavy and even harsh, lik e the reply
of worldlings to the appeal of sensibility, or the realities of
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? 16 8CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
life defeating the vows of generous souls : when the soft
choir reply, hope springs again, again to be frozen by that
dreary sound which inspires not terror, but utter discou-
ragement; yet the last burst, most reassuring of all, leaves
j ust the stainless and ex q uisite sensation in the soul which
we would pray to be accorded when we die. The lights
are ex tinguished; night advances; the pictures gleam lik e
prophetic phantoms through the dusk ; the deepest silence
reigns: speech would be insupportable in this state of
self-communion; every one steals slowly away, reluctant
to resume the vulgar interests of the world.
Corinne followed the procession to S t. Peter' s, as yet
illumined but by a cross of fire: this type of grief shining
alone through the immense obscure, fair image of Chris-
tianity amid the shades of life! A wan light falls over the
statues on the tombs. The living, who throng these arches,
appear but pigmies, compared with the effigies of the dead.
A round the cross is a space cleared, where the Pope, ar-
rayed in white, with all the cardinals behind him, prostrate
themselves to the earth, and remain nearly half an hour
profoundly mute. N one hear what they req uest; but they
are old, going before us towards the tomb, whither we /
must follow. Grant us, O God! the grace so to ennoble
age, that the last days of life may be the first of immor-
tality. Corinne, too, the young and lovely Corinne, k nelt
near the priests; the mild light weak ened not the lustre
of her eyes. O swald look ed on her as an entrancing pic-
ture, as well as an adored woman. H er orison concluded,
she rose: her lover dared not approach, revering the me-
ditations in which he believed her still plunged; but she
came to him, with all the rapture of reunion: happiness
was so shed over her every action, that she received the
greetings of her friends with unwonted gaiety. S t. Peter' s,
indeed, had suddenly become a public promenade, where
every one made appointments of business or of pleasure.
O swald was astonished at this power of running from one ,
ex treme to another; and, much as he rej oiced in the vivacity
of Corinne, he felt surprised at her thus instantly banishing
all traces of her late emotions. H e could not conceive
how this glorious edifice, on so solemn a day, could be
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 16 9
converted into the Cafe of R ome, where people met for
amusement; and seeing Corinne encircled by admirers, to
whom she chatted cheerfully, as if no longer conscious
where she stood, he felt some mistrust as to the levity of
which she might be capable. S he read his thoughts, and
hastily break ing from her party, took his arm to walk the
church with him, saying, " I have never spok en to you of
my religious sentiments; let me do so now; perhaps I
may thus disperse the clouds I see rising in your mind. "
CHAPTER V.
" The difference of our creeds, my dear O swald," con-
tinued Corinne, " is the cause of the unspok en displeasure
you cannot prevent me from detecting. Y our faith is
serious and severe, ours lively and tender. I t is generally
believed that my church is the most rigorous: it may be
so, in a country where struggles ex ist between the two;
but here we have no doctrinal dissensions. E ngland has
ex perienced many. The result is, that Catholicism here
has tak en an indulgent character, such as it cannot have
where R eformation is armed against it. O ur religion, lik e
that of the ancients, animates the arts, inspires the poets,
and mak es part of all the j oys of life; while yours, esta-
blished in a country where reason predominates over fancy,
is stamped with a moral sternness that will never be effaced.
O urs calls on us in the name of love; yours in that of
duty. Y our principles are liberal; our dogmas bigoted:
yet our orthodox despotism has some fellowship with private
circumstances; and your religious liberty ex acts respect for
its own laws, without any ex ception. I t is true that our
monastics undergo sad hardships, but they choose them
freely; their state is a mysterious engagement between God
and man. A mong the secular Catholics here, love, hope,
and faith are the chief virtues; all announcing, all bestow-
ing peace. F ar from our priests forbidding us to rej oice,
they tell us that we thus evince our gratitude for the gifts
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? ] 70CO R I N N B ; O R I TA L Y .
of H eaven. They enj oin us to practise charity and repent.
ance, as proofs of our respect for our faith, and our desire
to please its founder; but they refuse us not the absolution
we zealously implore; and the errors of the heart meet
here a mercy elsewhere denied. Did not our S aviour tell
the Magdalene that much should be pardoned to the great-
ness of her love? A s fair a sk y as ours echoed these words:
shall we then despair of our Creator' s pity? " -- " Corinne,"
returned N evil, " how can I
so needful to me? and yet I
love Corinne; to her I look
combat arguments so sweet,
must I t is not for a day I
for a long futurity of content
and virtue. The purest religion is that which sacrifices
passion to duty, as a continual homage to the S upreme
B eing. A moral life is the best offering. W e degrade the
Creator by attributing to him a wish that tends notH owards
our intellectual perfection. Paternity, that godlik e symbol
of faultless sway, seek s but to render its children better
and happier. - H ow, then, suppose that God demands of
man, actions that have not the welfare of man for their
obj ect? what confused notions spring from the habit of
attaching more importance to religious ceremonies than to
active worth! Y ou k now that it is j ust after Passion-week
the greatest number of murders are committed in R ome.
The long fast has, in more senses than one, put its
votaries in possession of funds, and they spend the trea-
sures of their penitence in assassinations. The most dis-
gusting criminal here scruples to eat meat on F ridays;
convinced that the greatest of crimes were that of disobey-
ing the ordinances of the Church: all conscience is la-
vished on that point; as if the Divinity were lik e one
of this world' s rulers, who preferred flattering submission
to faithful service. I s this courtier-lik e behaviour to be
substituted for the respect we owe the E ternal, as the
source and the recompence of a forbearing and spotless
life? The ex ternal demonstrations of I talian Catholicism
ex cuse the soul from all interior piety. The spectacle
over, the feeling ends -- the duty is done; no one remains,
as with us, long occupied by thoughts born of strict and
sincere self-ex amination. "
" Y ou are severe, my dear O swald," said Corinne;
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