There is neither splendour nor taste in the carnival:
its universal tumult assimilates it in the fancy with the
bacchanalian orgies; but in the fancy only; for the R o-
mans are generally sober and serious enough -- the last
days of this fete ex cepted.
its universal tumult assimilates it in the fancy with the
bacchanalian orgies; but in the fancy only; for the R o-
mans are generally sober and serious enough -- the last
days of this fete ex cepted.
Madame de Stael - Corinna, or Italy
O n the top of the
hill, facing her garden, was the S ibyl' s temple. The
ancients, by building these fanes on heights lik e this, sug-
gested the due superiority of religion over all other pursuits.
They bid you " look from nature up to nature' s God,"
and tell of the gratitude that successive generations have
paid to heaven. The landscape, seen from whatever point,
includes this its central ornament. S uch ruins remind one
not of the work of man. They harmonise with the fair
trees and lonely torrent, that emblem of the years which
have made them what they are. The most beauteous land
that awok e no memory of great events were uninteresting,
compared with every spot that history sanctifies. W hat
place could more appropriately have been selected as the
home of Corinne than that consecrated to the S ibyl, a
woman divinely inspired? The house was charming;
deck ed in all the elegance of modern taste, yet evidently
by a classic hand. Y ou saw that its mistress understood
felicity in its highest signification; that which implies all
that can ennoble, while it ex cites our minds. A sighing
melody now stole on O swald' s ear, as if the nodding
flowers and waving shrubs thus lent a voice to nature.
Corinne informed him that it proceeded from the E olian
harps, which she had hung in her grottoes, adding music
to the perfume of the air. H er lover was entranced.
" Corinne," he cried, throwing himself at her feet, " till
to-day I have censured mine own bliss beside thee; but
now I feel as if the prayers of mine offended parent had
won me all this favour; the chaste repose I here enj oy
tells me that I am pardoned. F earlessly, then, unite thy
fate with mine: there is no danger now ! " -- "
W ell," she
replied, " let us not disturb this peace by naming F ate.
W hy strive to gain more than she ever grants? W hy
seek for change while we are happy? " H e was hurt by
this reply. H e thought she should have understood his
readiness to confide, to promise, all. This evasion, then,
offended and afflicted him: he appreciated not the delicacy
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 145
which forbade Corinne to profit by his weak ness. W here
we really love, we often dread more than we desire the
solemn moment that ex changes hope for certainty. O swald,
however, concluded that, much as she loved him, she
preferred her independence, and therefore shunned an in-
dissoluble tie. I rritated by this mistak e, he followed her
to the gallery in frigid silence. S he guessed his mood,
but k new his pride too well to tell him so; yet, with a
vague design of soothing him, she lent even to general and
indifferent topics the softest tones of affection.
H er gallery was composed of historical, poetic, re-
ligious subj ects, and landscapes. N one of them contained
any great number of figures. Crowded pictures are,
doubtless, arduous task s; but their beauties are mostly
either too confused or too detailed. Unity of interest,
that vital principle of art, as of all things, is necessarily
frittered away. The first picture represented B rutus,
sitting lost in thought, at the foot of the statue of R ome,
while slaves bore by the dead bodies of the sons he had
condemned; on the other side, their mother and sisters
stood in frantic despair, fortunately ex cused, by their sex ,
from that courage which sacrifices the affections. The
situation of B rutus, beneath the statue of R ome, tells all.
B ut how, without ex planation, can we k now that this is
B rutus, or that those are his children, whom he himself
has sentenced? and yet the event cannot be better set
forth by any painting. R ome fills its back -ground, as yet
unornamented as a city, grand only as the country that
could inspire such heroism. " O nce hear the name," said
Corinne, " and doubtless your whole soul is given up to it;
otherwise might not uncertainty have converted a pleasure
which ought to be so plain and so easy into an abstruse
enigma? I chose the subj ect, as recalling the most ter-
rible deed a patriot ever dared. The nex t is Marius, tak en
by one of the Cimbri, who cannot resolve to k ill so great a
man. Marius,indeed, is an imposing figure; the costume and
physiognomy of the Cimbri leader ex tremely picturesq ue:
it mark s the second era of R ome, when laws were no more,
but when genius still ex erted a vast control. N ex t come
the days in which glory led but to misfortune and insult.
L
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? 14-6 CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y .
The third picture is B elisarius, bearing his young guide,
who had ex pired while ask ing alms for him: thus is the
hlind hero recompensed by his master; and in the world he
vanq uished hath no better office than that of carrying to
the grave the sad remains of yon poor boy, his only faith-
ful friend. S ince the old school, I have seen no truer
figure than that: the painter, lik e the poet, has loaded him
with all k inds of miseries -- too many, it may be, for com-
passion. B ut what tells us that it is B elisarius? what
fidelity to history is ex acted both of artist and spectator!
a fidelity, by the way, often ruinous to the beautiful. I n
B nltus we look on virtues that resemble crime; in Marius,
on fame causing but distress; in B elisarius, on services
req uited by the black est persecution. N ear these I have
hung two pictures that console the oppressed spirit by
reminding it of the piety that can cheer the brok en
heart, when all around is bondage. The first is A l-
bano' s infant Christ asleep on a cross. Does not that
stainless, smiling face convince us that heavenly faith
hath nought to fear from grief or death? The following
one is Titian' s J esus bending under the weight of the
cross. H is mother on her k nees before him: what a
proof of reverence for the undeserved oppressions suf-
fered by her Divine S on! W hat a look of resignation is
his! yet what an air of pain, and therefore sympathy, with
us! That is the best of all my pictures; to that I turn
my eyes with rapture inex haustible; and now come my
dramatic chefs-d' oeuvre, drawn from the work s of four
great poets. There is the meeting of Dido and iE neas in
the E lysian fields: her indignant shade avoids him; re-
j oicing to be freed from the fond heart which yet would
throb at his approach. The vaporous colour of the phan-
toms, and the pale scenes around them, contrast the air of
life in iE neas, and the S ibyl who conducts him; but in
these attempts the bard' s description must far transcend
all that the pencil reaches: in this of the dying Clorinda
our tears are claimed by the remembered lines of Tasso,
where she pardons the beloved Tancred, who has j ust dealt
her the mortal wound. ' Painting inevitably sink s beneath
poetry, when devoted to themes that great authors have
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? CO B I N N B J O B I TA L Y . 147
already treated. O ne glance back at their words effaces all
before us. Their favourite situations gain force from im-
passioned eloq uence; while picturesq ue effect is most fa-
voured by moments of repose, worthy to be indefinitely
prolonged, and too perfect for the eye ever to weary of
their grace. Y our terrific S hak speare, my L ord, afforded
the ensuing subj ect. The invincible Macbeth, about to
fight Macduff, learns that the witches have eq uivocated
with him; that B irnam wood is coming to Dunsinnane,
and that his adversary was not of woman born, but ' un-
timely ripped' from his dying mother. * Macbeth is sub-
dued by his fate, not by his foe; his desperate hand still
grasps its glaive, certain that he must fall, yet to the last
opposing human strength against the might of demons.
There is a world of fury and of troubled energy in that
countenance: but how many of the poet' s beauties do we
lose? Can we paint Macbeth hurried into crime by the
dreams of ambition, conj ured up by the powers of sorcery?
H ow ex press a terror compatible with intrepidity; how
characterise the superstition that oppresses him? the
ignoble credulity, which, even while he feels such scorn of
life, forces on him such horror of death! Doubtless the
human face is the grandest of all mysteries; yet fix ed on
canvass, it can hardly tell of more than one sensation; no
struggle, no successive contrasts accessible to dramatic art,
can painting give, as neither time nor motion ex ists for her.
" R acine' s Phedra forms the fourth picture. H ippolitus,
in all the beauty of youth and innocence, repulses the per-
fidious accusations of his stepmother. The heroic The-
seus still protects his guilty wife, whom his conq uering
arms surround. Phedra'
that we freeze to look
courages her in guilt. H
s visage is agitated by impulses
on; and her remorseless nurse en-
ippolitus is here even more lovely
than in R acine; more lik e to Meleager, as no love for
A ricia here seems to mingle with his tameless virtue.
* Madame de S taet B ays, " Macbeth apprend q ue l' oracle des sorcieres s' est
accompli; q ue le foret dc B irnam parait s' avancer vers Dunsinnane; et q u' il
se bat avec un homme ni depuis la mort de sa mere. "
* * L udicrous perversion of the author' s meaning! " The points S huk speare
intended to impress were, that" the wierd women," " j uggling fiends, who palter
with us in a double sense," had promised their victim success and lite till events
which he naturally conceived impossible, but which they k new wnUd occur.
L 2,?
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? 148 corinne; or I taly.
B ut could Phedra have supported her falsehood in such a
presence? N o, she must have fallen at his feet: a vindic-
tive woman may inj ure him she loves in absence, but,
while she look s on him, that love must triumph. The
poet never brings them together after she has slandered
him. The painter was obliged to oppose them to each
other; but is not the distinction between the picturesq ue
and the poetical proved by the fact, that verses copied
from paintings are worth all the paintings that have imi-
tated poetry? F ancy must ever precede reason, as it
does in the growth of the human mind. "
W hile Corinne spok e thus, she had freq uently paused,
hoping that O swald would add his remark s; but, as she
made any feeling observation, he would merely sigh and
turn away his head, to conceal his present disposition to-
wards sadness. Corinne, at last discouraged by this silence,
sat down and hid her face in her hands. O swald hastily
paced the apartment, and was j ust about to give his emo-
tions way, when, with a sudden check of pride, he turned
towards the pictures, as if ex pecting her to finish the ac-
count of them. S he had great hope in the last; and
mak ing an effort to compose herself, rose, saying, " My
L ord, there remain but three landscapes for me to show
you; two possess some interest. I do not lik e rural scenes
that bear no allusion to fable or history; they are insipid as
the idyls of our poets. I prefer S alvator R osa' s style here,
which gives you rock s, torrents, and trees, with not even
the wing of a bird visible to remind you of life! The ab-
sence of man, in the midst of nature, ex cites profound re-
flections. W hat is this deserted scene, so vainly beautiful,
whose mysterious charms address but the eye of their
Creator? H ere, on the contrary, history and poesy are
happily united in a landscape. (3) This represents the
moment when Cincinnatus is invited by the consuls to
q uit his plough, and tak e command of the R oman
armies. A ll the lux ury of the S outh is seen in this pic-
ture,-- abundant vegetation, burning sk y, and an universal
air of j oy, that pervades even the aspect of the plants. S ee
what a contrast is beside it. The son of Cairbar sleeps
upon his father' s tomb. Three nights he awaited the
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? corinne; or italy. 149
bard, who comes to honour the dead. H is form is he-
held afar, he descends the mountain' s side. O n the clouds
floats the shade of the chief. The land is hoary with ice;
and the trees, as the rude winds war on their lifeless and
withered arms, strew their sear leaves to the gale, and
herald the course of the storm. " O swald, till now, had
cherished his resentment; but at the sight of this picture,
the tomb of his father, the mountains of S cotland rose to
his view, and his eyes filled with tears. Corinne took her
harp, and sung one of those simple S cotch hallads whose
notes seem fit to be borne on the wailing breeze. I t was
the soldier' s farewell to his country and his love, in which
recurred that most melodious and ex pressive of E nglish
phrases, "
ingly, that O
together. "
N o more. " * Corinne pronounced it so touch-
swald could resist no longer; and they wept
A h, Corinne! " he cried, " does then my
country affect your heart? Could you go with me to the
land peopled by my recollections? W ould you there he the
worthy partner of my life, as you are here its enchantress? "
-- " I believe I could," she answered, " for I love you. " --
" I
me. "
n the name of love and pity then, have no more secrets from
-- " Y our will shall he obeyed, O swald: I promise it
on one condition, that you ask not its fulfilment before the
termination of our approaching religious solemnities. I s
not the support of H eaven more than ever necessary at the
moment which must decide my fate? " -- " Corinne,"
said, " if thy fate depends on me it shall no longer be a
sad one," -- " Y ou think so," she rej oined; "
no such confidence, therefore indulge my weak ness. "
O swald sighed, without granting or refusing the delay she
he
but I have
ask ed. " L etusreturntoR omenow," sheadded. " I
should tell you all in this solitude; and if what I have to
say must drive you from me,-- need it be so soon? Come,
O swald; you may revisit this scene when my ashes repose
here. " Melted and agitated, he obeyed. O n their road they
scarcely spok e a word, but now and then ex changed look s
of affection; yet a heavy melancholy oppressed them both,
as they re-entered R ome.
? I presume the " A dieu to L ochaber," though in that it is " nae mair. " -- Tr.
L3
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? 150CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
BOOKIX.
O N TH E CA R N I V A L ,A N DI TA L I A N MUS I C,
CH A PTE R I .
The last day of the carnival is the gayest in the year.
The R oman populace carry their rage for amusement to a
perfect fever, unex ampled elsewhere. The whole town is
disguised; the very gazers from its windows are mask ed.
This begins regularly to the appointed day, neither public
nor private affairs interfering with its indulgence. Then
may one j udge of the imagination possessed by the herd.
I talian sounds sweetly even from their mouths. A lfieri
said that he went to the mark et of F lorence to learn good
I talian. R ome has the same advantage; and, perhaps,
these are the only cities of which all the natives speak so
well that the mind is feasted at every corner of the streets.
The k ind of gaiety that shines through their harleq uinades
is often found in the most uneducated men; and during
this festival, while ex aggeration and caricature are fair
play, the most comic scenes perpetually recur. O ften a
grotesq ue gravity contrasts the usually vivacious I talian
manner, as if their strange dresses conferred an unnatural
dignity on the wearers. S ometimes they evince so sur-
prising a k nowledge of mythology, in the travesties they
assume, that one might suppose them still believers in its
fictions. Most freq uently, however, they ridicule the va-
rious rank s of society with a pleasantry truly original: the
nation is now a thousand times more distinguished by its
sports than by its history. I talian lends itself so easily to
all k inds of playfulness, that it needs but a slight inflex ion
of voice, a little difference of termination, lengthening or
diminishing the words, to change the entire meaning of a
sentence. The language comes with a peculiar grace from
the lips of childhood. The innocence of that age, and the
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? corinne; O R I TA L Y . 151
natural archness of the southern tongue, ex q uisitely con-
trast each other. (4) O ne may almost call it a language
that talk s of itself, and always-seems more witty than its
speak ers.
There is neither splendour nor taste in the carnival:
its universal tumult assimilates it in the fancy with the
bacchanalian orgies; but in the fancy only; for the R o-
mans are generally sober and serious enough -- the last
days of this fete ex cepted. Then one mak es such varied
and sudden discoveries in their character, as have con-
tributed to give them a reputation for cunning. Doubt-
less, there is a great habit of feigning among people who
have borne so many yok es; but we must not always at-
tribute their rapid changes of manner to dissimulation.
I nflammable imagination is as oft its cause. R easoners may
readily foresee their own actions; but all that belongs to
fancy is unex pected: she overleaps gradations; a trifle
may wound her, or that which ought to move her most
be past by with indifference; she' s her own world, and in
it there is no calculating effects by causes. F or instance,
we wonder what entertainment the R oman nobles find in
driving from one end of the Corso to the other for hours
together, every day in the year, yet nothing break s in on this
custom. A mong the mask s, too, may be found wandering
victims to ennui, pack ed up in the drollest of dresses, sad
harleq uins, and silent clowns, who satisfy their carnival
conscience by merely seek ing to divert themselves. I n
R ome they have one assumption that nowhere else ex ists--
mask ers, who, in their own persons, copy the antiq ue statues,
and from a distance perfectly realise their beauty. Many of
the women are losers by renouncing this disguise. N ever-
theless, to behold life imitating motionless marble, however
gracefully, strik es one with fear. The carriages of the
great and gay throng the streets; but the charm of these
festivities is their saturnalian confusion: all classes are
mingled; the gravest magistrates ride among the mask s
with almost official assiduity. A ll the windows are de-
corated, and all the world out of doors: the pleasure of the
populace consists not in their spectacles nor their feasts;
they commit no ex cess, but revel solely in the delight of
h4
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? 152 corinne; or I taly.
mix ing freely with their betters, who, on their parts, are
as diverted at rinding themselves thrown among those be-
neath them. O nly the refined and delicate pleasures that
spring from research and education can build up barriers
between different rank s. I taly, as hath been said, is more
distinguished by universal talent than by its cultivation
among the aristocracy. Therefore, during the carnival,
all minds and all manners blend: the shouting crowds
that indiscriminately shower their bonbons on the passers
by confound the whole nation pell-mell, as if no social
order remained. Corinne and N evil arrived in the midst
of this uproar: at first it stunned them; for nothing ap-
pears stranger than such activity of noisy enj oyment,
while the soul is pensively retired within herself. They
stopped in the Piazza del Popolo, to ascend the amphi-
theatre near the obelisk , thence to overlook the horse-racing:
as they alighted from their calash, the Count d' E rfeuil
perceived them, and took O swald aside, saying, " H ow
can you show yourself thus publicly returning from the
country with Corinne? Y ou will commit her, and then what
can you do? " -- " I think I shall not commit her," re-
turned he, " by showing my affection; if I do, I shall be
buttoohappy,inthedevotionofmylife-- " -- " H appy! "
interrupted d' E rfeuil; " don' t believe it! one can only be
happy in becoming situations. S ociety, do what we will,
has a great influence; and what society would disapprove
ought never to be attempted. " -- " Then," replied O
" our own thoughts and feelings are to guide us less than
the words of others. I f it were our duty thus constantly
to follow the million, what need has any individual with a
heart or a soul? -- Providence might have spared us from
swald,
such superfluities. " -- " V ery philosophical," replied the
Count; " but such max ims ruin a man; and when love is
over, he is left to the censure of the world. F lighty as
you think me, I would not risk it, on any account. W e
may allow ourselves the little freedoms and good-natured
j ests of independent think
ers, but in our actions such
liberties become serious. " -- " A nd are not love and hap-
piness serious considerations?
" ask ed N evil. -- " That is
nothing to the purpose: there are certain established forms
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? corinn-e; or italy. 153
which you cannot brave without passing for an eccentric;
for a man-- in fact -- you understand me -- unlik e other
men. " L ord N evil smiled, and without either pain or
displeasure rallied d' E rfeuil on his frivolous severity: he
rej oiced to feel, for the first time, that on a subj ect which had
cost him so much, the Count' s advice had not the slightest
power. Corinne guessed what had past, but O swald' s
smile restored her composure; and this conversation tended
but to put them both in spirits for the fete. N evil ex -
pected to see a R ace lik e those of E ngland; but was sur-
prised to learn that small B arbary steeds were about to
mak e the contest of speed without riders. This is a very
favourite sport with the R omans.
W hen it was about to commence, the crowd ranged
themselves on each side of the street. The Place, late so
thronged, was emptied in a minute: every one hurried to
the stands which surrounded the obelisk s; while a mul-
titude of black heads and eyes were turned towards the
barrier from which the barbs were to start. They appeared,
without bridle or saddle, their back s covered by bright-hued
stuffs: they were led by well-dressed grooms, passionately
interested in their success. A s the animals reach the
barrier, their eagerness for release is almost uncontrollable:
they rear, neigh, and paw the earth, as if impatient for the
glory they are about to win, without the aid or guidance
of man. Their prancing, and the rapturous cry of " R oom,
room! " as the barrier falls, have a perfectly theatrical
effect. The grooms are all voice and gesture, as long as
their steeds remain in sight; the creatures are as j ealous
as mank ind of one another; the spark s fly beneath their
feet; their manes float wildly on the breeze; and such is
their desire to reach the goal, that some have fallen there
dead. To look on these free things, all animated by per-
sonal passion, is astounding-- as if one beheld Thought
itself flying in that fine shape. The crowd break their
rank s as the horses pass, and follow them in tumult. The
V enetian palace ends the race; then may be heard ex -
clamations of disappointment from those whose horses have
been beaten; while he whose darling has deserved the
greatest prize throws himself on his k nees before the
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? 154 corinne; or italy.
victor, thank ing and recommending him to S t. A nthony,
patron of the brute creation, with an enthusiasm as seriously
felt as it is comically ex pressed. The races usually con-
clude the day. Then begins another k ind of amusement,
less attractive, but eq ually loud. The windows are illu-
minated; the guards leave their posts, to share the general
j oy. E very one carries a little torch, called moccolo, and
every one tries to ex tinguish his neighbour' s, repeating the
word " ammaasare" (k ill), with formidable vivacity. "
K ill
the fair princess! let the L ord A bbot be k illed! " The
multitude, re-assured by the interdiction of horses and car-
riages at that hour, pour forth from every q uarter: all is
turmoil and clamour; yet, as night advances, this ceases
by degrees: the deepest silence succeeds. The remem-
brance of this evening is. lik e that of a confused vision,
which, for awhile, changed every dreamer' s ex istence, and
made the people forget their toil, the learned their studies,
and the nobles their sloth.
CH A PTE R I I .
O swald, since his misfortunes, had never regained suf-
ficient courage voluntarily to hear music. H e dreaded those
ravishing sounds, so agreeable to melancholy, but which
prove so truly inj urious while we are weighed down by real
calamities. Music revives the recollections it would, ap-
pease. W hen Corinne sang, O swald listened to the words
she pronounced; gazed on her ex pressive features, and
thought of nothing but her. Y et if, of an evening, in the
streets, he heard many voices united to sing the sweet airs
of celebrated composers, as is often the case in I taly, though
inclined to pause, he soon withdrew, alarmed by the strong
yet indefinite emotion which renewed his sorrows. B ut a
concert was about to be given at the theatre of R ome, con-
centrating the talents of the first singers in I taly. Corinne
ask ed N evil to accompany her thither: he consented, hoping
that her presence would soften all the pangs he must endure.
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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.
hill, facing her garden, was the S ibyl' s temple. The
ancients, by building these fanes on heights lik e this, sug-
gested the due superiority of religion over all other pursuits.
They bid you " look from nature up to nature' s God,"
and tell of the gratitude that successive generations have
paid to heaven. The landscape, seen from whatever point,
includes this its central ornament. S uch ruins remind one
not of the work of man. They harmonise with the fair
trees and lonely torrent, that emblem of the years which
have made them what they are. The most beauteous land
that awok e no memory of great events were uninteresting,
compared with every spot that history sanctifies. W hat
place could more appropriately have been selected as the
home of Corinne than that consecrated to the S ibyl, a
woman divinely inspired? The house was charming;
deck ed in all the elegance of modern taste, yet evidently
by a classic hand. Y ou saw that its mistress understood
felicity in its highest signification; that which implies all
that can ennoble, while it ex cites our minds. A sighing
melody now stole on O swald' s ear, as if the nodding
flowers and waving shrubs thus lent a voice to nature.
Corinne informed him that it proceeded from the E olian
harps, which she had hung in her grottoes, adding music
to the perfume of the air. H er lover was entranced.
" Corinne," he cried, throwing himself at her feet, " till
to-day I have censured mine own bliss beside thee; but
now I feel as if the prayers of mine offended parent had
won me all this favour; the chaste repose I here enj oy
tells me that I am pardoned. F earlessly, then, unite thy
fate with mine: there is no danger now ! " -- "
W ell," she
replied, " let us not disturb this peace by naming F ate.
W hy strive to gain more than she ever grants? W hy
seek for change while we are happy? " H e was hurt by
this reply. H e thought she should have understood his
readiness to confide, to promise, all. This evasion, then,
offended and afflicted him: he appreciated not the delicacy
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 145
which forbade Corinne to profit by his weak ness. W here
we really love, we often dread more than we desire the
solemn moment that ex changes hope for certainty. O swald,
however, concluded that, much as she loved him, she
preferred her independence, and therefore shunned an in-
dissoluble tie. I rritated by this mistak e, he followed her
to the gallery in frigid silence. S he guessed his mood,
but k new his pride too well to tell him so; yet, with a
vague design of soothing him, she lent even to general and
indifferent topics the softest tones of affection.
H er gallery was composed of historical, poetic, re-
ligious subj ects, and landscapes. N one of them contained
any great number of figures. Crowded pictures are,
doubtless, arduous task s; but their beauties are mostly
either too confused or too detailed. Unity of interest,
that vital principle of art, as of all things, is necessarily
frittered away. The first picture represented B rutus,
sitting lost in thought, at the foot of the statue of R ome,
while slaves bore by the dead bodies of the sons he had
condemned; on the other side, their mother and sisters
stood in frantic despair, fortunately ex cused, by their sex ,
from that courage which sacrifices the affections. The
situation of B rutus, beneath the statue of R ome, tells all.
B ut how, without ex planation, can we k now that this is
B rutus, or that those are his children, whom he himself
has sentenced? and yet the event cannot be better set
forth by any painting. R ome fills its back -ground, as yet
unornamented as a city, grand only as the country that
could inspire such heroism. " O nce hear the name," said
Corinne, " and doubtless your whole soul is given up to it;
otherwise might not uncertainty have converted a pleasure
which ought to be so plain and so easy into an abstruse
enigma? I chose the subj ect, as recalling the most ter-
rible deed a patriot ever dared. The nex t is Marius, tak en
by one of the Cimbri, who cannot resolve to k ill so great a
man. Marius,indeed, is an imposing figure; the costume and
physiognomy of the Cimbri leader ex tremely picturesq ue:
it mark s the second era of R ome, when laws were no more,
but when genius still ex erted a vast control. N ex t come
the days in which glory led but to misfortune and insult.
L
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? 14-6 CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y .
The third picture is B elisarius, bearing his young guide,
who had ex pired while ask ing alms for him: thus is the
hlind hero recompensed by his master; and in the world he
vanq uished hath no better office than that of carrying to
the grave the sad remains of yon poor boy, his only faith-
ful friend. S ince the old school, I have seen no truer
figure than that: the painter, lik e the poet, has loaded him
with all k inds of miseries -- too many, it may be, for com-
passion. B ut what tells us that it is B elisarius? what
fidelity to history is ex acted both of artist and spectator!
a fidelity, by the way, often ruinous to the beautiful. I n
B nltus we look on virtues that resemble crime; in Marius,
on fame causing but distress; in B elisarius, on services
req uited by the black est persecution. N ear these I have
hung two pictures that console the oppressed spirit by
reminding it of the piety that can cheer the brok en
heart, when all around is bondage. The first is A l-
bano' s infant Christ asleep on a cross. Does not that
stainless, smiling face convince us that heavenly faith
hath nought to fear from grief or death? The following
one is Titian' s J esus bending under the weight of the
cross. H is mother on her k nees before him: what a
proof of reverence for the undeserved oppressions suf-
fered by her Divine S on! W hat a look of resignation is
his! yet what an air of pain, and therefore sympathy, with
us! That is the best of all my pictures; to that I turn
my eyes with rapture inex haustible; and now come my
dramatic chefs-d' oeuvre, drawn from the work s of four
great poets. There is the meeting of Dido and iE neas in
the E lysian fields: her indignant shade avoids him; re-
j oicing to be freed from the fond heart which yet would
throb at his approach. The vaporous colour of the phan-
toms, and the pale scenes around them, contrast the air of
life in iE neas, and the S ibyl who conducts him; but in
these attempts the bard' s description must far transcend
all that the pencil reaches: in this of the dying Clorinda
our tears are claimed by the remembered lines of Tasso,
where she pardons the beloved Tancred, who has j ust dealt
her the mortal wound. ' Painting inevitably sink s beneath
poetry, when devoted to themes that great authors have
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? CO B I N N B J O B I TA L Y . 147
already treated. O ne glance back at their words effaces all
before us. Their favourite situations gain force from im-
passioned eloq uence; while picturesq ue effect is most fa-
voured by moments of repose, worthy to be indefinitely
prolonged, and too perfect for the eye ever to weary of
their grace. Y our terrific S hak speare, my L ord, afforded
the ensuing subj ect. The invincible Macbeth, about to
fight Macduff, learns that the witches have eq uivocated
with him; that B irnam wood is coming to Dunsinnane,
and that his adversary was not of woman born, but ' un-
timely ripped' from his dying mother. * Macbeth is sub-
dued by his fate, not by his foe; his desperate hand still
grasps its glaive, certain that he must fall, yet to the last
opposing human strength against the might of demons.
There is a world of fury and of troubled energy in that
countenance: but how many of the poet' s beauties do we
lose? Can we paint Macbeth hurried into crime by the
dreams of ambition, conj ured up by the powers of sorcery?
H ow ex press a terror compatible with intrepidity; how
characterise the superstition that oppresses him? the
ignoble credulity, which, even while he feels such scorn of
life, forces on him such horror of death! Doubtless the
human face is the grandest of all mysteries; yet fix ed on
canvass, it can hardly tell of more than one sensation; no
struggle, no successive contrasts accessible to dramatic art,
can painting give, as neither time nor motion ex ists for her.
" R acine' s Phedra forms the fourth picture. H ippolitus,
in all the beauty of youth and innocence, repulses the per-
fidious accusations of his stepmother. The heroic The-
seus still protects his guilty wife, whom his conq uering
arms surround. Phedra'
that we freeze to look
courages her in guilt. H
s visage is agitated by impulses
on; and her remorseless nurse en-
ippolitus is here even more lovely
than in R acine; more lik e to Meleager, as no love for
A ricia here seems to mingle with his tameless virtue.
* Madame de S taet B ays, " Macbeth apprend q ue l' oracle des sorcieres s' est
accompli; q ue le foret dc B irnam parait s' avancer vers Dunsinnane; et q u' il
se bat avec un homme ni depuis la mort de sa mere. "
* * L udicrous perversion of the author' s meaning! " The points S huk speare
intended to impress were, that" the wierd women," " j uggling fiends, who palter
with us in a double sense," had promised their victim success and lite till events
which he naturally conceived impossible, but which they k new wnUd occur.
L 2,?
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? 148 corinne; or I taly.
B ut could Phedra have supported her falsehood in such a
presence? N o, she must have fallen at his feet: a vindic-
tive woman may inj ure him she loves in absence, but,
while she look s on him, that love must triumph. The
poet never brings them together after she has slandered
him. The painter was obliged to oppose them to each
other; but is not the distinction between the picturesq ue
and the poetical proved by the fact, that verses copied
from paintings are worth all the paintings that have imi-
tated poetry? F ancy must ever precede reason, as it
does in the growth of the human mind. "
W hile Corinne spok e thus, she had freq uently paused,
hoping that O swald would add his remark s; but, as she
made any feeling observation, he would merely sigh and
turn away his head, to conceal his present disposition to-
wards sadness. Corinne, at last discouraged by this silence,
sat down and hid her face in her hands. O swald hastily
paced the apartment, and was j ust about to give his emo-
tions way, when, with a sudden check of pride, he turned
towards the pictures, as if ex pecting her to finish the ac-
count of them. S he had great hope in the last; and
mak ing an effort to compose herself, rose, saying, " My
L ord, there remain but three landscapes for me to show
you; two possess some interest. I do not lik e rural scenes
that bear no allusion to fable or history; they are insipid as
the idyls of our poets. I prefer S alvator R osa' s style here,
which gives you rock s, torrents, and trees, with not even
the wing of a bird visible to remind you of life! The ab-
sence of man, in the midst of nature, ex cites profound re-
flections. W hat is this deserted scene, so vainly beautiful,
whose mysterious charms address but the eye of their
Creator? H ere, on the contrary, history and poesy are
happily united in a landscape. (3) This represents the
moment when Cincinnatus is invited by the consuls to
q uit his plough, and tak e command of the R oman
armies. A ll the lux ury of the S outh is seen in this pic-
ture,-- abundant vegetation, burning sk y, and an universal
air of j oy, that pervades even the aspect of the plants. S ee
what a contrast is beside it. The son of Cairbar sleeps
upon his father' s tomb. Three nights he awaited the
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? corinne; or italy. 149
bard, who comes to honour the dead. H is form is he-
held afar, he descends the mountain' s side. O n the clouds
floats the shade of the chief. The land is hoary with ice;
and the trees, as the rude winds war on their lifeless and
withered arms, strew their sear leaves to the gale, and
herald the course of the storm. " O swald, till now, had
cherished his resentment; but at the sight of this picture,
the tomb of his father, the mountains of S cotland rose to
his view, and his eyes filled with tears. Corinne took her
harp, and sung one of those simple S cotch hallads whose
notes seem fit to be borne on the wailing breeze. I t was
the soldier' s farewell to his country and his love, in which
recurred that most melodious and ex pressive of E nglish
phrases, "
ingly, that O
together. "
N o more. " * Corinne pronounced it so touch-
swald could resist no longer; and they wept
A h, Corinne! " he cried, " does then my
country affect your heart? Could you go with me to the
land peopled by my recollections? W ould you there he the
worthy partner of my life, as you are here its enchantress? "
-- " I believe I could," she answered, " for I love you. " --
" I
me. "
n the name of love and pity then, have no more secrets from
-- " Y our will shall he obeyed, O swald: I promise it
on one condition, that you ask not its fulfilment before the
termination of our approaching religious solemnities. I s
not the support of H eaven more than ever necessary at the
moment which must decide my fate? " -- " Corinne,"
said, " if thy fate depends on me it shall no longer be a
sad one," -- " Y ou think so," she rej oined; "
no such confidence, therefore indulge my weak ness. "
O swald sighed, without granting or refusing the delay she
he
but I have
ask ed. " L etusreturntoR omenow," sheadded. " I
should tell you all in this solitude; and if what I have to
say must drive you from me,-- need it be so soon? Come,
O swald; you may revisit this scene when my ashes repose
here. " Melted and agitated, he obeyed. O n their road they
scarcely spok e a word, but now and then ex changed look s
of affection; yet a heavy melancholy oppressed them both,
as they re-entered R ome.
? I presume the " A dieu to L ochaber," though in that it is " nae mair. " -- Tr.
L3
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? 150CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
BOOKIX.
O N TH E CA R N I V A L ,A N DI TA L I A N MUS I C,
CH A PTE R I .
The last day of the carnival is the gayest in the year.
The R oman populace carry their rage for amusement to a
perfect fever, unex ampled elsewhere. The whole town is
disguised; the very gazers from its windows are mask ed.
This begins regularly to the appointed day, neither public
nor private affairs interfering with its indulgence. Then
may one j udge of the imagination possessed by the herd.
I talian sounds sweetly even from their mouths. A lfieri
said that he went to the mark et of F lorence to learn good
I talian. R ome has the same advantage; and, perhaps,
these are the only cities of which all the natives speak so
well that the mind is feasted at every corner of the streets.
The k ind of gaiety that shines through their harleq uinades
is often found in the most uneducated men; and during
this festival, while ex aggeration and caricature are fair
play, the most comic scenes perpetually recur. O ften a
grotesq ue gravity contrasts the usually vivacious I talian
manner, as if their strange dresses conferred an unnatural
dignity on the wearers. S ometimes they evince so sur-
prising a k nowledge of mythology, in the travesties they
assume, that one might suppose them still believers in its
fictions. Most freq uently, however, they ridicule the va-
rious rank s of society with a pleasantry truly original: the
nation is now a thousand times more distinguished by its
sports than by its history. I talian lends itself so easily to
all k inds of playfulness, that it needs but a slight inflex ion
of voice, a little difference of termination, lengthening or
diminishing the words, to change the entire meaning of a
sentence. The language comes with a peculiar grace from
the lips of childhood. The innocence of that age, and the
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? corinne; O R I TA L Y . 151
natural archness of the southern tongue, ex q uisitely con-
trast each other. (4) O ne may almost call it a language
that talk s of itself, and always-seems more witty than its
speak ers.
There is neither splendour nor taste in the carnival:
its universal tumult assimilates it in the fancy with the
bacchanalian orgies; but in the fancy only; for the R o-
mans are generally sober and serious enough -- the last
days of this fete ex cepted. Then one mak es such varied
and sudden discoveries in their character, as have con-
tributed to give them a reputation for cunning. Doubt-
less, there is a great habit of feigning among people who
have borne so many yok es; but we must not always at-
tribute their rapid changes of manner to dissimulation.
I nflammable imagination is as oft its cause. R easoners may
readily foresee their own actions; but all that belongs to
fancy is unex pected: she overleaps gradations; a trifle
may wound her, or that which ought to move her most
be past by with indifference; she' s her own world, and in
it there is no calculating effects by causes. F or instance,
we wonder what entertainment the R oman nobles find in
driving from one end of the Corso to the other for hours
together, every day in the year, yet nothing break s in on this
custom. A mong the mask s, too, may be found wandering
victims to ennui, pack ed up in the drollest of dresses, sad
harleq uins, and silent clowns, who satisfy their carnival
conscience by merely seek ing to divert themselves. I n
R ome they have one assumption that nowhere else ex ists--
mask ers, who, in their own persons, copy the antiq ue statues,
and from a distance perfectly realise their beauty. Many of
the women are losers by renouncing this disguise. N ever-
theless, to behold life imitating motionless marble, however
gracefully, strik es one with fear. The carriages of the
great and gay throng the streets; but the charm of these
festivities is their saturnalian confusion: all classes are
mingled; the gravest magistrates ride among the mask s
with almost official assiduity. A ll the windows are de-
corated, and all the world out of doors: the pleasure of the
populace consists not in their spectacles nor their feasts;
they commit no ex cess, but revel solely in the delight of
h4
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? 152 corinne; or I taly.
mix ing freely with their betters, who, on their parts, are
as diverted at rinding themselves thrown among those be-
neath them. O nly the refined and delicate pleasures that
spring from research and education can build up barriers
between different rank s. I taly, as hath been said, is more
distinguished by universal talent than by its cultivation
among the aristocracy. Therefore, during the carnival,
all minds and all manners blend: the shouting crowds
that indiscriminately shower their bonbons on the passers
by confound the whole nation pell-mell, as if no social
order remained. Corinne and N evil arrived in the midst
of this uproar: at first it stunned them; for nothing ap-
pears stranger than such activity of noisy enj oyment,
while the soul is pensively retired within herself. They
stopped in the Piazza del Popolo, to ascend the amphi-
theatre near the obelisk , thence to overlook the horse-racing:
as they alighted from their calash, the Count d' E rfeuil
perceived them, and took O swald aside, saying, " H ow
can you show yourself thus publicly returning from the
country with Corinne? Y ou will commit her, and then what
can you do? " -- " I think I shall not commit her," re-
turned he, " by showing my affection; if I do, I shall be
buttoohappy,inthedevotionofmylife-- " -- " H appy! "
interrupted d' E rfeuil; " don' t believe it! one can only be
happy in becoming situations. S ociety, do what we will,
has a great influence; and what society would disapprove
ought never to be attempted. " -- " Then," replied O
" our own thoughts and feelings are to guide us less than
the words of others. I f it were our duty thus constantly
to follow the million, what need has any individual with a
heart or a soul? -- Providence might have spared us from
swald,
such superfluities. " -- " V ery philosophical," replied the
Count; " but such max ims ruin a man; and when love is
over, he is left to the censure of the world. F lighty as
you think me, I would not risk it, on any account. W e
may allow ourselves the little freedoms and good-natured
j ests of independent think
ers, but in our actions such
liberties become serious. " -- " A nd are not love and hap-
piness serious considerations?
" ask ed N evil. -- " That is
nothing to the purpose: there are certain established forms
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? corinn-e; or italy. 153
which you cannot brave without passing for an eccentric;
for a man-- in fact -- you understand me -- unlik e other
men. " L ord N evil smiled, and without either pain or
displeasure rallied d' E rfeuil on his frivolous severity: he
rej oiced to feel, for the first time, that on a subj ect which had
cost him so much, the Count' s advice had not the slightest
power. Corinne guessed what had past, but O swald' s
smile restored her composure; and this conversation tended
but to put them both in spirits for the fete. N evil ex -
pected to see a R ace lik e those of E ngland; but was sur-
prised to learn that small B arbary steeds were about to
mak e the contest of speed without riders. This is a very
favourite sport with the R omans.
W hen it was about to commence, the crowd ranged
themselves on each side of the street. The Place, late so
thronged, was emptied in a minute: every one hurried to
the stands which surrounded the obelisk s; while a mul-
titude of black heads and eyes were turned towards the
barrier from which the barbs were to start. They appeared,
without bridle or saddle, their back s covered by bright-hued
stuffs: they were led by well-dressed grooms, passionately
interested in their success. A s the animals reach the
barrier, their eagerness for release is almost uncontrollable:
they rear, neigh, and paw the earth, as if impatient for the
glory they are about to win, without the aid or guidance
of man. Their prancing, and the rapturous cry of " R oom,
room! " as the barrier falls, have a perfectly theatrical
effect. The grooms are all voice and gesture, as long as
their steeds remain in sight; the creatures are as j ealous
as mank ind of one another; the spark s fly beneath their
feet; their manes float wildly on the breeze; and such is
their desire to reach the goal, that some have fallen there
dead. To look on these free things, all animated by per-
sonal passion, is astounding-- as if one beheld Thought
itself flying in that fine shape. The crowd break their
rank s as the horses pass, and follow them in tumult. The
V enetian palace ends the race; then may be heard ex -
clamations of disappointment from those whose horses have
been beaten; while he whose darling has deserved the
greatest prize throws himself on his k nees before the
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? 154 corinne; or italy.
victor, thank ing and recommending him to S t. A nthony,
patron of the brute creation, with an enthusiasm as seriously
felt as it is comically ex pressed. The races usually con-
clude the day. Then begins another k ind of amusement,
less attractive, but eq ually loud. The windows are illu-
minated; the guards leave their posts, to share the general
j oy. E very one carries a little torch, called moccolo, and
every one tries to ex tinguish his neighbour' s, repeating the
word " ammaasare" (k ill), with formidable vivacity. "
K ill
the fair princess! let the L ord A bbot be k illed! " The
multitude, re-assured by the interdiction of horses and car-
riages at that hour, pour forth from every q uarter: all is
turmoil and clamour; yet, as night advances, this ceases
by degrees: the deepest silence succeeds. The remem-
brance of this evening is. lik e that of a confused vision,
which, for awhile, changed every dreamer' s ex istence, and
made the people forget their toil, the learned their studies,
and the nobles their sloth.
CH A PTE R I I .
O swald, since his misfortunes, had never regained suf-
ficient courage voluntarily to hear music. H e dreaded those
ravishing sounds, so agreeable to melancholy, but which
prove so truly inj urious while we are weighed down by real
calamities. Music revives the recollections it would, ap-
pease. W hen Corinne sang, O swald listened to the words
she pronounced; gazed on her ex pressive features, and
thought of nothing but her. Y et if, of an evening, in the
streets, he heard many voices united to sing the sweet airs
of celebrated composers, as is often the case in I taly, though
inclined to pause, he soon withdrew, alarmed by the strong
yet indefinite emotion which renewed his sorrows. B ut a
concert was about to be given at the theatre of R ome, con-
centrating the talents of the first singers in I taly. Corinne
ask ed N evil to accompany her thither: he consented, hoping
that her presence would soften all the pangs he must endure.
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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.
