between his creature and himself." "Undoubtedly," replied Oswald, "I
think so; but who knows whether it may not be the deep feelings of
tenderness which you excite in my heart, that render me sensible to all
I see? - You reveal to me the emotions and thoughts, which external
objects can give birth to. I existed but in my heart; you have awakened
my imagination. But this magic of the universe, which you teach me to
know, will never present me with any thing more lovely than your look,
more moving than your voice." "May the sentiment I now inspire you with,
last as long as my life," said Corinne, "or at least, may my life never
survive the power of inspiring it!"

Oswald and Corinne terminated their tour of Rome by the Borghese villa.
Of all the Roman gardens and palaces, here the splendours of nature and
the arts, are assembled with the greatest taste and brilliancy. Here are
seen trees of every kind, and magnificent fountains; an incredible
number of statues, vases, and antique sarcophagi, mingled with the
freshness of the youthful nature of the South. The ancient mythology
here seems revived; the naiades are placed on the borders of rivers, the
nymphs in woods worthy of them, the tombs beneath Elysian shades, and
the statue of Esculapius in the middle of an isle, while that of Venus
appears to rise out of the waters: Ovid and Virgil might walk in this
enchanting spot, and still believe themselves in the Augustan age. The
masterpieces of sculpture which the palace contains, give it a
magnificence ever new. At a distance, through the trees, is perceived
the city of Rome and St Peter's, the Campagna, and those long arches,
the wrecks of aqueducts, which conveyed the springs from the mountains
into ancient Rome. Everything is there that can excite thought, delight
the imagination, and foster reverie. The most pure sensations are
confounded with the pleasures of the soul, and give an idea of perfect
happiness; but when we ask why this charming abode is not inhabited?
they answer you that the malaria (_la cattiva aria_) will not permit any
one to live here during summer.

This malaria, in a manner, lays siege to Rome; it advances every year
some steps farther, and they are obliged to abandon the most charming
habitations to its empire: undoubtedly, the absence of trees in the
country about the city, is one of the causes of it; and it is perhaps,
on that account, that the ancient Romans consecrated the woods to
goddesses, in order to make them respected by the people. At present,
forests without number have been cut down; - can there indeed exist, in
our days, any place so sanctified, that the avidity of man will spare it
from the work of devastation? The malaria is the scourge of the
inhabitants of Rome, and threatens the city with an entire depopulation;
but perhaps it increases the effect produced by the superb gardens which
are seen within the walls of Rome. The malign influence is not felt by
any external sign; you breathe an air which seems pure, and is very
agreeable; the earth is smiling and fertile; a delicious coolness
refreshes you in the evening after the burning heat of the day; and all
this is death!

"I love," said Oswald to Corinne, "this mysterious, invisible danger,
this danger under the form of the sweetest impressions. If death be
only, what I believe it to be, a summons to a happier existence, why
should not the perfume of flowers, the umbrage of fine trees, and the
refreshing breath of the evening breeze, be the bearers of that summons?
Undoubtedly, governments ought to watch in every way over the
preservation of human life; but there are secrets in nature which the
imagination alone can penetrate; and I easily conceive that neither the
inhabitants nor the strangers who visit it, are disgusted with Rome, by
the species of peril to which they are exposed there during the most
beautiful seasons of the year."


Book vi.

THE MANNERS AND CHARACTER OF THE ITALIANS.

[Illustration]


Chapter i.


The indecision of Oswald's character, increased by his misfortunes, led
him to dread forming any irrevocable resolve. He had not even dared, in
his state of irresolution, to ask of Corinne the secret of her name and
destiny; nevertheless, his love acquired every day new strength; he
never beheld her without emotion; in company he could hardly quit, even
for an instant, the place where she was seated; she did not speak a word
that he felt not; nor did she experience one moment's sadness or gaiety,
that was not reflected in his countenance. But in the midst of his
admiration and of his love for Corinne, he recollected how little such a
woman agreed with the English manner of living; how much she differed
from the idea which his father had formed of her whom it would be proper
for him to espouse; and all that he said to Corinne partook of the
trouble and constraint which these reflections caused him.

Corinne perceived this too well; but it would have cost her so much to
break off with Lord Nelville, that she herself endeavoured to avoid, as
much as he, a decisive explanation; and as she was not possessed of much
foresight she was happy with the present, such as it was, although it
was impossible for her to know what would be the issue of it.

She had become entirely divided from the world, in order to devote
herself entirely to her passion for Oswald. But at length, so much
affected was she at his silence with regard to the future, that she
resolved to accept an invitation for a ball to which she had been
pressingly solicited. Nothing is more common at Rome than to leave
society and to appear in it again, alternately, just as the parties feel
it agreeable to themselves: it is the country where people trouble their
minds the least with what is elsewhere called _gossip_; each one does as
he pleases, without any person enquiring about it, or at least, without
finding in others any obstacle either to his love or his ambition. The
Romans are as inattentive to the conduct of their fellow-countrymen, as
to that of strangers, who pass and repass through their city, the
rendezvous of Europeans. When Lord Nelville knew that Corinne was going
to the ball, he was vexed at it. He thought he had perceived in her for
some time a melancholy disposition in sympathy with his own: all on a
sudden she appeared to him to be taken up with dancing, an art in which
she excelled; and her imagination seemed fired at the approach of a
_féte_. Corinne was not frivolous by character; but she felt herself
every day more and more enslaved by her love for Oswald, and she would
fain endeavour to weaken its force. She knew by experience, that
reflection and sacrifices have less effect upon passionate characters
than dissipation, and she thought that reason did not consist in
conquering ourselves according to rules, but by doing so how we can.

"I must," said she to Lord Nelville, who reproached her with her
intention of going to the ball, "I must know, however, if there be only
you in the world who can fill the void of my life; if that which pleased
me formerly may not still have the power to amuse me; and if the
sentiment you have inspired me with must absorb every other interest,
every other idea." - "You would then cease to love me?" replied
Oswald. - "No;" answered Corinne, "but it is only in domestic life that
it could be pleasing to me to feel thus governed by a single affection.
To me who need my talents, my mind, and my imagination, to support the
lustre of that kind of life which I have adopted, it must be
painful - extremely painful to love as I love you." - "You would not
sacrifice to me then," said Oswald to her, "this homage and this
glory." - "Of what importance can it be to you," said Corinne, "to know
whether or not I would sacrifice them to you? Since we are not
absolutely destined for one another, it would not be prudent to let that
happiness with which I must be satisfied, wither for ever." - Lord
Nelville made no answer, because it was necessary, in expressing his
sentiments, to avow also the purpose they inspired, and of this his own
heart was still in ignorance. He was silent therefore, and sighing,
followed Corinne to the ball, whither he went with much reluctance.

It was the first time since his calamity that he had seen a large
assembly; and the tumult of a _féte_ caused him such an impression of
sadness that he remained a long time in a room contiguous to that
appropriated for the ball, his head supported on his hand, not even
curious to behold Corinne dance. He listened to the festive music, which
like every other music, produces reverie, though only intended to
inspire joy. The Count d'Erfeuil arrived, quite enchanted at the sight
of a ball, which produced in him some recollections of France. - "I have
tried all I could," said he to Lord Nelville, "to discover something
interesting in these ruins of which they talk so much, and I can really
find no charm in them. It must be the effect of a very great prejudice
to admire those heaps of rubbish covered with thorns. I shall speak my
mind of them when I return to Paris, for it is time that this Italian
delusion should cease. There is not a monument now standing whole in any
part of Europe, that I would not sooner see than those old stumps of
pillars, those bas-reliefs, all black with time, which can only be
admired by dint of erudition. A pleasure which must be bought with so
much study, does not appear to me very lively in itself - to be charmed
with the sights of Paris, nobody need grow pale over books." Lord
Nelville made no reply. - The Count interrogated him afresh, as to the
impression that Rome produced on him. "In the midst of a ball," said
Oswald, "is not the most proper time for serious conversation on this
subject; and you know that I am incapable of any other." - "Well and
good:" replied the Count d'Erfeuil, "I am more gay than you I admit; but
who knows whether I am not also the more wise of the two? Believe me,
there is much philosophy in my apparent levity: it is the way we should
take life." - "You are perhaps in the right," answered Oswald, "but it is
from nature, and not from reflection, that you acquire that way of
thinking; and that is why your manner of taking life may only suit
yourself."

The Count d'Erfeuil heard the name of Corinne mentioned in the ball
room, and entered it to know what was going forward. Lord Nelville
advanced as far as the door, and beheld the Prince Amalfi, a Neapolitan
of the most handsome figure, who besought Corinne to dance with him the
_Tarantula_, a Neapolitan dance full of grace and originality. The
friends of Corinne besought her also to comply with his request. She
yielded to their desire without waiting to be asked frequently, which
astonished the Count d'Erfeuil, accustomed as he was to the refusals
with which it is customary to precede consenting to a request of this
nature. But in Italy, these kind of graces are unknown, and all believe
they please most in society by showing an eagerness to do what is asked
of them. Corinne would have invented this natural behaviour if she were
not already accustomed to it. The dress she had chosen for the ball was
elegant and light; her hair was gathered up in a fillet of silk, after
the Italian fashion; and her eyes expressed a lively pleasure, which
rendered her more seductive than ever. Oswald was disturbed at this; he
warred against himself; he was indignant at being captivated with charms
which he ought to lament, since, far from thinking to please him, it was
to escape his empire that Corinne appeared so attractive. - But who could
resist the seductions of a grace like hers? Were she even disdainful,
she would be still more omnipotent; and that certainly was not the
disposition of Corinne. She perceived Lord Nelville, and blushed, while
there was in her eyes as she looked upon him, a most enchanting
softness.

The Prince d'Amalfi accompanied himself, in dancing, with castanets.
Corinne before she began saluted the assembly most gracefully with both
her hands, then turning round upon her heel took the tambourine which
the Prince Amalfi presented her with. She then began to dance, striking
the air upon the tambourine, and there was in all her motions, an
agility, a grace, a mixture of modesty and voluptuousness, which might
give an idea of that power which the Bayadores exercise over the
imagination of the Indians, when, if we may use the expression, they are
almost poets in their dance; when they express so many different
sentiments by the characteristic steps and the enchanting pictures which
they offer to the sight. Corinne was so well acquainted with all the
attitudes which the ancient painters and sculptors have represented,
that by a light movement of her arms, sometimes in placing the
tambourine over her head, sometimes forward, with one of her hands,
whilst the other ran over the little bells with an incredible dexterity,
she recalled to mind the dancers of Herculaneam[20], and gave birth
successively to a crowd of new ideas for painting and design.

It was not the French style, characterised by the elegance and
difficulty of the step; it was a talent more connected with imagination
and sentiment. The character of the music was alternately expressed by
the exactitude and softness of the movements. Corinne, in dancing,
conveyed to the souls of her spectators what was passing in her own. The
same as in her improvisation, her performance on the lyre, or the
efforts of her pencil, - she reduced everything to language. The
musicians, in beholding her, exerted themselves to make the genius of
their art felt more exquisitely; a kind of passionate joy, a sensibility
of the imagination, electrified all the spectators of the magic dance,
and transported them to that state of ideal existence in which we dream
of happiness that does not exist in this world.

There is a part of this Neapolitan dance when the lady kneels, whilst
the gentleman moves round her, not as a master, but as a
conqueror. - What at this moment were the charms and dignity of Corinne.
How regal, even in kneeling, did she appear! And when she arose,
striking her aerial cymbal, she seemed animated with that lively
enthusiasm of youth and beauty, which would create a belief that nothing
was wanting to complete her happiness. Alas! it was far otherwise; but
Oswald feared it, and sighed in the midst of his admiration of Corinne,
as if each triumph of her genius was a degree of separation from him: at
the conclusion of the dance, the gentleman kneels in his turn, and the
lady dances round him. Corinne in this part, if it were possible,
surpassed herself; her step was so light, as she tripped two or three
times round the same circle, that her buskined feet seemed to fly over
the floor with the velocity of lightning; and when she lifted up one of
her hands, shaking the tambourine, while with the other she motioned the
Prince Amalfi to rise, all the male part of the company were tempted to
throw themselves on their knees too, except Oswald, who retired a few
paces backward, and the Count d'Erfeuil, who advanced a few paces
forward to compliment Corinne. This enthusiasm of the Italians was by no
means assumed, but was the spontaneous effect of their feelings. They
are not sufficiently practised in society and in self-esteem to pay much
regard to the effect which their actions will produce; they never let
themselves be thwarted in their pleasures by vanity, nor turned aside
from the object of their pursuit by applause.

Corinne was charmed at her success, and thanked all her admirers with
the most simple grace. - The satisfaction she felt at having succeeded so
well, appeared beneath a veil of modesty; but her chief anxiety was to
make her way through the crowd, in order to reach the door against which
the pensive Oswald was leaning. When she had reached the spot, she
paused to hear what he would say to her: - "Corinne," said he,
endeavouring to conceal his captivation as well as the pain that he
felt: "Corinne, I hope you have met with sufficient homage and
sufficient applause; but in the midst of these enthusiastic admirers,
have you found one certain and courageous friend - one protector for
life? Can this vain tumult of applause satisfy a heart like thine?"

FOOTNOTE:

[20] It is the dance of Mm. Recamier that gave me the idea of what I
have attempted to describe. This woman, so celebrated for her grace and
beauty, offers in the midst of her misfortunes the example of so
touching a resignation, and of such a total oblivion of her personal
interests, that her moral qualities seem to everyone as remarkable as
her accomplishments.


Chapter ii.


Corrine was prevented by the crowd from making any answer to Lord
Nelville. They were going to the supper room, and each _cavaliere
servente_ was hastening to seat himself by the side of his partner. A
strange lady entered when all the seats were occupied, and no gentleman,
except Lord Nelville and Count d'Erfeuil, made her an offer of his. This
was not the effect of impoliteness or of egotism; but the idea which the
great Roman lords entertain of honour and duty, is not to stir one step,
nor be absent one moment from their ladies. Some who were unable to find
seats, stood behind the chairs of their mistresses, ready to wait upon
them at the least signal. The ladies only conversed with their gallants;
strangers wandered unnoticed about the circle; for the ladies in Italy
are unacquainted with coquetry, nor does any vain triumph of self-love
ever introduce itself into their tender attachments. They have no desire
to please any other than him who possesses their affection; you can
never engage their minds before you have interested their hearts or
pleased their eyes, and frequently the most sudden beginnings of passion
are followed by a sincere devotion, and even a very long constancy. In
Italy, infidelity is more severely condemned in man than in woman. Three
or four gentlemen, under different titles, are followers of the same
lady, who leads them about with her, often without even concerning
herself to mention their names to the master of the house who receives
them. One is the favoured suitor - the other he who aspires to be so - a
third is called the sufferer (_il patito_); this latter is absolutely
disdained, but nevertheless, permitted to continue his adoration; and
all these rivals live peaceably together. The use of the poignard now
only survives among the common people. There is in this country a
whimsical mixture of simplicity and depravity, dissimulation and truth,
sincerity and revenge, weakness and resolution, which can only be
explained by constant observation; the reason being that their good
qualities proceed from the fact that nothing is done from vanity, and
their bad ones from the fact that they will do a great deal for
interest, whether that interest be allied to love, to ambition, or to
fortune.

Distinctions of rank have in general little effect in Italy; this is not
from philosophy, but their facility of character and familiarity of
manners. This accounts for the little influence of aristocratic
prejudices amongst them; for as society does not pretend to judge of
anything, it embraces the opinions of all.

After supper the company betook themselves to play. Some ladies
preferred the game of hazard, whilst others chose the silent one of
whist; and not a word was heard pronounced in that room which so lately
was filled with noise. The inhabitants of the south often pass from the
greatest agitation to the most profound repose: another contrasted part
of their character is indolence united to the most unwearied activity.
In any individual instance among these people, we must beware of judging
upon a first observation, since we find in them the most opposite
qualities: if at one moment they are prudent, perhaps in the next they
show themselves the boldest of men; if they appear indolent, it is only
because they are reposing after some exertion, or preparing for another:
their soul loses none of its force in society, but is most probably
concentrating all its energies for decisive circumstances.

In this Roman assembly of which Oswald and Corinne formed a part, there
were men who lost enormous sums at play, without betraying in their
countenances the slightest emotion. Had these men been relating some
facts of trifling importance, they would have exhibited the most lively
expression and the most animated gestures; but when their passions
arrive at a certain pitch of violence, they dread the eye of
observation, and nearly always conceal them beneath a veil of silence
and apparent apathy.

The scene of the ball was impressed upon Lord Nelville's memory,
associated with bitter resentment; for he feared that the enthusiasm of
the Italians had, at least for a moment, robbed him of the affection of
Corinne. This rendered him very unhappy; but pride whispered him to
conceal it, or discover it only by expressing contempt for the suffrages
of those who had flattered the dazzling accomplishments of his mistress.
He was invited by the company to make one at play, but he refused.
Corinne did the same, and motioned him to come and sit down by her.
Oswald expressed himself uneasy, lest he should expose Corinne to
observation by thus passing the whole evening with her in company. "Make
yourself easy on that score," said she, "nobody will trouble their heads
with us: it is the custom here for people to do as they please in
company; we have no established, ceremonious forms to lay one another
under an unpleasant restraint, nor do we exact any formal attention; a
general polite disposition is all that is expected. This is not,
certainly, a country where liberty exists such as you understand the
term in England; but we enjoy here a perfect independence in society."
"That is to say," replied Oswald, "you show a complete disregard for
manners." "At least," interrupted Corinne, "we show no hypocrisy. M. de
la Rochefoucault has said, '_coquetry is the least of a woman's
defects_': in truth, whatever may be the faults of women in Italy, they
do not seek to hide them by dissimulation. And if the sacredness of
marriage be not here sufficiently respected, it is at least with the
consent of both parties."

"It is not from sincerity that this kind of frankness proceeds," replied
Oswald, "but from indifference to public opinion. When I arrived here, I
had a letter of recommendation to a princess, which I gave to my Italian
servant to deliver; he said to me, '_Sir, it will be of no use to
deliver this letter now, for the princess sees nobody; she is_
INAMORATA;' and this state of being _in love_, is announced with as much
indifference as any other situation incidental to our existence. This
publicity cannot be palliated by the plea of extraordinary vehemence of
passion; several attachments of this sort succeed each other, and are of
equal notoriety. So little are women given to mystery in this respect,
that they avow their connections with less embarrassment than those of
our country would feel in speaking of their husbands. It is easy to
believe that no profound or delicate sentiment is mixed with this
sensibility of passion, divested of modesty. Hence it happens that in
this nation, where nothing is thought of but love, there is not a single
romance; because love is here so rapid and so public that it affords no
interesting developments; and to give a true picture of general manners
in this respect, it would be necessary to begin and terminate it in the
first page. Pardon me, Corinne," cried Lord Nelville, observing the pain
that he gave her; "you are an Italian, and that thought ought to disarm
me; but one of the causes of that incomparable grace which distinguishes
you, is the union of all the characteristic charms of different nations.
I know not in what country you have been brought up; but it appears to
me certain, that you have not passed your whole life in Italy - perhaps
in England itself - Ah, Corinne! if that were so, how could you have
quitted that sanctuary of modesty and delicacy, for these regions,
where not only virtue, but love itself, is so badly understood? It is
breathed in the air; but does it penetrate the heart? Your poetry, in
which love performs so principal a part, possesses considerable grace,
and much imagination; it is ornamented with brilliant pictures, whose
colours are lively and voluptuous. But where will you find that tender,
melancholy sentiment, which animates our poetry? What have you that can
be put in comparison with the scene between Belvidera and her husband,
in OTWAY; or with that in SHAKESPEARE, between Romeo and Juliet? But