convincing him; he sought for some moral sentiment in all this, without
which all the magic of the arts could not satisfy him. Corinne then
recollected that in this very amphitheatre the persecuted Christians
died victims of their perseverance, and showing Lord Nelville the altars
which are raised in honour of their ashes, as well as the path of the
cross, which is trodden by penitents, at the foot of the most
magnificent wrecks of worldly grandeur, asked him if the ashes of
martyrs conveyed no language to his heart? "Yes," cried he, "I deeply
admire the triumph of the soul and of the will over the pains of death.
A sacrifice, whatever it may be, is nobler and more difficult than all
the flights of the soul and of thought. - An exalted imagination may
produce miracles of genius, but it is only in devoting ourselves to our
opinion or to our sentiments that we are truly virtuous; - it is then
alone that a celestial power subdues the mortal man in us."
This language, so noble and so pure, yet gave uneasiness to Corinne. She
looked at Nelville - then cast down her eyes - and though, at that moment,
he took her hand and pressed it against his heart, she shuddered at the
idea that such a man could sacrifice others or himself to the worship of
opinions, of principles, or of duties, which he might have chosen.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] Mineralogists affirm that these lions are not of basalt, because
the volcanic stone to-day known under that name could not have existed
in Egypt; but as Pliny calls the Egyptian stone out of which these lions
have been carved, basalt, and as Winckelmann, the historian of the arts,
also retains this appellation, I have deemed myself justified in using
it in its primitive acceptation.
[12]
"Carpite nunc, tauri, de septem collibus herbas,
Dum licet. Hic magnæ jam locus urbis erit."
TIBULLUS.
"Hoc quodcunque vides hospes quam maxima Roma est,
Ante Phrygem Enean collis et herba fuit."
PROPERTIUS, Book IV. el. 1.
[13]
Roma domus fiet: Veios migrate, Quirites;
Si non et Veios occupat ista domus.
[14] Mounts Citorio and Testacio.
[15] The Janicula, Mount Vaticano and Mount Mario.
Chapter v.
After the excursion to the Capitol and the Forum, Corinne and Nelville
spent two days in visiting the Seven Hills. The Romans formerly observed
a festival in honour of them. These hills, enclosed in her bosom, are
one of the original beauties of Rome; and we may easily conceive what
delight was experienced by feelings attached to their native soil, in
celebrating this singularity.
Oswald and Corinne, having seen the Capitoline Hill the day before,
began their walks by Mount Palatine; it was entirely occupied by the
palace of the Cæsars, called _the golden palace_. This hill offers
nothing to our view, at present, but the ruins of that palace. The four
sides of it were built by Augustus Tiberius, Caligula, and Nero; but the
stones, covered with fertile plants, are all that now remain of it:
Nature has there resumed her empire over the labours of man, and the
beauty of the flowers consoles us for the destruction of the palace. The
luxury of the times of the kings and of the Republic only consisted in
public edifices; private houses were very small, and very simple.
Cicero, Hortensius, and the Gracchi, dwelt upon Mount Palatine, which,
at the decline of Rome, was scarcely sufficient for the abode of a
single man. In the latter ages, the nation was nothing more than an
anonymous crowd, merely designated by the era of its master. We look in
vain here for the two laurels planted before the door of Augustus, the
laurel of war, and that of the fine arts cultivated by peace; both have
disappeared.
There is still remaining, on Mount Palatine, some chambers of the Baths
of Livia; we are there shown the holes which contained the precious
stones that were then lavished upon ceilings, as a common ornament, and
paintings are to be seen there whose colours are yet perfectly
untouched; the fragility of the colours adds to our astonishment at
seeing them preserved, and seems to carry us back nearer to past ages.
If it be true that Livia shortened the days of Augustus, it is in one of
these rooms that the crime was conceived, and the eyes of the sovereign
of the world, betrayed in his most intimate affections, were perhaps
fixed upon one of those pictures whose elegant flowers still remain[16].
What, in old age, were his thoughts upon his life and his pomp? Did he
recall to mind his proscriptions or his glory? Did he hope, or did he
fear a world to come? Does the last thought, which reveals everything to
man; does the last thought of a master of the universe still wander
beneath these vaults?
Mount Aventine offers more traces than any other of the first periods of
the Roman History. Exactly opposite the Palace, raised by Tiberius, we
see the ruins of the Temple of Liberty, which was built by the father of
the Gracchi. At the foot of Mount Aventine stood the temple dedicated to
the Fortune of men by Servius Tullius, to thank the gods for having
raised him from the condition of a slave to the rank of a king. Without
the walls of Rome we find also the ruins of a temple, which was
consecrated to the Fortune of women when Veturia stopped the progress of
Coriolanus. Opposite Mount Aventine is Mount Janicula, on which Porsenna
placed his army. It was opposite this Mount that Horatius Cocles caused
the bridge leading to Rome to be cut away behind him. The foundation of
this bridge is still to be seen; there stands on the bank of the river a
triumphal arch, built of brick, as simple as the action which it recalls
was grand; this arch having been raised, it is said, in honour of
Horatius Cocles. In the middle of the Tiber is perceived an island
formed of sheaves of corn gathered in the fields of Tarquin, which were
a long time exposed on the river because the Roman people would not take
them, believing that they should entail bad fortune on themselves by so
doing. It would be difficult in our days to cast a malediction upon
riches of any sort which could prevent everybody from seizing them.
On Mount Aventine were placed the temple of patrician, and that of
plebeian modesty. At the foot of this hill is seen the temple of Vesta,
which yet remains whole, though it has been often menaced by the
inundations of the Tiber. Not far from thence is the ruin of a prison
for debt, where it is said a fine trait of filial piety was displayed,
which is pretty generally known. It was also in this place that Clelia
and her companions, prisoners of Porsenna, crossed the Tiber in order to
rejoin the Romans. This Aventine Mount affords the soul repose after the
painful reflections which the other hills awaken, and its aspect is as
beautiful as the memories it recalls. The name of _Pulchrum Littus_,
Beautiful Shore, was given to the banks of the river, which rolls at its
foot, which was the walk of the Roman orators when they quitted the
forum - it was there that Cæsar and Pompey met like private citizens, and
sought to captivate Cicero whose independent eloquence was then of more
importance to them than even the power of their armies.
Poetry too lends its aid to embellish this retreat; Virgil has placed
the cavern of Cacus upon Mount Aventine, and the Romans, so great by
their history, are still more so by the heroic fictions with which the
bards have decorated their fabulous origin. Lastly, in returning from
this mountain is seen the house of Nicholas Rienzi, who vainly
endeavoured to revive ancient times among the moderns, and this memento,
feeble as it is, by the side of so many others, gives birth to much
reflection. Mount Cælius is remarkable because there we behold the
remains of the Prætorian camp, and that of the foreign soldiers. This
inscription has been found in the ruins of the edifice built for the
reception of these soldiers: - "To the hallowed genius of foreign camps!"
Hallowed indeed, for those whose power it maintained! What remains of
these ancient barracks, enables us to judge that they were built after
the manner of cloisters, or rather, that cloisters have been built upon
their model.
Mount Esquiline was called the _Poets' Mount_, because Mecenas having
his palace on this hill, Horace, Propertius and Tibullus dwelt there
also. Not far from here are the ruins of the Thermæ of Titus, and of
Trajan. It is believed that Raphael took the model of his arabesques
from the fresco paintings of the Thermæ of Titus. It is there, also,
that was discovered the group of the Laocoon. The freshness of water
affords such pleasure in hot countries that delight is taken in
assembling together all the pomp of luxury, and every enjoyment of the
imagination, in the places appropriated for bathing. It was there that
the Romans exposed their masterpieces of painting and of sculpture. They
were seen by the light of lamps, for it appears by the construction of
these buildings, that daylight never entered them: they wished thus to
preserve themselves from the rays of the sun, so burning in the south:
the sensation they produce must certainly have been the cause of the
ancients calling them the darts of Apollo. It is reasonable to suppose,
from observing the extreme precaution of the ancients to guard against
heat, that the climate was then more burning than it is in our days. It
is in the Thermæ of Caracalla, that were placed the Hercules Farnese,
the Flora, and the group of Dirce. In the baths of Nero near Ostia was
found the Apollo Belvedere. Is it possible to conceive that in
contemplating this noble figure Nero did not feel some generous
emotions?
The Thermæ and the Circuses are the only kind of buildings appropriated
to public amusements of which there remain any relics at Rome. There is
no theatre except that of Marcellus whose ruins still exist. Pliny
relates that there were three hundred and sixty pillars of marble, and
three thousand statues employed in a theatre, which was only to last a
few days. Sometimes the Romans raised fabrics so strong that they
resisted the shock of earthquakes; at others they took pleasure in
devoting immense labour to buildings which they themselves destroyed as
soon as their feasts were over; thus they sported with time in every
shape. Besides, the Romans were not like the Greeks - influenced by a
passion for dramatic representations. It was by Grecian work, and
Grecian artists, that the fine arts flourished at Rome, and Roman
greatness expressed itself rather by the colossal magnificence of
architecture than by the masterpieces of the imagination. This gigantic
luxury, these wonders of riches, possess great and characteristic
dignity, which, though not the dignity of liberty, is that of power. The
monuments appropriated for public baths, were called provinces; in them
were united all the divers productions and divers establishments which a
whole country can produce. The circus (called _Circus Maximus_) of which
the remains are still to be seen, was so near the palace of the Cæsars
that Nero could from his windows give the signal for the games. The
circus was large enough to contain three hundred thousand persons. The
nation almost in its entirety was amused at the same moment, and these
immense festivals might be considered as a kind of popular institution,
which united every man in the cause of pleasure as they were formerly
united in the cause of glory.
Mount Quirinal and Mount Viminal are so near each other that it is
difficult to distinguish them: it was here that the houses of Sallust
and of Pompey, formerly stood; it is here also that the Pope has now
fixed his abode. We cannot take one step in Rome without bringing the
present near to the past, and different periods of the past near to each
other. But we learn to reconcile ourselves to the events of our own
time, in beholding the eternal mutability of the history of man; and we
feel ashamed of letting our own lot disturb us in the presence of so
many ages, which have all overthrown the work of the preceding ones.
By the side of the Seven Hills, on their declivities or on their
summits, are seen a multitude of steeples, and of obelisks; Trajan's
column, the column of Antoninus, the Tower of Conti (whence it is said
Nero beheld the conflagration of Rome), and the Dome of St Peter's,
whose commanding grandeur eclipses that of every other object. It
appears as if the air were peopled with all these monuments, which
extend towards Heaven, and as if an aerial city were majestically
hovering over the terrestrial one.
On entering Rome again Corinne made Oswald pass under the portico of
Octavia, she who loved so well, and suffered so much; then they
traversed the _Path of Infamy_, by which the infamous Tullia passed,
trampling her father's corpse beneath the feet of her horses. At a
distance from this spot is seen the temple raised by Agrippina in honour
of Claudius whom she caused to be poisoned. And lastly we pass the tomb
of Augustus, whose enclosure now serves as an amphitheatre for the
combats of beasts.
"I have caused you to run over very rapidly," said Corinne to Lord
Nelville, "some traces of ancient history; but you will comprehend the
pleasure to be found in these researches, at once learned and poetic,
which speak to the imagination as well as to the mind. There are in Rome
many distinguished men whose only occupation is to discover some new
relation between history and the ruins." "I know no study that would
more captivate and interest me," replied Lord Nelville, "if I felt
sufficiently at rest to give my mind to it: this species of erudition is
much more animated than that which is acquired from books: one would say
that we make what we discover to live again, and that the past
re-appears from beneath the dust in which it has been buried."
"Undoubtedly," said Corinne, "this passion for antiquity is not a vain
prejudice. We live in an age when personal interest seems to be the only
principle of all the actions of men, and what sympathy, what emotion,
what enthusiasm, can ever result from such a principle? It is sweeter to
dream of those days of devotion, of personal sacrifice and heroism,
which however, have existed, and of which the earth still bears some
honourable testimonies."
FOOTNOTE:
[16] Augustus died at Nola, on his way to the waters of Brindisi, which
had been prescribed him; but he left Rome in a dying state.
Chapter vi.
Corinne flattered herself in secret with having captivated the heart of
Oswald, but as she knew his reserve and his severity, she had not dared
make known to him all the interest he had excited in her heart, though
she was disposed, by character, to conceal nothing that she felt.
Perhaps also she believed that even in speaking on subjects foreign to
their growing passion there was a tenderness of accent in their voice,
which betrayed their mutual affection, and that a secret avowal of love
was painted in their looks, and in that melancholy and veiled language
which penetrates so deeply into the soul.
One morning, when Corinne was getting ready to continue her walks with
Oswald, she received a note from him, somewhat ceremonious, informing
her that the bad state of his health would confine him at home for some
days. A painful disquietude seized upon the heart of Corinne: she at
first feared he might be dangerously ill, but the Count d'Erfeuil, whom
she saw at night, told her it was one of those melancholy fits to which
he was very much subject and, during which he would not speak to
anybody. - "He will not see _even me_," said the Count d'Erfeuil, "when
he is so." - This _even me_ was highly displeasing to Corinne, but she
was upon her guard not to betray any symptoms of that displeasure to the
only man who might be able to give her news of Lord Nelville. She
interrogated him, flattering herself that a man of so much apparent
levity would tell her all he knew. But on a sudden, whether he wished to
conceal from her by an air of mystery that Oswald had confided nothing
to him, or whether he believed it more honourable to refuse what was
asked of him than to grant it, he opposed an invincible silence to the
ardent curiosity of Corinne. She who had always had an ascendency over
those with whom she conversed, could not comprehend why all her means of
persuasion were without effect upon the Count d'Erfeuil: did she not
know that there is nothing in the world so inflexible as self-love?
What resource remained then to Corinne to know what was passing in the
heart of Oswald! should she write to him? The formality it would require
was too foreign to her open disposition. Three days glided away, during
which she did not see Lord Nelville, and was tormented by the most cruel
agitation. - "What have I done then," said she, "to drive him from me? I
have not told him that I loved him. - I have not been guilty of that
crime, so terrible in England, but so pardonable in Italy. Has he
guessed it? But why should he esteem me the less for it?" Oswald had
only absented himself from Corinne because he felt the power of her
charms becoming too strong to resist. Though he had not given his word
to espouse Lucilia Edgermond, he knew it was his father's wish that she
should become his wife, and to that wish he desired to conform. Besides,
Corinne was not known by her real name, and had, for several years, led
a life much too independent. Such a marriage, Lord Nelville believed
would not have obtained the approbation of his father, and he felt that
it was not thus he could expiate the transgressions he had been guilty
of towards him. Such were his motives for removing himself from the
presence of Corinne. He had formed the project of writing to her on
quitting Rome, stating the motives that condemned him to this
resolution; but as he could not find strength to do that, he contented
himself with abstaining from visiting her, and even this sacrifice
became almost too painful to bear from the second day of his absence.
Corinne was struck with an idea that she should never behold Oswald
again; that he would go away without bidding her adieu. She expected
every instant to receive the news of his departure, and this fear so
increased the agony of her feelings that she felt herself all of a
sudden seized by passion, that vulture beneath whose talons happiness
and independence sink. Unable to endure the house that Lord Nelville no
longer visited, she frequently wandered in the gardens of Rome, hoping
to meet with him. The hours so spent were the least insupportable, since
they afforded some chance of seeing the object of her wanderings. The
ardent imagination of Corinne was the source of her talents; but,
unfortunately for her, it was united to her natural sensibility, which
often rendered it extremely painful to her.
On the evening of the fourth day of this cruel absence, the moon shone
beautifully bright, and the silence of the night gives Rome a fine
effect: it seems then to be inhabited by the shades of its illustrious
ancients. Corinne, returning from the house of a female friend,
oppressed with grief, quitted her carriage, to sit for a few moments
near the fountain of Trevi; before that abundant cascade, which, falling
in the midst of Rome, seems like the vital principle of this tranquil
abode. When this cascade ceases to play for some days, one would say
that Rome is struck with stupor. It is the noise of carriages that we
expect to hear in other capitals; but at Rome, it is the murmuring of
this immense fountain, which seems to be an accompaniment necessary to
the pensive life people lead there: the image of Corinne was painted in
this stream, so pure, that for several centuries past it has borne the
name of the _Virgin Spring_. Oswald, who had stopped in the same place a
few moments afterwards, beheld the charming features of his love
reflected in the water. He was seized with so lively an emotion, that he
did not know, at first, whether it was not his imagination which
presented to him the shadow of Corinne, as it had so often done that of
his father; he bent towards the fountain to observe more distinctly,
when his own countenance was reflected by the side of Corinne's. She
knew him, uttered a cry, and darting towards him rapidly, seized his arm
as if she were afraid he would leave her again; but hardly had she
yielded to this impetuous emotion than recollecting the character of
Nelville, she blushed at having given him this lively testimony of her
feelings, and letting fall the hand which held Oswald, she covered her
face with the other to conceal her tears.
"Corinne!" said Oswald, "dear Corinne! my absence has then rendered you
unhappy!" "Oh yes," answered she, "you were sure of that! Why then pain
me! have I deserved to suffer at your hand?" "No, certainly," cried
Nelville, "but if I do not think myself free; if I feel in my heart a
storm of grief, why should I associate you with such a torture of
sentiment and dread?" - "It is too late," interrupted Corinne, "it is too
late, grief has already seized upon my bosom - spare me." - "Do you
mention grief?" replied Oswald, "in the midst of so brilliant a career,
of such renown, and possessing so lively an imagination?" - "Hold," said
Corinne, "you do not know me; of all the faculties I possess, the most
powerful is that of suffering. I am born for happiness, my disposition
is open, my imagination animated; but pain excites in me a certain
impetuosity, powerful enough to disturb my reason or bring me to my
grave; therefore I beseech you, spare me. My gaiety and mobility are
only superficial; but there are in my soul abysses of sadness, which I
can only escape by guarding against love."
Corinne pronounced these words with an expression that deeply affected
Oswald. - "I will come and see you to-morrow morning," said he. "Do you
swear it?" said she, with a disquietude which she vainly endeavoured to
conceal. "Yes, I swear it," cried Lord Nelville, and disappeared.
Book v.
THE TOMBS, THE CHURCHES, AND THE PALACES.
[Illustration]
Chapter i.
The next day, Oswald and Corinne felt much embarrassed at meeting each
other. Corinne was no longer confident of the love which she inspired.
Oswald was dissatisfied with himself; he knew there was a weakness in
his character which sometimes made him feel irritated at his own
sentiments as at a species of tyranny; and both endeavoured to avoid
speaking of their mutual affection. "I have to propose to-day," said
Corinne, "rather a solemn walk; but one that will certainly prove highly
interesting: let us go and see the tombs, let us go and see the last
asylum of those who inhabited the monuments whose ruins we have
contemplated." - "Yes," answered Oswald, "you have conjectured what will
suit the present disposition of my soul;" and he pronounced these words
in so dolorous an accent, that Corinne was silent some moments, not
daring to speak to him. But the desire of affording consolation to
Oswald, and the lively interest she took in every thing they were to see
together, inspired her with courage, and she said to him: "You know my
lord, that, among the ancients, so far was the aspect of the tombs from
dispiriting the living, that they endeavoured to excite a new emulation
by placing these tombs on the public roads, in order that by recalling
to young people the remembrance of illustrious men, they might silently
admonish them to follow their example." "Ah! how I envy all those,"
said Oswald, "whose grief is not mingled with remorse!" "Do you talk of
remorse," cried Corinne; "you whose only failings, if they may be so
called, are an excess of virtue, a scrupulosity of heart, an exalted
delicacy - " "Corinne, Corinne, do not approach that subject,"
interrupted Oswald, "in your happy country, sombre thoughts disappear
before the lustre of a brilliant sky; but that grief which has
penetrated to the depths of our soul, must for ever sap the foundation
of our existence." "You form an erroneous judgment of me," replied
Corinne; "I have already told you, that though I am formed by the nature
of my character, for lively enjoyment, I should suffer more exquisitely
than you if - " She did not conclude; but changed the discourse. - "My
only desire, my lord, is to divert your attention for a moment; I hope
for nothing more." The sweetness of this reply moved Lord Nelville, and
seeing a melancholy expression in the looks of Corinne, naturally so
interesting and so full of fire, he reproached himself for having
afflicted a woman, born for the most tender and lively sensations, and