Corinne, Volume 1 (of 2)

  Chapter iii.

  Oswald arrived in the evening at Corinne's, with a sentiment entirelynew; he thought that he was expected. What enchantment there is in thatfirst gleam of intercourse with the object of our love!--beforeremembrance enters into partnership with hope--before words haveexpressed our sentiments,--before eloquence has painted what we feel,there is in these first moments, something so indefinite, a mystery ofthe imagination, more fleeting than happiness, it must be owned, butalso more celestial.

  Oswald, on entering the apartment of Corinne, felt more timid than ever.He saw that she was alone, and that circumstance almost gave him pain:he could have wished to see her longer in the midst of society; he couldhave wished to be convinced, in some manner, of her preference, insteadof finding himself all of a sudden engaged in a conversation which mightmake Corinne cool towards him, if, as was certain, he should appearembarrassed, and cold in consequence of that embarrassment.

  Whether Corinne perceived this disposition of Oswald, or whether it wasthat a similar disposition produced in her a desire to animate theconversation in order to remove restraint, she asked his Lordshipwhether he had seen any of the monuments of Rome. "No," answered Oswald."What did you do with yourself yesterday, then?" replied Corinnesmiling. "I passed the whole day at home," said Oswald. "Since I havebeen at Rome, Madam, my time has been divided between solitude and you."Corinne wished to introduce the subject of his behaviour at Ancona; shebegan by these words: "Yesterday I learnt--" then she stopped and said,"I will speak to you of that when the company comes." There was adignity in the manners of Lord Nelville that intimidated Corinne; and,besides, she feared, lest in reminding him of his noble conduct, sheshould betray too much emotion; conceiving that emotion would be lesswhen they were no longer alone. Oswald was deeply touched with thereserve of Corinne, and the frankness with which she testified, withoutthinking, the motives of that reserve; but the more he was affected theless was he able to express what he felt.

  He arose all of a sudden, and advanced towards the window; then he feltthat Corinne would be unable to explain the meaning of this movement,and more disconcerted than ever, he returned to his place without sayinganything. There was in the conversation of Corinne more confidence thanin that of Oswald; nevertheless, she partook of the embarrassment whichhe exhibited; and in her absence of mind, seeking to recover hercountenance, she placed her fingers upon the harp which was standing byher side, and struck some chords, without connection or design. Theseharmonious sounds, by increasing the emotion of Oswald, seemed toinspire him with more boldness. He could now look at Corinne, and whobut must have been struck, in beholding her, with that divineinspiration which was painted in her eyes! Encouraged at the same momentby that mild expression which veiled the majesty of her looks, he wouldthen perhaps have spoken, but was prevented by the entrance of PrinceCastel-Forte.

  It was not without pain that he beheld Nelville _tete-a-tete_ withCorinne, but he was accustomed to dissimulate his feelings. This habit,which is often found in the Italians united with great vehemence ofsensation, was in him rather the result of indolence and of naturalgentleness. He was content not to be the first object of Corinne'saffections; he was no longer young; he possessed great intelligence,considerable taste for the arts, an imagination sufficiently animated todiversify life without disturbing it, and such a desire to pass all hisevenings with Corinne, that if she were to be married he would conjureher husband to let him come every day, to see her as usual, and uponthis condition he would not have been very unhappy at seeing her unitedto another. The grief of the heart is not found in Italy complicatedwith the sufferings of vanity, so that we find there, men eitherpassionate enough to stab their rival through jealousy, or men modestenough to take willingly the second rank in the favour of a lady whoseconversation is agreeable to them; but rarely will be found any who forfear of being thought despised, would refuse to preserve any sort ofconnection which they found pleasing. The empire of society overself-esteem is almost null in this country.

  The Count d'Erfeuil and the company that met every evening at Corinne'shouse being assembled, the conversation turned upon the talent forimprovisation which their heroine had so gloriously displayed at theCapitol, and they went so far as to ask her own opinion of it. "It issomething so rare," said Prince Castel-Forte, "to find any one at oncesusceptible of enthusiasm and of analysis, gifted as an artist andcapable of observing herself, that we must intreat her to reveal to usthe secrets of her genius." "The talent for improvisation," repliedCorinne, "is not more extraordinary in the languages of the south, thanthe eloquence of the tribune, or the brilliant vivacity of conversationin other tongues. I will even say that, unfortunately it is with us moreeasy to make verses _impromptu_ than to speak well in prose. Thelanguage of poetry is so different from that of prose, that from thefirst verses the attention is commanded by the expressions themselves,which, if I may so express it, place the poet at a distance from hisauditors. It is not only to the softness of the Italian language, butmuch more to its strong and pronounced vibration of sonorous syllables,that we must attribute the empire of poetry amongst us. There is a kindof musical charm in Italian, by which the bare sound of words, almostindependently of the ideas, produces pleasure; besides, these words havealmost all something picturesque in them; they paint what they express.You feel that it is in the midst of the arts, and under an auspicioussky that this melodious, and highly-coloured language has been formed.It is therefore more easy in Italy than any where else, to seduce withwords, without profundity of thought or novelty of imagery. Poetry, likeall the fine arts, captivates the senses, as much as the intellect. Idare venture to say, however, that I have never improvised withoutfeeling myself animated by some real emotion, some idea which I believednew, therefore I hope that I have trusted less than others to ourbewitching language. It is possible, if I may say so, to prelude atrandom, and convey a lively pleasure by the charm of rhythm and ofharmony alone."

  "You believe then," interrupted one of the friends of Corinne, "that thetalent for improvisation injures our literature; I thought so oncemyself, but hearing you, madam, has made me entirely alter thatopinion." "I have said," replied Corinne, "that there resulted from thisfacility, this literary abundance, a quantity of inferior poetry; but Iam as pleased with this fecundity, which exists in Italy, as I am withseeing our fields covered with a thousand superfluous products. Thisliberality of nature makes me proud. I am particularly pleased with theimprovisations of the lower classes of the people; it discovers theirimagination to us, which is concealed everywhere else, and is onlydeveloped amongst us. They give a poetical character to the lowestorders of society, and spare us the contempt which we cannot helpfeeling for every thing that is vulgar. When our Sicilians, conveyingtravellers in their vessels, so delicately and politely felicitate themin their pleasing dialect, and wish them in verse a sweet and longadieu, one would say the pure breeze of heaven and of the sea producesthe same effect upon the imagination of men as the wind on the AEolianharp, and that poetry, like the chords of that instrument, is the echoof nature. One thing makes me attach an additional value to our talentfor improvisation, and that is, that it would be almost impossible in asociety disposed to mockery. It requires the good humour of the south,or rather of those countries where people love to amuse themselveswithout taking pleasure in criticising that which affords themamusement, to encourage poets to venture on so perilous an enterprise.One jeering smile would be sufficient to destroy that presence of mindnecessary for a sudden and uninterrupted composition: your audience mustbecome animated with you, and inspire you with their applause."

  "But madam," said Oswald at last, who till then had kept silence withouthaving for a moment ceased to behold Corinne, "to which of your poeticaltalents do you yourself give the preference? To the work of inflection,or of momentary inspiration?" "My lord," answered Corinne, with a lookthat expressed the highest interest and the most delicate sentiment ofrespectful consideration, "it is you that I would wish to make the judgeof tha
t; but if you ask me to examine my own thoughts upon this subject,I would say that improvisation is to me as an animated conversation. Ido not confine myself to any particular subject, I yield entirely to theimpression produced on me by the attention of my hearers, and it is tomy friends, in this instance, that I owe the greatest part of my talent.Sometimes the impassioned interest with which I am inspired by aconversation in which we have spoken of some great and noble questionthat relates to the moral existence of man, his destiny, his end, hisduties and his affections; sometimes this interest elevates me above mystrength, makes me discover in nature, in my own heart, bold truths,expressions full of life, that solitary reflection would not have givenbirth to. I then believe myself acted upon by a supernatural enthusiasm,and feel that what is speaking within me is greater than myself. Often Iquit the rhythm of poetry to express my thoughts in prose; sometimes Iquote the finest verses of the different languages I am acquainted with.These divine verses, with which my soul is penetrated, have become myown. Sometimes also I finish upon my lyre by chords, by simple andnational airs, the sentiments and thoughts which have escaped me inspeaking. In a word, I feel myself a poet, not only when a happy choiceof rhymes and harmonious syllables, or a happy combination of imagesdazzles my auditors, but when my soul is elevated to the highest degreeand looks down with contempt upon every thing that is selfish and base:in short, when a noble action appears most easy to me, it is then thatmy poetry is in its greatest perfection. I am a poet when I admire, whenI despise, when I hate, not from personal feeling, not on my ownaccount, but for the dignity of human nature and the glory of theworld."

  Corinne then perceiving how the conversation had carried her away,blushed a little, and turning towards Lord Nelville said to him, "yousee, my lord, I cannot touch upon any of those subjects that affect mewithout experiencing that sort of shock which is the source of idealbeauty in the arts, of religion in solitary minds, of generosity inheroes, and of disinterestedness among men. Pardon me, my lord, althoughsuch a woman resemble but little those whom your nation approves." "Whocould resemble you?" replied Lord Nelville; "can we make laws for onewho is without her like?"

  The Count d'Erfeuil was absolutely enchanted, notwithstanding he had notunderstood all that Corinne had said; but her gestures, the sound of hervoice, and her pronunciation, charmed him.--It was the first time thatany grace which was not French had produced an effect upon him. Butindeed the great celebrity of Corinne at Rome put him a little in theway of what he should think of her, and in his admiration of thisextraordinary lady he did not drop the good custom of letting himself beguided by the opinion of others.

  He quitted Corinne's house along with Lord Nelville, and said to him ontheir way home, "allow, my dear Oswald, that I may lay claim to somemerit for not having paid my court to so charming a lady." "But,"observed Nelville, "it seems, according to general opinion, that she isnot easy to please in that respect." "It is said so," replied the Count,"but I can hardly believe it. A single woman of independent means wholeads nearly the life of an artist ought not to be so difficult tocaptivate." Lord Nelville was wounded by this reflection. The Count,whether he did not perceive it, or whether he wished to pursue the trainof his own ideas, continued thus:

  "I do not mean to say, however, that if I entertained much faith in alady's virtue, I might not as readily believe in that of Corinne as inthat of any other. She has certainly a thousand times more expression inher look, and vivacity in her arguments than would be necessary in yourcountry, or even in ours, to excite suspicion of the rigidness of alady's virtue; but she is a person of so superior a mind, such profoundknowledge, and such fine tact, that the ordinary rules by which we judgea woman cannot apply to her. In fact, would you believe it,notwithstanding the openness of her disposition, and the freedom of herconversation, she really imposes reserve upon me. It was my wish,yesterday, with all due respect to her predilection for you, to say afew words, at random, upon my own account: they were words that taketheir chance; if they are heard, well and good; if not, well and goodstill; and do you know Corinne gave me such cold looks that I was quitedisconcerted. It is, however, singular that one should feel any timidityin the company of an Italian, a poet, an artist, every thing, in short,that ought to produce quite a contrary effect." "Her name is unknown,"observed Nelville, "but her manners would make one believe that herbirth is illustrious." "Ah! it is in romances," said the Count, "that wesee the finest part of a character concealed, but in real life peopleare more disposed to exhibit all that is most honourable in their life,and even a little more than all." "Yes," interrupted Oswald, "in somesocieties where people think of nothing but the effect they can produceupon one another; but in one whose existence is internal there may bemysteries in circumstances, as there are secrets in thought, and he onlywho would espouse Corinne might be able to know them." "EspouseCorinne!" interrupted the Count, bursting out laughing, "truly that ideanever occurred to me! Take my advice, my dear Nelville, if you wish todo foolish things let them be such as will admit of reparation; but asfor marriage, you must always consider propriety. I appear frivolous inyour eyes, nevertheless I wager that in the conduct of life I shall bemore reasonable than you." "I believe so too," answered Lord Nelville,and said not another word.

  In effect, he might have told the Count d'Erfeuil that there is often agreat deal of egotism in frivolity, and that such egotism can neverbetray people into those errors of sentiment in which we alwayssacrifice our own personal considerations to those of others! Frivolouscharacters are very likely to acquire address in the pursuit of theirown interests; for in all that is called the political science ofprivate, as well as of public life, people succeed oftener by thosequalities which they have not than by those which they possess. Absenceof enthusiasm, absence of opinion, absence of sensibility, a littleunderstanding, combined with this negative treasure, and social life,that is to say, fortune and rank, may be acquired or supported wellenough. The pleasantries of the Count however pained Lord Nelville; heblamed them, but nevertheless they continually occupied his thoughts.

  Book iv.

  ROME.