Corinne, Volume 1 (of 2)

  Chapter i.

  The next day, Oswald and Corinne felt much embarrassed at meeting eachother. Corinne was no longer confident of the love which she inspired.Oswald was dissatisfied with himself; he knew there was a weakness inhis character which sometimes made him feel irritated at his ownsentiments as at a species of tyranny; and both endeavoured to avoidspeaking of their mutual affection. "I have to propose to-day," saidCorinne, "rather a solemn walk; but one that will certainly prove highlyinteresting: let us go and see the tombs, let us go and see the lastasylum of those who inhabited the monuments whose ruins we havecontemplated."--"Yes," answered Oswald, "you have conjectured what willsuit the present disposition of my soul;" and he pronounced these wordsin so dolorous an accent, that Corinne was silent some moments, notdaring to speak to him. But the desire of affording consolation toOswald, and the lively interest she took in every thing they were to seetogether, inspired her with courage, and she said to him: "You know mylord, that, among the ancients, so far was the aspect of the tombs fromdispiriting the living, that they endeavoured to excite a new emulationby placing these tombs on the public roads, in order that by recallingto young people the remembrance of illustrious men, they might silentlyadmonish them to follow their example." "Ah! how I envy all those,"said Oswald, "whose grief is not mingled with remorse!" "Do you talk ofremorse," cried Corinne; "you whose only failings, if they may be socalled, are an excess of virtue, a scrupulosity of heart, an exalteddelicacy--" "Corinne, Corinne, do not approach that subject,"interrupted Oswald, "in your happy country, sombre thoughts disappearbefore the lustre of a brilliant sky; but that grief which haspenetrated to the depths of our soul, must for ever sap the foundationof our existence." "You form an erroneous judgment of me," repliedCorinne; "I have already told you, that though I am formed by the natureof my character, for lively enjoyment, I should suffer more exquisitelythan you if--" She did not conclude; but changed the discourse.--"Myonly desire, my lord, is to divert your attention for a moment; I hopefor nothing more." The sweetness of this reply moved Lord Nelville, andseeing a melancholy expression in the looks of Corinne, naturally sointeresting and so full of fire, he reproached himself for havingafflicted a woman, born for the most tender and lively sensations, andendeavoured to atone for it. But the disquietude which Corinneexperienced with regard to the future intentions of Oswald, and thepossibility of his departure, entirely disturbed her accustomedserenity.

  She conducted Lord Nelville outside the gates of the city, where are tobe seen the ancient vestiges of the Appian way. These vestiges areindicated in the midst of the Campagna, by the tombs to the right and tothe left, which extend out of sight for several miles beyond the walls.The Romans would not permit their dead to be buried inside the city: theemperors alone were allowed that privilege. One private citizen,however, named Publius Bibulus, obtained this favour in reward of hisobscure virtues.--Cotemporaries are always more willing to honourvirtues of that description than any other.

  It is the gate of St Sebastian, formerly called _Capene_, that conductsto the Appian way. Cicero tells us, that the first tombs we meet afterpassing this gate, are those of the Metelli, the Scipios, and theServilii. The family tomb of the Scipios has been found in this veryspot and since transplanted to the Vatican. It is almost a sacrilege todisplace the ashes of the dead or to change the aspect of ruins.Imagination is more closely connected with morality than is generallybelieved, and should not be offended. Among so many tombs which strikeour sight, names are ascribed to some without any positive certainty;but even the emotion which this uncertainty inspires will not permit usto contemplate any of these monuments with indifference. There are somein which houses for the peasantry are built; for the Romans consecratedan extensive space and vast edifices to the funereal urns of theirfriends or their illustrious fellow-citizens. They were not influencedby that dry principle of utility which fertilized a few corners of theearth, while blasting with sterility the vast domain of sentiment and ofthought.

  At some distance from the Appian way is seen a temple, raised by therepublic to Honour and Virtue; another to the god who caused Hannibal toturn back, and also the fountain of Egeria, where Numa went to consultthe god of all good men,--conscience interrogated in solitude. It seemsthat about these tombs no traces but those of virtue have subsisted. Nomonument of the ages of crime is to be found by the side of those whererepose the illustrious dead; they are surrounded by an honourable space,where the noblest memories may preserve their reign undisturbed.

  The aspect of the country about Rome has something in it singularlyremarkable: undoubtedly it is a desert, for it contains neither treesnor habitation; but the earth is covered with wild plants which theenergy of vegetation incessantly renews. These parasitic plants glideamong the tombs, adorn the ruins, and seem only there to honour thedead. One would say, that proud Nature has rejected all the labours ofman, since Cincinnatus no longer guided the plough which furrowed herbosom. She produces plants by chance, without permitting the living tomake use of her riches. These uncultivated plains must be displeasing tothe agriculturist, to administrators, to all those who speculate uponthe earth, and who would lay it under contribution to supply the wantsof man. But pensive minds, which are occupied as much by death as bylife, take pleasure in contemplating this Roman Campagna upon which thepresent age has imprinted no trace; this land which cherishes its dead,and covers them lovingly with useless flowers, with useless plants whichcreep upon the earth, and never rise sufficiently to separate themselvesfrom the ashes which they appear to caress.

  Oswald agreed that in this spot the mind felt more calm than it possiblycould any where else; besides, here the soul does not suffer so muchfrom the images that grief presents to it; one seems still to share withthose who are no more, the charms of that air, of that sun, and of thatverdure. Corinne observed the impression that Lord Nelville received,and conceived some hopes from it: she did not flatter herself with beingable to console Oswald; she had not even wished to efface from his heartthe just regret he must feel at the loss of his father; but there is,even in this regret, something tender and harmonious, which we mustendeavour to make known to those who have hitherto only felt itsbitterness; it is the only benefit we can confer upon them.

  "Let us stop here," said Corinne, "opposite this tomb, the only onewhich remains yet almost whole: it is not the tomb of a celebratedRoman, it is that of Cecilia Metella, a young maiden to whom her fatherhas raised this monument." "Happy!" said Oswald, "happy are the childrenwho die in the arms of their father and receive death in the bosom ofhim who gave them life; death itself then loses its sting." "Yes," saidCorinne; "happy are those not doomed to the wretched lot of orphans.See, arms have been sculptured on this tomb, though it belongs to awoman: but the daughters of heroes may have their monuments adorned withthe trophies of their fathers; what a beautiful union is that ofinnocence and valour! There is an elegy of Propertius which paintsbetter than any other writing of antiquity, this dignity of woman amongthe Romans, more imposing, more pure than the worship paid to themduring the age of chivalry. Cornelia, dying in her youth, addresses toher husband the most affecting consolations and adieus, in which we feelat every word, all that is respectable and sacred in family ties. Thenoble pride of an unspotted life is painted in this majestic poetry ofthe Latins, this poetry, noble and severe as the masters of theworld[17]. '_Yes_,' says Cornelia, '_no stain has sullied my life fromthe nuptial bed to the funeral pyre; I have lived pure between the twotorches._' What an admirable expression" cried Corinne; "What a sublimeimage! How worthy of envy is the lot of that woman who has been able topreserve the most perfect unity in her destiny and carries but onerecollection to the grave: it is enough for a life!"

  In finishing these words, the eyes of Corinne were filled with tears; acruel sentiment, a painful suspicion seized upon the heart ofOswald.--"Corinne," cried he, "Corinne, has your delicate soul nothingto reproach itself with? If I were able to dispose of myself, if I couldoffer myself to you, should I have no rival in the pa
st? Should I havereason to be proud of my choice? Would no cruel jealousy disturb myhappiness?"--"I am free, and I love you as I never loved man before!"answered Corinne--"What would you have more?--Must I be condemned to anavowal, that before I have known you I have been deceived by myimagination as to the interest which another excited in me? Is there notin the heart of man a divine pity for the errors which sentiment, orrather the illusion of sentiment, may have led us to commit?" Infinishing these words a modest blush covered her face. Oswald wasstartled; but remained silent. There was in Corinne's look an expressionof repentance and timidity which did not permit him to judge withrigour--a ray from heaven seemed to descend upon, and absolve her! Hetook her hand, pressed it against his heart, and knelt before her,without uttering anything, without promising anything; but contemplatedher with a look of love which gave the utmost latitude to hope.

  "Believe me," said Corinne, to Lord Nelville--"let us form no plan forthe years to come. The most happy moments are those which a bountifulchance gives us. Is it here then, is it in the midst of the tombs thatwe should think of future days?"--"No," cried Lord Nelville, "I canthink of no future day that would be likely to part us! these four daysof absence have taught me too well that I now no longer exist but inyou!"--Corinne made no reply to these sweet expressions; but shetreasured them religiously in her heart; she was always fearful that inprolonging the conversation upon that subject most interesting to her,she might draw from Oswald a declaration of his future intentions,before a longer acquaintance might render separation impossible. Sheoften, even designedly, turned his attention towards externalobjects--like that Sultana in the Arabian Tales, who sought by athousand different recitals to awaken the interest of him she loved, inorder to postpone the decision of her fate till her charms and her withad completed their conquest.

  FOOTNOTE:

  [17] "Viximus insignes inter utramque facem." PROPERTIUS.