Corinne, Volume 1 (of 2)
Chapter i.
After the day which had passed, Oswald could not close his eyes duringthe night. He had never been so near sacrificing every thing to Corinne.He did not even desire to know her secret; or rather, before he wasacquainted with it, he wished to contract a solemn engagement, toconsecrate his life to her. For some hours uncertainty seemed banishedfrom his mind; and he took pleasure in composing, in his thoughts, theletter which he should write to her on the morrow, and which woulddecide his fate. But this confidence in happiness, this reliance uponresolution, was of no long duration. His thoughts soon reverted to thepast, he remembered that he had loved, much less, it is true, than heloved Corinne; and the object of his first choice could not be comparedto her; but nevertheless it was this sentiment which had hurried himaway to thoughtless actions, to actions which had torn the heart of hisfather.--"Ah! who knows," cried he, "whether he would not fear equallyto-day, lest his son should forget his native country and the dutieswhich he owes it?"
"Oh thou!" said he, addressing the portrait of his father, "thou, thebest friend I shall ever have upon earth, I can no longer hear thyvoice, but teach me by that silent look which yet retains such powerover my soul, inform me what I am to do, that now at least in thycelestial abode, thou mayest be satisfied with the conduct of thy son!Forget not, however, that need of happiness which consumes mortalman--be indulgent in heaven, as thou wert upon earth! I shall becomebetter if I am allowed to taste of happiness; if I am permitted to livewith this angelic creature, to have the honour of protecting, of savingsuch a woman.--Of saving her?" continued he suddenly; "and from what?From a life of homage, of fame, and of independence!"--This reflection,which originated in himself, terrified him like an inspiration of hisfather.
In conflicts of sentiment, who has not felt that kind of secretsuperstition which makes us take our own thoughts for presages, and oursufferings for a warning from heaven? Ah! how bitter is the strugglebetween passion and conscience, in susceptible minds!
Oswald paced his chamber under the most cruel agitation, sometimesstopping to look at the moon, which in Italy is so mild and sobeautiful. The aspect of nature inspires resignation; but it is withouteffect upon a mind racked with uncertainty. The next day arrived withoutbringing any relief to his distracted thoughts, and when the Countd'Erfeuil and Mr Edgermond came to visit him, they were uneasy as to thestate of his health, so much was he altered by the anxieties of thenight. The Count d'Erfeuil was the first who spoke.--"It must beallowed," said he, "that yesterday's entertainment was charming. Corinneis a most admirable woman. I lost half her words, but I understoodeverything from her voice and her countenance. What a pity it is, that arich lady should be possessed of this talent! For if she were in humblercircumstances, and unrestrained as she is, she might embrace the stageas a profession; and to have an actress like her, would be the glory ofItaly."
Oswald received a painful impression from this speech, and yet couldnot tell how to make it known. For there was that about the Count, thatone could not be angry at what he said, even though it were disagreeableto one's feelings. None but sensitive minds understand those delicateprecautions which they owe each other: self-love, so alive to everything that affects itself, hardly ever thinks of the susceptibility ofothers.
Mr Edgermond praised Corinne in the most becoming and flattering terms.Oswald answered him in English, in order to relieve the conversationabout Corinne from the disagreeable eulogiums of the Count. "I see I amone too many here," said the Count; "well I will pay a visit to Corinne:she will not be sorry I dare say to hear my observations upon her actingyesterday evening. I have some advice to give her, too, upon details;but these details are very essential to the effect of the whole: she isreally so astonishing a woman that one should neglect nothing to assisther in attaining perfection.--And besides," said he, inclining towardsNelville's ear, "I wish to encourage her to play tragedy more often:'tis a certain way to get married by some foreigner of distinction whomay pass through this city. As to you and me, my dear Oswald, that ideadoes not concern us, we are too much accustomed to charming women tocommit foolish things; but who knows? a German prince, or a Spanishgrandee--" At these words Oswald rose up almost beside himself, and itis impossible to conceive what would have been the issue, if the Countd'Erfeuil had perceived his emotion; but he was so satisfied with hislast reflection, that he tripped away lightly, not in the leastsuspecting that he had offended Lord Nelville: had he known it, thoughhe loved him as much as man could love another, he would certainly haveremained. The brilliant valour of the Count, contributed still more thanhis self-love to render him blind to his defects. As he was extremelydelicate in everything that regarded honour, he did not imagine that hecould be wanting with respect to sensibility; and believing himself, notwithout reason, amiable and brave, he was pleased with his lot, and didnot suspect there was any more profound way of regarding life than hisown.
None of the sentiments which agitated Oswald had escaped Mr Edgermond,and when the Count d'Erfeuil was gone, he said to him--"My dear Oswald,I take my leave,--I am going to Naples."--"Why so soon?" answeredNelville. "Because it is not good for me to stay here," continuedEdgermond; "I am fifty years of age, and nevertheless I am not sure thatCorinne would not make a fool of me."--"And even in that case,"interrupted Oswald, "what would be the consequence?"--"Such a woman isnot formed to live in Wales," replied Mr Edgermond; "believe me, my dearOswald, only Englishwomen are fit for England: it does not become me togive you advice, I need not assure you that I shall not mention a wordof what I have seen; but with all Corinne's accomplishments, I shouldsay, with Thomas Walpole, _of what use is all that at home_? And, youknow the _home_ is all with us, all for our women at least. Imagine toyourself your beautiful Italian alone, while you are hunting orattending your duty in Parliament; imagine her leaving you at dessert toget tea ready against you shall leave table! Dear Oswald, depend upon itour women possess those domestic virtues which are to be found nowhereelse. The men in Italy have nothing to do but to please the women;therefore the more attractive they are the better. But with us, wheremen have active pursuits, women must be satisfied with the shade. Thatit would be a great pity to condemn Corinne to such a destiny, I freelyacknowledge. I should be glad to see her upon the throne of England; butnot beneath my humble roof. My lord, I knew your mother, whose loss wasso much lamented by your worthy father: she was a lady in every respectlike my young cousin. Such is the wife, which, were I at a proper timeof life, I should choose. Adieu, my dear friend, do not be offended atwhat I have said, for nobody can be a greater admirer of Corinne than Iam, and I own to you that after all were I at your time of life, I doubtwhether I could have sufficient fortitude to renounce the hope ofbecoming agreeable to her."--In finishing, these words, he took the handof Oswald, squeezed it cordially, and departed without receiving a wordin reply. But Mr Edgermond comprehended the cause of his silence, andsatisfied with a pressure of the hand from Oswald in answer to his own,he went away, impatient himself to finish a conversation which waspainful to him.
Of all that he had said, only one word had penetrated the heart ofOswald, and that was the recollection of his mother, and his father'sprofound attachment to her. He had lost her when he was only fourteenyears of age, but he recollected her virtues with the most heart-feltreverence, as well as that timidity and reserve which characterisedthem.--"Fool that I am," cried he, when alone, "I wish to know what kindof wife my father destined for me, and do I not know it, since I cancall to mind the image of my mother whom he so tenderly loved? What do Iwant more? Why deceive myself in feigning ignorance of what would be hissentiments now, were it in my power to consult his will?" It was,however, a terrible task for Oswald to return to Corinne, after what hadpassed the evening before, without saying something in confirmation ofthe sentiments which he had expressed. His agitation and his troublebecame so violent, that they affected a ruptured blood-vessel which hethought had completely healed up, but which now re-opened and began tobleed afresh. Whilst his servants, in affr
ight, called everywhere forassistance, he secretly wished that the end of life might terminate hissufferings.--"If I could die," said he, "after having seen Corinne oncemore, after having heard her again call me her Romeo!"--Tears rolleddown his cheeks; they were the first tears he had shed for the sake ofanother since the death of his father.
He wrote to Corinne informing her of his accident, and some melancholywords terminated his letter. Corinne had begun this day under the mostdeceitful auspices: happy in the impression she conceived she had madeupon Oswald, believing herself beloved, she was happy; nor did busythought conjure up any reflection not in unison with what she so muchdesired. A thousand circumstances ought to have mingled considerablefear with the idea of espousing Lord Nelville; but as there was morepassion than foresight in her character, governed by the present, andnot diving into the future, this day, which was to cost her so manypangs, dawned upon her as the most pure and serene of her life.
On receiving Oswald's note, her soul was a prey to the most cruelfeelings: she believed him in imminent danger, and set out immediatelyon foot, traversing the Corso at the hour when all the city were walkingthere, and entered the house of Oswald in face of all the first societyof Rome. She had not taken time to reflect, and had walked so fast, thatwhen she reached the chamber, she could not breathe, or utter a singleword. Lord Nelville conceived all that she had risked to come and seehim, and exaggerating the consequences of this action, which in Englandwould have entirely ruined the reputation of an unmarried woman, he feltpenetrated with generosity, love, and gratitude, and rising up, feebleas he was, he pressed Corinne to his heart, and cried:--"My dearestlove! No, I never will abandon you! After having exposed yourself on myaccount! When I ought to repair--" Corinne comprehended what he wouldsay, and as she gently disengaged herself from his arms, interrupted himthus, having first enquired how he was:--"You are deceived, my lord; incoming to see you I do nothing that most of my countrywomen would not doin my place. I knew you were ill--you are a stranger here--you knownobody but me; it is therefore my duty to take care of you. Were itotherwise, ought not established forms to yield to those real andprofound sentiments, which the danger or the grief of a friend givebirth to? What would be the fate of a woman if the rules of socialpropriety, permitting her to love, forbade that irresistible emotionwhich makes us fly to succour the object of our affection? But I repeatto you, my lord, you need not be afraid that I have compromised myselfby coming hither. My age and my talents allow me, at Rome, the sameliberty as a married woman. I do not conceal from my friends that I amcome to see you. I know not whether they blame me for loving you; butthat fact admitted, I am certain that they do not think me culpable indevoting myself entirely to you."
On hearing these words, so natural and so sincere, Oswald experienced aconfused medley of different feelings. He was moved with the delicacy ofCorinne's answer; but he was almost vexed that his first impression wasnot just. He could have wished that she had committed some great faultin the eyes of the world, in order that this very fault, imposing uponhim the duty of marrying her, might terminate his indecision. He wasoffended at this liberty of manners in Italy, which prolonged hisanxiety by allowing him so much happiness, without annexing to it anycondition. He could have wished that honour had commanded what hedesired, and these painful thoughts produced new and dangerous effects.Corinne, notwithstanding the dreadful alarm she was in, lavished uponhim the most soothing attentions.
Towards the evening, Oswald appeared more oppressed; and Corinne, on herknees by the side of his bed, supported his head in her arms, though shewas herself racked with more internal pain than he. This tender andaffecting care made a gleam of pleasure visible through hissufferings.--"Corinne," said he to her, in a low voice, "read in thisvolume, which contains the thoughts of my father, his reflections ondeath. Do not think," he continued, seeing the terror of Corinne; "thatI feel myself menaced with it. But I am never ill without reading overthese consoling reflections. I then fancy that I hear them from his ownmouth; besides, my love, I wish you to know what kind of man my fatherwas; you will the better comprehend the cause of my grief, and of hisempire over me, as well as all that I shall one day confide toyou."--Corinne took this manuscript, which Oswald never parted from, andin a trembling voice read the following pages.
"Oh ye just, beloved of the Lord! you can speak of death without fear;for you it is only a change of habitation, and that which you quit isperhaps the least of all! Oh numberless worlds, which in our sight fillthe boundless region of space! unknown communities of God's creatures;communities of His children, scattered throughout the firmament andranged beneath its vaults, let our praises be joined to yours! We areignorant of your condition, whether you possess the first, second, orlast share of the generosity of the Supreme Being; but in speaking ofdeath or of life, of time past or of time to come, we assimilate ourinterests with those of all intelligent and sensible beings, no matterwhere placed, or by what distance separated from us. Families ofpeoples! Families of nations! Assemblage of worlds! you say with us,Glory to the Master of the Heavens, to the King of Nature, to the God ofthe Universe! Glory and homage to Him, who by his will can convertsterility into abundance, shadow into reality, and death itself intoeternal life.
"Undoubtedly the end of the just is a desirable death; but few amongstus, few amongst our forefathers have witnessed it. Where is the man whocould approach without fear the presence of the Eternal? Where is theman who has loved God unremittingly, who has served Him from his youth,and who, attaining an advanced age, finds in his recollections nosubject of uneasiness? Where is the man, moral in all his actions,without ever thinking of the praise and the reward of public opinion?Where is that man, so rare among the human species, who is worthy toserve as a model to all? Where is he? Where is he? Ah! if he existamongst us, let our reverence and respect surround him; and ask, youwill do wisely to ask, to be present at his death, as at the sublimestof earthly spectacles: only arm yourself with courage to follow him tothat bed, so repulsive to our feelings, from which he will never rise.He foresees it; he is certain of it; serenity reigns in his countenance,and his forehead seems encircled with a celestial aureole: he says, withthe apostle, _I know in whom I have believed_; and this confidenceanimates his countenance, even when his strength is exhausted. Healready contemplates his new country, but without forgetting that whichhe is about to quit: he gives himself up to his Creator and to his God,without forgetting those sentiments which have charmed him during hislife.
"Is it a faithful spouse, who according to the laws of nature must bethe first of all his connections to follow him: he consoles her, hedries her tears, he appoints a meeting with her in that abode offelicity of which he can form no idea without her. He recalls to hermind those happy days which they have spent together; not to rend theheart of a tender friend, but to increase their mutual confidence in thegoodness of heaven. He also reminds the companion of his fortunes, ofthat tender love which he has ever felt for her; not to give additionalpoignancy to that grief which he wishes to assuage, but to inspire herwith the sweet idea that two lives have grown upon the same stalk; andthat by their union they will become an additional defence to each otherin that dark futurity where the pity of the Supreme God is the lastrefuge of our thoughts. Alas! is it possible to form a just conceptionof all the emotions which penetrate a loving soul at the moment when avast solitude presents itself to our eyes, at the moment when thesentiments, the interests upon which we have subsisted during so manysmiling years, are about to vanish for ever? Ah! you who are to survivethis being like unto yourself whom heaven had given you for yoursupport; that being who was every thing to you, and whose looks bid youan agonizing adieu, you will not refuse to place your hand upon anexpiring heart, in order that its last palpitation may still speak toyou when all other language has failed! And shall we blame you, faithfulpair, if you had desired that your mortal remains should be deposited inthe same resting place? Gracious God, awaken them together; or if oneof them only has merited that favour, if only
one of them must join thesmall number of the elect, let the other be informed of it; let theother perceive the light of angels at the moment when the fate of thehappy shall be proclaimed, in order that he may possess one moment ofjoy before he sinks into eternal night.
"Ah! perhaps we wander when we endeavour to describe the last days ofthe man of sensibility, of the man who beholds death advance with hastystrides, who sees it ready to separate him from all the objects of hisaffection.
"He revives, and regains a momentary strength in order that his lastwords may serve for the instruction of his children. He says tothem--'Do not be afraid to witness the approaching end of your father,of your old friend.--It is in obedience to a law of nature that he quitsbefore you, this earth which he entered first. He teaches you courage,and nevertheless he leaves you with grief. He would certainly havewished to assist you a little longer with his experience--to walk alittle longer side by side with you through all those perils with whichyour youth is surrounded; _but life has no defence in the hour allottedfor our descent to the tomb_. You will now live alone in the midst of aworld from which I am about to disappear; may you reap in abundance thegifts which Providence has sown in it; but do not forget that this worlditself is only a transient abode, and that you are destined for anothermore permanent one. We shall perhaps see one another again; and in someother region, in the presence of my God, I shall offer for you as asacrifice, my prayers and my tears! Love then religion, which is so richin promise! love religion, the last bond of union between fathers andtheir children, between death and life!--Approach, that I may beholdyou once more! May the benediction of a servant of God light onyou!'--He dies!--O, heavenly angels, receive his soul, and leave us uponearth the remembrance of his actions, of his thoughts, and of hishopes!"[25]
The emotion of Oswald and Corinne had frequently interrupted thisreading. At length they were obliged to give it up. Corinne feared forthe effects of Oswald's grief, which vented itself in torrents of tears,and suffered the bitterest pangs at beholding him in this condition, notperceiving that she herself was as much afflicted as he. "Yes," said he,stretching his hand to her, "dear friend of my heart, thy tears aremingled with mine. Thou lamentest with me that guardian angel, whoselast embrace I yet feel, whose noble look I yet behold; perhaps it isthou whom he has chosen for my comforter--perhaps--" "No, no," criedCorinne; "he has not thought me worthy of it." "What is it you say?"interrupted Oswald. Corinne was alarmed at having revealed what she somuch wished to conceal, and repeated what had escaped her, in anotherform, saying--"He would not think me worthy of it!"--This phrase, soaltered, dissipated the disquietude which the first had excited in theheart of Oswald, and he continued, undisturbed by any fears, todiscourse with Corinne concerning his father.
The physicians arrived and dissipated somewhat the alarm of Corinne; butthey absolutely forbade Lord Nelville to speak till the rupturedblood-vessel was perfectly closed. For a period of six whole daysCorinne never quitted Oswald, and prevented him from uttering a word,gently imposing silence upon him whenever he wished to speak. She foundthe art of varying the hours by reading, music, and sometimes by aconversation of which the burden was supported by herself alone; nowserious, now playful, her animation of spirits kept up a continualinterest. All this charming and amiable attention concealed thatdisquietude which internally preyed upon her, and which it was sonecessary to conceal from Lord Nelville; though she herself did notcease one instant to be a martyr to it. She perceived almost beforeOswald himself what he suffered, nor was she deceived by the courage heexerted to conceal it; she always anticipated everything that would belikely to relieve him; only endeavouring to fix his attention as littleas possible upon her assiduous cares for him. However, when Oswaldturned pale, the colour would also abandon the lips of Corinne; and herhands trembled when stretched to his assistance; but she struggledimmediately to appear composed, and often smiled when her eyes weresuffused with tears. Sometimes she pressed the hand of Oswald againsther heart, as if she would willingly impart to him her own life. Atlength her cares succeeded, and Oswald recovered.
"Corinne," said he to her, as soon as he was permitted to speak: "whyhas not Mr Edgermond, my friend, witnessed the days which you have spentby my bedside? He would have seen that you are not less good thanadmirable; he would have seen that domestic life with you is a scene ofcontinual enchantment, and that you only differ from every other woman,by adding to every virtue the witchery of every charm. No, it is toomuch--this internal conflict which rends my heart, and that has justbrought me to the brink of the grave, must cease. Corinne, thou shaltknow my secrets though thou concealest from me thine--and thou shaltdecide upon our fate."--"Our fate," answered Corinne, "if you feel as Ido, is never to part. But will you believe me that, till now, I havenot dared even entertain a wish to be your wife. What I feel is verynew to me: my ideas of life, my projects for the future, are all upsetby this sentiment, which every day disturbs and enslaves me more andmore. But I know not whether we can, whether we ought to be united!"--"Corinne," replied Oswald, "would you despise me for having hesitated?Would you attribute that hesitation to trifling considerations? Have younot divined that the deep and sad remorse which for two years has preyedupon me, could alone cause my indecision?"
"I have comprehended it," replied Corinne; "had I suspected you of amotive foreign to the affections of the heart, you would not have beenhe whom I loved. But life, I know, does not entirely belong to love.Habits, recollections, and circumstances, create around us a sort ofentanglement that passion itself cannot destroy. Broken for a moment, itwill join again, and encircle our heart as the ivy twines round the oak.My dear Oswald, let us not appropriate to any epoch of our existencemore than that epoch demands. Nothing is now so absolutely necessary tomy happiness as that you should not leave me. The terror of your suddendeparture pursues me incessantly. You are a stranger in this country,and bound to it by no tie. Should you go, all my prospects wouldfade,--you would leave your poor Corinne nothing but her grief. Thisbeautiful climate, these fine arts, that poetical inspiration which Ifeel with you, and now, alas! with you alone, would for me become mute.I never awake but trembling; when I behold the god of day, I know notwhether it deceives me by its resplendent beams, ignorant as I amwhether this city still contains you within its walls--you, the star ofmy life! Oswald, remove this terror from my soul, and I will desire toknow nothing beyond the delightful security you will give me."--"Youknow," replied Oswald, "that an Englishman can never abandon his nativecountry, that war may recall me, that--" "Oh, God!" cried Corinne, "areyou going to prepare me for the dreadful moment?" and she trembled inevery limb, as at the approach of some terrible danger.--"Well, if it beso, take me with you as your wife--as your slave--" But, suddenlyrecovering herself, she said--"Oswald, you will not go without giving meprevious notice of your departure, will you? Hear me: in no countrywhatever, is a criminal conducted to execution without some hours beingallotted for him to collect his thoughts. It will not be by letter thatyou will announce this to me--but you will come yourself in person--youwill hear me before you go far away! And shall I be able then--What, youhesitate to grant my request?" cried Corinne. "No," replied he, "I donot hesitate; since it is thy wish, I swear that should circumstancesrequire my departure, I will apprize thee of it beforehand, and thatmoment will decide the fate of our future lives."--She then left theroom.
FOOTNOTE:
[25] I have taken the liberty here to borrow some passages of theDiscourse on Death, which is to be found in the _Cours de MoraleReligieuse_, by M. Necker. This work, which appeared in times when theattention was engrossed by political events, is sometimes confoundedwith another by the same author, called _l'Importance des OpinionsReligieuses_, which has had the most brilliant success. But I dareaffirm, that the former is my father's most eloquent work. No ministerof state, I believe, before him, ever composed works for the Christianpulpit; and that which ought to characterise this kind of writing from aman who has had so much dealings with his race, is a knowledge of t
hehuman heart, and the indulgence which this knowledge inspires: itappears then, that considered in these two points of view, the _Cours deMorale_, is perfectly original. Religious men in general do not mix inthe world, and men of the world for the most part, are not religious:where then would it be possible to find to such a degree, knowledge oflife united to the elevation which detaches us from it? I will assertwithout being afraid that my opinion will be attributed to my feelings,that this book ranks among the first of those which console the sensiblebeing, and interest minds which reflect on the great questions that thesoul incessantly agitates within us.