Chapter iv.
They set out therefore the next day for Tivoli. Oswald himself drove thefour horses that drew them; he took pleasure in their swiftness, whichseemed to increase the vivacity of thought and of existence; and such animpression is sweet by the side of the object we love. He performed theoffice of whip with the most extreme attention, for fear the slightestaccident should happen to Corinne. He felt the duties of a protectorwhich is the softest tie that binds man to woman. Corinne was not, likemost women, easily terrified by the possible dangers of a journey; butit was so sweet to remark the solicitude of Oswald, that she almostwished to be frightened, to enjoy the pleasure of, hearing him cheer andcomfort her.
That which gave Lord Nelville, as will be seen in the sequel, so greatan ascendancy over the heart of his mistress, was the unexpectedcontrasts which gave a peculiar charm to his manners. Everybody admiredhis intellect and the gracefulness of his figure; but he must have beenparticularly interesting to one, who uniting in herself by a singularaccord, constancy and mobility, took delight in impressions, at oncevarious and faithful. Never did he think of anything but Corinne; andthis very occupation of his mind incessantly assumed differentcharacters: at one time he was governed by reserve, at another he wasopen and communicative: one moment he was perfectly calm, and another aprey to the most gloomy and bitter sensations, which proved the depth ofhis sentiments, but mingled anxiety with confidence and incessantly gavebirth to new emotions. Oswald, internally agitated, endeavoured toassume an external appearance of composure, and Corinne, occupied inconjecturing his thoughts, found in this mystery a continual interest.One would have said, that the very defects of Oswald were only made toset off his agreeable qualities. No man, however distinguished, in whosecharacter there was no contradiction, who was subject to no internalconflict, could have captivated the imagination of Corinne. She felt asort of awe of Oswald, which subjected her to him. He reigned over hersoul by a good and by an evil power; by his qualities, and by thedisquietude which these qualities, badly combined, could inspire: inshort there was no security in the happiness that Lord Nelvilleconferred, and perhaps the violence of Corinne's passion was owing tothis; perhaps she could only love, to such a degree, him whom she fearedto lose. A superior mind, a sensibility as ardent as it was delicate,might become weary of everything, except that truly extraordinary man,whose soul, constantly agitated, seemed like the sky--sometimes serene,sometimes covered with clouds. Oswald, always true, always of profoundand impassioned feelings, was nevertheless often ready to renounce theobject of his tenderness, because a long habit of mental pain made himbelieve, that only remorse and suffering could be found in the tooexquisite affections of the heart.
Lord Nelville and Corinne, in their journey to Tivoli, passed before theruins of Adrian's palace, and the immense garden which surrounded it.That prince had collected together in this garden, the most rareproductions, the most admirable masterpieces of those countries whichwere conquered by the Romans. To this very day some scattered stones areseen there, which are called _Egypt_, _India_, and _Asia_. Farther onwas the retreat, where Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, ended her days. Shedid not support in adversity, the greatness of her destiny; she wasincapable of dying for glory like a man; or like a woman, dying ratherthan betray her friend.
At length they discovered Tivoli, which was the abode of so manycelebrated men, of Brutus, of Augustus, of Mecenas, and of Catullus; butabove all, the abode of Horace, for it is his verse which has renderedthis retreat illustrious. The house of Corinne was built over the noisycascade of Teverone; at the top of the mountain, opposite her garden,was the temple of the Sybil. It was a beautiful idea of the ancients, toplace their temples on the summits of high places. They majesticallypresided over the surrounding country, as religious ideas over all otherthoughts. They inspired more enthusiasm for nature, by announcing theDeity from which she emanates, and the eternal gratitude of successivegenerations towards her. The landscape, from whatever point of viewconsidered, formed a picture with the temple, which was placed there asthe centre and the ornament of the whole. Ruins spread a singular charmover the _campagna_ of Italy. They do not recall, like modern edifices,the labour and the presence of man; they are confounded with nature andthe trees; they seem in harmony with the solitary torrent; they presentthe image of time, which has made them what they are. The most beautifulcountries in the world, when they bring to mind no recollection, whenthey bear the stamp of no remarkable event, are stripped of interestwhen compared with historical countries. What place in Italy could bemore suitable for the habitation of Corinne than the retreat consecratedto the sybil, to the memory of a woman, animated by divine inspiration.The house of Corinne was delightful; it was ornamented with the eleganceof modern taste, and yet discovered the charm of an imaginationenamoured of the beauties of antiquity; happiness, in the most elevatedsense of the word, seemed to reign there; a felicity which consisted inall that ennobles the soul, excites thought, and vivifies talent.
In walking with Corinne, Oswald perceived that the wind possessed anharmonious sound, and filled the air with chords, which seemed toproceed from the waving of the flowers, and the rustling of the trees,and to give a voice to nature. Corinne told him that the wind producedthis harmony from the aeolian harps, which she had placed in grottoes tofill the air with sound, as well as perfumes. In this delicious abode,Oswald was inspired with the purest sentiment.--"Hear me," said he toCorinne; "till this moment I felt the happiness I derived from yoursociety blended with remorse; but now I say to myself, that you are sentby my father to terminate my sufferings upon this earth. It is he that Ihad offended; but it is, nevertheless, he who has obtained by hisprayers my pardon in heaven. Corinne!" cried he, throwing himself uponhis knees, "I am pardoned; I feel it in this sweet calm of innocencewhich pervades my soul. Thou canst now, without apprehension, unitethyself to me, nor fear that fate opposes our union."--"Well," saidCorinne, "let us continue to enjoy this peace of the heart which isgranted us. Let us not meddle with destiny: she inspires so much dreadwhen we wish to interfere with her, when we try to obtain from her morethan she will give! Since we are now happy, let us not desire a change!"
_Corinne showing Oswald her pictures._]
Lord Nelville was hurt at this answer of Corinne. He conceived she oughtto comprehend that he was ready to tell her every thing, to promiseevery thing, if she would only confide to him her history; and thismanner of avoiding it gave him as much offence as apprehension; he didnot perceive that a sense of delicacy prevented Corinne from takingadvantage of his emotion, to bind him by an oath. Perhaps also, it is inthe nature of a profound and genuine passion, to dread a solemn moment,however much desired, and to tremble at exchanging hope for happinessitself. Oswald, far from judging in this manner, persuaded himself, thatalthough Corinne loved him, she wished to preserve her independence, andintentionally deferred all that might lead to an indissoluble union.This thought excited in him a painful irritation, and immediatelyassuming a cold and reserved air, he followed Corinne to her gallery ofpictures, without uttering a word. She soon divined the impression shehad produced on him, but knowing his pride, she durst not impart to himher observations; however, in showing him her pictures and discussinggeneral topics, she felt a vague hope of softening him, which gave toher voice a more moving charm, even when uttering the most indifferentwords.
Her gallery was composed of historical pictures, paintings on poeticaland religious subjects, and landscapes. None of them was composed of avery large number of figures. That style of painting undoubtedlypresents greater difficulties, but affords less pleasure. Its beautiesare too confused, or too minute. That unity of interest, which is thevital principle of the arts, as well as anything else, is necessarilydivided and scattered. The first of the historical pictures representedBrutus, in profound meditation, seated at the foot of the statue ofRome. In the back ground, the slaves are carrying the lifeless bodies ofhis two sons, whom he had condemned to death; and on the other side ofthe picture, the mother and
sisters appear plunged into an agony ofgrief: women are, happily, divested of that courage, which can triumphover the affections of the heart. The statue of Rome, placed by theside of Brutus, is a beautiful idea; it speaks eloquently. Yet how canany body know without an explanation, that it is the elder Brutus whohas just sent his sons to execution? Nevertheless, it is impossible tocharacterise this event better than it is done in this picture. At adistance the city of Rome is perceived in its ancient simplicity,without edifices or ornaments, but full of patriotic grandeur, since itcould inspire such a sacrifice.--"Undoubtedly," said Corinne, "when Ihave named Brutus, your whole soul will become fixed to this picture;but still it would be possible to behold it without divining the subjectit represented. And does not this uncertainty, which almost alwaysexists in historical pictures, mingle the torment of an enigma with theenjoyment of the fine arts, which ought to be so easy and so clear?
"I have chosen this subject because it recalls the most terrible actionthat love of country has inspired. The companion to this picture isMarius, spared by the Cimbrian, who cannot bring himself to kill thisgreat man; the figure of Marius is imposing; the costume of the Cimbrianand the expression of his physiognomy, are very picturesque. It is thesecond epoch of Rome, when laws no longer existed, but when genius stillexercised considerable influence upon circumstances. Then comes that erawhen talents and fame were only objects of misfortune and insult. Thethird picture which you see here, represents Belisarius, carrying on hisshoulders the body of his young guide, who died while asking alms forhim. Belisarius, blind and mendicant, is thus recompensed by his master;and in the universe which he has conquered, he is employed in bearing tothe grave the remains of the poor boy who alone had not abandoned him.This figure of Belisarius is admirable; another so fine is not to befound in the modern school. The painter, with a truly poeticalimagination, has united here every species of misfortune, and perhapsthe picture is too dreadful even to awaken pity: but who tells us it isBelisarius? to indicate him it should be faithful to history: but thatfidelity would deprive the subject of all its picturesque beauty.Following these pictures which represent in Brutus, virtues approachingto crime; in Marius, glory, the cause of calamity; in Belisarius,services paid by the blackest persecutions; in short, every misery ofhuman destiny, which is recorded in the events of history, I have placedtwo pictures of the old school, which a little relieve the oppressedsoul by recalling that religion which has consoled the enslaved anddistracted universe, that religion which stirred the depths of the heartwhen all without was but oppression and silence. The first is by Albano;he has painted the infant Jesus sleeping on a cross. Behold thesweetness and calm of that countenance! What pure ideas it recalls; howit convinces the soul that celestial love has nothing to fear, eitherfrom affliction or death. The second picture is by Titian; the subjectis Christ sinking beneath the weight of the cross. His mother comes tomeet Him, and throws herself upon her knees on perceiving Him. Admirablereverence in a mother for the misfortunes and divine virtues of her son!What a look is that of our Redeemer, what a divine resignation in themidst of suffering, and in this suffering what sympathy with the heartof man! That is, doubtless, the finest of my pictures. It is thattowards which I incessantly turn my eyes, without ever being able toexhaust the emotion which it inspires. Next come the dramatic pieces,"continued Corinne, "taken from four great poets. Judge with me, my lord,of the effect which they produce. The first represents AEneas in theElysian fields, when he wishes to approach Dido. The indignant shaderetires, rejoiced that she no longer carries in her bosom that heartwhich would still beat with love at the aspect of her guilty paramour.The vapoury colour of the shades and the paleness of the surroundingscene, form a contrast with the life-like appearance of AEneas and of thesybil who conducts him. But this kind of effect is an amusement of theartist, and the description of the poet is necessarily superior toanything that painting can produce. I will say as much of this pictureof Clorinda dying, and Tancred. The utmost pathos which it can excite,is to call to our minds the beautiful lines of Tasso, when Clorindapardons her adoring enemy who has just pierced her breast. Paintingnecessarily becomes subordinate to poetry, when devoted to subjectswhich have been treated by great poets; for their words leave animpression which effaces every other; the situations which they havechosen almost ever derive their chief strength from the development ofthe passions and their eloquence, whilst the greater part of picturesqueeffects arises from a calm beauty, a simple expression, a nobleattitude, a moment of repose, worthy of being indefinitely prolongedwithout ever wearying the eye.
"Your terrible Shakespeare, my lord," continued Corinne, "has furnishedthe subject of the third dramatic picture--it is Macbeth,--theinvincible Macbeth--who, ready to fight Macduff, whose wife and childrenhe has put to death, learns that the oracle of the witches isaccomplished, that Birnam Wood is advancing to Dunsinane, and that he isfighting a man who was born after the death of his mother. Macbeth isconquered by fate, but not by his adversary.--He grasps the sword with adesperate hand;--he knows that he is about to die;--but wishes to trywhether human strength cannot triumph over destiny. There is certainlyin this head, a fine expression of wildness and fury--of trouble and ofenergy; but how many poetical beauties do we miss? Is it possible topaint Macbeth plunged in guilt by the spells of ambition, which offerthemselves to him under the shape of witchcraft? How can paintingexpress the terror which he feels? That terror, however, which is notinconsistent with intrepid bravery? Is it possible to characterise thatpeculiar species of superstition which oppresses him? That beliefwithout dignity, that hell-born fatality which weighs him down, hiscontempt of life, his horror of death? Undoubtedly the human countenanceis the greatest of mysteries; but the motionless physiognomy of apainting can never express more than the workings of a single sentiment.Contrasts, conflicts of the mind, events, in short, belong to thedramatic art. Painting can with difficulty render a succession ofevents: time and movement exist not for it.
"The Phedre of Racine has furnished the subject of the fourth picture,"said Corinne, showing it to Lord Nelville.--"Hippolitus, in all thebeauty of youth and innocence, repels the perfidious accusations of hisstep-mother; the hero, Theseus, still protects his guilty spouse, whomhe encircles with his conquering arm. There is in the countenance ofPhedre, a trouble which freezes the soul with horror; and her nurse,without remorse, encourages her in her guilt. Hippolitus in this pictureis perhaps more beautiful than even in Racine; he resembles more theancient Meleager, because no love for Aricia disturbs the impression ofhis wild and noble virtue; but is it possible to suppose that Phedre, inthe presence of Hippolitus, can support her falsehood? Is it possiblethat she can behold him innocent and persecuted without falling at hisfeet? An offended woman may wrong the object of her affection in hisabsence; but when she sees him, her heart is wholly absorbed in love.The poet has never put Phedre and Hippolitus in the same scene after theformer has calumniated the latter; the painter has been obliged to do soin order to bring together, as he has done in his picture, all thebeauties of the contrast; but is not this a proof that there is such adifference between poetical and picturesque subjects that it would bebetter for the poets to write from pictures, than for the painters tocompose their works from the poets? The history of the human mind provesto us that imagination must always precede thought."
Whilst Corinne was thus explaining her pictures to Lord Nelville, shehad stopped several times, in the hope that he would speak to her; buthis wounded soul did not betray itself by a single word; whenever sheexpressed a feeling idea he only sighed and turned his head, in orderthat she might not see how easily he was affected in his present stateof mind. Corinne, overcome by this silence, sat down and covered herface with her hands--Lord Nelville for some time walked about the roomwith a hurried step, then approaching Corinne, was about to betray hisfeelings; but the invincible pride of his nature repressed his emotion,and he returned to the pictures as if he were waiting for Corinne tofinish showing them. Corinne expected much from the eff
ect of the lastof all; and making an effort in her turn to appear calm, she arose andsaid, "My lord, I have yet three landscapes to show you--two of them areallied to very interesting ideas. I am not fond of those rustic sceneswhich are as dull in painting as idylls, when they make no allusion tofable or to history. I am most pleased with the manner of Salvator Rosa,who represents, as you see in this picture, a rock with torrents andtrees, without a single living creature, without even a bird recallingan idea of life. The absence of man in the midst of natural scenes,excites deep reflection. What would the earth be in this state ofsolitude? A work without an aim; and yet a work so beautiful, themysterious impression of which would be addressed to the Divinity alone!
"We are come at last to the two pictures in which, according to myopinion, history and poetry are happily blended with landscape[27]. Onerepresents the moment when Cincinnatus is invited by the consuls toleave the plough, in order to take the command of the Roman armies. Inthis landscape you behold all the luxury of the South, its abundantvegetation, its burning sky, the smiling aspect of all nature,discoverable even in the plants themselves; and that other picture whichforms a contrast with this, is the son of Cairbar asleep upon the tombof his father.--For three days and three nights he has awaited thearrival of the bard who is to honour the memory of the dead. This bardis perceived at a distance descending the mountain; the shade of thefather hovers in the clouds; the country is covered with hoar frost; thetrees, though naked, are agitated by the wind, and their dead branchesand dried leaves, still follow the current of the storm."
Till then, Oswald had been influenced by resentment at what had takenplace in the garden; but on beholding this picture, the tomb of hisfather and the mountains of Scotland appeared to his mind, and his eyeswere filled with tears. Corinne took her harp, and before this picture,began to sing one of those Scotch ballads whose simple notes seem toaccompany the noise of the wind, mournfully complaining through thevalleys. She sang the farewell of a warrior quitting his native land andhis mistress; and the word, _no more_, one of the most harmonious andtouching in the English language, was pronounced by Corinne with themost moving expression. Oswald sought not to resist his emotion, andboth yielded without restraint to their tears.--"Ah!" cried LordNelville, "does my native country speak no language to thy heart?Wouldst thou follow me into those retreats, peopled by my recollections?Wouldst thou be the worthy companion of my life, as thou art its solecharm and delight?"--"I believe so," replied Corinne--"I believe so; forI love thee!"--"In the name of love then, no longer conceal anythingfrom me," said Oswald.--"I consent," interrupted Corinne; "since it isthy wish. My promise is given; I only make one condition, which is, thatthou wilt not exact it of me before the approaching epoch of ourreligious ceremonies. Will not the support of heaven be more than evernecessary to me at the moment when my fate is about to be decided?"--"Nomore," cried Lord Nelville, "if that fate depend upon me, it is nolonger doubtful."--"Thou thinkest so," replied she; "I have not the sameconfidence; but, in a word, I intreat thee show that condescension to myweakness which I request."--Oswald sighed, without either granting orrefusing the delay required.--"Let us now return to town," said Corinne."How can I conceal anything from thee in this solitude? And if what Ihave to relate must divide us, ought I so soon--Let us go, Oswald--thouwilt return hither again, happen what may: my ashes will find resthere." Oswald, much affected, obeyed Corinne. He returned to the citywith her, and scarcely a word passed between them upon the road. Fromtime to time they looked at each other with an affection that saideverything; but nevertheless, a sentiment of melancholy reigned in thedepths of their souls when they arrived in the midst of Rome.
FOOTNOTE:
[27] The historical pictures which compose the gallery of Corinne, areeither from copies or originals of the Brutus of _David_, the Maurius of_Drouet_, and the Belisarius of _Gerard_; among the other picturesmentioned, that of Dido was done by _M. Rehberg_, a German painter; thatof Clorinda, is in the gallery of Florence; that of Macbeth, is in anEnglish collection of pictures from Shakespeare; and that of Phedre, isby _Guerin_; lastly, the two landscapes of Cincinnatus and Ossian, areat Rome, and were done by Mr Wallis, an English painter.
Book ix.
THE POPULAR FESTIVAL, AND MUSIC.