Chapter i.
It was the last day of carnival, which is the most noisy festival of theyear, when a fever of joy, a mania of amusement, unparalleled in anyother country, seized the Roman people. Everybody is disguised; hardlydoes there remain at the windows, an unmasked spectator: the scene ofgaiety commences at a given hour on a certain day, and scarcely everdoes any public or private event of the year hinder any person fromjoining the sports of the season.
It is then that we can form a judgment of the extent of imaginationpossessed by the common people. The Italian language, even in theirmouths, is full of charm. Alfieri said that he went to the public marketat Florence to learn to speak good Italian,--Rome has the sameadvantages: and perhaps these are the only two cities in the world wherethe people speak so well that the mind may receive entertainment atevery corner of the street.
That kind of humour which shines in the authors of harlequinades andopera-buffa, is very commonly found even among men without education. Inthese days of carnival, when extravagance and caricature are admitted,the most comic scenes take place between the masks.
Often a burlesque gravity is contrasted with the vivacity of theItalians; and one would say that these fantastic vestments inspired adignity in the wearers, not natural to them; at other times, theymanifest such a singular knowledge of mythology in their disguises, thatwe would be inclined to believe the ancient fables still popular inRome; and more frequently they ridicule different gradations of societywith a pleasantry full of force and originality. The nation appears athousand times more distinguished in its sports than in its history. TheItalian language yields to every shade of gaiety with a facility whichonly requires a light inflection of the voice and a little difference oftermination in order to increase or diminish, ennoble or travesty, thesense of words. It is particularly graceful in the mouth ofchildren[28]. The innocence of this age and the natural malice of thelanguage, form an exquisite contrast. In truth, it may be said, that itis a language which explains itself without any aid and always appearsmore intellectual than he who speaks it.
There is neither luxury nor good taste in the feast of carnival; a kindof universal petulance makes it resemble the bacchanals of theimagination; but in imagination only is this resemblance, for the Romansare in general very sober, and except the last day of carnival,tolerably serious. We often make sudden discoveries of every sort in thecharacter of the Italians, and this is what contributes to give them thereputation of being subtle and crafty.--There is, undoubtedly, a stronghabit of dissimulation in this country, which has supported so manydifferent yokes; but it is not to dissimulation that we must alwaysattribute the rapid transition from one manner of being to another. Aninflammable imagination is often the cause of it. The character of apeople who are only rational or witty, may be easily understood and willnot suddenly surprise us, but all that belongs to the imagination isunexpected. It leaps over intermediate barriers, it is often hurt atnothing, and frequently indifferent to that which ought most to affectit. In fact, it is a law unto itself, and we can never calculate itsimpressions from their causes.
For example, we cannot comprehend what amusement the Roman nobility findin riding in their carriages from one end of the _corso_ to the otherfor whole hours together, as well during the carnival as on the otherdays of the year. Nothing ever diverts them from this custom. There arealso among the masks, men who saunter about with every appearance ofweariness, in the most ridiculous costume imaginable, andwho--melancholy harlequins and silent punchinellos,--do not say a wordthe whole evening, but appear, if it may be so expressed, to havesatisfied their carnival conscience by having neglected nothing to bemerry.
We find at Rome a certain species of mask which is not seen elsewhere:masks formed after the figures of the ancient statues, and which at adistance imitate the most perfect beauty--the women often lose greatlyby removing them. But nevertheless this motionless imitation of life,these stalking wax countenances, however pretty they may be, havesomething terrifying in them. The great nobles make a tolerably granddisplay of carriages on the last days of the carnival; but the pleasureof this festival is the crowd and the confusion: it seems like a relicof the _Saturnalia_; every class in Rome is mixed together. The mostgrave magistrates ride with official dignity in the midst of the masks;every window is decorated. The whole town is in the streets: it is trulya popular festival. The pleasure of the people consists neither in theshows nor the feasts that are given them, nor the magnificence theywitness. They commit no excess either in drinking or eating: theirrecreation is to be set at liberty, and to find themselves among thenobility, who on their side are pleased at being among the people. It isespecially the refinement and delicacy of amusements as well as theperfection of education, that places a barrier between different classesof people. But in Italy this distinction of rank is not very sensible;the country is more characterised by the natural talent and imaginationof all, than by the extraordinary cultivation of the upper classes.There is therefore, pending carnival, a complete confusion of ranks, ofmanners, and of sentiments: the crowd, the cries, the wit, and thecomfits with which they inundate without distinction the carriages asthey pass along, confound every mortal together and set the nationpell-mell, as if social order no longer existed.
Corinne and Lord Nelville, both buried in thought, arrived in the midstof this tumult. They were at first almost stunned; for nothing appearsmore singular than this activity of noisy pleasures, when the soul isentirely absorbed in itself. They stopped at the Piazza del Popolo toascend the amphitheatre near the obelisk, whence is seen the racecourse. At the moment they got out of their calash, the Count d'Erfeuilperceived them and took Oswald aside to speak to him.
"It is not right," said he, "to show yourself in this public manner,arriving from the country alone with Corinne; you will compromise hercharacter, then what will you do?" "I do not think," answered Nelville,"that I compromise the character of Corinne by showing the attachmentshe inspires me with. But even were that true, I should be too happy ifthe devotion of my life--" "As to your being happy," interrupted theCount, "I do not believe it;" people can only be happy in actingbecomingly. Society, think as you may, has much influence "upon ourhappiness, and we should never do what it disapproves."--"We should thennever be guided by our own thoughts and our own feelings, but liveentirely for society," replied Oswald. "If it be so, if we areconstantly to imitate one another, to what purpose was a soul and anunderstanding given to each? Providence might have spared thissuperfluity."--"That is very well said," replied the Count, "veryphilosophically thought; but people ruin themselves by these kind ofmaxims, and when love is gone, the censure of opinion remains. I, whoappear to possess levity, would never do any thing to draw upon me thedisapprobation of the world. We may indulge in trifling liberties, inagreeable pleasantries which announce an independent manner of thinking,provided we do not carry it into action; for when it becomes serious--""But the serious consequences are love and happiness," answered LordNelville.--"No, no;" interrupted the Count d'Erfeuil, "that is not whatI wish to say; there are certain established rules of propriety, whichone must not brave, on pain of passing for an eccentric man, a man--infact, you understand me--for a man who is not like others."--LordNelville smiled, and without being in the least vexed; for he was by nomeans pained with these remarks; he rallied the Count upon his frivolousseverity; he felt with secret satisfaction that for the first time, on asubject which caused him so much emotion, the Count did not possess theleast influence over him. Corinne, at a distance, conjectured what waspassing; but the smile of Nelville restored tranquillity to her heart,and this conversation of the Count d'Erfeuil, far from embarrassingOswald or his fair companion, only inspired them with a temper of mindmore in harmony with the scene before them.
The horse-racing was about to begin. Lord Nelville expected to seeraces like those of England; but what was his surprise, when informedthat only little Barbary horses without riders were to run against eachother. This sight excites the attention of the Roman
s in a singularmanner. The moment it is about to commence, all the crowd arrangethemselves on each side of the way. The Piazza del Popolo, which wascovered with people, is empty in a moment. Each one ascends theamphitheatres which surround the obelisk, and innumerable multitudes ofheads and dark eyes are turned towards the barrier from which the horsesare to start.
They arrive without bridle or saddle, with merely a rich cloth thrownover their backs, and led by extremely well-dressed grooms, who take amost passionate interest in their success. The horses are placed behindthe barrier and their ardour to clear it is extreme. At every momentthey are held back; they prance, they neigh, they clatter with theirfeet, as if they were impatient of a glory which they are about toobtain themselves without the guidance of man. This impatience of thehorses and the shouts of the grooms at the moment when the barrierfalls, produce a fine dramatic effect. The horses start, the grooms cry"Stand back! Stand back!" with inexpressible transport. They accompanythe horses with their voice and gestures till they are out of sight. Thehorses seem inspired with the same emulation as men. The pavementsparkles beneath their feet; their manes fly in the air, and theirdesire, thus left to their own efforts, of winning the prize is such,that there have been some who, on arriving at the goal, have died fromthe swiftness with which they have run. It is astonishing to see thesefreed horses thus animated with personal passions; it almost induces abelief that thought exists beneath this animal form. The crowd breaktheir ranks when the horses are gone by, and follow them in disorder.They reach the Venetian palace which serves for the goal. Never wasanything like the cries of the grooms whose horses are victors. He whohad gained the first prize, threw himself on his knees before hishorse[29], and thanked him, recommending him to the protection of StAnthony, the patron of animals, with an enthusiasm as serious as it wascomic to the spectators.
It is generally the close of day when the races finish. Then commencesanother kind of amusement, much less picturesque, but also very noisy.The windows are illuminated. The guards abandon their post to mix in thegeneral joy[30]. Each one then takes a little torch called a _moccolo_,and they seek mutually to extinguish each other's light, repeating theword _ammazzare_ (kill) with a formidable vivacity. _Che la BellaPrincipessa sia ammazata! Che il signore abbate sia ammazata!_ (Let thefair princess be killed, let the abbot be killed!) is shouted from oneend of the street to the other. The crowd, become emboldened, because atthis hour horses and carriages are forbidden, hurl themselves in alldirections. At length there is no other pleasure than that of tumult anddisorder. In the meantime night advances, the noise ceases by degrees--aprofound silence succeeds, and there only remains of this evening theconfused idea of a dream, in which the people had forgotten for a momenttheir labour, the learned their studies, and the nobility theiridleness.
FOOTNOTES:
[28] I asked a little Tuscan girl which was the handsomer, she or hersister? "Ah!" answered she, "_Il piu bel viso e il mio_;"--Mine is themost beautiful face.
[29] An Italian postillion, whose horse was dying, prayed for him,saying. "_O Sant' Antonio, abbiate pieta dell' anima sua_;"--O SaintAnthony, have mercy on his soul!
[30] Goethe has a description of the carnival at Rome, which gives afaithful and animated picture of that festival.