Chapter iii.
There was at that time in the port of Naples, an English man-of-war inwhich divine service was performed every Sunday. The captain, and allthe English who were at Naples, invited Lord Nelville to come thefollowing day; he consented without thinking at first whether he shouldtake Corinne with him, and how he should present her to hisfellow-countrymen. He was tormented by this disquietude the whole night.As he was walking with Corinne, on the following morning near the portand was about to advise her not to go on board, they saw an Englishlong-boat rowed by ten sailors, clad in white, and wearing black velvetcaps, on which was embroidered silver leopards. A young officer landedfrom it, and accosting Corinne by the name of Lady Nelville, begged tohave the honour of conducting her to the ship. At the name of LadyNelville Corinne was embarrassed--she blushed and cast down her eyes.Oswald appeared to hesitate a moment: then suddenly taking her hand, hesaid to her in English,--"Come, my dear,"--and she followed him.
The noise of the waves and the silence of the sailors, who neither movednor spoke but in pursuance of their duty, and who rapidly conducted thebark over that sea which they had so often traversed, gave birth toreverie. Besides, Corinne dared not question Lord Nelville on what hadjust passed. She sought to conjecture his purpose, not thinking (whichis however the more probable) that he had none, and that he yielded toeach new circumstance. One moment she imagined that he was conductingher to divine service in order to espouse her, and this idea caused herat the time more fear than happiness: it appeared to her that she wasgoing to quit Italy and return to England, where she had suffered somuch. The severity of manners and customs in that country returned toher mind, and love itself could not entirely triumph over the bitternessof her recollections. But how astonished will she be in othercircumstances at those thoughts, fleeting as they were! how she willabjure them!
Corinne ascended the ship, the interior of which presented a picture ofthe most studied cleanliness and order. Nothing was heard but the voiceof the captain, which was prolonged and repeated from one end to theother by command and obedience. The subordination, regularity, silence,and serious deportment so remarkable on this ship, formed a system ofsocial order rigid and free, in contrast with the city of Naples, sovolatile, so passionate, and tumultuous. Oswald was occupied withCorinne and the impressions she received; but his attention wassometimes diverted from her by the pleasure he felt in finding himselfin his native country. And indeed are not ships and the open sea asecond country to an Englishman? Oswald walked the deck with the Englishon board to learn the news from England, and to discuss the politics oftheir country; during which time Corinne was with some English ladieswho had come from Naples to attend divine worship. They were surroundedby their children, as beautiful as the day, but timid as their mothers;and not a word was spoken before a new acquaintance. This constraint,this silence, rendered Corinne very sad; she turned her eyes towardsbeautiful Naples, towards its flowery shores, its animated existence,and sighed. Fortunately for her Oswald did not perceive it; on thecontrary, beholding her seated among English women, her dark eyelidscast down like their fair ones, and conforming in every respect to theirmanners, he felt a sensation of joy. In vain does an Englishman findpleasure in foreign manners; his heart always reverts to the firstimpressions of his life. If you ask Englishmen sailing at the extremityof the world whither they are going, they will answer you, _home_, ifthey are returning to England. Their wishes and their sentiments arealways turned towards their native country, at whatever distance theymay be from it.
They descended between decks to hear divine service, and Corinne soonperceived that her idea was without foundation, that Lord Nelville hadnot formed the solemn project she had at first supposed. She thenreproached herself with having feared such an event, and theembarrassment of her present situation revived in her bosom; for all thecompany believed her to be the wife of Lord Nelville, and she had notthe courage to say a word that might either destroy or confirm thisidea. Oswald suffered as cruelly as she did; but in the midst of athousand rare qualities, there was much weakness and irresolution in hischaracter. These defects are unperceived by their possessor, and assumein his eyes a new form under every circumstance; he conceives italternately to be prudence, sensibility, or delicacy, which defers themoment of adopting a resolution and prolongs a state of indecision;hardly ever does he feel that it is the same character which attachesthis kind of inconvenience to every circumstance.
Corinne, however, notwithstanding the painful thoughts that occupiedher, received a deep impression from the spectacle which she witnessed.Nothing, in truth, speaks more to the soul than divine service performedon board a ship; and the noble simplicity of the reformed worship seemsparticularly adapted to the sentiments which are then felt. A young manperformed the functions of chaplain; he preached with a mild but firmvoice, and his figure bespoke the rigid principles of a pure soul amidstthe ardour of youth. That severity carries with it an idea of force,very suitable to a religion preached among the perils of war. At statedmoments, the English minister delivered prayers, the last words of whichall the assembly repeated with him. These confused but mild voicesproceeding from various distances kept alive interest and emotion. Thesailors, the officers, and the captain, knelt down several times,particularly at these words, "_Lord, have mercy upon us!_" The sword ofthe captain, which dragged on the deck whilst he was kneeling, called tomind that noble union of humility before God and intrepidity before man,which renders the devotion of warriors so affecting; and whilst thesebrave people besought the God of armies, the sea was seen through theport-holes, and sometimes the murmuring of the waves, at that momenttranquil, seemed to say, "_your prayers are heard_." The chaplainfinished, the service by a prayer, peculiar to the English sailors."_May God_," say they, "_give us grace to defend our happy Constitutionfrom without, and to find on our return domestic happiness at home!_"How many fine sentiments are united in these simple words! The long andcontinued study which the navy requires and the austere life led in aship, make it a military cloister in the midst of the waves; and theregularity of the most serious occupations is there only interrupted byperils and death. The sailors, in spite of their rough, hardy manners,often express themselves with much gentleness, and show a particulartenderness to women and children when they meet them on board. We arethe more touched with these sentiments, because we know with whatcoolness they expose themselves to those terrible dangers of war and thesea, in the midst of which the presence of man has something of thesupernatural.
Corinne and Lord Nelville returned to the boat which was to bring themashore; they beheld the city of Naples, built in the form of anamphitheatre, as if to take part more commodiously in the festival ofnature; and Corinne, in setting her foot again upon Italian ground,could not refrain from feeling a sentiment of joy. If Nelville hadsuspected this sentiment he would have been hurt at it, and perhaps withreason; yet he would have been unjust towards Corinne, who loved himpassionately in spite of the painful impression caused by theremembrance of a country where cruel circumstances had rendered her sounhappy. Her imagination was lively; there was in her heart a greatcapacity for love; but talent, especially in a woman, begets adisposition to weariness, a want of something to divert the attention,which the most profound passion cannot make entirely disappear. The ideaof a monotonous life, even in the midst of happiness, makes a mind whichstands in need of variety, to shudder with fear. It is only when thereis little wind in the sails, that we can keep close to shore; but theimagination roves at large, although affection be constant; it is so, atleast, till the moment when misfortune makes every inconsistencydisappear, and leaves but one thought and one grief in the mind.
Oswald attributed the reverie of Corinne solely to the embarrassmentinto which she had been thrown by hearing herself called Lady Nelville;and reproaching himself for not having released her from thatembarrassment he feared she might suspect him of levity. He begantherefore in order to arrive at the long-desired explanation by offeringto relate to her his own
history. "I will speak first," said he, "andyour confidence will follow mine." "Yes, undoubtedly it must," answeredCorinne, trembling; "but tell me at what day--at what hour? When youhave spoken, I will tell you all."--"How agitated you are," answeredOswald; "what then, will you ever feel that fear of your friend, thatmistrust of his heart?" "No," continued Corinne; "it is decided; I havecommitted it all to writing, and if you choose, to-morrow--""To-morrow," said Lord Nelville, "we are to go together to Vesuvius; Iwish to contemplate with you this astonishing wonder, to learn from youhow to admire it; and in this very journey, if I have the strength, Iwill make you acquainted with the particulars of my past life. My heartis determined; thus my confidence will open the way to yours." "So yougive me to-morrow," replied Corinne; "I thank you for this one day. Ah!who knows whether you will be the same for me when I have opened my soulto you? And how can I feel such a doubt without shuddering?"
Chapter iv.
The ruins of Pompei are near to Mount Vesuvius, and Corinne and LordNeville began their excursion with these ruins. They were both silent;for the moment approached which was to decide their fate, and that vaguehope they had so long enjoyed, and which accords so well with theindolence and reverie that the climate of Italy inspires, was to bereplaced by a positive destiny. They visited Pompei together, the mostcurious ruin of antiquity. At Rome, seldom any thing is found but theremains of public monuments, and these monuments only retrace thepolitical history of past ages; but at Pompei it is the private life ofthe ancients which offers itself to the view, such as it was. TheVolcano, which has covered this city with ashes, has preserved it fromthe destroying hand of Time. Edifices, exposed to the air, never couldhave remained so perfect; but this hidden relic of antiquity was foundentire. The paintings and bronzes were still in their pristine beauty;and every thing connected with domestic life is fearfully preserved. Theamphorae are yet prepared for the festival of the following day; theflour which was to be kneaded is still to be seen; the remains of awoman, are still decorated with those ornaments which she wore on theholiday that the Volcano disturbed, and her calcined arms no longer fillthe bracelets of precious stones which still surround them. Nowhere isto be seen so striking an image of the sudden interruption of life. Thetraces of the wheels are visible in the streets, and the stones on thebrink of the wells bear the mark of the cord which has graduallyfurrowed them. On the walls of a guardhouse are still to be seen thosemisshapen characters, those figures rudely sketched, which the soldierstraced to pass away the time, while Time was hastily advancing toswallow them up.
When we place ourselves in the midst of the crossroads from which thecity that remains standing almost entire is seen on all sides, it seemsto us as if we were waiting for somebody, as if the master were coming;and even the appearance of life which this abode offers makes us feelmore sadly its eternal silence. It is with petrified lava that thegreater part of these houses are built, which are now swallowed up byother lava. Thus ruins are heaped upon ruins, and tombs upon tombs. Thishistory of the world, where the epochs are counted from ruin to ruin,this picture of human life, which is only lighted up by the Volcanoesthat have consumed it, fill the heart with a profound melancholy. Howlong man has existed! How long he has suffered and died! Where can wefind his sentiments and his thoughts? Is the air that we breathe inthese ruins impregnated with them, or are they for ever deposited inheaven where reigns immortality? Some burnt leaves of manuscripts, whichhave been found at Herculaneum, and Pompei, and which scholars atPortici are employed to decipher, are all that remain to give usinformation of those unhappy victims, whom the Volcano, thatthunder-bolt of earth, has destroyed. But in passing near those ashes,which art has succeeded in reanimating, we are afraid to breathe lest abreath should carry away that dust where noble ideas are perhaps stillimprinted.
The public edifices in the city itself of Pompei, which was one of theleast important of Italy, are yet tolerably fine. The luxury of theancients had almost ever some object of public interest for its aim.Their private houses are very small, and we do not see in them anystudied magnificence, though we may remark a lively taste for the finearts in their possessors. Almost the whole interior is adorned with themost agreeable paintings and mosaic pavements ingeniously worked. Onmany of these pavements is written the word _Salve_. This word is placedon the threshold of the door, and must not be simply considered as apolite expression, but as an invocation of hospitality. The rooms aresingularly narrow, and badly lighted; the windows do not look on thestreet, but on a portico inside the house, as well as a marble courtwhich it surrounds. In the midst of this court is a cistern, simplyornamented. It is evident from this kind of habitation that the ancientslived almost entirely in the open air, and that it was there theyreceived their friends. Nothing gives us a more sweet and voluptuousidea of existence than this climate, which intimately unites man withnature; we should suppose that the character of their conversation andtheir society, ought, with such habits, to be different from those of acountry where the rigour of the cold forces the inhabitants to shutthemselves up in their houses. We understand better the Dialogues ofPlato in contemplating those porches under which the ancients walkedduring one half of the day. They were incessantly animated by thespectacle of a beautiful sky: social order, according to theirconceptions, was not the dry combination of calculation and force, but ahappy assemblage of institutions, which stimulated the faculties,unfolded the soul, and directed man to the perfection of himself and hisequals.
Antiquity inspires an insatiable curiosity. Those men of erudition whoare occupied only in forming a collection of names which they callhistory, are certainly divested of all imagination. But to penetrate theremotest periods of the past, to interrogate the human heart through theintervening gloom of ages, to seize a fact by the help of a word, and bythe aid of that fact to discover the character and manners of a nation;in effect, to go back to the remotest time, to figure to ourselves howthe earth in its first youth appeared to the eyes of man, and in whatmanner the human race then supported the gift of existence whichcivilization has now rendered so complicated, is a continual effort ofthe imagination, which divines and discovers the finest secrets thatreflection and study can reveal to us. This occupation of the mindOswald found most fascinating, and often repeated to Corinne that if hehad not been taken up with the noblest interests in his own country, hecould only have found life supportable in those parts where themonuments of history supply the place of present existence. We must atleast regret glory when it is no longer possible to obtain it. It isforgetfulness alone that debases the soul; but it may find an asylum inthe past, when barren circumstances deprive actions of their aim.
On leaving Pompei and returning to Portici, Corinne and Lord Nelvillewere surrounded by the inhabitants, who cried to them loudly to come andsee _the mountain_; so they call _Vesuvius_. Is it necessary to name it?It is the glory of the Neapolitans and the object of their patrioticfeelings; their country is distinguished by this phenomenon. Oswald hadCorinne carried in a kind of palanquin as far as the hermitage of StSalvador, which is half way up the mountain, and where travellers reposebefore they undertake to climb the summit. He rode by her side to watchthose who carried her, and the more his heart was filled with thegenerous thoughts that nature and history inspire, the more he adoredCorinne.
At the foot of Vesuvius the country is the most fertile and bestcultivated that can be found in the kingdom of Naples, that is to say,in the country of Europe most favoured of heaven. The celebrated vine,whose wine is called _Lacryma Christi_, grows in this spot, and by theside of lands which have been laid waste by the lava. One would say thatnature has made a last effort in this spot, so near the Volcano, and hasdecked herself in her richest attire before her death. In proportion aswe ascend the mountain, we discover on turning round, Naples, and thebeautiful country that surrounds it. The rays of the sun make the seasparkle like precious stones; but all the splendour of the creation isextinguished by degrees as we approach the land of ashes and smoke whichannounces the vicini
ty of the Volcano. The ferruginous lava of precedingyears has traced in the earth deep and sable furrows, and all aroundthem is barren. At a certain height not a bird is seen to fly, atanother, plants become very scarce, then even the insects find nothingto subsist on in the arid soil. At length every living thing disappears;you enter the empire of death, and the pulverised ashes alone rollbeneath your uncertain feet.
Ne griggi ne armenti Guida bifolco, mai guida pastore
_Neither flocks nor herds does the husbandman or the shepherd ever guideto this spot._
Here dwells a hermit on the confines of life and death. A tree, thelast farewell of vegetation, grows before his door: and it is beneaththe shadow of its pale foliage that travellers are accustomed to waitthe approach of night, to continue their route; for during the day, thefires of Vesuvius are only perceived like a cloud of smoke, and thelava, so bright and burning in the night, appears black before the beamsof the sun. This metamorphosis itself is a fine spectacle, which renewsevery evening that astonishment which the continuity of the same aspectmight weaken. The impression of this spot and its profound solitude,gave Lord Nelville more resolution to reveal the secrets of his soul;and desiring to excite the confidence of Corinne, he said to her withthe most lively emotion:--"You wish to read the inmost soul of yourunhappy friend; well, I will tell you all: I feel my wounds are about tobleed afresh; but ought we, in this desolate scene of nature, to dreadso much those sufferings which Time brings in its course?"
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