It was agreed that Neville and Corinne should visit Venice. They had
relapsed into silence on their future prospects, but spoke of their
affection more confidingly than ever: both avoided all topics that
could disturb their present mutual peace. A day passed with _him_ was
to _her_ such enjoyment! he seemed so to revel in her conversation;
he followed her every impulse; studied her slightest wish, with so
sustained an interest, that it appeared impossible he could bestow so
much felicity without himself being happy. Corinne drew assurances of
safety from the bliss she tasted. After some months of such habits we
believe them inseparable from our existence. Her agitation was calmed
again, and her natural heedlessness of the future returned. Yet, on
the eve of quitting Rome, she became extremely melancholy: this time
she both hoped and feared that it was forever. The night before her
departure, unable to sleep, she heard a troop of Romans singing in
the moonlight. She could not resist her desire to follow them, and
once more wander through that beloved scene. She dressed; and bidding
her servants keep the carriage within sight of her, put on a veil, to
avoid recognition, and at some distance, pursued the musicians. They
paused on the bridge of St. Angelo, in front of Adrian's tomb: in such
a spot music seems to express the vanities and splendors of the world.
One might fancy one beheld in the air the imperial shade wondering to
find no other trace left of his power on earth except a tomb. The band
continued their walk, singing as they went, to the silent night, when
the happy ought to sleep: their pure and gentle melodies seem designed
to solace wakeful suffering. Drawn onward by this resistless spell,
Corinne, insensible to fatigue, seemed winging her way along. They also
sang before Antoninus's pillar, and then at Trajan's column: they
saluted the obelisk of St. John Lateran. The ideal language of music
worthily mates the ideal expression of works like these: enthusiasm
reigns alone, while vulgar interests slumber. At last the singers
departed, and left Corinne near the Coliseum: she wished to enter its
inclosure and bid adieu to ancient Rome.
Those who have seen this place but by day cannot judge of the
impression it may make. The sun of Italy should shine on festivals; but
the moon is the light for ruins. Sometimes, through the openings of the
amphitheatre, which seems towering to the clouds, a portion of heaven's
vault appears like a dark blue curtain. The plants that cling to the
broken walls all wear the hues of night. The soul at once shudders and
melts on finding itself alone with nature. One side of this edifice is
much more fallen than the other; the two contemporaries make an unequal
struggle against time. He fells the weakest; the other still resists,
but soon must yield.
"Ye solemn scenes!" cried Corinne, "where, at this hour, no being
breathes beside me--where but the echoes of my own voice answer me--how
are the storms of passion calmed by nature, who thus peacefully
permits so many generations to glide by! Has not the universe some
better end than man? or are its marvels scattered here, merely to be
reflected in his mind? Oswald! why do I love with such idolatry? why
live but for the feelings of a day compared to the infinite hopes that
unite us with divinity? My God! if it be true, as I believe, that we
admire thee the more capable we are of reflection, make my own mind
my refuge against my heart! The noble being whose gentle looks I can
never forget is but a perishable mortal like myself. Among the stars
there is eternal love, alone sufficing to a boundless heart." Corinne
remained long in these ideas, and, at last, turned slowly towards her
own abode; but, ere she re-entered it, she wished to await the dawn at
St. Peter's, and from its dome take her last leave of all beneath. Her
imagination represented this edifice as it must be, when, in its turn,
a wreck--the theme of wonder for yet unborn ages. The columns, now
erect, half bedded in earth; the porch dilapidated, with the Egyptian
obelisk exulting over the decay of novelties, wrought for an earthly
immortality. From the summit of St. Peter's Corinne beheld day rise
over Rome, which, in its uncultivated Campagna, looks like the oasis of
a Libyan desert. Devastation is around it; but the multitude of spires
and cupolas, over which St. Peter's rises, give a strange beauty to
its aspect. This city may boast one peculiar charm: we love it as an
animated being: its very ruins are as friends, from whom we cannot part
without farewell.
Corinne addressed the Pantheon, St. Angelo's, and all the sites that
once renewed the pleasures of her fancy. "Adieu!" she said, "land of
remembrances! scenes where life depends not on events, nor on society;
where enthusiasm refreshes itself through the eyes, and links the soul
to each external object. I leave you, to follow Oswald, not knowing to
what fate he may consign me. I prefer him to the independence which
here afforded me such happy days. I may return to more; but for a
broken heart and blighted mind, ye arts and monuments so oft invoked,
while I was exiled beneath his stormy sky, ye could do nothing to
console!"
She wept; yet thought not, for an instant, of letting Oswald depart
without her. Resolutions springing from the heart we often justly
blame, yet hesitate not to adopt. When passion masters a superior mind,
it separates our judgment from our conduct, and need not cloud the one
in order to overrule the other.
Corinne's black curls and veil floating on the breeze gave her
so picturesque an air, that, as she left the church, the common
people recognised and followed her to her carriage with the warmest
testimonials of respect. She sighed again, at parting from a race so
ardent and so graceful in their expressions of esteem. Nor was this
all. She had to endure the regrets of her friends They devised fêtes
in order to delay her departure: their poetical tributes strove in
a thousand ways to convince her that she ought to stay; and finally
they accompanied her on horseback for twenty miles. She was extremely
affected. Oswald cast down his eyes in confusion, reproaching himself
for tearing her from so much delight, though he knew that an offer of
remaining there would be more barbarous still. He appeared selfish
in removing Corinne from Rome; yet he was not so; for the fear of
afflicting her, by setting forth alone, had more weight with him than
even the hope of retaining her presence. He knew not what he was about
to do--saw nothing beyond Venice. He had written to inquire how soon
his regiment would be actively employed in the war, and awaited a
reply. Sometimes he thought of taking Corinne with him to England; yet
instantly remembered that he should forever ruin her reputation by so
doing, unless she were his wife; then he wished to soften the pangs
of separation by a private marriage; but a moment afterwards gave up
that plan also. "We can keep no secrets from the dead," he cried: "and
what should I gain by making a mystery of a union prohibited by nothing
but my worship of a tomb?" His mind, so weak in all that concerned
his affections, was sadly agitated by contending sentiments. Corinne
resigned herself to him, like a victim, exulting, amid her sorrows, in
the sacrifices she made; while Oswald, responsible for the welfare of
another, bound himself to her daily by new ties, without the power of
yielding to them; and unhappy in his love as in his conscience, felt
the presence of both but in their combats with each other.
When the friends of Corinne took leave, they commended her earnestly to
his care; congratulated him on the love of so eminent a woman; their
every word sounding like mockery and upbraiding. She felt this, and
hastily concluded the trying scene; and when, after turning from time
to time to salute her, they were at last lost to her sight, she only
said to her lover: "Oswald! I have now no one but you in the world!"
How did he long to swear he would be hers! But frequent disappointments
teach us to mistrust our own inclinations, and shrink even from the
vows our hearts may prompt. Corinne read his thoughts, and delicately
strove to fix his attention on the country through which they
travelled.