the sea, and the Neapolitans show their Ve- base of Antoninus' pillar. Oswald's attention suvius, now transported the postillions, who was caught by these objects, and the name of exclaimed, "Look! that is the cupola of St. Rome forgotten. He felt that deep isolation Peter's." "One might take it for the dome which presses on the heart, when we enter a of the Invalides!" cried d'Erfeuil. This foreign scene, and look on a multitude to comparison, rather national than just, de-whom our existence is unknown, and who stroyed the sensation which Oswald might have not one interest in common with us. have received, in first beholding that magnifi- These reflections, so saddening to all men, cent wonder of man's creation.

are doubly so to the English, who are accusThey entered Rome, neither on a fair day, tomed to live among themselves, and find it nor a lovely night, but on a dark and misty difficult to blend with the manners of other evening, which dimmed and confused every lands. In Rome, that vast caravansary, all object before them. They crossed the Tiber is foreign, even the Romans, who seem to without observing it; passed through the Porto live there, not like its possessors, but like del Popolo, which led them at once to the pilgrims who repose among its ruins. (2) Corso, the largest street of modern Rome, Oppressed by laboring thoughts, Oswald shut but that which possesses the least originality himself in his room, instead of exploring the of feature, as being the one which most re-city; little dreaming that the country he had sembles those of other European towns. entered beneath such a sense of dejection The streets were crowded; puppet-shows would soon become the mine of so many new and mountebanks formed groups round the ideas and enjoyments.

The common populace of Rome discuss their statues, pictures, monuments, and antiquities, with much taste; and literary merit, carried to a certain height, becomes with them a national interest.

OSWALD awoke in Rome. The dazzling sun of Italy met his first gaze, and his soul was penetrated with sensations of love and gratitude for that heaven, which seemed to On going forth into the public resorts, Ossmile on him in these glorious beams. He wald found that the streets through which Coheard the bells of numerous churches ringing, rinne was to pass had been adorned for her discharges of cannon from various distances, reception. The multitude, who generally as if announcing some high solemnity. He throng but the path of fortune or of power, were inquired the cause, and was informed that the almost in a tumult of eagerness to look on one most celebrated female in Italy was about that whose soul was her only distinction. In the morning to be crowned at the capitol-Corin- present state of the Italians, the glory of the ne, the poet and improvisatrice, one of the fine arts is all their fate allows them; and loveliest women of Rome. He asked some they appreciate genius of that order with a questions respecting this ceremony, hallowed | vivacity which might raise up a host of grea by the names of Petrarch and of Tasso: every men, if applause could suffice to produce them reply he received warmly excited his curi-if a life of struggle, great interests, and ar osity. independent station were not the food required to nourish thought.

There can be nothing more hostile to the habits and opinions of an Englishman than any great publicity given to the career of a woman. But the enthusiasm with which all imaginative talents inspire the Italians, infects, at least for the time, even strangers, who forget prejudice itself among people so lively in the expression of their sentiments.

Oswald walked the streets of Rome, await ing the arrival of Corinne: he heard he named every instant; every one related som new trait, proving that she united all the tal ents most captivating to the imagination. On asserted that her voice was the most touching in Italy; another, that, in tragic acting, sh

1

had no peer; a third, that she danced like a nymph, and drew with equal grace and invention: all said that no one had ever written or extemporised verses so sweet; and that, in daily conversation, she displayed alternately an ease and an eloquence which fascinated all who heard her. They disputed as to which part of Italy had given her birth; some earnestly contending that she must be a Roman, or she could not speak the language with such purity. Her family name was unknown. Her first work, which had appeared five years since, bore but that of Corinne. No one could tell where she had lived, nor what she had been, before that period; and she was now nearly six and twenty. Such mystery and publicity, united in the fate of a female of whom every one spoke, yet whose real name no one knew, appeared to Nelvil as among the wonders of the land he came to see. He would have judged such a woman very severely in England; but he applied not her social etiquettes to Italy; and the crowning of Corinne awoke in his breast the same sensation which be would have felt on reading an adventure of Ariosto's.

esque, without sufficiently varying from modern usage to appear tainted by affectation. Her attitude was noble and modest: it might, indeed, be perceived that she was content to be admired; yet a timid air blended with her joy, and seemed to ask pardon for her triumph. The expression of her features, her eyes, her smile, created a solicitude in her favor, and made Lord Nelvil her friend even before any more ardent sentiment subdued him. Her arms were transcendently beautiful; her figure tall, and, as we frequently see among the Grecian statues, rather robust-energetically characteristic of youth and happiness. There was something inspired in her air; yet the very manner in which she bowed her thanks for the applause she received, betrayed a natural disposition sweetly contrasting with the pomp of her extraordinary situation. She gave you at the same instant the idea of a priestess of Apollo advancing towards his temple, and of a woman born to fulfil the usual duties of life with perfect simplicity; in truth, her every gesture not more elicited wondering conjecture, than it conciliated sympathy and affection. The nearer she approached the A burst of exquisite melody preceded the Capitol, so fruitful in classic associations, the approach of the triumphal procession. How more these tributes of admiration increased. thrilling is each event that is heralded by mu- That resplendent atmosphere, these Romans sic? A great number of Roman nobles, and so full of enthusiasm, and, above all, Corinne not a few foreigners, came first. "Behold herself, produced an electric effect on Oswald. her retinue of admirers?" said one. 66 "Yes," He had often, in his own land, seen statesmen replied another;" she receives a whole world's drawn in triumph by the people; but this was homage, but accords her preference to none. the first time that he had ever witnessed the tenShe is rich, independent; it is even believed, der of such honors to a woman, illustrious only from her noble air, that she is a lady of high in mind. Her car of victory cost no fellow birth, who wishes to remain unknown." A mortal's tear; nor terror nor regret could divinity veiled in clouds," concluded a third. check his admiration for those fairest gifts of Oswald looked on the man who spoke thus: nature-creative fancy, sensibility, and reason. everything betokened him a person of the hum- These new ideas so intensely occupied him, blest class; but the natives of the South con- that he noticed none of the long-famed spots verse as naturally in poetic phrases as if they over which Corinne proceeded. At the foot imbibed them with the air, or were inspired by of the steps leading to the Capitol the car the sun. stopped, and all her friends rushed to offer their hands: she took that of Prince Castel Forte, the nobleman most esteemed in Rome for his talents and character. Every one approved her choice. She ascended to the Capitol, whose imposing majesty seemed graciously to welcome the light footsteps of woman. The instruments sounded with fresh vigor, the cannon shook the air, and the allconquering Sybil entered the palace prepared for her reception.

66

At last four spotless steeds appeared in the midst of the crowd, drawing an antiquelyshaped car, beside which walked a band of maidens in snowy vestments. Wherever Corinne passed, perfumes were thrown upon the air; the windows, decked with flowers and scarlet hangings, were peopled by gazers, who shouted, "Long live Corinne! Glory to beauty and to genius!"

This emotion was general; but, to partake it, one must lay aside English reserve and French raillery; Nelvil could not yield to the spirit of the scene, till he beheld Corinne.

Attired like Domenichino's Sibyl, an Indian shawl was twined among her lustrous black curls, a blue drapery fell over her robe of virgin white, and her whole costume was pictur

In the centre of the hall stood the senator who was to crown Corinne, surrounded by his brothers in office; on one side, all the cardinals and most distinguished ladies of Rome; on the other, the members of the Academy; while the opposite extremity was filled by some portion of the multitude who had followed Co

14

rinne. The chair destined for her was placed
Ere
step lower than that of the senator.
iting herself in presence of that august as-
sembly, she complied with the custom of
bending one knee to the earth: the gentle dig-
nity of this action filled Oswald's eyes with
tears, to his own surprise; but, in the midst
of all this success, it seemed as if the looks of
Corinne implored the protection of a friend,
with which no woman, however superior, can
dispense; and he thought how delicious it
were to be the stay of her, whose sensitive-
ness alone could render such a prop necessary.
As soon as Corinne was seated, the Roman
poets recited the odes and sonnets composed
for this occasion; all praised her to the high-
est; but in styles that described her no more
than they would have done any other woman
of genius. The same mythological images
and illusions might have been addressed to
such beings from the days of Sappho to our

own.

Already Nelvil was displeased with this kind of incense for her; he fancied that he could that moment have drawn a truer, a more finished portrait; such, indeed, as could have belonged to no one but Corinne.

CHAPTER II.

PRINCE CASTEL FORTE now took up the discourse, in a manner which riveted the attention of his audience. He was a man of fifty, with a measured address and commanding carriage. The assurance which Nelvil had received, that he was but the friend of Corinne, enabled him to listen with unqualified delight to what, without such safeguard, he could not, even thus early, have heard, save with a confused sense of jealousy.

The prince read some pages of unpretending prose, singularly fitted, notwithstanding, to display the spirit of Corinne. He pointed out the particular merit of her works as partly derived from her profound study of foreign literature, teaching her to unite the graphic description of the South, with that observant knowledge of the human heart which appears the inheritance of those whose countries offer fewer objects of external beauty. He lauded her graceful gaiety, that, free from ironical satire, seemed to spring but from the freshness of her fancy. He strove to speak of her tenderness; but it was easily to be seen that personal regret mingled with this theme. He

66

en

touched on the difficulty for a woman
dowed to meet, in real life, with any object
resembling the ideal image clad in the hues
of her own heart; then contented himself by
depicting the impassioned feelings which kin-
dled her poetry, her art of seizing on the
most touching charms of nature, the deepest
emotions of the soul. He dwelt on the origi-
nality of her expressions, which, arising from
her own peculiar turn of thought, constituted
an involuntary spell, untarnished by the
slightest cloud of mannerism. He spoke of
her eloquence as a resistless power, which
truest susceptibility.
must transport most those who possessed the
Corinne," said he, "is doubtless more cele-
best sense and the
brated than any other of our country women;
and yet it is only her friends who can describe
her. The qualities of her soul, when true,
always require to be divined; fame, as well
as obscurity, might prevent their detection, if
some congenial sympathy came not to our aid."
He dilated on her talent as an improvisatrice,
as distinct from everything which had been
known by that name in Italy. "It is not only
attributable," he continued, "to the fertility
of her mind, but to her deep enthusiasm for all
generous sentiments: she cannot pronounce a
word that recalls them, but that inexhaustible
source of thought overflows at her lips in
strains ever pure and harmonious; her poetry
is intellectual music, such as alone can em-
body the fleeting and delicate reveries of the
heart." He extolled the conversation of Co-
rinne, as one who had tasted all its delights.
"In it," he said, "is united all that is natural,
fanciful, just, sublime, powerful, and sweet, to
vary the mental banquet every instant; it is
what Petrarch termed

'Il parlar che nell' anima si sente,'

a language that is felt to the heart's core, and
must possess much of the vaunted Oriental
magic which has been given by the ancients
to Cleopatra. The scenes I have visited with
her, the music we have heard together, the
pictures she has shown me, the books she has
taught me to enjoy, compose my universe.
In all these is some spark of her life; and
were 1 forced to dwell afar from her, I would,
at least, surround myself with them, though
certain to seek in vain for her radiant traces
"Yes!" he cried, as his glance accidentally
amongst them, when once she had departed."
fell upon Oswald; "look on Corinne, if you
may pass your days with her-if that twofold
existence can be long assured to you; but
behold her not, if you must be condemned to
leave her. Vainly would you seek, however
long you might survive, the creative spirit
which multiplied, in partaking, all your

thoughts and feelings: you would never find it more!"

CHAPTER III.

her voice trembled as she asked what theme she was to attempt. "The glory and welfare of Italy!" cried all near her."Ah, yes!" she exclaimed, already sustained by her own talents; "the glory and welfare of Italy!" Then, animated by her love of country, she breathed forth thoughts to which prose or another language can do but imperfect justice.

Oswald trembled at these words; his eyes CORINNE rose, as the Prince finished his were fixed on Corinne, who listened with an oration. She thanked him by an inclination agitation which had not its source in self-love, of the head, which diffidently betrayed her but in gentler and more tender emotions. sense of having been praised in a strain after Castel Forte resumed the address, which a her own heart. It was the custom for a poet momentary weakness had suspended. He crowned at the Capitol to extemporize or respoke of Corinne as a painter and a musician; cite in verse, ere receiving the destined bays. of her declamation and her dancing. "In all Corinne sent for her chosen instrument, the these talents," he said, "she is still herself-lyre, more antique in form and simpler in confined to no one mode, nor rule-but ex- sound than the harp. While tuning it, she was pressing, in various languages, the enchant-oppressed by such a sensation of timidity, that ments of Art and Imagination. I cannot flatter myself on having faithfully represented one, of whom it is impossible to form an idea until she herself is known; but her presence is left to Rome, as among the chief blessings of her brilliant sky. Corinne is the link that binds her friends to each other. She is the motive, the interest of our lives; we rely on her worth, and are proud of her genius, and say to the sons of other lands, 'Look on the personation of our own fair Italy. She is what we might be, if freed from the ignorance, envy, discord, and sloth, to which fate has reduced us.' We love to contemplate her, as a rare production of our climate, and our fine arts; a relic of the past, a prophetess of the future; and when strangers, pitiless of the faults born of our misfortunes, insult the country whence have arisen the luminaries that have enlightened all Europe, still we but say to them, 'Look" upon Corinne.' Yes; we will follow in her track, and be such men as she is a woman; if, indeed, men can, like women, make worlds in their own hearts; if our moral tempera-ments, necessarily dependent on social obligations and exterior circumstances, could, like hers, owe all their light to the glorious torch of poesy!"

The instant the Prince ceased to speak, was followed by an unanimous outbreak of admiration, even from the dignitaries of the State, although the discourse had ended by an indirect censure on the present situation of Italy; so true it is, that there men practise a degree, of liberality which, though it extends not to any improvement of their institutions, readily pardons superior minds for a mild dissent from existing prejudices. Castel Forte was a man of high repute in Rome. He spoke with a sagacity remarkable among a people usually wiser in actions than in words. He had not, in the affairs of life, that ability which often distinguishes an Italian; but he shrunk not from the fatigue of thinking, as his happy countrymen are wont to do; trusting to arrive at all truths by intuition, even as their soil bears fruit, unaided, save by the favor of heaven.

CHANT OF CORINNE AT THE CAPITOL.*

CRADLE of Letters! Mistress of the World!
Soil of the Sun! Italia! I salute thee!
How oft the human race have worn thy yoke,
The vassals of thine arms, thine arts, thy sky!

Olympus for Ausonia once was left,
And by a god. Of such a land are born
Dreams of the golden time, for there man looks
Too happy to suppose him criminal.

By genius Rome subdued the world, then reign'd
A queen by liberty. The Roman mind
Set its own stamp upon the universe;
And, when barbarian hordes whelm'd Italy,
Then darkness was entire upon the earth.

Italia re-appear'd, and with her rose
Treasures divine, brought by the wandering Greeks;
To her were then reveal'd the laws of Heaven.
Her daring children made discovery

Of a new hemisphere: Queen still she held
Thought's sceptre; but that laurel'd sceptre made
Ungrateful subjects.