"You are right, my lord," said Corinne, "to wish that Christian subjects were divested of painful images; they do not require them. But confess, however, that genius, and the genius of the soul, can triumph over every thing. Behold that picture of the Communion of St Jerome, by Domenichino. The body of the dying saint is livid and gaunt: death has seized upon it; but in that look is eternal life, and every earthly misery seems produced here only to disappear before the pure lustre of a religious sentiment. However, dear Oswald," continued Corinne, "though I am not of your opinion in everything, I will shew you that even in differing from one another there is some analogy of sentiment between us. I have endeavoured to accomplish what you desire, in the gallery of pictures which has been furnished me by those artists who were of my acquaintance, among which are some designs of my own sketching. You will there see the defects and the advantages of those subjects which you prefer. This gallery is at my country seat at Tivoli. The weather is fine enough to visit it.—Shall we go thither to-morrow?" As she awaited Oswald's consent, he said to her: "My love, have you any doubt of my answer? Have I in this world, any other pleasure, any other thought, besides you? And is not my life, too free perhaps from any occupation, as from every interest, solely taken up with the happiness of seeing and hearing you?"
FOOTNOTE:
[26] In a journal entitled Europe, are to be found observations full of information on subjects relating to painting: from this journal I have extracted many of these reflections, which have just been read; Mr Frederic Schlegel is the author of it, and this writer, as well as the German thinkers in general, is an inexhaustible mine.
Chapter iv.
They set out therefore the next day for Tivoli. Oswald himself drove the four horses that drew them; he took pleasure in their swiftness, which seemed to increase the vivacity of thought and of existence; and such an impression is sweet by the side of the object we love. He performed the office of whip with the most extreme attention, for fear the slightest accident should happen to Corinne. He felt the duties of a protector which is the softest tie that binds man to woman. Corinne was not, like most women, easily terrified by the possible dangers of a journey; but it was so sweet to remark the solicitude of Oswald, that she almost wished to be frightened, to enjoy the pleasure of, hearing him cheer and comfort her.
That which gave Lord Nelville, as will be seen in the sequel, so great an ascendancy over the heart of his mistress, was the unexpected contrasts which gave a peculiar charm to his manners. Everybody admired his intellect and the gracefulness of his figure; but he must have been particularly interesting to one, who uniting in herself by a singular accord, constancy and mobility, took delight in impressions, at once various and faithful. Never did he think of anything but Corinne; and this very occupation of his mind incessantly assumed different characters: at one time he was governed by reserve, at another he was open and communicative: one moment he was perfectly calm, and another a prey to the most gloomy and bitter sensations, which proved the depth of his sentiments, but mingled anxiety with confidence and incessantly gave birth to new emotions. Oswald, internally agitated, endeavoured to assume an external appearance of composure, and Corinne, occupied in conjecturing his thoughts, found in this mystery a continual interest. One would have said, that the very defects of Oswald were only made to set off his agreeable qualities. No man, however distinguished, in whose character there was no contradiction, who was subject to no internal conflict, could have captivated the imagination of Corinne. She felt a sort of awe of Oswald, which subjected her to him. He reigned over her soul by a good and by an evil power; by his qualities, and by the disquietude which these qualities, badly combined, could inspire: in short there was no security in the happiness that Lord Nelville conferred, and perhaps the violence of Corinne's passion was owing to this; perhaps she could only love, to such a degree, him whom she feared to 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 profound and impassioned feelings, was nevertheless often ready to renounce the object of his tenderness, because a long habit of mental pain made him believe, that only remorse and suffering could be found in the too exquisite affections of the heart.
Lord Nelville and Corinne, in their journey to Tivoli, passed before the ruins of Adrian's palace, and the immense garden which surrounded it. That prince had collected together in this garden, the most rare productions, the most admirable masterpieces of those countries which were conquered by the Romans. To this very day some scattered stones are seen there, which are called Egypt, India, and Asia. Farther on was the retreat, where Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, ended her days. She did not support in adversity, the greatness of her destiny; she was incapable of dying for glory like a man; or like a woman, dying rather than betray her friend.
At length they discovered Tivoli, which was the abode of so many celebrated men, of Brutus, of Augustus, of Mecenas, and of Catullus; but above all, the abode of Horace, for it is his verse which has rendered this retreat illustrious. The house of Corinne was built over the noisy cascade 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, to place their temples on the summits of high places. They majestically presided over the surrounding country, as religious ideas over all other thoughts. They inspired more enthusiasm for nature, by announcing the Deity from which she emanates, and the eternal gratitude of successive generations towards her. The landscape, from whatever point of view considered, formed a picture with the temple, which was placed there as the centre and the ornament of the whole. Ruins spread a singular charm over the campagna of Italy. They do not recall, like modern edifices, the labour and the presence of man; they are confounded with nature and the trees; they seem in harmony with the solitary torrent; they present the image of time, which has made them what they are. The most beautiful countries in the world, when they bring to mind no recollection, when they bear the stamp of no remarkable event, are stripped of interest when compared with historical countries. What place in Italy could be more suitable for the habitation of Corinne than the retreat consecrated to the sybil, to the memory of a woman, animated by divine inspiration. The house of Corinne was delightful; it was ornamented with the elegance of modern taste, and yet discovered the charm of an imagination enamoured of the beauties of antiquity; happiness, in the most elevated sense of the word, seemed to reign there; a felicity which consisted in all that ennobles the soul, excites thought, and vivifies talent.
In walking with Corinne, Oswald perceived that the wind possessed an harmonious sound, and filled the air with chords, which seemed to proceed 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 produced this harmony from the æolian harps, which she had placed in grottoes to fill the air with sound, as well as perfumes. In this delicious abode, Oswald was inspired with the purest sentiment.—"Hear me," said he to Corinne; "till this moment I felt the happiness I derived from your society blended with remorse; but now I say to myself, that you are sent by my father to terminate my sufferings upon this earth. It is he that I had offended; but it is, nevertheless, he who has obtained by his prayers my pardon in heaven. Corinne!" cried he, throwing himself upon his knees, "I am pardoned; I feel it in this sweet calm of innocence which pervades my soul. Thou canst now, without apprehension, unite thyself to me, nor fear that fate opposes our union."—"Well," said Corinne, "let us continue to enjoy this peace of the heart which is granted us. Let us not meddle with destiny: she inspires so much dread when we wish to interfere with her, when we try to obtain from her more than she will give! Since we are now happy, let us not desire a change!"