Corinne; or, Italy. Madame de Staël
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mine own cause, but for the sake of human dignity, and the glory of the world!" Corinne, now perceiving how far she had been borne away, blushed, and, turning to Lord Nevil, said: "You see I cannot touch on any of the themes that affect me, without that kind of thrill which is the source of ideal beauty in the arts, of religion in the recluse, generosity in heroes, and disinterestedness among men. Pardon me, my Lord; such a woman little resembles those of your country."—"Who can resemble you?" replied Oswald; "and who shall make laws for a being so peculiar?"
The Count d'Erfeuil was actually spell-bound; without understanding all she said, her gestures, voice, and manner, charmed him. It was the first time that any, save French graces, had moved him thus. But, to say truth, the popularity of Corinne aided and sanctioned his judgment; so that he might rave of her without relinquishing his convenient habit of being guided by the opinion of others. As they left the house together, he said to his friend: "Confess, now, dear Oswald, that I have some merit in not paying my court to so delightful a person."—"But," replied Nevil, "they say that she is difficult to please."—"They say, but I don't believe it. A single woman, who leads the life of an artist, can't be difficult to please." Nevil's feelings were wounded by this remark; but whether d'Erfeuil saw it not, or was resolved to follow the bent of his own inclinations, he continued, "Not but, if I could believe in any woman's virtue, I should trust hers above all. She has certainly a thousand times more ardor than were required in your country, or even in mine, to create doubts of a lady's cruelty; yet she is a creature of such superior tact and information, that the ordinary rules for judging her sex cannot be applied to her. Would you believe it? I find her manners imposing; they overawe me in spite of her careless affability. I wished yesterday, merely out of gratitude for her interest in you, to hazard a few words on my own account; such as make what way they can; if they are listened to, so much the better; if not, why that may be luckier still; but Corinne looked on me coldly, and I was altogether disconcerted. Is it not absurd to feel out of countenance before an Italian, a poet, an—everything that ought to put a man at his ease?"—"Her name is unknown," replied Nevil, "but her behavior assures us that she is highly born."—"Nay, 'tis only the fashion of romance to conceal one's nobility;—in real life, people tell everything that can do themselves credit, and even a little more than the truth."—"Yes, in some societies, where they think but of the effect produced on others; but here, where life is more domestic, here there may be secrets, which only he who marries Corinne should seek to fathom."—"Marry Corinne!" replied d'Erfeuil, laughing vehemently, "such a notion never entered my head. My dear Nevil, if you will commit extravagances, let them be such as are not irreparable. In marriage, one should consult nothing but convenience and decorum. You think me frivolous; nevertheless, I'll bet you that my conduct shall be more rational than your own."—"I don't doubt it," returned Nevil, without another word; for how could he tell the Count that there is often much selfishness in frivolity? or that vanity never leads a man towards the error of sacrificing himself for another? Triflers are very capable of cleverly directing their own affairs; for, in all that may be called the science of policy, in private as in public life, men oftener succeed by the absence of certain qualities than by any which they possess.
A deficiency of enthusiasm, opinions, and sensibility, is a negative treasure, on which, with but slight abilities, rank and fortune may easily be acquired or maintained. The jests of d'Erfeuil had pained Lord Nevil much; he condemned them, but still they haunted him most importunately.
BOOK IV
ROME.
CHAPTER I.
The next fortnight Oswald devoted exclusively to the society of Corinne. He never left his house but to visit her. He saw, he sought no more; and, without speaking of his love, he made her sensible of it every hour in the day. She was accustomed to the lively and flattering tributes of the Italians; but the lordly deportment and apparent coldness of Oswald, through which his tenderness of heart so often broke, in spite of himself, exercised a far greater power o'er her imagination. He never related a generous deed or a tale of misfortune, but his eyes filled, though he always strove to hide this weakness. It was long since she had felt such respect as that which he awakened. No genius, however distinguished, could have astonished her; but elevation of character acted deeply on her mind. Oswald added to this an elegance which pervaded the most trivial actions of his life, and contrasted strongly with the negligent familiarity of the Roman nobles. Although some of his tastes were uncongenial to her own, their mutual understanding was wonderful. They read each other's hearts in the lightest alteration of countenance. Habituated to the most tempestuous demonstrations of passion, this proud retiring attachment, continually proved, though never confessed, shed a new interest over her life. She felt as if surrounded by a purer, sweeter atmosphere; and every moment brought with it a sense of happiness in which she revelled, without seeking to define.
One morning Prince Castel Forte came to her, evidently dispirited. She asked the cause. "This Scot," sighed he, "is weaning your affection from us, and who knows but he may even carry you far hence?" Corinne was mute for some moments, and then replied, "I protest to you he has never said he loves me."—"You know it, nevertheless; he speaks to you by his life, and his very silence is but an artful plan to attract your notice. What, indeed, can any one say to you that you have not already heard? What kind of praise have you not been offered? But there is something veiled and reined in about the character of Lord Nevil, which will never permit you to judge it wholly as you do ours. You are the most easily known person in the world; but it is just because you voluntarily show yourself as you are, that reserve and mystery both please and govern you. The unknown, be it what it may, has a greater ascendency over you, than all the professions which could be tendered by man." Corinne smiled. "You think then, dear Prince," she said, "that my heart is ungrateful, and my fancy capricious? I believe, however, that Lord Nevil evinces qualities too remarkable for me to flatter myself as their discoverer."—"I allow," rejoined Castel Forte, "that he is high-minded, intelligent, even sensitive, and melancholy above all; but I am much deceived if his pursuits have the least affinity with yours. You cannot perceive this, so thoroughly is he influenced by your presence; but your empire would not last were he absent from you. Obstacles would fatigue a mind warped by the griefs he has undergone, by discouragements which must have impaired the energy of his resolutions; besides, you know what slaves are the generality of English to the manners and habits of their country." These words recalled to the mind of Corinne the painful events of her early years. She sighed, and spoke not; but in the evening she again beheld her lover, and all that remained as the effect of the Prince's counsel was a desire so to enamour Nevil of the varied beauties with which Italy is blest, that he would make it his home for life. With this design she wrote him the following letter. The free life led at Rome excused her, and, much as she might be reproached with a too rash degree of candor, she well knew how to preserve a modest dignity, even in her most independent proceedings.
"TO LORD NEVIL.
"Dec. 15, 1794.
"I know not, my Lord, if you will think me too self-confident, or if you can do justice to my motives. I heard you say that you had not yet explored Rome, that you knew nothing either of the chefs-d'œuvres of our fine arts, or the antique ruins that teach us history by imagination and sentiment. I conceive the idea of daring to propose myself as your guide through the mazes of long-gone years. Doubtless Rome can boast of many men whose profound erudition might be far more useful; but if I succeed in endearing to you an abode towards which I have always felt so imperiously drawn, your own studies will complete what my imperfect sketches may begin.
"Many foreigners come hither, as they go to London or Paris, seeking but the dissipation of a great city; and if it were not treason to confess themselves weary of Rome, I believe the greatest part of them would do so. But it is equally true, that here may be found a charm of which none could ever sate. Will you pardon me, my Lord, for wishing that this charm may be known to you? It is true that you must forget all the political relations of the world; but when they are not linked with our sacred duties, they do but freeze the heart. It is necessary also to renounce what is elsewhere called the pleasures of society; but do they not too