W e want a centre of light and power, to pierce the
mists of surrounding prej udice.
mists of surrounding prej udice.
Madame de Stael - Corinna, or Italy
S ecluded
in his chamber, he ex hausted his conj ectures on the secrets
of Corinne. I t appeared evident that she had passed some
time in E ngland, and that her family name must be k nown
there: but what was her motive for concealment, and why
had she left his country? H e was convinced that no stain
could attach to her life; but he feared that a combination
of circumstances might have made her seem blamable in
the eyes of others. H e was armed against the disappio-
his trembling
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 105
bation of every country save E ngland. The memory of
his father was so entwined with that of his native land,
that each sentiment strengthened the other. O swald learned
from E dgarmond that he had visited N orthumberland for
the first time a year ago; and therefore promised to in-
troduce him at Corinne' s that evening. H e was the first
to arrive there, in order to warn her against the miscon-
ceptions of his friend, and beg her, by a cold reserve of
manner, to show him how much he was deceived.
" I f you permit me," she observed, " I would rather
treat him as I do every one else. I f he wishes to hear the
improvisatrice, he shall; I will show myself to him such
as I am; for I think he will as easily perceive my rightful
pride through this simple conduct, as if I behaved with an
affected constraint. " -- " Y ou are right, Corinne," said
O swald: " how wrong were he who would attempt to\
change you from your admirable self! " The rest of the
party now j oined them. N evil placed himself near his love,
with an added air of deference, rather to command that of
others than to satisfy himself; he had soon the j oy of
finding thi3 effort needless. S he captivated E dgarmond,
not only by her charms and conversation, but by inspiring
that esteem which sterling characters, however contrasted,
naturally feel for each other; and when he ventured on
ask ing her to ex temporise for him, he aspired to this honour
with the most revering earnestness. S he consented without
delay; for she k new how to give her favours a value beyond
that of difficult attainment. S he was anx ious to please the
countryman of N evil, -- a man whose report of her ought
to have some weight, -- but these thoughts occasioned her
so sudden, a tremor, that she k new not how to begin.
O swald, grieved that she should not shine her best before
an E nglishman, turned away his eyes, in obvious em-
barrassment; and Corinne, think ing of no one but himself,
lost all her presence of mind; nor ideas, nor even words,
were at her call; and, suddenly giving up the attempt, she
said to Mr. E dgarmond, " F orgive me, sir; fear robs me
of all power. ' Tis the first time, my friends k now, that
I was ever thus beside myself; but," she added, with a sigh,
" it may not be the last. "
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? 106 CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
Till now, O swald had seen her genius triumph over her
affections; but now feeling had entirely subdued her mind:
yet so identified was he with her glory, that he suffered
beneath this failure, instead of enj oying it. Certain, how-
ever, that she would ex cel on a future interview with his
friend, he gave himself up to the sweet pledge of his own
power which he had j ust received; and the image of his
beloved reigned more securely in his heart than ever.
BOOKVII.
I TA L I A N L I TE R A TUR E .
CH A PTE R I .
L ord N evil was very desirous that Mr. E dgarmond should
partak e the conversation of Corinne, which far surpassed
her improvised verses. O n the following day, the same
party assembled at her house; and, to elicit her remark s,
he turned the discourse on I talian literature, provok ing her
natural vivacity by affirming that E ngland could boast a
greater number of true poets than I taly. " I n the first
place," said Corinne, " foreigners usually k now none but
our first-rate poets: Dante, Petrarch, A riosto, Guarini, Tasso,
and Metastasio; but we have many others, such as Chiabrera,
Guidi, F ilicaj a, and Parini, without reck oning S annazer
Politian, who wrote in L atin. A ll their verses are har-
moniously coloured; all more or less k new how to in-
troduce the wonders of nature and art into their verbal'
pictures. Doubtless they want the melancholy grandeur
of your bards, and their k nowledge of the human heart;
but does not this k ind of superiority become the philosopher
better than the poet? The brilliant melody of our lan-
guage is rather adapted to describe ex ternal obj ects than
abstract meditation: it is more competent to depict fury
than sadness; for reflection calls for metaphysic ex pressions;
while revenge ex cites the fancy, and banishes the thought
of grief. Cesarotti has translated O ssian in the most
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? corinne; O R I TA L Y . 107
, elegant manner; but, in reading him, we feel that hig
words are in themselves too j oyous for the gloomy ideas
they would recall; we yield to the charm of our soft
phrases, as to the murmur of waves or the tints of flowers.
W hat more would you ex act of poetry? I f you ask the
nightingale the meaning of his song, he can ex plain but by
recommencing it: we can only appreciate its music by
giving way to the impression it mak es on us. O ur measured
lines, with rapid terminations, composed of two brief syl.
lables, glide along as their name (S druccioli) denotes, some-
times imitating the light steps of a dance; sometimes, with
graver tone, realising the tumult of a tempest, or the clash of
arms. O ur poetry is a wonder of imagination; you ought
not there to seek for every species of pleasure. " -- " I
admit," returned N evil, " that you account as well as
possible for the beauties and defects of your national
poetry: but when these faults, without these graces, are
found in prose, how can you defend it? what is but vague
in the one becomes unmeaning in the other. The crowd
of common ideas, that your poets embellish by melody and
by figures, is served up cold in your prose, with the most
fatiguing pertinacity. The greatest portion of your present
prose writers use a language so declamatory, so diffuse, so
abounding in superlatives, that one would think they all
dealt out the same accepted phrases by word of command,
or by a k ind of convention. Their style is a tissue, a piece
of mosaic. They possess in its highest degree the art of
inflating an idea, or frothing up a sentiment: one is tempted
to ask them a similar q uestion to that put by the negress
to the F renchwoman, in the days of hoop-petticoats,
' Pray, Madam, is all that yourself? ' N ow, how much
is real beneath this pomp of words, which one true ex -
pression might dissipate lik e an idle dream? " -- " Y ou
forget," interrupted Corinne, " first Machiavel and B oc-
caccio, then Gravina, F ilangieri, and even, in our own
days, Cesarotti, V erri, B ettinelli, and many others, who
k newbothhowtowriteandhowtothink . (16 )I agree
with you, that, for the last century or two, unhappy cir-
cumstances having deprived I taly of her independence, all
zeal for truth has been so lost, that it is often impossible to
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? 108 corinne; or italy.
speak it in any way. The result is, a habit of resting
content with words, and never daring to approach a thought.
A uthors, too sure that they can effect no change in the
state of things, write but to show their wit,-- the surest way
of soon concluding with no wit at all; for it is only by
directing our efforts to a nobly useful aim that we can aug-
ment our stock of ideas. W hen writers can do nothing for
the welfare of their country; when, indeed, their means
constitute their end, from leading to no better, they double
in a thousand windings, without advancing one step. The
I talians are afraid of new ideas, rather because they are in-
dolent than from literary servility. B y nature they have
much originality; but they give themselves no time to
reflect. Their eloq uence, so vivid in conversation, chills as
they work ; besides this, the S outherns feel hampered by
prose, and can only ex press themselves fully in verse. I t
is not thus with F
d' E rfeuil: "
your versifiers. "
rench literature," added Corinne to
your prose writers are often more poetical than
-- " That is a truth established by classic
authorities," replied the Count. " B ossuet, L a B
Montesq uieu, and B uffon can never be surpassed;
ruyere,
espe-
I V . :
cially the first two, who belonged to the age of L
they are perfect models for all to imitate who can;
as important to foreigners as to ourselves. " -- "
ouis X
think ," returned Corinne, " that it were desirable for dis-
tinct countries to lose their peculiarities; and I dare to tell
you, Count, that, in your own land, the national orthodox y
which opposes all felicitous innovations must render your
I literature very barren. Genius is essentially creative: it
bears the character of the individual who possesses it.
N ature, who permits no two leaves to be ex actly alik e, has
given a still greater diversity to human minds. I mitation,
then, is a double murder; for it deprives both copy and
original of their primitive ex istence. " -- " W ould you wish
us," ask
Y oung'
Concetti?
ed d' E rfeuil, " to admit such Gothic barbarisms as
s ' N ight Thoughts,' or the S panish and I talian
W hat would become of our tasteful and elegant
style after such a mix ture? " The Prince Castel F orte now
remark ed, " I think that we all are in want of each other' s
aid. The literature of every country offers a new sphere
-- a hint
I can hardly
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA I . Y . 109
of ideas to those familiar with it. Charles V . said, ' The
man who understands four languages is worth four men. '
W hat that great genius applied to politics is as true in the
state of letters. Most foreigners understand F rench; their
views, therefore, are more ex tended than those of F rench-
men, who k now no language but their own. W hy do they
not oftener learn other tongues? They would preserve
what distinguishes themselves, and might acq uire some
things in which they still are wanting. "
CH A PTE R I I .
" Y ou will confess, at least," replied the Count, " that
there is one department in which we have nothing to learn
from any one. O ur theatre is decidedly the first in
E urope. I cannot suppose that the E nglish themselves
would think of placing their S hak speare above us. " --
" Pardon me, they do think of it," answered Mr. E dgar-
mond; and having said this, resumed his previous silence.
" O h! " ex claimed the Count, with civil contempt, " let
every man think as he pleases; but I persist in believing
that, without presumption, we may call ourselves the
highest of all dramatic artists. A s for the I talians, if I
may speak frank ly, they are in doubt whether there is
such an art in the world. Music is every thing with them;
the piece nothing: if a second act possesses a better scena
than a first, they begin with that; nay, they will play por-
tions of different operas on the same night, and between
them an act from some prose comedy, containing nothing
but moral sentences, such as our ancestors turned over to
the use of other countries, as worn too threadbare for
their own. Y our famed musicians do what they will with
your poets. O ne won' t sing a certain air, unless the word
F elicita be introduced; the tenor demands his Tomba; a
third can' t shak e unless it be upon Catene. The poor poet
must do his best to harmonise these varied tastes with his
dramatic situations. N or is this the worst: some of
them will not deign to walk on the stage; they must
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? 110 corinne; or italy.
appear surrounded by clouds, or descend from the top of
a palace stair-case, in order to give their entrance due
effect. L et an air be sung in ever so tender or so furious
a passage, the actor must needs bow his thank s for the ap-
plause it draws down. I n S emiramis, the other night,
the spectre of N inus paid his respects to the pit with an
obseq uiousness q uite neutralising the awe his costume
should have created. I n I taly, the theatre is look ed on
merely as a rendezvous, where you need listen to nothing
but the songs and the ballet. I may well say they listen
to the ballet, for they are never q uiet till after its com-
mencement; in itself it is the chef-d' amvre of bad taste;
ex cept its grotesq ues, who are true caricaturists of dancing,
I k now not what there is to amuse in your ballet beyond
its absurdity. I have seen Gengis K han, clothed in ermine
and magnanimity, give up his crown to the child of his
conq uered rival, and lift him into the air upon his foot, a
new way of raising a monarch to the throne; I have seen
the self-devotion of Curtius, in three acts, full of diver-
tisements. The hero, dressed lik e an A rcadian shepherd,
had a long dance with his mistress, ere he mounted a real
horse upon the stage, and threw himself into a fiery gulf,
lined with orange satin and gold paper. I n fact, I have
seen an abridgement of the R oman history, turned into
ballets, from R omulus down to Caesar. " -- " A ll that is very
true," mildly replied the Prince of Castel F orte; " but
you speak only of our O pera, which is in no country con-
sidered the dramatic theatre. " -- " O h, it is still worse
when they represent tragedies, or dramas not included
under the head of those with happy catastrophes; they
crowd more horrors into five acts than human imagination
ever conceived. I n one of these pieces a lover k ills his
mistress' brother, and burns her brains before the audience.
The fourth act is occupied by the funeral, and ere the
fifth begins, the lover, with the utmost composure, gives
out the nex t night' s harleq uinade; then resumes his cha-
racter, in order to end the play by shooting himself. The
tragedians are perfect counterparts of the cold ex agger-
ations in which they perform, committing the greatest
atrocities with the most ex emplary indifference. I f an
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? corinne; or I taly, 111
actor becomes impassioned, he is called a preacher, so
much more emotion is betrayed in the pulpit than on the
stage; and it is luck y that these heroes are so peacefully
pathetic, since, as there is nothing interesting in your plays,
the more fuss they made, the more ridiculous they would
become: it were well if they were divertingly so; but it
is all too monotonous to laugh at. I taly has neither tragedy
nor comedy; the only drama truly her own is the harle-
q uinade. A thievish, cowardly glutton; an amorous or
avaricious old dupe of a guardian, are the materials. Y ou
will own that such inventions cost no very great efforts, and
that the ' Tartuffe' and the ' Misanthrope' called for some
ex ertion of genius. " This attack displeased the I talians,
though they laughed at it. I n conversation the Count
preferred displaying his wit to his good-humour. N atural
benevolence prompted his actions, but self-love his words.
Castel F orte and others longed to refute his accusations,
but they thought the cause would be better defended by
Corinne; and as they rarely sought to shine themselves,
they were content, after citing such names as Maffei, Me-
tastasio, Goldoni, A lfleri, and Monti, with begging her to
answer Monsieur d' E rfeuil. Corinne agreed with him that
the I talians had no national theatre; but she sought to
prove that circumstances, and not want of talent, had
caused this deficiency. " Comedy," she said, " as de-
pending on observation of manners, can only ex ist in a
country accustomed to a great and varied population.
I taly is animated but by violent passions or effeminate
enj oyments. S uch passions give birth to crimes that con-
found all shades of character. B ut that ideal comedy,
which suits all times, all countries, was invented here.
H arleq uin, pantaloon, and clown are to be found in every
piece of that description. E very where they have rather
mask s than faces; that is, they wear the physiognomy of
their class, and not of individuals. Doubtless our modern
authors found these parts all made to their hands, lik e the
pawns of a chess-board; but these fantastic creations, which,
from one end of E urope to the other, still amuse not only
children, but men whom fancy renders childish, surely
give the I talians some claim on the art of comedy. O bser-
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? 112CO B I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
vation of the human heart is an inex haustible source of lite-
rature; but nations rather romantic than reflective yield
themselves more readily to the delirium of j oy than to phi-
losophic satire. S omething of sadness lurk s beneath the
pleasantry founded on a k nowledge of mank ind; the most
truly inoffensive gaiety is that which is purely imaginative.
N ot that I talians do not shrewdly study those with whom
they are concerned. They detect the most private thoughts,
as subtly as others; but they are not wont to mak e a lite-
rary use of the acuteness which mark s their conduct.
Perhaps they are reluctant to generalise and to publish their
discoveries. Prudence may forbid their wasting on mere
plays what may serve to guide their behaviour, or con-
verting into witty fictions that which they find so useful in
real life. N evertheless Machiavel, who has made k nown all
the secrets of criminal policy, may serve to show of what
terrible sagacity the I talian mind is capable. Goldoni,
who lived in V enice, where society is at its best, introduced
more observation into his work s than is commonly
found. Y et his numerous comedies want variety both of
character and situation. They seem modelled not on
life, but on the generality of theatrical pieces. I rony is not
the true character of I talian wit. I t is A riosto, and not
Moliere, who can amuse us here. Gozzi, the rival of
Goldoni, had much more irregular originality. H e gave
himself up freely to his genius; mingling buffoonery with
magic, imitating nothing in nature, but dealing with
those fairy chimeras that bear the mind beyond the
boundaries of this world. H e had a prodigious success in
his day, and perhaps is the best specimen of I talian comic
fancy; but, to ascertain what our tragedy and comedy
might become, they must be allowed a theatre, and a
company. A host of small towns dissipate the few re-
sources that might be collected. That division of states,
usually so favourable to public welfare, is destructive of it
here.
W e want a centre of light and power, to pierce the
mists of surrounding prej udice. The authority of a go-
vernment would be a blessing, if it contended with the
ignorance of men, isolated among themselves, in separate
provinces, and, by awak ening emulation, gave life to a
people now content with a dream. "
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? CO H I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 113
These and other discussions were spiritedly put forth
by Corinne; she eq ually understood the art of that light
and rapid style, which insists on nothing; in her wish to
please, adopting each by turns, though freq uently abandon-
ing herself to the talent which had rendered her so cele-
brated as an improvisatrice. O ften did she call on Castel
F orte to support her opinions by his own; but she spok e
so well, that all her auditors listened with delight, and could
not have endured an interruption. Mr. E dgarmond, above
all, could never have wearied of seeing and hearing her:
he hardly dared ex plain to himself the admiration she
ex cited; and whispered some words of praise, trusting that
she would understand, without obliging him to repeat them.
H e felt, however, so anx ious to hear her sentiments on
tragedy, that, in spite of his timidity, he risk ed the q uestion.
" Madame," he said, " it appears to me that tragedies are
what your literature wants most. I think that yours come
less near an eq uality with our own, than children do to
men: for childish sensibility, if light, is genuine; while
your serious dramas are so stilted and unnatural, that they
stifle all emotion. A m I not right, my lord? " he added,
turning his eyes towards N evil, with an appeal for assist-
ance, and astonished at himself for having dared to say so
much before so large a party. -- " I think j ust as you do,"
returned O swald: " Metastasio, whom they vaunt as the
bard of love, gives that passion the same colouring in all
countries and situations. H is songs, indeed, abound with
grace, harmony, and lyric beauty, especially when detached
from the dramas to which they belong; but it is impossible
for us, whose S hak speare is indisputably the poet who has
most profoundly fathomed the depths of human passions,
to bear with the fond pairs who fill nearly all the scenes of
Metastasio, and, whether called A chilles or Thyrsis, B rutus
or Corilas, all sing in the same strain, the martyrdom
they endure, and depict, as a species of insipid idiotcy, the
most stormy impulse that can wreck the heart of man. I t
is with real respect for A lfieri that I venture a few com-
ments on his work s, their aim is so noble! The sentiments
of the author so well accord with the life of the man, that
his tragedies ought always to be praised as so many great
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? 114 corinne; or italy.
actions, even though they may be criticised in a literary
sense. I t strik es me, that some of them have a monotony
in their vigour, as Metastasio' s have in their sweetness.
A lfieri gives us such a profusion of energy and worth, or
such an ex aggeration of violence and guilt, that it is im-
possible to recognise one human being among his heroes.
Men are never either so vile or so generous as he describes
them. The obj ect is to contrast vice with virtue; but
these contrasts lack the gradations of truth. I f tyrants
were obliged to put up with half he mak es their victims
say to their faces, one would really feel tempted to pity
them. I n the tragedy of ' O ctavia,' this outrage of proba-
bility is most apparent. S eneca lectures N ero, as if the
one were the bravest, and the other the most patient of
men. The master of the world allows himself to be in-
sulted, and put in a rage, scene after scene, as if it were
not in his own power to end all this by a single word. I t
is certain, that, in these continual dialogues, S eneca utters
max ims which one might pride to hear in a harangue or
read in a dissertation; but is this the way to give an idea
of tyranny ? -- instead of investing it with terror, to set it up
as a block against which to tilt with wordy weapons! H ad
S hak speare represented N ero surrounded by trembling
slaves, who scarce dared answer the most indifferent q ues-
tion, himself vainly endeavouring to appear at ease, and
S eneca at his side, composing the apology for A grippina' s
murder, would not our horror have been a thousand times
more great? and, for one reflection made by the author,
would not millions have arisen, in the spectator' s mind,
from the silent rhetoric of so true a picture? " O swald
might have spok en much longer ere Corinne would have
interrupted him, so fascinated was she by the sound of his
voice, and the turn of his ex pressions. S carce could she
remove her gaze from his countenance, even when he ceased
to speak ; then, as her friends eagerly ask ed what she
thought of I talian tragedy, she answered by addressing her-
self to N evil. -- " My lord, I so entirely agree with you,
that it is not as a disputant I reply: but to mak e some
ex ceptions to your, perhaps, too general rules. I t is true
that Metastasis is rather a lyric than a dramatic poet; and
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? corinne; or italy. 115
that he depicts love rather as one of the fine arts that em-
bellish life, than as the secret source of our deepest j oys and
sorrows. A lthough our poetry has been chiefly devoted to
love, I will hazard the assertion that we have more truth
and power in our portraitures of every other passion. F or
amatory themes, a k ind of conventional style has been
formed amongst us; and poets are inspired by what they
have read, not by their own feelings. L ove as it is in
I taly, bears not the slightest resemblance to love such as
our authors describe.
" I k now but one romance, the' F iammetta'
in which the passion is attired in its truly national colours.
I talian love is a deep and rapid impression, more freq
betrayed by the silent ardour of our deeds, than by inge-
nious and highly wrought language. O ur literature, in
general, bears but a faint stamp of our manners. W e are
too humbly modest to found tragedies on our own history,
or fill them with our own emotions. (17) A lfieri, by a
singular chance, was transplanted from antiq uity into mo-
dern times. H e was born for action; yet permitted but
to write: his style resented this restraint. H e wished by
a literary road to reach a political goal ,? a noble one, but
such as spoils all work s of fancy. H e was impatient of
living among learned writers and enlightened readers, who,
nevertheless, cared for nothing serious; but amused them-
selves with madrigals and nouvellettes. A lfieri sought to
give his tragedies a more austere character. H e retrenched
every thing that could interfere with the interest of his
dialogue; as if determined to mak e his countrymen do
penance for their natural vivacity. Y et he was much ad-
mired ; because he was truly great, and because the in-
habitants of R ome applaud all praise bestowed on the
ancient R omans, as if it belonged to themselves. They
are amateurs of virtue, as of the pictures their galleries
possess; but A lfieri has not created any thing that may
be called the I talian drama; that is, a school of tra-
gedy, in which a merit peculiar to I taly may be found.
H e has not even characterised the manners of the times
and countries he selected. H is ' Pazzi,' ' V irginia,' and
' Philip I I . ' are replete with powerful and elevated thought;
i2
of B
occaccio,
uently
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? 116 CO R I N N E ; O B I TA L Y .
but you every where find the impress of A lfieri, not that
of the scene nor of the period assumed. W idely as he
differs from all F rench authors in most respects, he re-
sembles them in the habit of painting every subj ect he
touches with the hues of his own mind. " -- A t this allusion
d' E rfenil observed, " I t would be impossible for us to
brook on our stage either the insignificance of the Grecians,
or the monstrosities of S hak speare. The F rench have too
much taste. O ur drama stands alone for elegance and deli.
cacy: to introduce any thing foreign, were to plunge us
into barbarism. " -- " Y ou would as soon think of sur-
rounding F rance with the great wall of China! " said
Corinne, smiling: " yet the rare beauties of your tragic
authors would be better developed, if you would sometimes
permit others besides F renchmen to appear in their scenes.
B ut we, poor I talians, would lose much, by confining our-
selves to rules that must confer on us less honour than
constraint. The national character ought to form the
national theatre. W e love the fine arts, music, scenery,
even pantomime; all, in fact, that strik es our senses. H ow,
then, can a drama, of which eloq uence is the best charm,
content us? I n vain did A lfieri strive to reduce us to this;
he himself felt that his system was too rigorous. (18)
H is ' S aul,' Maffei' s ' Merope,' Monti' s ' A ristodemus,'
above all, the poetry of Dante (though he never wrote a
tragedy), seem to give the best notion of what the dra-
matic art might become here. I n ' Merope' the action is
simple, but the language glorious; why should such style
be interdicted in our plays? V erse becomes so magnificent
in I talian, that we ought to be the last people to renounce
its beauty. A lfieri, who, when he pleased, could ex cel in
every way, has in his ' S aul' made superb use of lyric poetry;
and, indeed, music itself might there be very happily intro-
duced; not to interrupt the dialogue, but to calm the fury
of the k ing, by the harp of David. W e possess such
delicious music, as may well inebriate all mental power;
we ought, therefore, instead of separating, to unite these
attributes; not by mak ing our heroes sing, which destroys
their dignity, but by choruses, lik e those of the ancients,
connected by natural link s with the main situation, as often
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? corinne; or italy. 117
happens in real life. F ar from rendering the I talian drama
less imaginative, I think we ought in every way to increase
the illusive pleasure of the audience. O ur lively taste for
music, ballet, and spectacle, is a proof of powerful fancy,
and a necessity to interest ourselves incessantly, even in
thus sporting with serious images, instead of rendering
them more severe than they need be, as did A lfieri. W e
think it our duty to applaud whatever is grave and ma-
j estic, but soon return to our natural tastes; and are satis-
fied with any tragedy, so it be embellished by that va-
riety which the E nglish and S paniards so highly appre-
ciate. Monti' s ' A ristodemus' partak es the terrible pathos
of Dante; and has surely a j ust title to our pride. Dante,
so versatile a master-spirit, possessed a tragic genius, which
would have produced a grand effect, if he could have
adapted it to the stage: he k new how to set before the
eye whatever passed in the soul; he made us not only feel
but look upon despair. H ad he written plays, they must
have affected young and old, the many as well as the few.
Dramatic literature must be in some way popular; a whole
nation constitute its j udges. " -- " S ince the time of Dante,"
said O swald, " I taly has played a great political part --
ere it can boast a national tragic school, great events must
call forth, in real life, the emotions which become the stage.
O f all literary chefs d' wuvre, a tragedy most thoroughly be-
longs to a whole people: the author' s genius is matured by
the public spirit of his audience; by the government and
manners of his country; by all, in fact, which recurs each
day to the mind, forming the moral being, even as the air we
breathe invigorates our physical life. The S paniards, whom
you resemble in climate and in creed, have, nevertheless,
far more dramatic talent. Their pieces are drawn from
their history, their chivalry, and religious faith: they are
original and animated. Their success in this way may
restore them to their former fame as a nation; but how
can we found in I
never possessed?
turned Corinne, "
taly a style of tragedy which she has
" -- " I have better hopes, my lord," re-
from the soaring spirits that are among
us, though unfavoured as yet by circumstances; but what
we most need is histrionic ability. A ffected language in-
i3
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? 118 corinne; or italy.
duces false declamation; yet there is no tongue in which
a great actor could evince more potency than in our own;
for melodious sounds lend an added charm to j ust accentu-
ation, without rohhing it of its force. " -- " I f you would
convince us of this/' interrupted Castel F orte, " do so, by
giving us the inex pressible pleasure of seeing you in tra-
gedy: you surely consider your foreign friends worthy of
witnessing the talent which you monopolise in I taly; and
in which (as your own soul is peculiarly ex pressed in it)
you can have no superior on earth. "
Corinne secretly desired to perform before O swald, and
thus appear to the best advantage; but she could not con-
sent without his approval: her look s req uested it. H e
understood them; and, ambitious that she should charm
Mr. E dgarmond in a manner which her yesterday' s timidity
had prevented, he j oined his solicitations to those of her other
guests. S he hesitated no longer. -- " W ell, then," she said
to Castel F orte, " we will, if you please, accomplish a long-
formed scheme of mine, that of playing my translation of
' R omeoandJ uliet. ' " -- " W hat! " ex claimedE dgarmond,
" Do you understand E nglish, and love S hak speare ? " --
" A safriend," shereplied. -- " A ndyouwillplayJ uliet
in I talian? and I shall hear you? and you, too, dear N evil!
H ow happy you will be! " Then, instantly repenting his
indiscretion, he blushed. The blush of delicacy and k ind-
ness is at all ages interesting. -- " H ow happy we shall
be," he added, with embarrassment, " if we may be present
at such a mental banq uet! "
CH A PTE R I I I .
A ll was arranged in a few days; parts distributed, the
night fix ed on, and the palace of a relative of Prince Castel
F orte devoted to the representation. O swald felt at once
disq uiet and delight; he enj oyed Corinne' s success, by
anticipation; but even thus grew j ealous, beforehand, of no
one man in particular, but of the public, who woidd witness
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? CO R I N N E J O R I TA L Y . 119
an ex cellence of which he felt as if he alone had a right to
be aware. H e would have had Corinne reserve her charms
for him, and appear to others as timid as an E nglishwoman.
H owever distinguished a man may be, he rarely feels un-
q ualified pleasure in the superiority of a woman. I f he
does not love her, his self-esteem tak es offence ; if he does,
his heart is oppressed by it. B eside Corinne, O swald was
rather intox icated than happy: the admiration she ex -
cited increased his passion, without giving stability to his
intents. S he was a phenomenon every day new; but the
very wonder she inspired seemed to lessen his hopes of
domestic tranq uillity. S he was, notwithstanding, so gentle,
so easy to live with, that she might have been beloved for
her lowliest attributes, independent of all others; yet it
was by these others that she had become remark able.
L ord N evil, with all his advantages, thought himself be-
neath her, and doubted the duration of their attachment.
I n vain did she mak e herself his slave: the conq ueror was
too much in awe of his captive q ueen to enj oy his realm
in peace. S ome hours before the performance, N evil led
her to the house of the Princess, where the theatre had
been fitted up. The sun shone beautifully; and at one of
the staircase windows, which commanded a view of R
and the Campagna, he paused a moment, saying, "
hold, how heaven itself lights you to victory ! " --
B
ome
e-
" I
to you, who point out its favour, that I owe such protec-
tion, then," she replied. " Tell me," he added, " do the
pure emotions k indled by the sweetness of nature suffice
to please you? R emember this is a very different air from
t is
obtain
that you will respire in the tumultuous hall which soon will
re-echo your name? " -- " O swald," she said, "
applause, will it not be because you hear it that it may
touch my heart? I f I display any talent, is it not my
love for you that inspires me? Poetry, religion, all en-
thusiastic feelings, are in harmony with nature; and
while gazing on the azure sk y, while yielding to the re-
verie it creates, I understand better than ever the senti-
ments of J uliet, I become more worthy of R omeo. "
" Y es, thou art worthy of him, celestial creature! "
if I
--
cried
N evi1: " this j ealous wish to be alone with thee in the uni-
i4
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? 120 corinne;
verse, is, I
the world!
or italy.
own, a weak ness. Go! receive the homage of
but be thy love, which is more divine even
than thy genius, directed to none but me! " They parted,
anu O swald took his place, awaiting her appearance on the
stage. I n V erona the tomb of R omeo and J uliet is still
shown. S hak speare has written this play with truly
southern fancy; at once impassioned and vivacious;
triumphant in delight; and rushing from voluptuous
felicity to despair and death. I ts sudden love, we feel,
from the first, will never be effaced; for the force of
nature, beneath a burning clime, and not habitual fick le-
ness, gives it birth. The sun is not capricious, though
the vegetation be rapid; and S hak speare, better than any
other foreign poet, k new how to seize the national character
of I taly,-- that fertility of mind which invents a thousand
varied ex pressions for the same emotion; that O riental
eloq uence which borrows images from all nature, to
clothe the sensations of young hearts. I n O ssian one
chord constantly replies to the thrill of sensibility; but in
S hak speare nothing is cold nor same. A sunbeam, divided
and reflected in a thousand varied ways, produces endlessly
multiplied tints, all telling of the light and heat from
whence they are derived. Thus " R omeo and J uliet,"
lated into I talian, seems but resuming its own mother-
tongue.
in his chamber, he ex hausted his conj ectures on the secrets
of Corinne. I t appeared evident that she had passed some
time in E ngland, and that her family name must be k nown
there: but what was her motive for concealment, and why
had she left his country? H e was convinced that no stain
could attach to her life; but he feared that a combination
of circumstances might have made her seem blamable in
the eyes of others. H e was armed against the disappio-
his trembling
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 105
bation of every country save E ngland. The memory of
his father was so entwined with that of his native land,
that each sentiment strengthened the other. O swald learned
from E dgarmond that he had visited N orthumberland for
the first time a year ago; and therefore promised to in-
troduce him at Corinne' s that evening. H e was the first
to arrive there, in order to warn her against the miscon-
ceptions of his friend, and beg her, by a cold reserve of
manner, to show him how much he was deceived.
" I f you permit me," she observed, " I would rather
treat him as I do every one else. I f he wishes to hear the
improvisatrice, he shall; I will show myself to him such
as I am; for I think he will as easily perceive my rightful
pride through this simple conduct, as if I behaved with an
affected constraint. " -- " Y ou are right, Corinne," said
O swald: " how wrong were he who would attempt to\
change you from your admirable self! " The rest of the
party now j oined them. N evil placed himself near his love,
with an added air of deference, rather to command that of
others than to satisfy himself; he had soon the j oy of
finding thi3 effort needless. S he captivated E dgarmond,
not only by her charms and conversation, but by inspiring
that esteem which sterling characters, however contrasted,
naturally feel for each other; and when he ventured on
ask ing her to ex temporise for him, he aspired to this honour
with the most revering earnestness. S he consented without
delay; for she k new how to give her favours a value beyond
that of difficult attainment. S he was anx ious to please the
countryman of N evil, -- a man whose report of her ought
to have some weight, -- but these thoughts occasioned her
so sudden, a tremor, that she k new not how to begin.
O swald, grieved that she should not shine her best before
an E nglishman, turned away his eyes, in obvious em-
barrassment; and Corinne, think ing of no one but himself,
lost all her presence of mind; nor ideas, nor even words,
were at her call; and, suddenly giving up the attempt, she
said to Mr. E dgarmond, " F orgive me, sir; fear robs me
of all power. ' Tis the first time, my friends k now, that
I was ever thus beside myself; but," she added, with a sigh,
" it may not be the last. "
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? 106 CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
Till now, O swald had seen her genius triumph over her
affections; but now feeling had entirely subdued her mind:
yet so identified was he with her glory, that he suffered
beneath this failure, instead of enj oying it. Certain, how-
ever, that she would ex cel on a future interview with his
friend, he gave himself up to the sweet pledge of his own
power which he had j ust received; and the image of his
beloved reigned more securely in his heart than ever.
BOOKVII.
I TA L I A N L I TE R A TUR E .
CH A PTE R I .
L ord N evil was very desirous that Mr. E dgarmond should
partak e the conversation of Corinne, which far surpassed
her improvised verses. O n the following day, the same
party assembled at her house; and, to elicit her remark s,
he turned the discourse on I talian literature, provok ing her
natural vivacity by affirming that E ngland could boast a
greater number of true poets than I taly. " I n the first
place," said Corinne, " foreigners usually k now none but
our first-rate poets: Dante, Petrarch, A riosto, Guarini, Tasso,
and Metastasio; but we have many others, such as Chiabrera,
Guidi, F ilicaj a, and Parini, without reck oning S annazer
Politian, who wrote in L atin. A ll their verses are har-
moniously coloured; all more or less k new how to in-
troduce the wonders of nature and art into their verbal'
pictures. Doubtless they want the melancholy grandeur
of your bards, and their k nowledge of the human heart;
but does not this k ind of superiority become the philosopher
better than the poet? The brilliant melody of our lan-
guage is rather adapted to describe ex ternal obj ects than
abstract meditation: it is more competent to depict fury
than sadness; for reflection calls for metaphysic ex pressions;
while revenge ex cites the fancy, and banishes the thought
of grief. Cesarotti has translated O ssian in the most
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? corinne; O R I TA L Y . 107
, elegant manner; but, in reading him, we feel that hig
words are in themselves too j oyous for the gloomy ideas
they would recall; we yield to the charm of our soft
phrases, as to the murmur of waves or the tints of flowers.
W hat more would you ex act of poetry? I f you ask the
nightingale the meaning of his song, he can ex plain but by
recommencing it: we can only appreciate its music by
giving way to the impression it mak es on us. O ur measured
lines, with rapid terminations, composed of two brief syl.
lables, glide along as their name (S druccioli) denotes, some-
times imitating the light steps of a dance; sometimes, with
graver tone, realising the tumult of a tempest, or the clash of
arms. O ur poetry is a wonder of imagination; you ought
not there to seek for every species of pleasure. " -- " I
admit," returned N evil, " that you account as well as
possible for the beauties and defects of your national
poetry: but when these faults, without these graces, are
found in prose, how can you defend it? what is but vague
in the one becomes unmeaning in the other. The crowd
of common ideas, that your poets embellish by melody and
by figures, is served up cold in your prose, with the most
fatiguing pertinacity. The greatest portion of your present
prose writers use a language so declamatory, so diffuse, so
abounding in superlatives, that one would think they all
dealt out the same accepted phrases by word of command,
or by a k ind of convention. Their style is a tissue, a piece
of mosaic. They possess in its highest degree the art of
inflating an idea, or frothing up a sentiment: one is tempted
to ask them a similar q uestion to that put by the negress
to the F renchwoman, in the days of hoop-petticoats,
' Pray, Madam, is all that yourself? ' N ow, how much
is real beneath this pomp of words, which one true ex -
pression might dissipate lik e an idle dream? " -- " Y ou
forget," interrupted Corinne, " first Machiavel and B oc-
caccio, then Gravina, F ilangieri, and even, in our own
days, Cesarotti, V erri, B ettinelli, and many others, who
k newbothhowtowriteandhowtothink . (16 )I agree
with you, that, for the last century or two, unhappy cir-
cumstances having deprived I taly of her independence, all
zeal for truth has been so lost, that it is often impossible to
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? 108 corinne; or italy.
speak it in any way. The result is, a habit of resting
content with words, and never daring to approach a thought.
A uthors, too sure that they can effect no change in the
state of things, write but to show their wit,-- the surest way
of soon concluding with no wit at all; for it is only by
directing our efforts to a nobly useful aim that we can aug-
ment our stock of ideas. W hen writers can do nothing for
the welfare of their country; when, indeed, their means
constitute their end, from leading to no better, they double
in a thousand windings, without advancing one step. The
I talians are afraid of new ideas, rather because they are in-
dolent than from literary servility. B y nature they have
much originality; but they give themselves no time to
reflect. Their eloq uence, so vivid in conversation, chills as
they work ; besides this, the S outherns feel hampered by
prose, and can only ex press themselves fully in verse. I t
is not thus with F
d' E rfeuil: "
your versifiers. "
rench literature," added Corinne to
your prose writers are often more poetical than
-- " That is a truth established by classic
authorities," replied the Count. " B ossuet, L a B
Montesq uieu, and B uffon can never be surpassed;
ruyere,
espe-
I V . :
cially the first two, who belonged to the age of L
they are perfect models for all to imitate who can;
as important to foreigners as to ourselves. " -- "
ouis X
think ," returned Corinne, " that it were desirable for dis-
tinct countries to lose their peculiarities; and I dare to tell
you, Count, that, in your own land, the national orthodox y
which opposes all felicitous innovations must render your
I literature very barren. Genius is essentially creative: it
bears the character of the individual who possesses it.
N ature, who permits no two leaves to be ex actly alik e, has
given a still greater diversity to human minds. I mitation,
then, is a double murder; for it deprives both copy and
original of their primitive ex istence. " -- " W ould you wish
us," ask
Y oung'
Concetti?
ed d' E rfeuil, " to admit such Gothic barbarisms as
s ' N ight Thoughts,' or the S panish and I talian
W hat would become of our tasteful and elegant
style after such a mix ture? " The Prince Castel F orte now
remark ed, " I think that we all are in want of each other' s
aid. The literature of every country offers a new sphere
-- a hint
I can hardly
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA I . Y . 109
of ideas to those familiar with it. Charles V . said, ' The
man who understands four languages is worth four men. '
W hat that great genius applied to politics is as true in the
state of letters. Most foreigners understand F rench; their
views, therefore, are more ex tended than those of F rench-
men, who k now no language but their own. W hy do they
not oftener learn other tongues? They would preserve
what distinguishes themselves, and might acq uire some
things in which they still are wanting. "
CH A PTE R I I .
" Y ou will confess, at least," replied the Count, " that
there is one department in which we have nothing to learn
from any one. O ur theatre is decidedly the first in
E urope. I cannot suppose that the E nglish themselves
would think of placing their S hak speare above us. " --
" Pardon me, they do think of it," answered Mr. E dgar-
mond; and having said this, resumed his previous silence.
" O h! " ex claimed the Count, with civil contempt, " let
every man think as he pleases; but I persist in believing
that, without presumption, we may call ourselves the
highest of all dramatic artists. A s for the I talians, if I
may speak frank ly, they are in doubt whether there is
such an art in the world. Music is every thing with them;
the piece nothing: if a second act possesses a better scena
than a first, they begin with that; nay, they will play por-
tions of different operas on the same night, and between
them an act from some prose comedy, containing nothing
but moral sentences, such as our ancestors turned over to
the use of other countries, as worn too threadbare for
their own. Y our famed musicians do what they will with
your poets. O ne won' t sing a certain air, unless the word
F elicita be introduced; the tenor demands his Tomba; a
third can' t shak e unless it be upon Catene. The poor poet
must do his best to harmonise these varied tastes with his
dramatic situations. N or is this the worst: some of
them will not deign to walk on the stage; they must
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? 110 corinne; or italy.
appear surrounded by clouds, or descend from the top of
a palace stair-case, in order to give their entrance due
effect. L et an air be sung in ever so tender or so furious
a passage, the actor must needs bow his thank s for the ap-
plause it draws down. I n S emiramis, the other night,
the spectre of N inus paid his respects to the pit with an
obseq uiousness q uite neutralising the awe his costume
should have created. I n I taly, the theatre is look ed on
merely as a rendezvous, where you need listen to nothing
but the songs and the ballet. I may well say they listen
to the ballet, for they are never q uiet till after its com-
mencement; in itself it is the chef-d' amvre of bad taste;
ex cept its grotesq ues, who are true caricaturists of dancing,
I k now not what there is to amuse in your ballet beyond
its absurdity. I have seen Gengis K han, clothed in ermine
and magnanimity, give up his crown to the child of his
conq uered rival, and lift him into the air upon his foot, a
new way of raising a monarch to the throne; I have seen
the self-devotion of Curtius, in three acts, full of diver-
tisements. The hero, dressed lik e an A rcadian shepherd,
had a long dance with his mistress, ere he mounted a real
horse upon the stage, and threw himself into a fiery gulf,
lined with orange satin and gold paper. I n fact, I have
seen an abridgement of the R oman history, turned into
ballets, from R omulus down to Caesar. " -- " A ll that is very
true," mildly replied the Prince of Castel F orte; " but
you speak only of our O pera, which is in no country con-
sidered the dramatic theatre. " -- " O h, it is still worse
when they represent tragedies, or dramas not included
under the head of those with happy catastrophes; they
crowd more horrors into five acts than human imagination
ever conceived. I n one of these pieces a lover k ills his
mistress' brother, and burns her brains before the audience.
The fourth act is occupied by the funeral, and ere the
fifth begins, the lover, with the utmost composure, gives
out the nex t night' s harleq uinade; then resumes his cha-
racter, in order to end the play by shooting himself. The
tragedians are perfect counterparts of the cold ex agger-
ations in which they perform, committing the greatest
atrocities with the most ex emplary indifference. I f an
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? corinne; or I taly, 111
actor becomes impassioned, he is called a preacher, so
much more emotion is betrayed in the pulpit than on the
stage; and it is luck y that these heroes are so peacefully
pathetic, since, as there is nothing interesting in your plays,
the more fuss they made, the more ridiculous they would
become: it were well if they were divertingly so; but it
is all too monotonous to laugh at. I taly has neither tragedy
nor comedy; the only drama truly her own is the harle-
q uinade. A thievish, cowardly glutton; an amorous or
avaricious old dupe of a guardian, are the materials. Y ou
will own that such inventions cost no very great efforts, and
that the ' Tartuffe' and the ' Misanthrope' called for some
ex ertion of genius. " This attack displeased the I talians,
though they laughed at it. I n conversation the Count
preferred displaying his wit to his good-humour. N atural
benevolence prompted his actions, but self-love his words.
Castel F orte and others longed to refute his accusations,
but they thought the cause would be better defended by
Corinne; and as they rarely sought to shine themselves,
they were content, after citing such names as Maffei, Me-
tastasio, Goldoni, A lfleri, and Monti, with begging her to
answer Monsieur d' E rfeuil. Corinne agreed with him that
the I talians had no national theatre; but she sought to
prove that circumstances, and not want of talent, had
caused this deficiency. " Comedy," she said, " as de-
pending on observation of manners, can only ex ist in a
country accustomed to a great and varied population.
I taly is animated but by violent passions or effeminate
enj oyments. S uch passions give birth to crimes that con-
found all shades of character. B ut that ideal comedy,
which suits all times, all countries, was invented here.
H arleq uin, pantaloon, and clown are to be found in every
piece of that description. E very where they have rather
mask s than faces; that is, they wear the physiognomy of
their class, and not of individuals. Doubtless our modern
authors found these parts all made to their hands, lik e the
pawns of a chess-board; but these fantastic creations, which,
from one end of E urope to the other, still amuse not only
children, but men whom fancy renders childish, surely
give the I talians some claim on the art of comedy. O bser-
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? 112CO B I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
vation of the human heart is an inex haustible source of lite-
rature; but nations rather romantic than reflective yield
themselves more readily to the delirium of j oy than to phi-
losophic satire. S omething of sadness lurk s beneath the
pleasantry founded on a k nowledge of mank ind; the most
truly inoffensive gaiety is that which is purely imaginative.
N ot that I talians do not shrewdly study those with whom
they are concerned. They detect the most private thoughts,
as subtly as others; but they are not wont to mak e a lite-
rary use of the acuteness which mark s their conduct.
Perhaps they are reluctant to generalise and to publish their
discoveries. Prudence may forbid their wasting on mere
plays what may serve to guide their behaviour, or con-
verting into witty fictions that which they find so useful in
real life. N evertheless Machiavel, who has made k nown all
the secrets of criminal policy, may serve to show of what
terrible sagacity the I talian mind is capable. Goldoni,
who lived in V enice, where society is at its best, introduced
more observation into his work s than is commonly
found. Y et his numerous comedies want variety both of
character and situation. They seem modelled not on
life, but on the generality of theatrical pieces. I rony is not
the true character of I talian wit. I t is A riosto, and not
Moliere, who can amuse us here. Gozzi, the rival of
Goldoni, had much more irregular originality. H e gave
himself up freely to his genius; mingling buffoonery with
magic, imitating nothing in nature, but dealing with
those fairy chimeras that bear the mind beyond the
boundaries of this world. H e had a prodigious success in
his day, and perhaps is the best specimen of I talian comic
fancy; but, to ascertain what our tragedy and comedy
might become, they must be allowed a theatre, and a
company. A host of small towns dissipate the few re-
sources that might be collected. That division of states,
usually so favourable to public welfare, is destructive of it
here.
W e want a centre of light and power, to pierce the
mists of surrounding prej udice. The authority of a go-
vernment would be a blessing, if it contended with the
ignorance of men, isolated among themselves, in separate
provinces, and, by awak ening emulation, gave life to a
people now content with a dream. "
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? CO H I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 113
These and other discussions were spiritedly put forth
by Corinne; she eq ually understood the art of that light
and rapid style, which insists on nothing; in her wish to
please, adopting each by turns, though freq uently abandon-
ing herself to the talent which had rendered her so cele-
brated as an improvisatrice. O ften did she call on Castel
F orte to support her opinions by his own; but she spok e
so well, that all her auditors listened with delight, and could
not have endured an interruption. Mr. E dgarmond, above
all, could never have wearied of seeing and hearing her:
he hardly dared ex plain to himself the admiration she
ex cited; and whispered some words of praise, trusting that
she would understand, without obliging him to repeat them.
H e felt, however, so anx ious to hear her sentiments on
tragedy, that, in spite of his timidity, he risk ed the q uestion.
" Madame," he said, " it appears to me that tragedies are
what your literature wants most. I think that yours come
less near an eq uality with our own, than children do to
men: for childish sensibility, if light, is genuine; while
your serious dramas are so stilted and unnatural, that they
stifle all emotion. A m I not right, my lord? " he added,
turning his eyes towards N evil, with an appeal for assist-
ance, and astonished at himself for having dared to say so
much before so large a party. -- " I think j ust as you do,"
returned O swald: " Metastasio, whom they vaunt as the
bard of love, gives that passion the same colouring in all
countries and situations. H is songs, indeed, abound with
grace, harmony, and lyric beauty, especially when detached
from the dramas to which they belong; but it is impossible
for us, whose S hak speare is indisputably the poet who has
most profoundly fathomed the depths of human passions,
to bear with the fond pairs who fill nearly all the scenes of
Metastasio, and, whether called A chilles or Thyrsis, B rutus
or Corilas, all sing in the same strain, the martyrdom
they endure, and depict, as a species of insipid idiotcy, the
most stormy impulse that can wreck the heart of man. I t
is with real respect for A lfieri that I venture a few com-
ments on his work s, their aim is so noble! The sentiments
of the author so well accord with the life of the man, that
his tragedies ought always to be praised as so many great
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? 114 corinne; or italy.
actions, even though they may be criticised in a literary
sense. I t strik es me, that some of them have a monotony
in their vigour, as Metastasio' s have in their sweetness.
A lfieri gives us such a profusion of energy and worth, or
such an ex aggeration of violence and guilt, that it is im-
possible to recognise one human being among his heroes.
Men are never either so vile or so generous as he describes
them. The obj ect is to contrast vice with virtue; but
these contrasts lack the gradations of truth. I f tyrants
were obliged to put up with half he mak es their victims
say to their faces, one would really feel tempted to pity
them. I n the tragedy of ' O ctavia,' this outrage of proba-
bility is most apparent. S eneca lectures N ero, as if the
one were the bravest, and the other the most patient of
men. The master of the world allows himself to be in-
sulted, and put in a rage, scene after scene, as if it were
not in his own power to end all this by a single word. I t
is certain, that, in these continual dialogues, S eneca utters
max ims which one might pride to hear in a harangue or
read in a dissertation; but is this the way to give an idea
of tyranny ? -- instead of investing it with terror, to set it up
as a block against which to tilt with wordy weapons! H ad
S hak speare represented N ero surrounded by trembling
slaves, who scarce dared answer the most indifferent q ues-
tion, himself vainly endeavouring to appear at ease, and
S eneca at his side, composing the apology for A grippina' s
murder, would not our horror have been a thousand times
more great? and, for one reflection made by the author,
would not millions have arisen, in the spectator' s mind,
from the silent rhetoric of so true a picture? " O swald
might have spok en much longer ere Corinne would have
interrupted him, so fascinated was she by the sound of his
voice, and the turn of his ex pressions. S carce could she
remove her gaze from his countenance, even when he ceased
to speak ; then, as her friends eagerly ask ed what she
thought of I talian tragedy, she answered by addressing her-
self to N evil. -- " My lord, I so entirely agree with you,
that it is not as a disputant I reply: but to mak e some
ex ceptions to your, perhaps, too general rules. I t is true
that Metastasis is rather a lyric than a dramatic poet; and
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? corinne; or italy. 115
that he depicts love rather as one of the fine arts that em-
bellish life, than as the secret source of our deepest j oys and
sorrows. A lthough our poetry has been chiefly devoted to
love, I will hazard the assertion that we have more truth
and power in our portraitures of every other passion. F or
amatory themes, a k ind of conventional style has been
formed amongst us; and poets are inspired by what they
have read, not by their own feelings. L ove as it is in
I taly, bears not the slightest resemblance to love such as
our authors describe.
" I k now but one romance, the' F iammetta'
in which the passion is attired in its truly national colours.
I talian love is a deep and rapid impression, more freq
betrayed by the silent ardour of our deeds, than by inge-
nious and highly wrought language. O ur literature, in
general, bears but a faint stamp of our manners. W e are
too humbly modest to found tragedies on our own history,
or fill them with our own emotions. (17) A lfieri, by a
singular chance, was transplanted from antiq uity into mo-
dern times. H e was born for action; yet permitted but
to write: his style resented this restraint. H e wished by
a literary road to reach a political goal ,? a noble one, but
such as spoils all work s of fancy. H e was impatient of
living among learned writers and enlightened readers, who,
nevertheless, cared for nothing serious; but amused them-
selves with madrigals and nouvellettes. A lfieri sought to
give his tragedies a more austere character. H e retrenched
every thing that could interfere with the interest of his
dialogue; as if determined to mak e his countrymen do
penance for their natural vivacity. Y et he was much ad-
mired ; because he was truly great, and because the in-
habitants of R ome applaud all praise bestowed on the
ancient R omans, as if it belonged to themselves. They
are amateurs of virtue, as of the pictures their galleries
possess; but A lfieri has not created any thing that may
be called the I talian drama; that is, a school of tra-
gedy, in which a merit peculiar to I taly may be found.
H e has not even characterised the manners of the times
and countries he selected. H is ' Pazzi,' ' V irginia,' and
' Philip I I . ' are replete with powerful and elevated thought;
i2
of B
occaccio,
uently
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? 116 CO R I N N E ; O B I TA L Y .
but you every where find the impress of A lfieri, not that
of the scene nor of the period assumed. W idely as he
differs from all F rench authors in most respects, he re-
sembles them in the habit of painting every subj ect he
touches with the hues of his own mind. " -- A t this allusion
d' E rfenil observed, " I t would be impossible for us to
brook on our stage either the insignificance of the Grecians,
or the monstrosities of S hak speare. The F rench have too
much taste. O ur drama stands alone for elegance and deli.
cacy: to introduce any thing foreign, were to plunge us
into barbarism. " -- " Y ou would as soon think of sur-
rounding F rance with the great wall of China! " said
Corinne, smiling: " yet the rare beauties of your tragic
authors would be better developed, if you would sometimes
permit others besides F renchmen to appear in their scenes.
B ut we, poor I talians, would lose much, by confining our-
selves to rules that must confer on us less honour than
constraint. The national character ought to form the
national theatre. W e love the fine arts, music, scenery,
even pantomime; all, in fact, that strik es our senses. H ow,
then, can a drama, of which eloq uence is the best charm,
content us? I n vain did A lfieri strive to reduce us to this;
he himself felt that his system was too rigorous. (18)
H is ' S aul,' Maffei' s ' Merope,' Monti' s ' A ristodemus,'
above all, the poetry of Dante (though he never wrote a
tragedy), seem to give the best notion of what the dra-
matic art might become here. I n ' Merope' the action is
simple, but the language glorious; why should such style
be interdicted in our plays? V erse becomes so magnificent
in I talian, that we ought to be the last people to renounce
its beauty. A lfieri, who, when he pleased, could ex cel in
every way, has in his ' S aul' made superb use of lyric poetry;
and, indeed, music itself might there be very happily intro-
duced; not to interrupt the dialogue, but to calm the fury
of the k ing, by the harp of David. W e possess such
delicious music, as may well inebriate all mental power;
we ought, therefore, instead of separating, to unite these
attributes; not by mak ing our heroes sing, which destroys
their dignity, but by choruses, lik e those of the ancients,
connected by natural link s with the main situation, as often
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? corinne; or italy. 117
happens in real life. F ar from rendering the I talian drama
less imaginative, I think we ought in every way to increase
the illusive pleasure of the audience. O ur lively taste for
music, ballet, and spectacle, is a proof of powerful fancy,
and a necessity to interest ourselves incessantly, even in
thus sporting with serious images, instead of rendering
them more severe than they need be, as did A lfieri. W e
think it our duty to applaud whatever is grave and ma-
j estic, but soon return to our natural tastes; and are satis-
fied with any tragedy, so it be embellished by that va-
riety which the E nglish and S paniards so highly appre-
ciate. Monti' s ' A ristodemus' partak es the terrible pathos
of Dante; and has surely a j ust title to our pride. Dante,
so versatile a master-spirit, possessed a tragic genius, which
would have produced a grand effect, if he could have
adapted it to the stage: he k new how to set before the
eye whatever passed in the soul; he made us not only feel
but look upon despair. H ad he written plays, they must
have affected young and old, the many as well as the few.
Dramatic literature must be in some way popular; a whole
nation constitute its j udges. " -- " S ince the time of Dante,"
said O swald, " I taly has played a great political part --
ere it can boast a national tragic school, great events must
call forth, in real life, the emotions which become the stage.
O f all literary chefs d' wuvre, a tragedy most thoroughly be-
longs to a whole people: the author' s genius is matured by
the public spirit of his audience; by the government and
manners of his country; by all, in fact, which recurs each
day to the mind, forming the moral being, even as the air we
breathe invigorates our physical life. The S paniards, whom
you resemble in climate and in creed, have, nevertheless,
far more dramatic talent. Their pieces are drawn from
their history, their chivalry, and religious faith: they are
original and animated. Their success in this way may
restore them to their former fame as a nation; but how
can we found in I
never possessed?
turned Corinne, "
taly a style of tragedy which she has
" -- " I have better hopes, my lord," re-
from the soaring spirits that are among
us, though unfavoured as yet by circumstances; but what
we most need is histrionic ability. A ffected language in-
i3
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? 118 corinne; or italy.
duces false declamation; yet there is no tongue in which
a great actor could evince more potency than in our own;
for melodious sounds lend an added charm to j ust accentu-
ation, without rohhing it of its force. " -- " I f you would
convince us of this/' interrupted Castel F orte, " do so, by
giving us the inex pressible pleasure of seeing you in tra-
gedy: you surely consider your foreign friends worthy of
witnessing the talent which you monopolise in I taly; and
in which (as your own soul is peculiarly ex pressed in it)
you can have no superior on earth. "
Corinne secretly desired to perform before O swald, and
thus appear to the best advantage; but she could not con-
sent without his approval: her look s req uested it. H e
understood them; and, ambitious that she should charm
Mr. E dgarmond in a manner which her yesterday' s timidity
had prevented, he j oined his solicitations to those of her other
guests. S he hesitated no longer. -- " W ell, then," she said
to Castel F orte, " we will, if you please, accomplish a long-
formed scheme of mine, that of playing my translation of
' R omeoandJ uliet. ' " -- " W hat! " ex claimedE dgarmond,
" Do you understand E nglish, and love S hak speare ? " --
" A safriend," shereplied. -- " A ndyouwillplayJ uliet
in I talian? and I shall hear you? and you, too, dear N evil!
H ow happy you will be! " Then, instantly repenting his
indiscretion, he blushed. The blush of delicacy and k ind-
ness is at all ages interesting. -- " H ow happy we shall
be," he added, with embarrassment, " if we may be present
at such a mental banq uet! "
CH A PTE R I I I .
A ll was arranged in a few days; parts distributed, the
night fix ed on, and the palace of a relative of Prince Castel
F orte devoted to the representation. O swald felt at once
disq uiet and delight; he enj oyed Corinne' s success, by
anticipation; but even thus grew j ealous, beforehand, of no
one man in particular, but of the public, who woidd witness
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? CO R I N N E J O R I TA L Y . 119
an ex cellence of which he felt as if he alone had a right to
be aware. H e would have had Corinne reserve her charms
for him, and appear to others as timid as an E nglishwoman.
H owever distinguished a man may be, he rarely feels un-
q ualified pleasure in the superiority of a woman. I f he
does not love her, his self-esteem tak es offence ; if he does,
his heart is oppressed by it. B eside Corinne, O swald was
rather intox icated than happy: the admiration she ex -
cited increased his passion, without giving stability to his
intents. S he was a phenomenon every day new; but the
very wonder she inspired seemed to lessen his hopes of
domestic tranq uillity. S he was, notwithstanding, so gentle,
so easy to live with, that she might have been beloved for
her lowliest attributes, independent of all others; yet it
was by these others that she had become remark able.
L ord N evil, with all his advantages, thought himself be-
neath her, and doubted the duration of their attachment.
I n vain did she mak e herself his slave: the conq ueror was
too much in awe of his captive q ueen to enj oy his realm
in peace. S ome hours before the performance, N evil led
her to the house of the Princess, where the theatre had
been fitted up. The sun shone beautifully; and at one of
the staircase windows, which commanded a view of R
and the Campagna, he paused a moment, saying, "
hold, how heaven itself lights you to victory ! " --
B
ome
e-
" I
to you, who point out its favour, that I owe such protec-
tion, then," she replied. " Tell me," he added, " do the
pure emotions k indled by the sweetness of nature suffice
to please you? R emember this is a very different air from
t is
obtain
that you will respire in the tumultuous hall which soon will
re-echo your name? " -- " O swald," she said, "
applause, will it not be because you hear it that it may
touch my heart? I f I display any talent, is it not my
love for you that inspires me? Poetry, religion, all en-
thusiastic feelings, are in harmony with nature; and
while gazing on the azure sk y, while yielding to the re-
verie it creates, I understand better than ever the senti-
ments of J uliet, I become more worthy of R omeo. "
" Y es, thou art worthy of him, celestial creature! "
if I
--
cried
N evi1: " this j ealous wish to be alone with thee in the uni-
i4
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? 120 corinne;
verse, is, I
the world!
or italy.
own, a weak ness. Go! receive the homage of
but be thy love, which is more divine even
than thy genius, directed to none but me! " They parted,
anu O swald took his place, awaiting her appearance on the
stage. I n V erona the tomb of R omeo and J uliet is still
shown. S hak speare has written this play with truly
southern fancy; at once impassioned and vivacious;
triumphant in delight; and rushing from voluptuous
felicity to despair and death. I ts sudden love, we feel,
from the first, will never be effaced; for the force of
nature, beneath a burning clime, and not habitual fick le-
ness, gives it birth. The sun is not capricious, though
the vegetation be rapid; and S hak speare, better than any
other foreign poet, k new how to seize the national character
of I taly,-- that fertility of mind which invents a thousand
varied ex pressions for the same emotion; that O riental
eloq uence which borrows images from all nature, to
clothe the sensations of young hearts. I n O ssian one
chord constantly replies to the thrill of sensibility; but in
S hak speare nothing is cold nor same. A sunbeam, divided
and reflected in a thousand varied ways, produces endlessly
multiplied tints, all telling of the light and heat from
whence they are derived. Thus " R omeo and J uliet,"
lated into I talian, seems but resuming its own mother-
tongue.
