CHAPTER IX.

"You must not," said Corinne, "give way merely to the gloomy impressions which these silent proceedings have created; you ought also to observe the great qualities of this senate, which makes Venice a republic for nobles, and formerly inspired that aristocratic energy, the result of freedom, even though concentrated in the few. You will find them severe on one another, at least establishing, in their own breasts, the rights and virtues that should belong to all. You will see them as paternal towards their subjects as they can be, while merely considering that class of men with reference to physical prosperity. You will detect a great pride in the country which is their property, and an art of endearing it even to the people, whom they allow so few actual possessions there."

Corinne and Oswald visited the hall where the great council was then assembled. It is hung with portraits of the doges; on the space which would have been occupied by that of Faliero, who was beheaded as a traitor, is painted a black curtain, whereon is written the date and manner of his death. The regal magnificence of the other pictures adds to the effect of this ghastly pall. There is also a representation of the Last Judgment, another of the powerful emperor, Frederic Barbarossa, humbling himself to the Venetian senate. It was a fine idea, thus to unite all that can exalt pride upon earth, and bend it before Heaven.

They proceeded to the arsenal: before its gates are two Grecian lions, brought from Athens, to become the guardians of Venetian power. Motionless guardians, that defend but what they respect. This repository is full of marine trophies. The famous ceremony of the doge's marriage with the Adriatic, in fact, all the institutions, here attest their gratitude to the sea: in this respect they resemble the English, and Nevil strongly felt the similarity. Corinne now led him to the tower called the Steeple of St. Mark's, though some paces from the church. Thence is seen the whole city of the waves, and the huge embankment which defends it from inundation. The coasts of Istria and Dalmatia are in the distance. "Behind the clouds, on this side, lies Greece," said Corinne: "is not that thought enough to stir the heart? There, still, are men of lively, ardent characters, victims to fate; yet destined, perhaps, some day, to resuscitate the ashes of their sires. It is always something for a land to _have_ been great; its natives blush at least beneath degradation; while, in a country never consecrated to fame, the inhabitants do not even suspect that there can be a nobler doom than the obscure servility bequeathed to them by their fathers. Dalmatia, which was of yore occupied by so warlike a race, still preserves something of the savage. Its natives are so little aware of the changes wrought by fifteen centuries, that they still deem the Romans 'all-powerful;' yet they betray more modern knowledge, by calling the English 'the heroes of the sea,' because you have so often landed in their ports; but they know nothing about the rest of the world. I love all realms where, in the manners, customs, language, something original is left. Civilized life is so monotonous; you know its secrets in so short a time; I have already lived long enough for that."--"Living with you," said Nevil, "can we ever behold the end of new thoughts and sensations?"--"God grant that such may prove exhaustless!" she replied, continuing: "Let us give one moment more to Dalmatia: when we descend from this height we shall still see the uncertain lines which mark that land, as indistinctly as a tender recollection in the memory of man. There are improvisatores among the Dalmatians as among the savages; they were found, too, with the Grecians, and almost always exist where there is much imagination, and little vanity. Natural talent turns rather to epigram, in countries where a fear of ridicule makes every man anxious to be the first who secures that weapon; but people thrown much with Nature feel a reverence for her that greatly nurtures fancy. 'Caverns are sacred,' say the Dalmatians; doubtless, thus expressing an indefinite terror of the old earth's secrets. Their poetry, Southerns though they be, resembles Ossian's; but there are only two ways of feeling the charms of nature. Men either animate and deify them, as did the ancients, beneath a thousand brilliant shapes, or, like the Scottish bards, yield to the melancholy fear inspired by the unknown. Since I met you, Oswald, this last manner has best pleased me. Formerly, I had vivacious hope enough to prefer a fearless enjoyment of smiling imagery."--"It is I, then," said Nevil, "who have withered the fair ideal, to which I owed the richest pleasures of my life."--"No, you are not in fault, but my own passion. Talent requires internal freedom, such as true love destroys."--"Ah! if you mean that your genius may lose its voice, and your heart but speak for me----" He could not proceed; the words promised more to his mind than he dared utter. Corinne guessed this, and would not answer, lest she should dissipate their present hopes. She felt herself beloved, and, used to live where men lose all for love, she was easily persuaded that Nevil could not leave her. At once ardent and indolent, she deemed a danger past which was no longer mentioned. She lived as many others do; who have been long menaced by the same misfortune, and think it will never happen, merely because it has not done so yet.

The air of Venice, and the life led there, is singularly calculated for lulling the mind into security: the very boats, peacefully rocking to and fro, induce a languid reverie; now and then a gondolier on the Rialto sings a stanza from Tasso; one of his fellows answers him, by the next verse, from the extremity of the canal. The very antique music they employ is like church psalmody, and monotonous enough when near; but, on the evening breeze, it floats over the waters like the last beams of the sun; and, aided by the sentiment it expresses, in such a scene, it cannot be heard without a gentle pensiveness. Oswald and Corinne remained on the canals, side by side, for hours; often without a word; holding each other's hands, and yielding to the formless dreams inspired by love and nature.