which Oswald might have received on beholding this magnificent wonder of human creation.  They entered Rome, not on a fine day—­not on a fine night—­but on a gloomy evening, which tarnished and confounded every object.  They traversed the Tiber without remarking it; they arrived at Rome by the Porta del Popolo which conducts immediately to the Corso, to the largest street of the modern city, but to that part of Rome which possesses the least originality, because it resembles more the other cities of Europe.

Crowds were walking in the streets; the puppet shows and the charlatans were formed in groups in the square, where stands the column of Antoninus.  All the attention of Oswald was captivated by the objects nearest to him.  The name of Rome no longer vibrated through his soul; he felt nothing but that isolation which oppresses the heart when we enter a strange city, when we behold that multitude of people to whom our existence is unknown, and who have no interest in common with us.  Those reflections, so sad for every man, are still more so for the English, who are accustomed to live among themselves, and who with difficulty enter into the manners of other nations.  In the vast caravansary of Rome everything is foreign, even the Romans seem to inhabit there not as the possessors, but like pilgrims who repose beneath the ruins[3].  Oswald, oppressed with painful sensations, shut himself up at home, and went not out to see the city.  He was very far from thinking that this country, which he entered under such sadness and dejection of spirits, would soon become for him a source of so many new ideas and enjoyments.

FOOTNOTE: 

[3] This reflection is taken from a letter on Rome, by M. de Humboldt, brother of the celebrated Traveller, and Prussian Minister at Rome.  It is difficult to find anywhere a man whose conversation and writings bespeak more knowledge and ideas.

Book ii.

CORINNE AT THE CAPITOL.

[Illustration]

Chapter i.

Oswald awoke in Rome.  His first looks were saluted by the brilliancy of an Italian sun, and his soul was penetrated with a sentiment of love and gratitude towards that Power which seemed manifested in its resplendent beams.  He heard the bells of the different churches of the city; the firing of cannon at intervals announced some great solemnity.  He demanded the cause of it, and was informed that that morning was to be crowned, at the Capitol, the most celebrated woman in Italy.  Corinne, poetess, writer, improvisatrice, and one of the greatest beauties of Rome.  He made some enquiries respecting this ceremony consecrated by the names of Petrarch and of Tasso, and all the answers that he received strongly excited his curiosity.