The hearth of happiness or
suffering
is in our own
breast' s secret sanctuary.
breast' s secret sanctuary.
Madame de Stael - Corinna, or Italy
The weather was
cold and damp: I could scarce ever leave the house with
pleasure. N ature now treated me with hostility, and
deepened my regrets of her sweetness and benevolence in
I taly. W ith the winter we removed into the city, if so I
may call a place without public buildings, theatre, music,
or pictures.
" I n the smallest I talian towns we have spectacles, im-
provisatores, zeal for the fine arts, and a glorious sun; we
feel that we live:-- but I almost forgot it in this assembly
of gossips, this depository of disgusts, at once monotonous
and varied. B irths, deaths, and marriages, composed the
history of our society; and these three events here differed
not the least from what they are elsewhere. F igure to
yourself what it must have been for me to be seated at a
tea-table, many hours each day after dinner, with my step-
mother' s guests. These were the seven gravest women in
N orthumberland:-- two were old maids of fifty, timid as
fifteen. O ne lady would say, ' My dear, do you think the
water hot enough to pour on the tea ? ' -- ' My dear,' re-
plied the other, ' I think it is too soon; the gentlemen are
not ready yet. '
-- ' Do you think they will sit late, to-day,
says a third. -- ' I don' t k now,' answers a
believe the election tak es place nex t week , so
my dear? '
fourth; '
I
perhaps they are staying to talk over it. ' -- ' N o,' rej oins a
fifth, ' I rather think that they are occupied by the fox -
hunt which occurred last week : there will be another on
Monday;
' A h!
silence. ?
life to this;
E very q
but for all that, I suppose they will come soon. '
--
I hardly ex pect it,' sighs the six th; and all again is
The convents I had seen in I taly appeared all
and I k new not what would become of me.
uarter of an hour some voice was raised to ask an
insipid q uestion, which received a luk ewarm reply; and
ennui fell back with redoubled weight on these poor wo-
men, who must have thought themselves most miserable,
* W hat a flattering picture of female society, at the country-house of an in.
telligent E nglish peer, not fifty years since! -- Tr.
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 239
had not habit from infancy instructed them to endure it.
A t last the gentlemen came up; yet this long hoped for
moment brought no great change. They continued their
conversation round the fire: the ladies sat in the centre of
the room, distributing cups of tea; and, when the hour of
departure arrived, each went home with her husband,
ready for another day, differing from the last merely by its
date on the almanack . I cannot yet conceive how my
talent escaped a mortal chill. There is no denying that
every case has two sides; every subj ect may be attack ed
or defended; we may plead the cause of life, yet much is
to be said for death, or a state thus resembling it. S uch
was my situation. My voice was a sound either useless or
troublesome to its hearers. I could not, as in L ondon or
E dinburgh, enj oy the society of learned men, who, with a
taste for intellectual conversation, would have appreciated
that of a foreigner, even if she did not q uite conform with
the strict etiq uettes of their country. I sometimes passed
whole days with L ady E dgarmond and her friends, with-
out hearing one word that echoed either thought or feel-
ing, or beholding one ex pressive gesture. I look ed on the
faces of young girls, fair, fresh, and beautiful, but per-
fectly immovable. S trange union of contrasts! A
partook of the same amusements; they drank
ll ages
tea, and
played whist * : women grew old in this routine here.
Time was sure not to miss them ; he well k new where they
were to be found.
" A n automaton might have filled my place, and could
have done all that was ex pected of me. I n E ngland, as
elsewhere, the divers interests that do honour to humanity
worthily occupy the leisure of men, whatever their retire-
ment; but what remained for women in this isolated
corner of the earth? A mong the ladies who visited us
there were some not deficient in mind, though they con-
cealed it as a superfluity; and towards forty this slight im-
pulse of the brain was benumbed lik e all the rest. S ome
of them I suspected must, by reflection, have matured
their natural abilities; sometimes a look or murmured
accent told of thoughts that strayed from the beaten track ;
but the petty opinions, all powerful in their own little
* S pelt wisk in the original. -- Tfc.
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? 240CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y .
sphere, repressed these inclinations. A woman was con_
sidered insane, or of doubtful virtue, if she ventured in
any way to assert herself; and, what was worse than all
these inconveniences, she could gain not one advantage by
the attempt. A t first I endeavoured to rouse this sleeping
world. I proposed poetic readings and music, and a day
was appointed for this purpose; but suddenly one woman
remembered that she had been three week s invited to sup
with her aunt; another that she was in mourning for an
old cousin she had never seen, and who had been dead for
months; a third that she had some domestic arrangements
to mak e at home; all very reasonable; yet thus for ever
were intellectual pleasures rej ected; and I so often heard
them say ' that cannot be done,' that, amid so many nega-
tions, not to live would have been to me the best of all.
A fter some debates with myself I gave up my vain
schemes, not that my father forbade them, he even enj oined
his wife to cease tormenting me on my studies; but her
insinuations, her stolen glances while I spok e, a thousand
trivial hinderances, lik e the chains the L illiputians wove
round Gulliver, rendered it impossible for me to follow my
own will; so I ended by doing as 1 saw others do, though
dying of impatience and disgust. B y the time I had
passed four weary years thus, I really found, to my severe
distress, that my mind grew dull, and, in spite of me, was
filled by trifles. W here no interest is tak en in science,
literature, and liberal pursuits, mere facts and insignificant
criticisms necessarily become the themes of discourse ; and
minds, strangers alik e to activity and meditation, become
so limited as to render all intercourse with them at once
tasteless and oppressive. There was no enj oyment near
me save in a certain methodical regularity, whose desire
was that of reducing all things to its own level; a constant
grief to characters called by heaven to destinies of their
own. The ill will I innocently ex cited, j oined with my
sense of the void all round me, seemed to check
breath. E nvy is only to be borne where it is ex
admiration; but oh the misery of living where j
even my
cited by
ealousy
itself awak ens no enthusiasm ! where we are hated as if
powerful, though in fact allowed less influence than the
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 241
obscurest of our rivals. I t is impossible simply to de-
spise the opinions of the herd: they sink , in spite of us,
into the heart, and lie waiting the moments when our
own superiority has involved us in distress; then, then,
even an apparently temperate '
insupportable word we can hear. I
' such a man is unworthy to j
capable of comprehending me:'
power over the human heart;
secret disapprobation, it haunts us in defiance of our reason.
The circle which surrounds you always hides the rest of
the world: the smallest obj ect close before your eyes in-
tercepts their view of the sun. S o is it with the set among
whom we dwell: nor E urope nor posterity can render us
insensible to the intrigues of our nex t door neighbour;
and whoever would live happily in the cultivation of genius
ought to be, above all things, cautious in the choice of his
immediate mental atmosphere.
CH A PTE R I I .
" My only amusement was the education of my half-sister:
her mother did not wish her to learn music, but permitted
me to teach her drawing and I talian. I am persuaded
that she must still remember both; for I owe her the
j ustice to say that she, even then, evinced great intelligence.
O swald, if it was for your happiness I toiled, I shall bless
my efforts, even from the grave. I was now nearly twenty:
my father wished me to marry, and here the sad fatality
of my life began. L ord N evil was his intimate friend,
and it was yourself of whom he thought as my husband.
H ad we then met and loved, our fate would have been
cloudless. I had heard such praises of you, that, whether
from presentiment or pride, I was ex tremely flattered with
the hope of being your wife. Y ou were too young, for I
was eighteen months your elder; but your love of study,
they said, outstripped your age; and I formed so sweet
an idea of passing my days with such a character as yours
W ell? ' may prove the most
n vain we tell ourselves
udge me, such a woman is in-
the human face has great
and when we read there a
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? 242CO R I N N E ; O B I TA L Y .
was described, that I forgot all my prej
way of life usual to women in E ngland. I
that you would settle in E dinburgh or L
udices against the
k new, besides,
ondon; in either
place I was secure of finding congenial friends. I said
then, as I think now, that all my wretchedness sprung
from my being tied to a little town in the centre of a
northern county. Great cities alone can suit those who
deviate from hack neyed rules, if they design to live in
society: as life is varied there, novelties are welcome; but
where persons are content with a monotonous routine,
they love not to be disturbed by the occasional diversion,
which only shows them the tediousness of their every-day
life. I am pleased to tell you, O swald, though I had
never seen you, that I look ed forward with real anx
the arrival of your father, who was coming to pass a week
with mine. The sentiment had then too little motive to
have been aught less than a foreboding of my future.
iety to
W hen I was presented to L
but too ardently, to please him;
than was req uired for success;
ord N evil I desired, perhaps
and did infinitely more
displaying all my talents,
dancing, singing, and ex temporising before him: my long
imprisoned soul felt but too blest in break ing from its
chain. S even years of ex perience have calmed me. I
am more accustomed to myself. I k now how to wait.
I have, perchance, less confidence in the k indness of
others, less eagerness for their applause: indeed, it is
possible that there was then something strange about me!
W e have so much fire and imprudence in early youth, one
faces life with such vivacity! Mind, however distinguished,
cannot supply the work of time; and though we may speak
oftheworldasifwek newit,weneveractuptoourown
views: there is a fever in our ideas that will not let our
conduct conform with our reasonings. I believe, though not
with certainty, that I appeared to L ord N evil somewhat too
wild; for though he treated me very amiably, yet, when
he left my father, he said that, after due reflection, he
thought his son too young for the marriage in q uestion.
O swald, what importance do you attach to this confession?
I might suppress it, but I will not. I s it possible, how-
ever, that it will prove my condemnation? I am, I k now,
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 243
tamed now; and could your parent have witnessed my love
for you, O swald you were dear to him, -- we should
have been heard. My stepmother now formed a proj ect for
marrying me to the son of her eldest brother, Mr. Mac.
linson, who had an estate in our neighbourhood. H e was
a man of thirty, rich, handsome, highly born, and of ho-
nourable character; but so thoroughly convinced of a hus-
band' s right to govern, and a wife' s duty to obey, that a
doubt on this subj ect would as much have shock ed him
as a q uestion of his own integrity. The rumours of
my eccentricity did not alarm him. H is house was so
ordered, the same things were every day performed there
so punctually to the minute, that any change was impos-
sible. The two old aunts who directed his establishment,
the servants, the very horses, could not to-morrow have
acted differently from yesterday; nay, the furniture, which
had served three generations, would have started of its own
accord had any thing new approached it. The effects of my
arrival, therefore, might well be defied. H abit there reign.
ed so securely, that any little liberties I might have tak en
would but have beguiled a q uarter of an hour once a week ,
without being of any farther conseq uence. Mr. Maclinson
was a good man, incapable of giving pain; yet had I
spok en to him of the innumerable annoyances which may
torment an active or a feeling mind, he would have merely
thought that I had the vapours, and bade me mount my
horse to tak e an airing. H e desired to marry me, because
he k new nothing about the wishes of imaginative beings,
and admired without understanding me: had he but guessed
that I was a woman of genius, he might have feared that
he could not please me; but no such anx iety ever entered
his head. J udge my repugnance against such an union.
I decidedly refused. My father supported me: his wife
from this moment cherished the deepest resentment:
she was a despot at heart, though timidity often prevented
her ex plaining her will: when it was not anticipated, she
lost her temper; but if resisted, after she had made the
effort of ex pressing it, she was the more unforgiving, for
having been thus fruitlessly drawn from her wonted reserve.
The whole town was loud in my blame. ' S o proper a
r2
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? 244CO R I N N E ; O E I TA L Y .
match, such a fortune, so estimable a man, of such a good
family! ' was the general cry. I strove to show them why
this very proper match could not suit me, and sometimes
made myself intelligible while speak ing; but when I was
gone, my words left no impression: former ideas returned;
and these old acq uaintance were the more welcome from
having been a moment banished. O ne woman, much more
mental than the rest, though she bowed to all their ex ternal
forms, took me aside, when 1 had spok en with more than
usual vivacity, and said a few words to me which I can
never forget: -- ' Y ou give yourself a great deal of trouble
to no purpose, my dear: you cannot change the nature of
things: a little northern town, unconnected with the world,
uncivilised by arts or letters, must remain what it is. I f
you are doomed to live here, submit cheerfully; but leave
it if you can: these are your only alternatives. ' This was
evidently so rational, that I felt a greater respect for her
than for myself: with tastes lik e enough to my own, she
k new how to resign herself beneath the lot which I found
insupportable: with a love of poetry, she could j udge
better than 1 the stubbornness of man. I sought to k now
more of her, but in vain: her thoughts wandered beyond
her home; but her life was devoted to it. I even believe
that she dreaded lest her intercourse with me should revive
her natural superiority; for what could she have done with
it there?
CH A PTE R I I I .
" I might have passed my life in this deplorable situation
had I not lost my father. A sudden accident deprived me
>> f my protector, my friend,-- the only being who had un-
derstood me in that peopled desert. My despair was
uncontrollable. I found myself without one support. I
nad no relation save my stepmother, with whom I was no
More intimate now than on the day I met her first. S he
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? corinne; or italy. 245
soon renewed the suit of Mr. Maclinson; and though she
had no authority to command my marrying him, received
no one else at her house, and plainly told me that she
should countenance no other match. N ot that she much
loved her k insman; but she thought me presumptuous in
refusing him, and made his cause her own, rather for the
defence of mediocrity than from family pride. E very day
my state grew more odious. I felt myself attack ed by that
home-sick
death. I
j ect,--
yearning which renders ex ile more terrible than
magination is displeased by each surrounding ob-
the country, climate, language, and customs: life as
a whole, life in detail, each moment, each circumstance
has its sting; for one' s own land inspires a thousand plea-
sures that we guess not till they are lost.
" la favella, i costumi,
L ' aria, i tronchi,il terren, le mura, il sassi,"
" Tongue, manners, air, trees, earth, walls, every stone,'
says Metastasio. I t is, indeed, a grief no more to look
upon the scenes of childhood: the charm of their
memory renews our youth, yet sweetens the thought of
death. The tomb and cradle there repose in the same
shade; while the years spent beneath stranger sk ies seem
lik e branches without roots. The generation which pre-
ceded yours remembers not your birth; it is not the
generation of your sires: a host of mutual interests ex ist
between you and your countrymen, which cannot be
understood by foreigners, to whom you must ex plain
every thing, instead of finding the initiated ease that bids
your thoughts flow forth secure the moment you meet
a compatriot. I
such amiable ex
them as I walk
could not remember without emotion,
pressions as ' Cara, Carissima:' I repeated
ed alone, in imitation of the k indly welcomes
so contrasted with the greetings I
day I wandered into the fields. O
had been wont to hear rich music;
now received. E very
f an evening, in I taly, I
but now the cawing
of rook s alone resounded beneath the clouds. The fruits
could scarcely ripen. I saw no vines: the languid flowers
it 3
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? 246 CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
succeeded each other slowly; black pines covered the
hills: an antiq ue edifice, or even one fine picture, would
have been a relief, for which I should have sought thirty
miles round in vain,* A ll was dull and sullen: the
houses and their inhabitants served but to rob solitude of
its poetic horrors. There was enough of commerce and
of agriculture near for them to say, ' Y ou ought to be
content, you want for nothing. " S tupid superficial j udg-
ment!
The hearth of happiness or suffering is in our own
breast' s secret sanctuary. A t twenty-one I had a right to
my mother' s fortune, and whatever my father had left me.
Then did I first dream of returning to I taly, and devoting
my life to the arts. This proj ect so inebriated me with
j oy, that, at first, I could anticipate no obj ections; yet,
as my feverish hope subsided, I feared to tak e an irre-
parable resolve, and thought on what my acq uaintance
might say, to a plan which, from appearing perfectly easy,
now seemed utterably impracticable; yet the image of a
life in the midst of antiq uities and arts was detailed
before my mind' s eye with so many charms, that I felt
a fresh disgust at my tiresome ex istence. My talent,
which I had feared to lose, had increased by my constant
study of E nglish literature. The depth of thought and
feeling which characterises your poets had strengthened
my mind without impairing my fancy. I therefore pos-
sessed the advantages of a double education and twofold
nationalities. I remembered the approbation paid by a
few good critics in F lorence to my first poetical essays,
and prided in the added success I might obtain; in sooth,
I had great hopes of myself. A nd is not such the first,
the noblest illusion of youth? Methought that I should
be mistress of the universe, the moment I escaped the
withering breath of vulgar malice; but when I thought
of flying in secret, I felt awed by that opinion which
swayed me much more in E ngland than in I taly; for
though I ' could not lik e the town where I resided, I
* Corinne should have rather lamented that she was not permitted to ex
plore the county which contains A lnwick , H ex ham, Tynemouth, H
.
oly I sle,
and so many other scones dear to the lovers of antiq uity, the fine arts, history,
and nature -- Ts.
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 247
respected, as a whole, the country of which it was a part.
I f my mother-in-law had deigned to tak e me to L ondon
or E dinburgh, if she had thought of marrying me to a
man of mind, I should never have renounced my name,
even for the sak e of returning to my own country. I n
fact, severe as she was, I never could have found the
strength to alter my destiny, but for a multitude of cir-
cumstances which conspired to terminate my uncertainty.
Theresina is a Tuscan, and, though uneducated, she con-
verses in those noble and melodious phrases that lend
such grace to the discourse of our people. S he was
the only person with whom 1 spok e my own language;
and this tie attached me to her. I often found her sad,
and dared not ask why, not doubting that she, lik e myself,
regretted our country. I k new that I should have been
unable to restrain my own feelings, if ex cited by those of
another. There are griefs that are ameliorated by commu-
nication; but imaginary ills augment if confided, above
all, to a fellow-sufferer. A woe so sanctioned we no
longer strive to combat. My poor Theresina suddenly
became seriously ill; and hearing her groan night and
day, I determined to enq uire the cause. A las, she de-
scribed ex actly what I had felt myself. S he had not reflected
on the source of her pangs, and attached more importance
to local circumstances and particular persons; but the
sadness of the country, the insipidity of the town, the
coldness of its natives, the constraint of their habits, -- she
felt as I did, and cried incessantly, ' O h, my native land . '
shall I never see you more ? ' yet added, that she would
not leave me, in heart-break ing tones, unable to reconcile
her love for me with her attachment to our fair sk ies
and mother-tongue. N othing more affected my spirits
than this reflex of my own feelings in a common mind,
but one that had preserved the I talian taste and character
in all its natural vivacity. I promised her that she should
see her home again. ' W ith you ? ' she ask ed. I was silent:
then she tore her hair, again declaring that she could never
leave me, though look ing ready to ex pire before my eyes
8s she said so. A t last a promise that I would return with
r4
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? 248O O R I N N E j O R I TA L Y .
her escaped me; and though spok en but to soothe her,
the j oyous faith she gave it rendered it solemnly binding.
F rom that day she cultivated the intimacy of some traders
in the town, and punctually informed me when any vessel
sailed from the neighbouring port for Genoa or L eghorn.
I heard her, but said nothing: she imitated my silence;
but her eyes filled with tears. My health suffered daily
from the climate and anx iety. My mind req uires gaiety.
I have often told you that grief would k ill me. I struggle
against it too much: to live beneath sorrow one must
yield to it. I freq uently returned to the idea which had
so occupied me since my father' s death; but I loved L ucy
dearly; she was now nine years old: for six had I watched
over her lik e a second mother. I thought, too, that, if I
departed privately, I should inj ure my own reputation, and
that the name of my sister might thus be sullied. This ap-
prehension, for the time, banished all my schemes. O ne
evening, however, when I was more than usually depressed,
I found myself alone with L ady E dgarmond; and, after
an hour' s silence, took so sudden a distaste towards her
imperturbable frigidity, that I began the conversation, by
lamenting the life I led, rather to force her to speak , than
to achieve any other result; but as I grew animated, I
represented the possibility of my leaving E ngland for ever.
My mother-in-law was not at all alarmed; but with a dry
indifference, which I shall never forget, replied, ' Y ou are
of age, Miss E dgarmond; your fortune is your own; you
are the mistress of your conduct: but if you tak e any step
which would dishonour you in the eyes of the world,
you owe it to your family to change your name, and be
reported dead. ' This heartless scorn inspired me with such
indignation, that for a while a desire for vengeance, foreign
to my nature, seized on my soul. That impulse left me;
but the conviction that no one was interested in my wel-
fare brok e every link which, till then, had bound me to
the house where I had seen my father. H is wife certainly
had never pleased me, save by her tenderness for L ucy.
I believed that I must have conciliated her by the pains
I had bestowed on her child; which, perhaps, rather
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? coeinne; or I taly. 249
ex cited her j ealousy; for the more sacrifices she im-
posed on her other inclinations, the more passionately she
indulged the sole affection she permitted herself. A ll that
is q uick and ardent in the human breast, mastered by her
reason in her other connections, spok e from her counte-
nance when any thing concerned her daughter. A t the
height of my resentment, Theresina came to me, in
ex treme emotion, with tidings that a ship had arrived
from L eghorn, on board which were some traders whom
she k new: ' the best people in the world,' she added,
weeping; ' for they are all I talians, can speak nothing but
I talian: in a week
is decided ' -- '
said I . -- ' N
left the room, and I
they sail again for I taly; and if madame
R eturn with them, my good Theresina!
o, madame; I would rather die here. '
mused over my duty to my step-
'
S he
mother. I t was plain that she did not wish to have me
with her; my influence over L ucy displeased her: she
feared that the name I had gained there, as an ex traordi-
nary person, would, one day, interfere with the establish-
ment of my sister: she had told me the secret of her
heart, in desiring me to pass for dead; and this bitter V
advice, which had, at first, so shock ed me, now appeared
reasonable enough. ' Y es, doubtless I may pass for dead,
where my ex istence is but a disturbed sleep,' said I . ' W ith
nature, with the sun, the arts, I shall awak en, and the
poor letters which compose my name, graven on an idle
tomb, will fill my station here as well as I . ' These mental
leaps towards liberty gave me not yet sufficient power for
a decided aim. There are moments when we trust the
force of our own wishes; others in which the habitual
order of things assumes a right to over-rule all the senti-
ments of the soul. I was in a state of indecision which
might have lasted for ever, as nothing obliged me to tak e
an active part; but on the S unday following my convers-
ation with L ady E dgarmond I heard, towards evening,
beneath my window, some I talians singing:. they belonged
to the ship from L eghorn. Theresina had brought them
to give me this agreeable surprise. I cannot ex press what
I felt: a torrent of tears deluged my cheek s. A ll my
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? 250 corinne; oh italy.
recollections were revived: nothing recalls the past lik e
music: it does more than depict, it conj ures it hack , lik e
some beloved shade, veiled in mysterious melancholy. The
musicians sung the delicious verses composed by Monti
inhisex ile:--
' B ella I talia! amate sponde!
Pur vi torno, a riveder,
Trema in petto, e si confonde,
L ' alma oppressa dal piacer! *
' B eauteous I talia! beloved ever!
S hall I behold thy shore again?
Trembling -- bewildered -- my bonds I sever --
Pleasure oppresses my heart and brain. '
I n a k ind of delirium I felt for I taly all love can mak
feel-- desire, enthusiasm, regret. I was no longer mistress
of myself; my whole soul was drawn towards my country:
I yearned to see it, hear it, taste its breath; each throb of
my heart was a call to my own smiling land. W ere life
offered to the dead, they would not dash aside the stone
that k ept them in the tomb with more impatience than I
felt to rush from all the gloom around me, and once more
tak e possession of my fancy, my genius, and of nature.
Y et, at that moment, my sensations were too confused for
me to frame one settled idea. My stepmother entered my
room, and begged that I would order them to cease singing,
as it was scandalous on the S abbath. I insisted that they
were to embark on the morrow, and that it was six years
e one
since I had enj oyed such a pleasure. S he would not hear
me; but said that it behoved us, above all things, to
respect the customs of the place in which we lived; then,
from the window, bade her servants send my poor coun-
trymen away. They departed, singing me, as they went,
an adieu that pierced me to the heart. The measure of my
temptation was full. Theresina, at all hazards, had, un-
k nown to me, made every preparation for my flight. L ucy
had been away a week with a relative of her mother.
The ashes of my father did not repose in the country-
house we inhabited: he had ordered his tomb to be erected
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? CO K I N N E ; O B I TA L Y . 251
on his S cotch estate* E nough: I set forth without warn-
ing my stepmother, but left a letter, apprising her of my
plans. I started in one of those moments at which we give
ourselves up to destiny, when any thing appears preferable
to servitude and insipidity; when youth inconsiderately
trusts the future, and sees it, in the heavens, lik e a bright star
that promises a happy lot.
CH A PTE R I V .
" More anx ious thoughts attack ed me as I lost sight of the
E nglish coast; but as I had not left there any strong
attachment, I was soon consoled, on arriving at L eghorn,
and reviewing the charms of I taly. I told no one my true
namet, and took merely that of Corinne, which the history
of a Grecian poetess, the friend of Pindar, had endeared to
me. (11) My person was so changed that I was secure against
recognition. I had lived so retired in F lorence, that I had
a right to anticipate my identity' s remaining unk nown in
R ome. L ady E dgarmond wrote me word of her having
spread the report that the physicians had prescribed a
voyage to the south for my health, and that I had died on
my passage. H er letter contained no comments. S he re-
mitted, with great ex actness, my whole fortune, which was
considerable; but wrote to me no more. F ive years then
elapsed ere I beheld you; during which I tasted much
good fortune. My fame increased: the fine arts and liter-
ature afforded me even more delight in solitude than in
my own success. I k new not, till 1 met you, the full power
of sentiment: my imagination sometimes coloured and dis-
coloured my illusions without giving me great uneasiness.
I had not yet been seized by any affection capable of over-
ruling me. A dmiration, respect, and love had not en-
chained all the faculties of my soul: I conceived more
* Did the authoress think it usual for the E nglish to be buried in their own
grounds, whether consecrated or not ? -- Tr.
f H er real Christian name is never divulged even to the reader. -- Tr.
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? 252CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
charms than I ever found, and remained superior to my
own impressions. Do not insist on my describing to you
how two men, whose passion for me is but too generally
k nown, successively occupied my life, before I k new you.
I outrage my own conviction in now reminding myself
that any one, save you, could ever have interested me: on
this subj ect I feel eq ual grief and repentance. I shall only
tell you what you have already heard from my friends.
My free life so much pleased me, that, after long irreso-
lutions and painful scenes, I twice brok e the ties which the
necessity of loving had made me contract, and could not
resolve to render them irrevocable. A German noble would
have married and tak en me to his own country. A n I talian
prince offered me a most brilliant establishment in R ome.
The first pleased and inspired me with the highest esteem;
but, in time, I perceived that he had few mental resources.
W hen we were alone together, it cost me great trouble to
sustain a conversation, and conceal from him his own de-
ficiencies. I dared not display myself at my best for fear
of embarrassing him. I foresaw that his regard for me
must necessarily decrease when I should cease to manage
him; and it is difficult, in such a case, to k eep up one' s en-
thusiasm: a woman' s feeling for a man any way inferior
to herself is rather pity than love; and the calculations, the
reflections req uired by such a state, wither the celestial
nature of an involuntary sentiment. The I talian prince
was all grace and fertility of mind: he participated in my
tastes, and loved my way of life; but, on an important oc-
casion, I remark ed that he wanted energy, and that, in
any difficulties, I should have to sustain and fortify him.
There was an end of love -- for women need support;
and nothing chills them more than the necessity of affording
it. Thus was I twice undeceived, not by faults or mis-
fortunes, but by the spirit of observation, which detected
what imagination had concealed. I believed myself des-
tined never to love with the full power of my soul: some-
times this idea pained me; but more freq uently I applauded
my own freedom -- fearing the capability of suffering that
impassioned impulse which might threaten my happiness
and my life. I always re-assured myself in think ing that
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? CO R I N N E J O R I TA L T. 253
my j udgment was not easily captivated, and that no man
could answer my ideal of masculine mind and character.
I hoped ever to escape the absolute power of love, by per-
ceiving some defects in those who charmed me. I then
k new not that there are faults which increase our passion
by the inq uietude they cause. O swald! the melancholy
indecision which discourages you -- the severity of your
opinions -- troubles my repose, without decreasing my
affection. I often think that it will never mak e me
happy; but then it is always myself I j udge, and not
you. A nd now you k now my history -- my flight from
E ngland-- my change of name-- my heart' s inconstancy:--
I have concealed nothing. Doubtless you think that fancy
hath oft misled me; but, if society bound us not by chains
from which men are free, what were there in my life which
should prevent your loving me? H ave I ever deceived?
have I ever wronged any one? has my mind been seared
by vulgar interests? S incerity, good will, and pride--
does God ask more from an orphan alone in the world?
H appy the women who, in their early youth, meet those
they ought to love for ever; but do I the less deserve you
for having k nown you too late? Y
L ord, and you may trust my frank
et, I assure you, my
ness, could I but pass my
life near you, methink s, in spite the loss of the greatest
happiness and glory I can imagine, I would not be your
wife. Perhaps such marriage were to you a sacrifice:
you may one day regret the fair L ucy, my sister, to whom
your father destined you. S he is twelve years my younger;
her name is stainless as the first flower of spring: we
should be obliged, in E ngland, to revive mine, which is
nowasthatofthedead. L ucy,I k now,hasapureand
gentle spirit: if I may j udge from her childhood, she may
become capable of understanding-- loving you. O swald,
you are free. W hen you desire it, your ring shall be re-
stored to you. Perhaps you wish to hear, ere you decide,
what I shall suffer if you leave me. I k now not: some-
times impetuous impulses arise within me, that over-rule
my reason: should I
life insupportable? I
faculty of happiness;
be to blame, then, if they rendered
t is eq ually true that I have a great
it interests me in every thing: I
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cold and damp: I could scarce ever leave the house with
pleasure. N ature now treated me with hostility, and
deepened my regrets of her sweetness and benevolence in
I taly. W ith the winter we removed into the city, if so I
may call a place without public buildings, theatre, music,
or pictures.
" I n the smallest I talian towns we have spectacles, im-
provisatores, zeal for the fine arts, and a glorious sun; we
feel that we live:-- but I almost forgot it in this assembly
of gossips, this depository of disgusts, at once monotonous
and varied. B irths, deaths, and marriages, composed the
history of our society; and these three events here differed
not the least from what they are elsewhere. F igure to
yourself what it must have been for me to be seated at a
tea-table, many hours each day after dinner, with my step-
mother' s guests. These were the seven gravest women in
N orthumberland:-- two were old maids of fifty, timid as
fifteen. O ne lady would say, ' My dear, do you think the
water hot enough to pour on the tea ? ' -- ' My dear,' re-
plied the other, ' I think it is too soon; the gentlemen are
not ready yet. '
-- ' Do you think they will sit late, to-day,
says a third. -- ' I don' t k now,' answers a
believe the election tak es place nex t week , so
my dear? '
fourth; '
I
perhaps they are staying to talk over it. ' -- ' N o,' rej oins a
fifth, ' I rather think that they are occupied by the fox -
hunt which occurred last week : there will be another on
Monday;
' A h!
silence. ?
life to this;
E very q
but for all that, I suppose they will come soon. '
--
I hardly ex pect it,' sighs the six th; and all again is
The convents I had seen in I taly appeared all
and I k new not what would become of me.
uarter of an hour some voice was raised to ask an
insipid q uestion, which received a luk ewarm reply; and
ennui fell back with redoubled weight on these poor wo-
men, who must have thought themselves most miserable,
* W hat a flattering picture of female society, at the country-house of an in.
telligent E nglish peer, not fifty years since! -- Tr.
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 239
had not habit from infancy instructed them to endure it.
A t last the gentlemen came up; yet this long hoped for
moment brought no great change. They continued their
conversation round the fire: the ladies sat in the centre of
the room, distributing cups of tea; and, when the hour of
departure arrived, each went home with her husband,
ready for another day, differing from the last merely by its
date on the almanack . I cannot yet conceive how my
talent escaped a mortal chill. There is no denying that
every case has two sides; every subj ect may be attack ed
or defended; we may plead the cause of life, yet much is
to be said for death, or a state thus resembling it. S uch
was my situation. My voice was a sound either useless or
troublesome to its hearers. I could not, as in L ondon or
E dinburgh, enj oy the society of learned men, who, with a
taste for intellectual conversation, would have appreciated
that of a foreigner, even if she did not q uite conform with
the strict etiq uettes of their country. I sometimes passed
whole days with L ady E dgarmond and her friends, with-
out hearing one word that echoed either thought or feel-
ing, or beholding one ex pressive gesture. I look ed on the
faces of young girls, fair, fresh, and beautiful, but per-
fectly immovable. S trange union of contrasts! A
partook of the same amusements; they drank
ll ages
tea, and
played whist * : women grew old in this routine here.
Time was sure not to miss them ; he well k new where they
were to be found.
" A n automaton might have filled my place, and could
have done all that was ex pected of me. I n E ngland, as
elsewhere, the divers interests that do honour to humanity
worthily occupy the leisure of men, whatever their retire-
ment; but what remained for women in this isolated
corner of the earth? A mong the ladies who visited us
there were some not deficient in mind, though they con-
cealed it as a superfluity; and towards forty this slight im-
pulse of the brain was benumbed lik e all the rest. S ome
of them I suspected must, by reflection, have matured
their natural abilities; sometimes a look or murmured
accent told of thoughts that strayed from the beaten track ;
but the petty opinions, all powerful in their own little
* S pelt wisk in the original. -- Tfc.
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? 240CO R I N N E J O B I TA L Y .
sphere, repressed these inclinations. A woman was con_
sidered insane, or of doubtful virtue, if she ventured in
any way to assert herself; and, what was worse than all
these inconveniences, she could gain not one advantage by
the attempt. A t first I endeavoured to rouse this sleeping
world. I proposed poetic readings and music, and a day
was appointed for this purpose; but suddenly one woman
remembered that she had been three week s invited to sup
with her aunt; another that she was in mourning for an
old cousin she had never seen, and who had been dead for
months; a third that she had some domestic arrangements
to mak e at home; all very reasonable; yet thus for ever
were intellectual pleasures rej ected; and I so often heard
them say ' that cannot be done,' that, amid so many nega-
tions, not to live would have been to me the best of all.
A fter some debates with myself I gave up my vain
schemes, not that my father forbade them, he even enj oined
his wife to cease tormenting me on my studies; but her
insinuations, her stolen glances while I spok e, a thousand
trivial hinderances, lik e the chains the L illiputians wove
round Gulliver, rendered it impossible for me to follow my
own will; so I ended by doing as 1 saw others do, though
dying of impatience and disgust. B y the time I had
passed four weary years thus, I really found, to my severe
distress, that my mind grew dull, and, in spite of me, was
filled by trifles. W here no interest is tak en in science,
literature, and liberal pursuits, mere facts and insignificant
criticisms necessarily become the themes of discourse ; and
minds, strangers alik e to activity and meditation, become
so limited as to render all intercourse with them at once
tasteless and oppressive. There was no enj oyment near
me save in a certain methodical regularity, whose desire
was that of reducing all things to its own level; a constant
grief to characters called by heaven to destinies of their
own. The ill will I innocently ex cited, j oined with my
sense of the void all round me, seemed to check
breath. E nvy is only to be borne where it is ex
admiration; but oh the misery of living where j
even my
cited by
ealousy
itself awak ens no enthusiasm ! where we are hated as if
powerful, though in fact allowed less influence than the
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 241
obscurest of our rivals. I t is impossible simply to de-
spise the opinions of the herd: they sink , in spite of us,
into the heart, and lie waiting the moments when our
own superiority has involved us in distress; then, then,
even an apparently temperate '
insupportable word we can hear. I
' such a man is unworthy to j
capable of comprehending me:'
power over the human heart;
secret disapprobation, it haunts us in defiance of our reason.
The circle which surrounds you always hides the rest of
the world: the smallest obj ect close before your eyes in-
tercepts their view of the sun. S o is it with the set among
whom we dwell: nor E urope nor posterity can render us
insensible to the intrigues of our nex t door neighbour;
and whoever would live happily in the cultivation of genius
ought to be, above all things, cautious in the choice of his
immediate mental atmosphere.
CH A PTE R I I .
" My only amusement was the education of my half-sister:
her mother did not wish her to learn music, but permitted
me to teach her drawing and I talian. I am persuaded
that she must still remember both; for I owe her the
j ustice to say that she, even then, evinced great intelligence.
O swald, if it was for your happiness I toiled, I shall bless
my efforts, even from the grave. I was now nearly twenty:
my father wished me to marry, and here the sad fatality
of my life began. L ord N evil was his intimate friend,
and it was yourself of whom he thought as my husband.
H ad we then met and loved, our fate would have been
cloudless. I had heard such praises of you, that, whether
from presentiment or pride, I was ex tremely flattered with
the hope of being your wife. Y ou were too young, for I
was eighteen months your elder; but your love of study,
they said, outstripped your age; and I formed so sweet
an idea of passing my days with such a character as yours
W ell? ' may prove the most
n vain we tell ourselves
udge me, such a woman is in-
the human face has great
and when we read there a
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? 242CO R I N N E ; O B I TA L Y .
was described, that I forgot all my prej
way of life usual to women in E ngland. I
that you would settle in E dinburgh or L
udices against the
k new, besides,
ondon; in either
place I was secure of finding congenial friends. I said
then, as I think now, that all my wretchedness sprung
from my being tied to a little town in the centre of a
northern county. Great cities alone can suit those who
deviate from hack neyed rules, if they design to live in
society: as life is varied there, novelties are welcome; but
where persons are content with a monotonous routine,
they love not to be disturbed by the occasional diversion,
which only shows them the tediousness of their every-day
life. I am pleased to tell you, O swald, though I had
never seen you, that I look ed forward with real anx
the arrival of your father, who was coming to pass a week
with mine. The sentiment had then too little motive to
have been aught less than a foreboding of my future.
iety to
W hen I was presented to L
but too ardently, to please him;
than was req uired for success;
ord N evil I desired, perhaps
and did infinitely more
displaying all my talents,
dancing, singing, and ex temporising before him: my long
imprisoned soul felt but too blest in break ing from its
chain. S even years of ex perience have calmed me. I
am more accustomed to myself. I k now how to wait.
I have, perchance, less confidence in the k indness of
others, less eagerness for their applause: indeed, it is
possible that there was then something strange about me!
W e have so much fire and imprudence in early youth, one
faces life with such vivacity! Mind, however distinguished,
cannot supply the work of time; and though we may speak
oftheworldasifwek newit,weneveractuptoourown
views: there is a fever in our ideas that will not let our
conduct conform with our reasonings. I believe, though not
with certainty, that I appeared to L ord N evil somewhat too
wild; for though he treated me very amiably, yet, when
he left my father, he said that, after due reflection, he
thought his son too young for the marriage in q uestion.
O swald, what importance do you attach to this confession?
I might suppress it, but I will not. I s it possible, how-
ever, that it will prove my condemnation? I am, I k now,
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 243
tamed now; and could your parent have witnessed my love
for you, O swald you were dear to him, -- we should
have been heard. My stepmother now formed a proj ect for
marrying me to the son of her eldest brother, Mr. Mac.
linson, who had an estate in our neighbourhood. H e was
a man of thirty, rich, handsome, highly born, and of ho-
nourable character; but so thoroughly convinced of a hus-
band' s right to govern, and a wife' s duty to obey, that a
doubt on this subj ect would as much have shock ed him
as a q uestion of his own integrity. The rumours of
my eccentricity did not alarm him. H is house was so
ordered, the same things were every day performed there
so punctually to the minute, that any change was impos-
sible. The two old aunts who directed his establishment,
the servants, the very horses, could not to-morrow have
acted differently from yesterday; nay, the furniture, which
had served three generations, would have started of its own
accord had any thing new approached it. The effects of my
arrival, therefore, might well be defied. H abit there reign.
ed so securely, that any little liberties I might have tak en
would but have beguiled a q uarter of an hour once a week ,
without being of any farther conseq uence. Mr. Maclinson
was a good man, incapable of giving pain; yet had I
spok en to him of the innumerable annoyances which may
torment an active or a feeling mind, he would have merely
thought that I had the vapours, and bade me mount my
horse to tak e an airing. H e desired to marry me, because
he k new nothing about the wishes of imaginative beings,
and admired without understanding me: had he but guessed
that I was a woman of genius, he might have feared that
he could not please me; but no such anx iety ever entered
his head. J udge my repugnance against such an union.
I decidedly refused. My father supported me: his wife
from this moment cherished the deepest resentment:
she was a despot at heart, though timidity often prevented
her ex plaining her will: when it was not anticipated, she
lost her temper; but if resisted, after she had made the
effort of ex pressing it, she was the more unforgiving, for
having been thus fruitlessly drawn from her wonted reserve.
The whole town was loud in my blame. ' S o proper a
r2
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? 244CO R I N N E ; O E I TA L Y .
match, such a fortune, so estimable a man, of such a good
family! ' was the general cry. I strove to show them why
this very proper match could not suit me, and sometimes
made myself intelligible while speak ing; but when I was
gone, my words left no impression: former ideas returned;
and these old acq uaintance were the more welcome from
having been a moment banished. O ne woman, much more
mental than the rest, though she bowed to all their ex ternal
forms, took me aside, when 1 had spok en with more than
usual vivacity, and said a few words to me which I can
never forget: -- ' Y ou give yourself a great deal of trouble
to no purpose, my dear: you cannot change the nature of
things: a little northern town, unconnected with the world,
uncivilised by arts or letters, must remain what it is. I f
you are doomed to live here, submit cheerfully; but leave
it if you can: these are your only alternatives. ' This was
evidently so rational, that I felt a greater respect for her
than for myself: with tastes lik e enough to my own, she
k new how to resign herself beneath the lot which I found
insupportable: with a love of poetry, she could j udge
better than 1 the stubbornness of man. I sought to k now
more of her, but in vain: her thoughts wandered beyond
her home; but her life was devoted to it. I even believe
that she dreaded lest her intercourse with me should revive
her natural superiority; for what could she have done with
it there?
CH A PTE R I I I .
" I might have passed my life in this deplorable situation
had I not lost my father. A sudden accident deprived me
>> f my protector, my friend,-- the only being who had un-
derstood me in that peopled desert. My despair was
uncontrollable. I found myself without one support. I
nad no relation save my stepmother, with whom I was no
More intimate now than on the day I met her first. S he
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? corinne; or italy. 245
soon renewed the suit of Mr. Maclinson; and though she
had no authority to command my marrying him, received
no one else at her house, and plainly told me that she
should countenance no other match. N ot that she much
loved her k insman; but she thought me presumptuous in
refusing him, and made his cause her own, rather for the
defence of mediocrity than from family pride. E very day
my state grew more odious. I felt myself attack ed by that
home-sick
death. I
j ect,--
yearning which renders ex ile more terrible than
magination is displeased by each surrounding ob-
the country, climate, language, and customs: life as
a whole, life in detail, each moment, each circumstance
has its sting; for one' s own land inspires a thousand plea-
sures that we guess not till they are lost.
" la favella, i costumi,
L ' aria, i tronchi,il terren, le mura, il sassi,"
" Tongue, manners, air, trees, earth, walls, every stone,'
says Metastasio. I t is, indeed, a grief no more to look
upon the scenes of childhood: the charm of their
memory renews our youth, yet sweetens the thought of
death. The tomb and cradle there repose in the same
shade; while the years spent beneath stranger sk ies seem
lik e branches without roots. The generation which pre-
ceded yours remembers not your birth; it is not the
generation of your sires: a host of mutual interests ex ist
between you and your countrymen, which cannot be
understood by foreigners, to whom you must ex plain
every thing, instead of finding the initiated ease that bids
your thoughts flow forth secure the moment you meet
a compatriot. I
such amiable ex
them as I walk
could not remember without emotion,
pressions as ' Cara, Carissima:' I repeated
ed alone, in imitation of the k indly welcomes
so contrasted with the greetings I
day I wandered into the fields. O
had been wont to hear rich music;
now received. E very
f an evening, in I taly, I
but now the cawing
of rook s alone resounded beneath the clouds. The fruits
could scarcely ripen. I saw no vines: the languid flowers
it 3
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? 246 CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
succeeded each other slowly; black pines covered the
hills: an antiq ue edifice, or even one fine picture, would
have been a relief, for which I should have sought thirty
miles round in vain,* A ll was dull and sullen: the
houses and their inhabitants served but to rob solitude of
its poetic horrors. There was enough of commerce and
of agriculture near for them to say, ' Y ou ought to be
content, you want for nothing. " S tupid superficial j udg-
ment!
The hearth of happiness or suffering is in our own
breast' s secret sanctuary. A t twenty-one I had a right to
my mother' s fortune, and whatever my father had left me.
Then did I first dream of returning to I taly, and devoting
my life to the arts. This proj ect so inebriated me with
j oy, that, at first, I could anticipate no obj ections; yet,
as my feverish hope subsided, I feared to tak e an irre-
parable resolve, and thought on what my acq uaintance
might say, to a plan which, from appearing perfectly easy,
now seemed utterably impracticable; yet the image of a
life in the midst of antiq uities and arts was detailed
before my mind' s eye with so many charms, that I felt
a fresh disgust at my tiresome ex istence. My talent,
which I had feared to lose, had increased by my constant
study of E nglish literature. The depth of thought and
feeling which characterises your poets had strengthened
my mind without impairing my fancy. I therefore pos-
sessed the advantages of a double education and twofold
nationalities. I remembered the approbation paid by a
few good critics in F lorence to my first poetical essays,
and prided in the added success I might obtain; in sooth,
I had great hopes of myself. A nd is not such the first,
the noblest illusion of youth? Methought that I should
be mistress of the universe, the moment I escaped the
withering breath of vulgar malice; but when I thought
of flying in secret, I felt awed by that opinion which
swayed me much more in E ngland than in I taly; for
though I ' could not lik e the town where I resided, I
* Corinne should have rather lamented that she was not permitted to ex
plore the county which contains A lnwick , H ex ham, Tynemouth, H
.
oly I sle,
and so many other scones dear to the lovers of antiq uity, the fine arts, history,
and nature -- Ts.
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? CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y . 247
respected, as a whole, the country of which it was a part.
I f my mother-in-law had deigned to tak e me to L ondon
or E dinburgh, if she had thought of marrying me to a
man of mind, I should never have renounced my name,
even for the sak e of returning to my own country. I n
fact, severe as she was, I never could have found the
strength to alter my destiny, but for a multitude of cir-
cumstances which conspired to terminate my uncertainty.
Theresina is a Tuscan, and, though uneducated, she con-
verses in those noble and melodious phrases that lend
such grace to the discourse of our people. S he was
the only person with whom 1 spok e my own language;
and this tie attached me to her. I often found her sad,
and dared not ask why, not doubting that she, lik e myself,
regretted our country. I k new that I should have been
unable to restrain my own feelings, if ex cited by those of
another. There are griefs that are ameliorated by commu-
nication; but imaginary ills augment if confided, above
all, to a fellow-sufferer. A woe so sanctioned we no
longer strive to combat. My poor Theresina suddenly
became seriously ill; and hearing her groan night and
day, I determined to enq uire the cause. A las, she de-
scribed ex actly what I had felt myself. S he had not reflected
on the source of her pangs, and attached more importance
to local circumstances and particular persons; but the
sadness of the country, the insipidity of the town, the
coldness of its natives, the constraint of their habits, -- she
felt as I did, and cried incessantly, ' O h, my native land . '
shall I never see you more ? ' yet added, that she would
not leave me, in heart-break ing tones, unable to reconcile
her love for me with her attachment to our fair sk ies
and mother-tongue. N othing more affected my spirits
than this reflex of my own feelings in a common mind,
but one that had preserved the I talian taste and character
in all its natural vivacity. I promised her that she should
see her home again. ' W ith you ? ' she ask ed. I was silent:
then she tore her hair, again declaring that she could never
leave me, though look ing ready to ex pire before my eyes
8s she said so. A t last a promise that I would return with
r4
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? 248O O R I N N E j O R I TA L Y .
her escaped me; and though spok en but to soothe her,
the j oyous faith she gave it rendered it solemnly binding.
F rom that day she cultivated the intimacy of some traders
in the town, and punctually informed me when any vessel
sailed from the neighbouring port for Genoa or L eghorn.
I heard her, but said nothing: she imitated my silence;
but her eyes filled with tears. My health suffered daily
from the climate and anx iety. My mind req uires gaiety.
I have often told you that grief would k ill me. I struggle
against it too much: to live beneath sorrow one must
yield to it. I freq uently returned to the idea which had
so occupied me since my father' s death; but I loved L ucy
dearly; she was now nine years old: for six had I watched
over her lik e a second mother. I thought, too, that, if I
departed privately, I should inj ure my own reputation, and
that the name of my sister might thus be sullied. This ap-
prehension, for the time, banished all my schemes. O ne
evening, however, when I was more than usually depressed,
I found myself alone with L ady E dgarmond; and, after
an hour' s silence, took so sudden a distaste towards her
imperturbable frigidity, that I began the conversation, by
lamenting the life I led, rather to force her to speak , than
to achieve any other result; but as I grew animated, I
represented the possibility of my leaving E ngland for ever.
My mother-in-law was not at all alarmed; but with a dry
indifference, which I shall never forget, replied, ' Y ou are
of age, Miss E dgarmond; your fortune is your own; you
are the mistress of your conduct: but if you tak e any step
which would dishonour you in the eyes of the world,
you owe it to your family to change your name, and be
reported dead. ' This heartless scorn inspired me with such
indignation, that for a while a desire for vengeance, foreign
to my nature, seized on my soul. That impulse left me;
but the conviction that no one was interested in my wel-
fare brok e every link which, till then, had bound me to
the house where I had seen my father. H is wife certainly
had never pleased me, save by her tenderness for L ucy.
I believed that I must have conciliated her by the pains
I had bestowed on her child; which, perhaps, rather
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? coeinne; or I taly. 249
ex cited her j ealousy; for the more sacrifices she im-
posed on her other inclinations, the more passionately she
indulged the sole affection she permitted herself. A ll that
is q uick and ardent in the human breast, mastered by her
reason in her other connections, spok e from her counte-
nance when any thing concerned her daughter. A t the
height of my resentment, Theresina came to me, in
ex treme emotion, with tidings that a ship had arrived
from L eghorn, on board which were some traders whom
she k new: ' the best people in the world,' she added,
weeping; ' for they are all I talians, can speak nothing but
I talian: in a week
is decided ' -- '
said I . -- ' N
left the room, and I
they sail again for I taly; and if madame
R eturn with them, my good Theresina!
o, madame; I would rather die here. '
mused over my duty to my step-
'
S he
mother. I t was plain that she did not wish to have me
with her; my influence over L ucy displeased her: she
feared that the name I had gained there, as an ex traordi-
nary person, would, one day, interfere with the establish-
ment of my sister: she had told me the secret of her
heart, in desiring me to pass for dead; and this bitter V
advice, which had, at first, so shock ed me, now appeared
reasonable enough. ' Y es, doubtless I may pass for dead,
where my ex istence is but a disturbed sleep,' said I . ' W ith
nature, with the sun, the arts, I shall awak en, and the
poor letters which compose my name, graven on an idle
tomb, will fill my station here as well as I . ' These mental
leaps towards liberty gave me not yet sufficient power for
a decided aim. There are moments when we trust the
force of our own wishes; others in which the habitual
order of things assumes a right to over-rule all the senti-
ments of the soul. I was in a state of indecision which
might have lasted for ever, as nothing obliged me to tak e
an active part; but on the S unday following my convers-
ation with L ady E dgarmond I heard, towards evening,
beneath my window, some I talians singing:. they belonged
to the ship from L eghorn. Theresina had brought them
to give me this agreeable surprise. I cannot ex press what
I felt: a torrent of tears deluged my cheek s. A ll my
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? 250 corinne; oh italy.
recollections were revived: nothing recalls the past lik e
music: it does more than depict, it conj ures it hack , lik e
some beloved shade, veiled in mysterious melancholy. The
musicians sung the delicious verses composed by Monti
inhisex ile:--
' B ella I talia! amate sponde!
Pur vi torno, a riveder,
Trema in petto, e si confonde,
L ' alma oppressa dal piacer! *
' B eauteous I talia! beloved ever!
S hall I behold thy shore again?
Trembling -- bewildered -- my bonds I sever --
Pleasure oppresses my heart and brain. '
I n a k ind of delirium I felt for I taly all love can mak
feel-- desire, enthusiasm, regret. I was no longer mistress
of myself; my whole soul was drawn towards my country:
I yearned to see it, hear it, taste its breath; each throb of
my heart was a call to my own smiling land. W ere life
offered to the dead, they would not dash aside the stone
that k ept them in the tomb with more impatience than I
felt to rush from all the gloom around me, and once more
tak e possession of my fancy, my genius, and of nature.
Y et, at that moment, my sensations were too confused for
me to frame one settled idea. My stepmother entered my
room, and begged that I would order them to cease singing,
as it was scandalous on the S abbath. I insisted that they
were to embark on the morrow, and that it was six years
e one
since I had enj oyed such a pleasure. S he would not hear
me; but said that it behoved us, above all things, to
respect the customs of the place in which we lived; then,
from the window, bade her servants send my poor coun-
trymen away. They departed, singing me, as they went,
an adieu that pierced me to the heart. The measure of my
temptation was full. Theresina, at all hazards, had, un-
k nown to me, made every preparation for my flight. L ucy
had been away a week with a relative of her mother.
The ashes of my father did not repose in the country-
house we inhabited: he had ordered his tomb to be erected
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? CO K I N N E ; O B I TA L Y . 251
on his S cotch estate* E nough: I set forth without warn-
ing my stepmother, but left a letter, apprising her of my
plans. I started in one of those moments at which we give
ourselves up to destiny, when any thing appears preferable
to servitude and insipidity; when youth inconsiderately
trusts the future, and sees it, in the heavens, lik e a bright star
that promises a happy lot.
CH A PTE R I V .
" More anx ious thoughts attack ed me as I lost sight of the
E nglish coast; but as I had not left there any strong
attachment, I was soon consoled, on arriving at L eghorn,
and reviewing the charms of I taly. I told no one my true
namet, and took merely that of Corinne, which the history
of a Grecian poetess, the friend of Pindar, had endeared to
me. (11) My person was so changed that I was secure against
recognition. I had lived so retired in F lorence, that I had
a right to anticipate my identity' s remaining unk nown in
R ome. L ady E dgarmond wrote me word of her having
spread the report that the physicians had prescribed a
voyage to the south for my health, and that I had died on
my passage. H er letter contained no comments. S he re-
mitted, with great ex actness, my whole fortune, which was
considerable; but wrote to me no more. F ive years then
elapsed ere I beheld you; during which I tasted much
good fortune. My fame increased: the fine arts and liter-
ature afforded me even more delight in solitude than in
my own success. I k new not, till 1 met you, the full power
of sentiment: my imagination sometimes coloured and dis-
coloured my illusions without giving me great uneasiness.
I had not yet been seized by any affection capable of over-
ruling me. A dmiration, respect, and love had not en-
chained all the faculties of my soul: I conceived more
* Did the authoress think it usual for the E nglish to be buried in their own
grounds, whether consecrated or not ? -- Tr.
f H er real Christian name is never divulged even to the reader. -- Tr.
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? 252CO R I N N E ; O R I TA L Y .
charms than I ever found, and remained superior to my
own impressions. Do not insist on my describing to you
how two men, whose passion for me is but too generally
k nown, successively occupied my life, before I k new you.
I outrage my own conviction in now reminding myself
that any one, save you, could ever have interested me: on
this subj ect I feel eq ual grief and repentance. I shall only
tell you what you have already heard from my friends.
My free life so much pleased me, that, after long irreso-
lutions and painful scenes, I twice brok e the ties which the
necessity of loving had made me contract, and could not
resolve to render them irrevocable. A German noble would
have married and tak en me to his own country. A n I talian
prince offered me a most brilliant establishment in R ome.
The first pleased and inspired me with the highest esteem;
but, in time, I perceived that he had few mental resources.
W hen we were alone together, it cost me great trouble to
sustain a conversation, and conceal from him his own de-
ficiencies. I dared not display myself at my best for fear
of embarrassing him. I foresaw that his regard for me
must necessarily decrease when I should cease to manage
him; and it is difficult, in such a case, to k eep up one' s en-
thusiasm: a woman' s feeling for a man any way inferior
to herself is rather pity than love; and the calculations, the
reflections req uired by such a state, wither the celestial
nature of an involuntary sentiment. The I talian prince
was all grace and fertility of mind: he participated in my
tastes, and loved my way of life; but, on an important oc-
casion, I remark ed that he wanted energy, and that, in
any difficulties, I should have to sustain and fortify him.
There was an end of love -- for women need support;
and nothing chills them more than the necessity of affording
it. Thus was I twice undeceived, not by faults or mis-
fortunes, but by the spirit of observation, which detected
what imagination had concealed. I believed myself des-
tined never to love with the full power of my soul: some-
times this idea pained me; but more freq uently I applauded
my own freedom -- fearing the capability of suffering that
impassioned impulse which might threaten my happiness
and my life. I always re-assured myself in think ing that
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? CO R I N N E J O R I TA L T. 253
my j udgment was not easily captivated, and that no man
could answer my ideal of masculine mind and character.
I hoped ever to escape the absolute power of love, by per-
ceiving some defects in those who charmed me. I then
k new not that there are faults which increase our passion
by the inq uietude they cause. O swald! the melancholy
indecision which discourages you -- the severity of your
opinions -- troubles my repose, without decreasing my
affection. I often think that it will never mak e me
happy; but then it is always myself I j udge, and not
you. A nd now you k now my history -- my flight from
E ngland-- my change of name-- my heart' s inconstancy:--
I have concealed nothing. Doubtless you think that fancy
hath oft misled me; but, if society bound us not by chains
from which men are free, what were there in my life which
should prevent your loving me? H ave I ever deceived?
have I ever wronged any one? has my mind been seared
by vulgar interests? S incerity, good will, and pride--
does God ask more from an orphan alone in the world?
H appy the women who, in their early youth, meet those
they ought to love for ever; but do I the less deserve you
for having k nown you too late? Y
L ord, and you may trust my frank
et, I assure you, my
ness, could I but pass my
life near you, methink s, in spite the loss of the greatest
happiness and glory I can imagine, I would not be your
wife. Perhaps such marriage were to you a sacrifice:
you may one day regret the fair L ucy, my sister, to whom
your father destined you. S he is twelve years my younger;
her name is stainless as the first flower of spring: we
should be obliged, in E ngland, to revive mine, which is
nowasthatofthedead. L ucy,I k now,hasapureand
gentle spirit: if I may j udge from her childhood, she may
become capable of understanding-- loving you. O swald,
you are free. W hen you desire it, your ring shall be re-
stored to you. Perhaps you wish to hear, ere you decide,
what I shall suffer if you leave me. I k now not: some-
times impetuous impulses arise within me, that over-rule
my reason: should I
life insupportable? I
faculty of happiness;
be to blame, then, if they rendered
t is eq ually true that I have a great
it interests me in every thing: I
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