she was prepared to lavish on the
object of her adoration. No man could have made such revelations,
although it may be given to him to sing a greater song. While no woman
could have composed the "Iliad," or the "Novum Organum," or the
"Critique of Pure Reason," or "Othello," no man could have written
"Corinne" or "Adam Bede."

In painting Corinne, Madame de Stael simply describes herself, as she
did in "Delphine," with all her restless soul-agitations; yet not in too
flattering colors, since I doubt if there ever lived a more impassioned
soul, with greater desires of knowledge, or a more devouring thirst for
fame, or a profounder insight into what is lofty and eternal, than the
author of "Corinne." Like Heloise, she could love but one; yet, unlike
Heloise, she could not renounce, even for love, the passion for
admiration or the fascinations of society. She does not attempt to
disguise the immense sacrifices which love exacts and marriage implies,
but which such a woman as Heloise is proud to make for him whom she
deems worthy of her own exalted sentiments; and she shows in the person
of Corinne how much weakness may coexist with strength, and how timid
and dependent is a woman even in the blaze of triumph and in the
enjoyment of a haughty freedom. She paints the most shrinking delicacy
with the greatest imprudence and boldness, contempt for the opinions and
usages of society with the severest self-respect; giving occasion for
scandal, yet escaping from its shafts; triumphant in the greatness of
her own dignity and in the purity of her unsullied soul. "Corinne" is a
disguised sarcasm on the usages of society among the upper classes in
Madame de Stael's day, when a man like Lord Neville is represented as
capable of the most exalted passion, and almost ready to die for its
object, and at the same time is unwilling to follow its promptings to an
honorable issue,--ready even, at last, to marry a woman for whom he
feels no strong attachment, or even admiration, in compliance with
expediency, pride, and family interests.

But "Corinne" is not so much a romance as it is a description of Italy
itself, its pictures, its statues, its palaces, its churches, its
antiquities, its literature, its manners, and its aspirations; and it is
astonishing how much is condensed in that little book. The author has
forestalled all poets and travellers, and even guidebooks; all
successive works are repetitions or amplifications of what she has