It is a commonplace of psychology that in shocks and contrasts of this kind the liveliest workings of the imagination and the emotions are to be expected.

If we once establish the contact and complete the circle, and feel something of the actual thrill that animated the author, we shall, I think, feel disposed to forgive Corinne many things--from the dress and attitude which recall that admirable frontispiece of Pickersgill's to Miss Austen's _Emma_, where Harriet Smith poses in rapt attitude with "schall" or scarf complete, to that more terrible portrait of Madame de Stael herself which editors with remorseless ferocity will persist in prefixing to her works, and especially to _Corinne_.

We shall consent to sweep away all the _fatras_ and paraphernalia of the work, and to see in the heroine a real woman enough--loving, not unworthy of being loved, unfortunate, and very undeserving of her ill fortune.

We shall further see that besides other excuses for the mere guide-book detail, the enthusiasm for Italy which partly prompted it was genuine enough and very interesting as a sign of the times--of the approach of a period of what we may call popularised learning, culture, sentiment.

In some respects _Corinne_ is not merely a guide-book to Italy; it is a guide-book by prophecy to the nineteenth century.
The minor characters are a very great deal less interesting than Corinne herself, but they are not despicable, and they set off the heroine and carry out what story there is well enough.