"Vendetta!" is my second Marie Corelli novel and it certainly is not an unforgettable story. This story of revenge for a wrong is quite different than my last two "Vendetta" reads; Balzac's "Vendetta" is about a feud between to families; Guy de Maupassant's "Vendetta" is a mother's revenge concerning her son. Corelli goes a different direction, the husband that has been doubly wronged. I cannot get this story out of my mind, thinking about the religious and social aspect. The world sadly is so different in something especially fidelity in marriage and in general outlook of sexual relationships and propriety. Dimishing Religious sentiment and faith, I am sure have brought about the acceptance of the modern world. Divorce is exponentially more prevalent then over century before and looking at this story with modern eyes does not fair well for the husband being betrayed. One thing that is quite evident for past and future, stepping into a marriage or relationship one needs to keep one's eyes open. A martial mistake is something that will effect a person that today can be changed, yet it can have some long lasting effects. It is hard to know how things will work out but knowing the qualities in a spouse that promote harmony and happiness and not just the first reaction of the person but not going for the glossy exterior looks or behavior. This story has a horror and supernatural element which adds to the suspense.
Story in short- Fabio Romani is the happiest of men until he is deemed dead and buried.
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The below is a synopsis from my Delphi collection of her works included.
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The very first title Corelli used for this novel was Buried Alive, but George Bentley, her publisher, suggested the final title of Vendetta! The novel was published in 1886, shortly after the publication of her first novel, A Romance of Two Worlds. The then Prince of Wales was sufficiently intrigued by the second
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novel to request his own copy of the book. It was summarised in a 1903 biography of Corelli (by Coates and Bell) as “an exposition – in the form of a novel – on marital infidelity.” The narrative opens with a melodramatic statement typical of Corelli’s style: “I, who write this, am a dead man.” Writing from the solitude of a South American forest, the narrator, Fabio Romani, tells the reader that he, a Neapolitan aristocrat, fell victim to an illness resembling cholera in his home city in 1884, slipped into a coma which to
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all those who saw him resembled death itself and he was placed in a flimsy coffin and “laid to rest” in the family vault. There he awakes and naturally goes into a blind panic, using all his strength to fight his way out of the coffin. He finds some booty hidden in the vaults by a band of brigands led by the notorious Carmelo Neri and resolves to use the treasure to finance his “resurrection”. Meanwhile, his “widow” carries on life regardless, seemingly unaffected by her loss.
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In reality the couple were a poor match from the start; Romani was a rather other-worldly young man, more used to the company of the arts and Guido Ferrari, his dearest male friend; Nina, his bride, whom he married in haste, is younger than him and comes from a family of noble name but poor character; her strict convent education has done nothing to dispel her inherited “bad blood”. From the outset, Nina has the upper hand; Romani can deny her nothing and is her “willing and devoted slave”. Before long
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the couple have a baby and Romani is rather taken aback at Guido’s less than enthusiastic welcome for his newborn daughter, left wondering at the heavy hints of jealousy and betrayal, but unable to connect them with his new and apparently happy life. Only three years after Nina and Romani first meet, cholera comes to Naples; here the back story and the present join together with Romani’s “death”. A shock almost as terrible as being buried alive is about to assail Romani, however. As
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he makes his way back to his home after struggling from the family vault, his appearance much altered by the shock of events, he learns that people are saying unflattering things about his wife’s character. Something in his mind tells him to approach his own home secretly and with caution; whilst hidden in the garden, he is devastated to witness Guido and Nina in a passionate embrace and it is clear that the affair has been going from almost from the start of the marriage. The final blow is to overhear his wife
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say: “I am glad he [Romani] is dead.” Romani is beside himself with grief. When the lovers have moved on, he takes up the crucifix he was buried with and “swore by that sacred symbol never to relent, never to relax, never to rest, till I had brought my vow of just vengeance to its utmost fulfilment”. Romani goes away for a while and on his return he poses as the Conte Cesare Oliva, a wealthy man returning to Naples after a long time away. The stress of his challenges has turned his hair prematurely white
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and on his return to Naples he dons smoked spectacles and is able to pass as a much older man; he befriends his “widow” and her lover as a stranger, a ruse that soon fools them. This is the first act of Romani’s execution of his plans for revenge, but can his plans succeed? In their rather sycophantic biography of Corelli, Coates and Bell describe the skill with which the author depicts Naples and its people and the way she can describe a delightful scene only to knock it down with some dreadful event; a master
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of building suspense. As the biographers point out, it is a familiar story she tells in this novel, that of marital infidelity and one which she reinforces throughout the novel with various similar anecdotes about murdered cheating wives and cuckolded husbands. This is a much better paced story than Corelli’s first novel, perhaps because there is a welcome absence of the many esoteric discourses found in Romance of Two Worlds. Some scenes are very well written; the account of Romani fighting
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his way in sheer panic out of his own coffin is convincing and suggests that Corelli could have been an accomplished writer of adventure stories if she had been so inclined. The suspense is maintained our desire to
find out if and how Romani is able to exact revenge. Vendetta! is an accomplished novel, which holds its own with many other dramatic romance novels of the late nineteenth century.
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Lest those who read the following pages should deem this story at all improbable, it is perhaps necessary to say that its chief incidents are founded on an actual occurrence which took place in Naples during the last scathing visitation of the cholera in 1884. We know well enough, by the chronicle of daily journalism, that the infidelity of wives is, most unhappily, becoming common — far too common for the peace and good repute of society. Not so common is an outraged husband’s vengeance — not often dare he take the law into his own hands — for in England, at least, such boldness on his part would doubtless be deemed a worse crime than that by which he personally is doomed to suffer. But in Italy things are on a different footing — the verbosity and red-tape of the law, and the hesitating verdict of special juries, are not there considered sufficiently efficacious to soothe a man’s damaged honor and ruined name. And thus — whether right or wrong
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— it often happens that strange and awful deeds are perpetrated — deeds of which the world in general hears nothing, and which, when brought to light at last, are received with surprise and incredulity. Yet the romances planned by the brain of the novelist or dramatist are poor in comparison with the romances of real life — life wrongly termed commonplace, but which, in fact, teems with tragedies as great and dark and soul-torturing as any devised by Sophocles or Shakespeare.
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Nothing is more strange than truth — nothing, at times, more terrible! Marie Corelli. August, 1886.
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I, who write this, am a dead man. Dead legally — dead by absolute proofs — dead and buried! Ask for me in my native city and they will tell you I was one of the victims of the cholera that ravaged Naples in 1884, and that my mortal remains lie moldering in the funeral vault of my ancestors. Yet — I live! I feel the warm blood coursing through my veins — the blood of thirty summers — the prime of early manhood invigorates me,
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I answer none of them. I did so once. I told my story to a man I met by chance — one renowned for medical skill and kindliness. He heard me to the end in evident incredulity and alarm, and hinted at the possibility of madness. Since then I have never spoken.
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Dead, and yet living! How can that be? — you ask. Ah, my friends! If you seek to be rid of your dead relations for a certainty, you should have their bodies cremated. Otherwise there is no knowing what may happen! Cremation is the best way — the only way. It is clean, and safe. Why should there be any prejudice against it? Surely it is better to give the remains of what we loved (or pretended to love) to cleansing fire and pure air than to lay them in a cold vault of stone, or down, down in the wet and clinging earth.
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But let me to my task. I, Fabio Romani, lately deceased, am about to chronicle the events of one short year
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One suffering, common to many, I have never known — that is — poverty. I was born rich. When my father, Count Filippo Romani, died, leaving me, then a lad of seventeen, sole heir to his enormous possessions — sole head of his powerful house — there were many candid friends who, with their usual kindness, prophesied the worst things of my future. Nay, there were even some who looked forward to
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my physical and mental destruction with a certain degree of malignant expectation — and they were estimable persons too. They were respectably connected — their words carried weight — and for a time I was an object of their maliciously pious fears. I was destined, according to their calculations, to be a gambler, a spendthrift, a drunkard, an incurable roue of the most abandoned character. Yet, strange to say, I became none of these things. Though a Neapolitan, with all the fiery passions and hot blood of my race, I had
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an innate scorn for the contemptible vices and low desires of the unthinking vulgar.
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I had wanted Fabio to be happy but as I read on, it was quite apparent that Nina never loved him and if she loved anyone, Guido came closet because both had a lower set of morals and self absorb desires. The one thing that I wished more than anything is that little Stella had lived. Fabio should have spoken up and had a doctor look after his daughter but he was too concerned about not being found out and his vendetta ruined. Even though he worried about how she would be when she was older, he could have helped direct her. He felt divorce would not suit him and his vengeance was needed especially since less a month into his marriage his wife started to accept advances from a lover. I was disappointed in Guido but even before Nina came around, he was trying to make fun of his friend's ways. What would have happened if Fabio came home and did not see his wife and best friend espousing love? He would have eventually found out and maybe another child that would not be his. I was hoping that Lilla would be his but that really did not make sense, it was too early and his wife and vengeance, was only on his mind. The death of Guido was truly sad because even though Guido had betrayed, Nina started to betray him too. I could not believe, yet I could, that Fabio would let his wife remain alive in the charnel house. The brick killing her had taken that choice away, it seemed clear that she would die. Fabio did not see that his choice in a wife was something that needed more thought than mere passion. His justice is justice unfulfilled, yes they died but what was left in his dealing with his hurt and troubled mind. If he had divorced or just had her move away, he could have possibly had a fairly good life. I am hoping that he softens, since he is young and find a good woman that will help heal and strengthen his ability to forgive. The killing of a spouse is indeed wrong and it is up to God to fulfill it, as he did in the end.