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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fdfe138 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53720 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53720) diff --git a/old/53720-0.txt b/old/53720-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4a1106b..0000000 --- a/old/53720-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14041 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Love, by Marie Henri Beyle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: On Love - -Author: Marie Henri Beyle - -Release Date: December 12, 2016 [EBook #53720] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON LOVE *** - - - - -Produced by Madeleine Fournier. Images provided by The Internet Archive. - - - - - - ON LOVE - - - - - - STENDHAL - - (HENRY BEYLE) - - - - ON LOVE - - - TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH - - - WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES - - BY - - PHILIP SIDNEY WOOLF - - AND - - CECIL N. SIDNEY WOOLF, M. A. - - FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE - - - -That you should be made a fool of by a young woman, why, it is many an - honest man's case. - - _The Pirate._ - - - - NEW YORK - - BRENTANO'S - - - - - - TO B. K. - - FOR WHOM - - THE TRANSLATION - - WAS BEGUN - - - - - - - _First Published 1915_ - - _Reprinted 1920_ - - - Printed in Great Britain at - - _The Mayflower Press, Plymouth_. William Brendon & Son, Ltd. - - - -[Pg v] - INTRODUCTORY PREFACE TO THE TRANSLATION - - -Stendhal's three prefaces to this work on Love are not an encouraging -opening. Their main theme is the utter incomprehensibility of the book -to all but a very select few--"a hundred readers only": they are rather -warnings than introductions. Certainly, the early life of Stendhal's -_De l'Amour_ justifies this somewhat distant attitude towards the -public. The first and second editions were phenomenal failures--not -even a hundred readers were forthcoming. But Stendhal, writing in -the early part of the nineteenth century, himself prophesied that -the twentieth would find his ideas at least more comprehensible. The -ideas of genius in one age are the normal spiritual food for superior -intellect in the next. Stendhal is still something of a mystery to -the general public; but the ideas, which he agitated, are at present -regarded as some of the most important subjects for immediate enquiry -by many of the keenest and most practical minds of Europe. - -A glance at the headings of the chapters gives an idea of the breadth -of Stendhal's treatment of love. He touches on every side of the -social relationship between man and woman; and while considering the -disposition of individual nations towards love, gives us a brilliant, -if one-sided, general criticism of these nations, conscious throughout -of the intimate connexion in any given age between its conceptions of -love and the status of woman. - -Stendhal's ideal of love has various names: it is generally -"passion-love," but more particularly "love - -[Pg vi] -_à l'italienne._"[1] The thing in itself is always the same--it is the -love of a man and a woman, not as husband and wife, not as mistress -and lover, but as two human beings, who find the highest possible -pleasure, not in passing so many hours of the day or night together, -but in living one life. Still more, it is the attachment of two free -fellow-creatures--not of master and slave. - -Stendhal was born in 1783--eight years before Olympe de Gouges, the -French Mary Wollstonecraft, published her _Déclaration des Droits -des Femmes_. That is to say, by the time Stendhal had reached mental -maturity, Europe had for some time been acquainted with the cry for -Women's Rights, and heard the earliest statement of the demands, which -have broadened out into what our age glibly calls the "Woman Question." -How, may we ask, does Stendhal's standpoint correspond with his -chronological position between the French Revolution and the "Votes for -Women" campaign of the present day? - -Stendhal is emphatically a champion of Women's Rights. It is true that -the freedom, which Stendhal demands, is designed for other ends than -are associated to-day with women's claims. Perhaps Stendhal, were he -alive now, would cry out against what he would call a distortion of -the movement he championed. Men, and still more women, must be free, -Stendhal holds, in order to love; his chapters in this book on the -education of women are all an earnest and brilliant plea to prove -that an educated woman is not necessarily a pedant; that she is, on -the contrary, far more _lovable_ than the uneducated woman, whom our -grandfathers brought up on the piano, needlework and the Catechism; in -fine, that intellectual sympathy is the true basis of happiness in the -relations of the two sexes. Modern exponents of Women's Rights will say -that this is true, but only half the truth. It would be more correct to -say that Stendhal - -[Pg vii] -saw the whole truth, but forbore to follow it out to its logical -conclusion with the blind _intransigeance_ of the modern propagandist. -Be that as it may, Stendhal certainly deserves more acknowledgment, as -one of the pioneers in the movement, than he generally receives from -its present-day supporters. - - * * * * * - -Stendhal was continually lamenting his want of ability to write. -According to him, a perusal of the _Code Civil_, before composition, -was the best way he had found of grooming his style. This may well have -something to do with the opinion, handed on from one history of French -literature to another, that Stendhal, like Balzac--it is usually put -in these very words--_had no style_. It is not, correctly speaking, -what the critics themselves mean: to have no style would be to chop and -change from one method of expression to another, and nothing could be -less truly said of either of these writers. They mean that he had a bad -style, and that is certainly a matter of taste. Perhaps the critics, -while condemning, condemn themselves. It is the severe beauty of the -_Code Civil_ which, makes them uncomfortable. An eye for an eye and a -spade for a spade is Stendhal's way. He is suspicious of the slightest -adornment: everything that is thought clearly can be written simply. -Other writers have had as simplified a style--Montesquieu or Voltaire, -for example--but there is scant merit in telling simply a simple -lie, and Voltaire, as Stendhal himself says, was afraid of things -which are difficult to put into words. This kind of daintiness is not -Stendhal's simplicity: he is merely uncompromising and blunt. True, -his bluntness is excessive. A nice balance between the severity of the -_Code Civil_ and the "drums and tramplings" of Elizabethan English -comes as naturally to an indifferent pen, whipped into a state of false -enthusiasm, as it is foreign to the warmth - -[Pg viii] -of genuine conviction. Had Stendhal been a little less vehement and a -little less hard-headed, there might have been fewer modifications, a -few less repetitions, contradictions, ellipses--but then so much the -less Stendhal. In that case he might have trusted himself: as it was he -knew his own tendency too well and took fright. Sometimes in reading -Carlyle, one wishes that he had felt the same kind of modesty: he, -certainly, could never have kept to the thin centre line, and we should -have had another great writer "without a style." Effect meant little -to Stendhal, hard fact and clearness everything. Perhaps, he would -often have made his meaning clearer, if he had been less suspicious of -studied effect and elaborate writing. Not infrequently he succeeds in -being colloquial and matter-of-fact, without being definite. - -Stendhal was beset with a horror of being artistic. Was it not he who -said of an artist, whose dress was particularly elaborate: "Depend upon -it, a man who adorns his person will also adorn his work"? Stendhal was -a soldier first, then a writer--Salviati[2] is a soldier. Certainly -it is his contempt for the type of person--even commoner, perhaps, -in 1914 than in 1814--who carries his emotions on his sleeve, which -accounts for Stendhal's naive disclaimer of personal responsibility, -the invention of Lisio[3] and Salviati, mythical authors of this work -on love--all a thin screen to hide his own obsession, which manages, -none the less, to break through unmasked on almost every page. - -The translation makes no attempt to hide these peculiarities or even -to make too definite a sense from a necessarily doubtful passage.[4] -Its whole aim is to reproduce - -[Pg ix] -Stendhal's essay in English, just as it stands in French. No -other English translation of the whole work exists: only a selection -of its maxims translated piece-meal.[5] Had a translation existed, -we should certainly not have undertaken another. As it is, we have -relied upon a great sympathy with the author, and a studied adhesion -to what he said, in order to reconstruct this essay--encouraged by the -conviction that the one is as necessary as the other in order to obtain -a satisfactory result. Charles Cotton's _Montaigne_ seems to us the -pattern of all good translations. - - * * * * * - -In spite of the four prefaces of the original, we felt it advisable -to add still another to the English translation. Stendhal said that -no book stood in greater need of a word of introduction. That was -in Paris--here it is a foreigner, dressed up, we trust, quite _à -l'anglaise_, but still, perhaps, a little awkward, and certainly in -need of something more than the chilly announcement of the title -page--about as encouraging as the voice of the flunkey, who bawls out -your name at a party over the heads of the crowd already assembled. -True, the old English treatment of foreigners has sadly degenerated: -more bows than brickbats are their portion, now London knows the charm -of _cabarets, revues_ and cheap French cooking.[6] - -The work in itself is conspicuous, if not unique. Books on Love are -legion: how could it be otherwise? It was probably the first topic -of conversation, and none has since been found more interesting. But -Stendhal has devised a new treatment of the subject. His method is -analytical and scientific, but, at the same time, - -[Pg x] -there is no attempt at bringing the subject into line with a science; -it is no part of erotology--there is no - - Greek ending with a little passing bell - That signifies some faith about to die.[7] - -His faith is unimpeachable and his curiosity and honesty unbounded: -this is what makes him conspicuous. In claiming to be scientific, -Stendhal meant nothing more than that his essay was based purely upon -unbiassed observation; that he accepted nothing upon vague hearsay -or from tradition; that even the finer shades of sentiment could be -observed with as much disinterested precision, if not made to yield -as definite results, as any other natural phenomena. "The man who has -known love finds all else unsatisfying"--is, properly speaking, a -scientific fact. - -Analytical, however, is the best word to characterise the Stendhalian -method. Scientific suggests, perhaps, more naturally the broader -treatment of love, which is familiar in Greek literature, lives all -through the Middle Ages, is typified in Dante, and survives later in -a host of Renaissance dialogues and treatises on Love. This love--see -it in the _Symposium_ of Plato, in Dante or in the _Dialoghi_ of Leone -Ebreo--is more than a human passion, it is also the _amor che muove il -sole e le altre stelle_, the force of attraction which, combined with -hate, the force of repulsion, is the cause of universal movement. In -this way love is not only scientifically treated, it embraces all other -sciences within it. Scientists will smile, but the day of Science and -Art with a contemptuous smile for each other is over. True, the feeling -underlying this cosmic treatment of love is very human, very simple--a -conviction that love, as a human passion, is all-important, and a -desire to justify its importance by finding it a place in a larger -order of - -[Pg xi] -things, in the "mystical mathematics of the kingdom of Heaven." Weaker -heads than Plato are also pleased to call love divine, without knowing -very clearly what they mean by divinity. Their ignorance is relative; -the allegorical representation of Eros--damned and deified alternately -by the poets--is in motive, perhaps, not so far from what we have -called the scientific, but, perhaps, might better have named the -cosmic, treatment. - -In a rough classification of books on Love one can imagine a large -number collected under the heading--"Academic." One looks for something -to express that want of plain dealing, of _terre-à-terre_ frankness, -which is so deplorable in the literature of Love, and is yet the -distinctive mark of so much of it. "Academic" comprehends a wide range -of works all based on a more or less set or conventional theory of the -passions. It includes the average modern novel, in which convention is -supreme and experience negligible--just a traditional, lifeless affair, -in which there is not even a pretence of curiosity or love of truth. -And, at the same time, "academic" is the label for the kind of book in -which convention is rather on the surface, rather in the form than in -the matter. Tullia of Aragon, for example, was no tyro in the theory -and practice of love, but her _Dialogo d'Amore_ is still distinctly -academic. Of course it is easy to be misled by a stiff varnish of -old-fashioned phrase; the reader in search of sincerity will look for -it in the thought expressed, not in the manner of expression. There is -more to be learnt about love from Werther, with all his wordy sorrows, -than from the slick tongue of Yorick, who found it a singular blessing -of his life "to be almost every hour of it miserably in love with -someone." But, then, just because Werther is wordy, all his feelings -come out, expressed one way or another. With Tullia, and others like -her, one feels that so much is suppressed, because it did not fit the -conventional - -[Pg xii] -frame. What she says she felt, but she must have felt so much more or -have known that others felt more. - -This suppression of truth has, of course, nothing to do with the -partial treatment of love necessary often in purely imaginative -literature. No one goes to poetry for an anatomy of love. Not love, but -people in love, are the business of a playwright or a novelist. The -difference is very great. The purely imaginative writer is dealing with -situations first, and then with the passions that cause them. - -Here it is interesting to observe that Stendhal, in gathering his -evidence, makes use of works of imagination as often as works based -upon fact or his own actual experience.[8] Characters from Scott are -called in as witnesses, side by side with Mademoiselle de Lespinasse or -Mariana Alcaforado. - -The books mentioned by Stendhal are of two distinct kinds. There are -those, from which he draws evidence and support for his own theories, -and in which the connexion with love is only incidental (Shakespeare's -Plays, for example, _Don Juan_ or the _Nouvelle Héloïse_), and -others whose authors are really his forerunners, such as André le -Chapelain.[9] Stendhal gives some account of this curious writer, who -perhaps comes nearer his own analytical method than any later writer. -In fact, we have called Stendhal unique perhaps too rashly--there are -others he does not mention, who, in a less sustained and intentional -way, have attempted an analytical, and still imaginative, study of -love. Stendhal makes no mention of a short essay on Love by Pascal, -which certainly falls in the same category as his own. It is less -illuminating than one might expect, but to read it is to appreciate -still more the restraint, which Stendhal has consciously forced upon -himself. Others also since - -[Pg xiii] -Stendhal--Baudelaire, for instance--have made casual and valuable -investigations in the Stendhalian method. Baudelaire has here and there -a maxim which, in brilliance and exactitude, equals almost anything in -this volume.[10] - -And then--though this is no place for a bibliography of love--there -is Hazlitt's _Liber Amoris_. Stendhal would have loved that patient, -impartial chronicle of love's ravages: instead of Parisian _salons_ and -Duchesses it is all servant-girls and Bloomsbury lodging-houses; but -the _Liber Amoris_ is no less pitiful and, if possible, more real than -the diary of Salviati. - -There are certain books which, for the frequency of their mention -in this work, demand especial attention of the reader--they are its -commentary and furnish much of the material for its ideas. - -In number CLXV of "Scattered Fragments" (below, p. 328) Stendhal gives -the list as follows:-- - - The _Autobiography_ of Benvenuto Cellini. - The novels of Cervantes and Scarron. - _Manon Lescaut_ and _Le Doyen de Killerine_, by the Abbé Prévôt. - The Latin Letters of Héloïse to Abelard. - _Tom Jones._ - _Letters of a Portuguese Nun._ - Two or three stories by Auguste La Fontaine. - Pignotti's _History of Tuscany_. - Werther. - Brantôme. - _Memoirs_ of Carlo Gozzi (Venice, 1760)--only the eighty pages on - the history of his love affairs. - The _Memoirs_ of Lauzun, Saint-Simon, d'Épinay, de Staël, Marmontel, - Bezenval, Roland, Duclos, Horace Walpole, Evelyn, Hutchinson. - Letters of Mademoiselle Lespinasse. - - -[Pg xiv] -All these are more or less famous works, with which, at least by name, -the general reader is familiar. Brantôme's witty and entertaining -writings, the _Letters of a Portuguese Nun_ and those of Mademoiselle -de Lespinasse, perhaps the sublimest letters that have ever been -written, are far less read than they deserve. The rest--excepting -perhaps Scarron, Carlo Gozzi, Auguste La Fontaine, and one or two of -the less-known Memoirs--are the common reading of a very large public. - -This list of books is mentioned as the select library of Lisio -Visconti, who "was anything but a great reader." Lisio Visconti is one -of the many imaginary figures, behind which hides Stendhal himself; we -have already suggested one reason for this curious trait. Besides Lisio -Visconti and Salviati, we meet Del Rosso, Scotti, Delfante, Pignatelli, -Zilietti, Baron de Bottmer, etc. etc. Often these phantom people are -mentioned side by side with a character from a book or a play or with -someone Stendhal had actually met in life. General Teulié[11] is a -real person--Stendhal's superior officer on his first expedition in -Italy: Schiassetti is a fiction. In the same way the dates, which the -reader will often find appended to a story or a note, sometimes give -the date of a real event in Stendhal's life, while at other times it -can be proved that, at the particular time given, the event mentioned -could not have taken place. This falsification of names and dates was a -mania with Stendhal. To most of his friends he gave a name completely -different from their real one, and adopted with each of them a special -pseudonym for himself. The list of Stendhal's pseudonyms is extensive -and amusing.[12] But he was not always thorough in his system of -disguise: he is even known to have written from Italy a letter in -cypher, enclosing at the same time the key to the cypher! - - -[Pg xv] -We have only to make a few additions to Lisio Visconti's list of books -already mentioned, in order to have a pretty fair account of the main -sources of reference and suggestion, to which Stendhal turned in -writing his _De l'Amour_.[13] There are Rousseau's _Nouvelle Héloïse_ -and _Émile_. Stendhal holds that, except for very green youth, the -_Nouvelle Héloïse_ is unreadable. Yet in spite of its affectation, -it remained for him one of the most important works for the study of -genuine passion. Then we must add the _Liaisons Dangereuses_--a work -which bears certain resemblances to Stendhal's _De l'Amour_. Both -are the work of a soldier and both have a soldierly directness; for -perfect balance and strength of construction few books have come near -the _Liaisons Dangereuses_--none have ever surpassed it. There is the -_Princesse de Clèves_ of Madame de Lafayette and _Corinne_ by Madame -de Staël, whose typically German and extravagant admiration for Italy -touched a weak spot in Stendhal. After Chateaubriand's _Génie du -Christianisme_, which Stendhal also refers to more than once, the works -of Madame de Staël were, perhaps, the greatest working influence in the -rise of Romanticism. What wonder, then, that Stendhal was interested? -To the letters of Mlle. de Lespinasse and of the Portuguese Nun we -must add the letters of Mirabeau, written during his imprisonment at -Vincennes, to Sophie de Monnier. Further, we must add the writings of -certain moral teachers whose names occur frequently in the following -pages: Helvétius, whom Clarétie[14] amusingly calls the _enfant -terrible_ of the philosophers; de Tracy[15]; Volney, author of the once -celebrated _Ruines_, traveller and philosopher. These names are only -the most important. Stendhal's reading was - -[Pg xvi] -extensive, and we might swell the list with the names of Montesquieu, -Condillac, Condorcet, Chamfort, Diderot--to name only the moralists. - -It is noticeable that almost all these books, mentioned as the -favourite authorities of Stendhal, are eighteenth-century works. -The fact will seem suspicious to those inclined to believe that the -eighteenth century was a time of pretty ways and gallantry _à la_ -Watteau, or of windy mouthings about Cause and Effect, Duties and -Principles, Reason and Nature. But, to begin with, neither estimate -comes near the mark; and, moreover, Stendhal hated Voltaire almost -as much as Blake did. It was not an indiscriminate cry of Rights and -Liberty which interested Stendhal in the eighteenth century. The old -_régime_ was, of course, politically uncongenial to him, the liberal -and Bonapartist, and he could see the stupidity and injustice and -hollowness of a society built up on privilege. But even if Stendhal, -like the happy optimist of to-day, had mistaken the hatred of past -wrongs for a proof of present well-being, how could a student of Love -fail to be fascinated by an age such as that of Lewis XV? It was the -leisure for loving, which, as he was always remarking, court-life -and only court-life makes possible, that reconciled him to an age he -really despised. Moreover, the mass of memoirs and letters of the -distinguished men and women of the eighteenth century, offering as -it does material for the study of manners unparalleled in any other -age, inevitably led him back to the court-life of the _ancien régime_. -Besides, as has been already suggested, the contradiction in Stendhal -was strong. In spite of his liberalism, he was pleased in later life -to add the aristocratic "de" to the name of Beyle. With Lord Byron, -divided in heart between the generous love of liberty which led him -to fight for the freedom of Greece, and disgust at the vulgarity of -the Radical party, which he had left behind in England, Stendhal found -himself closely in sympathy - -[Pg xvii] -when they met in Italy. It was the originality[16] of the men of the -sixteenth century which called forth his genuine praises; even the -statesmen-courtiers and soldiers of the heroic age of Lewis XIV awoke -his admiration;[17] the gallant courtiers and incompetent statesmen of -Lewis XV awoke at least his interest. - - * * * * * - -Stendhal's _De l'Amour_, and in less degree his novels, have had -to struggle for recognition, and the cause has largely been the -peculiarity of his attitude--his scepticism, the exaggerated severity -of his treatment of idyllic subjects, together with an unusual -complement of sentiment and appreciation of the value of sentiment for -the understanding of life. It is his manner of thinking, much rather -than the strangeness of his thoughts themselves, which made the world -hesitate to give Stendhal the position which it now accords him. But at -least one great discovery the world did find in _De l'Amour_--a novelty -quite apart from general characteristics, apart from its strange -abruptness and stranger truth of detail. Stendhal's discovery is -"Crystallisation"; it is the central idea of his book. The word was his -invention, though the thought, which it expresses so decisively, is to -be found, like most so-called advanced ideas, hidden away in a corner -of Montaigne's Essays.[18] Crystallisation is the - -[Pg xviii] -process by which we love an object for qualities, which primarily -exist in our fancy and which we lend to it, that is to say, imaginary -or unreal qualities. While Montaigne, and others no doubt, had seen -in this a peculiarity of love, Stendhal saw in it love's essential -characteristic--one might say, its explanation, if love were capable of -being explained. Besides, in this book Stendhal is seeking the _how_ -not the _why_ of love. And he goes beyond love: he recognises the -influence of crystallisation upon other sides of life besides love. -Crystallisation has become an integral part of the world's equipment -for thought and expression. - -The crisis in Stendhal's posthumous history is Sainte-Beuve's -_Causeries des Lundis_ of January 2nd and 9th, 1854, of which Stendhal -was the subject. Stendhal died in 1842. It is sometimes said that his -reputation is a fictitious reputation, intentionally worked up by -partisanship and without regard to merit, that in his lifetime he was -poorly thought of. This is untrue. His artistic activities, like his -military, were appreciated by those competent to judge them. He was -complimented by Napoleon on his services prior to the retreat from -Moscow; Balzac, who of all men was capable of judging a novel and, -still more, a direct analysis of a passion, was one of his admirers, -and particularly an admirer of _De l'Amour_. From the general public -he met to a great extent with mistrust, and for a few years after his -death his memory was honoured with apathetic silence. The few, a chosen -public and some faithful friends--Mérimée and others--still cherished -his reputation. In 1853, owing in great measure to the efforts of -Romain Colomb and Louis Crozet, a complete edition of his works was -published by Michel-Lévy. And then, very appropriately, early in the -next year was heard the impressive judgment of Sainte-Beuve. Perhaps -the justest remark in that just appreciation is where he gives Stendhal -the merit of being one of the first Frenchmen to travel _littérairement - -[Pg xix] -parlant_.[19] Stendhal came back from each of his many and frequent -voyages, like the happy traveller in Joachim du Bellay's sonnet, _plein -d'usage et raison_--knowing the ways of men and full of ripe wisdom. -And this is true not only of his travels over land and sea, but also of -those into the thoughtful world of books. - -An equally true--perhaps still truer--note was struck by Sainte-Beuve, -when he insisted on the important place in Stendhal's character played -by _la peur d'être dupe_--the fear of being duped. Stendhal was always -and in all situations beset by this fear; it tainted his happiest -moments and his best qualities. We have already remarked on the effect -on his style of his mistrust of himself--it is the same characteristic. -A sentimental romantic by nature, he was always on his guard against -the follies of a sentimental outlook; a sceptic by education and the -effect of his age, he was afraid of being the dupe of his doubts; he -was sceptical of scepticism itself. This tended to make him unreal and -affected, made him often defeat his own ends in the oddest way. In -order to avoid the possibility of being carried away too far along a -course, in which instinct led him, he would choose a direction approved -instead by his intellect, only to find out too late that he was cutting -therein a sorry figure. Remember, as a boy he made his entrance into -the world "with the fixed intention of being a seducer of women," and -that, late in life, he made the melancholy confession that his normal -role was that of the lover crossed in love. Here lies the commentary on -not a little in Stendhal's life and works. - -The facts of his life can be told very briefly. - - * * * * * - -Henry Beyle, who wrote under the name of Stendhal, was born at Grenoble -in 1783, and was educated in his - -[Pg xx] -native town. In 1799 he came to Paris and was placed there under the -protection of Daru, an important officer under Napoleon, a relative and -patron of his family. But he showed no fitness for the various kinds -of office work to which he was put. He tried his hand at this time, -unsuccessfully also, at painting. - -In 1800, still under the protection of Daru, he went to Italy, and, -having obtained a commission in the 6th regiment of Dragoons, had -his first experience of active service. By 1802 he had distinguished -himself as a soldier, and it was to the general surprise of all who -knew him, that he returned to France on leave, handed in his papers and -returned to Grenoble. - -He soon returned to Paris, there to begin serious study. But in 1806, -he was once more with Daru and the army,--present at the triumphal -entry of Napoleon into Berlin. It was directly after this that he was -sent to Brunswick as assistant _commissaire des guerres_. - -He left Brunswick in 1809, but after a flying visit to Paris, he was -again given official employment in Germany. He was with the army at -Vienna. After the peace of Schoenbrunn he returned once more to Paris -in 1810. - -In 1812, he saw service once more--taking an active and distinguished -part in the Russian campaign of that year. He was complimented by -Napoleon on the way he had discharged his duties in the commissariat. -He witnessed the burning of Moscow and shared in the horrors and -hardships of the retreat. - -In 1813 his duties brought him to Segan in Silesia, and in 1814 to his -native town of Grenoble. - -The fall of Napoleon in the same year deprived him of his position and -prospects. He went to Milan and stayed there with little interruption -till 1821; only leaving after these, the happiest, years of his life, -through fear of being implicated in the Carbonari troubles. - -In 1830, he was appointed to the consulate of Trieste; but Metternich, -who, no doubt, mistrusted his liberal - -[Pg xxi] -tendencies, refused to ratify his appointment, and he was transferred -to Civita Vecchia. This unhealthy district tried his health, and -frequent travel did not succeed in repairing it. - -In 1841, he was on leave in Paris, where he died suddenly in the -following year. - - * * * * * - -Stendhal's best-known books are his two novels: _La Chartreuse de -Parme_ and _Le Rouge et le Noir_. Besides these there are his works of -travel--_Promenades dans Rome_ and _Rome, Florence et Naples_; _Mémoire -d'un Touriste_; his history of Italian painting; his lives of Haydn, -Mozart and Rossini; _L'Abbesse de Castro_ and other minor works of -fiction; finally a number of autobiographical works, of which _La Vie -de Henri Brulard_, begun in his fiftieth year and left incomplete, is -the most important. - -But _De l'Amour_, Stendhal himself considered his most important work; -it was written, as he tells us, in his happy years in Lombardy. It was -published on his return to Paris in 1822, but it had no success, and -copies of this edition are very rare. Recently it has been reprinted -by Messrs. J. M. Dent and Sons (in _Chef d'Œuvres de la Littérature -Française_, London and Paris, 1912). The second edition (1833) had no -more success than the first and is equally difficult to find. Stendhal -was preparing a third edition for the press when he died in 1842. In -1853 the work made a new appearance in the edition of Stendhal's works -published by Michel-Lévy, since reprinted by Calmann-Lévy. It contains -certain additions, some of which Stendhal probably intended for the new -edition, which he was planning at the time of his death. - -Within the last year have appeared the first volumes of a new French -edition of Stendhal's works, published by Messrs. Honoré and Edouard -Champion of Paris. - -[Pg xxii] -It will be the most complete edition of Stendhal's works yet published -and is the surest evidence that Stendhal's position in French -literature is now assured. The volume containing _De l'Amour_ has not -yet appeared. - -The basis of this translation is the first edition, to which we have -only added three prefaces, written by Stendhal at various, subsequent -dates and all well worth perusal. Apart from these, we have preferred -to leave the book just as it appeared in the two editions, which were -published in Stendhal's own lifetime. - -We may, perhaps, add a word with regard to our notes at the end of -the book. We make no claim that they are exhaustive: we intended only -to select some few points for explanation or illustration, with the -English reader in view. Here and there in this book are sentences and -allusions which we can no more explain than could Stendhal himself, -when in 1822 he was correcting the proof-sheets: as he did, we have -left them, preferring to believe with him that "the fault lay with -the self who was reading, not with the self who had written." But, -these few enigmas aside--and they are very few--to make an exhaustive -collection of notes on this book would be to write another volume--one -of those volumes of "Notes and Appendices," under which scholars bury a -Pindar or Catullus. That labour we will gladly leave to others--to be -accomplished, we hope, a thousand years hence, when French also is a -"dead" language. - -In conclusion we should like to express our thanks to our friend -Mr. W. H. Morant, of the India Office, who has helped us to see the -translation through the Press. - -P. and C. N. S. W. - - -[1] See p. 195, below. - -[2] See below, Chap. XXXI. - -[3] See note at end of Chap. I, p. 21, below; also p. XIV and p. 157, -n. 3, below. - -[4] Stendhal confesses that he went so far "as to print several -passages which he did not understand himself." (See p. 4, below.) - -[5] _Maxims of Love_ (Stendhal). (Royal Library, Arthur Humphreys, -London, 1906). - -[6] Lady Holland told Lord Broughton in 1815, that she remembered "when -it used to be said on the invitation cards: 'No foreigners dine with -us.'" (_Recollections of a Long Life_, Vol. I, p. 327). - -[7] He does call it, once or twice, a "Physiology of Love," and -elsewhere a "_livre d'idéologie_," but apologises for its singular form -at the same time. (See Fourth Preface, p. 11, and Chap. III, p. 27, n. -1). - -[8] See p. 63, n. 1, below. - -[9] See p. 339, below. - -[10] See Translators' note 11, p. 343, below. - -[11] See p. 309, below. - -[12] The list may be found in _Les plus belles pages de Stendhal_ -(Mercure de France, Paris, 1908, pp. 511-14). - -[13] On p. 7, below, Stendhal refers to some of the "best" books on -Love. - -[14] _Histoire de la Littérature Française_ (800-1900), Paris, 1907. - -[15] See Translators' note 47, p. 353, below. - -[16] See Chap. XLI, p. 159, below. - -[17] See Chap. XLI, p. 160, n. 4, below. - -[18] "Like the passion of Love that lends Beauties and Graces to -the Person it does embrace; and that makes those who are caught -with it, with a depraved and corrupt Judgment, consider the -thing they love other and more perfect than it is."--Montaigne's -_Essays_, Bk. II, Chapter XVII (Cotton's translation.) This is -"crystallisation"--Stendhal could not explain it better. - -We cannot here forgo quoting one more passage from Montaigne, which -bears distinctly upon other important views of Stendhal. "I say that -Males and Females are cast in the same Mould and that, Education and -Usage excepted, the Difference is not great.... It is much more easy -to accuse one Sex than to excuse the other. 'Tis according to the -Proverb--'Ill may Vice correct Sin.'" (Bk. Ill, Chap. V). - -[19] "In a literary sense." - - - -[Pg xxiii] - - - CONTENTS - Page -Introductory Preface to the Translation v - -Author's Preface. I. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 - II. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 - III. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 - IV. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 - - BOOK I - -CHAPTER - - I. Of Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 - II. Of the Birth of Love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 - III. Of Hope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 - IV. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 - V. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 - VI. The Crystals of Salzburg. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 - VII. Differences between the Birth of Love in the Two Sexes. . 33 - VIII. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 - IX. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 - X. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 - XI. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 - XII. Further Consideration of Crystallisation. . . . . . . . . 45 - XIII. Of the First Step; Of the Fashionable World; - Of Misfortunes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 -[Pg xxiv] - XIV. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 - XV. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 - XVI. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 - XVII. Beauty Dethroned by Love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 - XVIII. Limitations of Beauty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 - XIX. Limitations of Beauty (_continued_) . . . . . . . . . . . 59 - XX. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62 - XXI. Love at First Sight . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 - XXII. Of Infatuation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 - XXIII. The Thunderbolt from the Blue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 - XXIV. Voyage in an Unknown Land . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 - XXV. The Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 - XXVI. Of Modesty. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 - XXVII. The Glance. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 - XXVIII. Of Feminine Pride . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 - XXIX. Of Women's Courage. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 - XXX. A Peculiar and Mournful Spectacle . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 - XXXI. Extract from the Diary of Salviati. . . . . . . . . . . . 103 - XXXII. Of Intimate Intercourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 - XXXIII. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 - XXXIV. Of Confidences. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 - XXXV. Of Jealousy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 - XXXVI. Of Jealousy (_continued_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 - XXXVII. Roxana. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 -XXXVIII. Of Self-Esteem Piqued . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 - XXXIX. Of Quarrelsome Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 - XXXIX. (Part II) Remedies against Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146 - XXXIX. (Part III). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 - -[Pg xxv] - BOOK II - - XL. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 - XLI. Of Nations with regard to Love--France. . . . . . . . . . 158 - XLII. France (_continued_). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162 - XLIII. Italy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166 - XLIV. Rome. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 - XLV. England . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 - XLVI. England (_continued_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 - XLVII. Spain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 - XLVIII. German Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184 - XLIX. A Day in Florence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 - L. Love in the United States . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197 - LI. Love in Provence up to the Conquest of Toulouse, in 1328, - by the Barbarians from the North . . . . . . . . . . . 200 - LII. Provence in the Twelfth Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206 - LIII. Arabia--Fragments gathered and translated from an Arab - collection entitled_ The Divan of Love_. . . . . . . . 213 - LIV. Of the Education of Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 - LV. Objections to the Education of Women. . . . . . . . . . . 227 - LVI. Objections to the Education of Women (_continued_). . . . 236 - LVI. (Part II) On Marriage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 - LVII. Of Virtue, so Called. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 - LVIII. State of Europe with regard to Marriage.-- - Switzerland and the Oberland. . . . . . . . . . . 245 - LIX. Werther and Don Juan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 - - BOOK III - -Scattered Fragments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 - -[Pg xxvi] - APPENDIX - -On the Courts of Love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332 -Code of Love of the Twelfth Century. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 336 -Note on André le Chapelain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339 -Translators' Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341 - - -_Note:_ All the footnotes to the Translation, except those within -square brackets, which are the work of the Translators, are by Stendhal -himself. The Translators' notes at the end of the book are referred to -by numerals enclosed within round brackets. - - -[Pg 1] - PREFACE[1] - - -It is in vain that an author solicits the indulgence of his public--the -printed page is there to give the lie to his pretended modesty. He -would do better to trust to the justice, patience and impartiality -of his readers, and it is to this last quality especially that the -author of the present work makes his appeal. He has often heard people -in France speak of writings, opinions or sentiments as being "truly -French"; and so he may well be afraid that, by presenting facts truly -as they are, and showing respect only for sentiments and opinions that -are universally true, he may have provoked that jealous exclusiveness, -which, in spite of its very doubtful character, we have seen of late -set up as a virtue. What, I wonder, would become of history, of ethics, -of science itself or of literature, if they had to be truly German, -truly Russian or Italian, truly Spanish or English, as soon as they had -crossed the Rhine, the Alps or the Channel? What are we to say to this -kind of justice, to this ambulatory truth? When we see such expressions -as "devotion truly Spanish," "virtues truly English," seriously -employed in the speeches of patriotic foreigners, it is high time to -suspect this sentiment, which expresses itself in very similar terms -also elsewhere. At Constantinople or among savages, this blind and -exclusive partiality for one's own country is a rabid thirst for blood; -among civilised peoples, it is a morbid, unhappy, restless vanity, that -is ready to turn on you for a pinprick.[2] - -[1] [To the first edition, 1822.--Tr.] - -[2] Extract from the Preface to M. Simond's _Voyage en Suisse_, pp. 7, -8. - - -[Pg 2] - PREFACE[1] - - -ThiS work has had no success: it has been found unintelligible--not -without reason. Therefore in this new edition the author's primary -intention has been to render his ideas with clearness. He has -related how they came to him, and he has made a preface and an -introduction--all in order to be clear. Yet, in spite of so much care, -out of a hundred who have read _Corinne_, there are not four readers -who will understand this volume. - -Although it deals with Love, this little book is no novel, and still -less is it diverting like a novel. 'Tis simply and solely an exact -scientific description of a kind of madness which is very rarely to be -found in France. The Empire of propriety, growing day by day wider, -under the influence of our fear of ridicule much more than through the -purity of our morals, has made of the word, which serves as title to -this work, an expression, of which outspoken mention is avoided and -which at times seems even to give offence. I have been forced to make -use of it, but the scientific austerity of the language shelters me, I -think, in this respect, from all reproach. - - * * * * * - -I know one or two Secretaries of Legation who will, at their return, -be able to tender me their services. Till then what can I say to the -people who deny the facts of my narration? Beg them not to listen to it. - - -[Pg 3] -The form I have adopted may be reproached with egoism. A traveller is -allowed to say: "_I_ was at New York, thence _I_ embarked for South -America, _I_ made my way back as far as Santa-Fé-de-Bogota. The gnats -and mosquitoes made _my_ life a misery during the journey, and for -three days _I_ couldn't use _my_ right eye." - -The traveller is not accused of loving to talk of himself: all his -_me's_ and _my's_ are forgiven; for that is the clearest and most -interesting manner of telling what he has seen. - -It is in order, if possible, to be clear and picturesque, that the -author of the present voyage into the little-known regions of the -human heart says: "I went with Mme. Gherardi to the salt mines of -Hallein.... Princess Crescenzi said to me at Rome.... One day at -Berlin I saw handsome Capt. L...." All these little things really -happened to the author, who passed fifteen years in Germany and Italy. -But more observant than sensitive, he never encountered the least -adventure himself, never experienced a single personal sentiment -worthy of narration. Even supposing that he had the pride to believe -the contrary, a still greater pride would have prevented him from -publishing his heart and selling it on the market for six francs, like -those people who in their lifetime publish their memoirs. - -Correcting in 1822 the proofs of this kind of moral voyage in Italy and -Germany, the author, who had described the objects the day that he had -seen them, treated the manuscript, containing the detailed description -of all the phases of this malady of the soul called Love, with that -blind respect, shown by a scholar of the fourteenth century for a newly -unearthed manuscript of Lactantius or Quintius Curtius. When the author -met some obscure passage (and often, to say the truth, that happened), -he always believed that the fault lay with the self who was reading, -not with the self who had written. He confesses that his respect for the - -[Pg 4] -early manuscript carried him so far as to print several passages, which -he did not understand himself. Nothing more foolish for anyone who -had thought of the good graces of the public; but the author, seeing -Paris again after long travels, came to the conclusion that without -grovelling before the Press a success was not to be had. Well, let him -who brings himself to grovel keep that for the minister in power! A -so-called success being out of the question, the author was pleased -to publish his thoughts exactly as they had come to him. This was -once upon a time the procedure of those philosophers of Greece, whose -practical wisdom filled him with rapturous admiration. - -It requires years to gain admittance to the inner circle of Italian -society. Perhaps I shall have been the last traveller in that country. -For since the _Carbonari_ and the Austrian invasion, no foreigner will -ever be received as a friend in the _salons_, where such reckless -gaiety reigned. The traveller will see the monuments, streets and -public places of a city, never the society--he will always be held in -fear: the inhabitants will suspect that he is a spy, or fear that he -is laughing at the battle of Antrodoco and at the degradations, which, -in that land, are the one and only safeguard against the persecution -of the eight or ten ministers or favourites who surround the Prince. -Personally, I really loved the inhabitants and could see the truth. -Sometimes for ten months together I never spoke a word of French, and -but for political troubles and the _Carbonari_ I would never have -returned to France. Good-nature is what I prize above all things. - -In spite of great care to be clear and lucid, I cannot perform -miracles: I cannot give ears to the deaf nor eyes to the blind. So the -people of great fortunes and gross pleasures, who have made a hundred -thousand francs in the year preceding the moment they open this book, -had better quickly shut it, especially if they are - -[Pg 5] -bankers, manufacturers, respectable industrial folk--that's to -say, people with eminently positive ideas. This book would be less -unintelligible to anyone who had made a large sum of money on the Stock -Exchange or in a lottery. Such winnings may be found side by side with -the habit of passing hours together in day-dreams, in the enjoyment of -the emotion evoked by a picture of Prud'hon, a phrase of Mozart, still -more, a certain peculiar look of a woman who is often in your thoughts. -'Tis not in this way that these people "waste their time," who pay -ten thousand workmen at the end of each week: their minds work always -towards the useful and the positive. The dreamer, of whom I speak, is -the man they would hate, if they had time; 'tis him they like to make -the butt of their harmless jokes. The industrial millionaire feels -confusedly that such a man has more _estime_ for a thought than for a -bag of money. - -I invite the studious young man to withdraw, if in the same year as -the industrial gained a hundred thousand francs, he has acquired the -knowledge of modern Greek, and is so proud of it that already he -aspires to Arabic. I beg not to open this book every man, who has -not been unhappy for imaginary reasons, reasons to which vanity is -stranger, and which he would be very ashamed to see divulged in the -_salons_. - -I am sure to displease those women who capture the consideration of -these very _salons_ by an affectation that never lapses for an instant. -Some of these for a moment I have surprised in good earnest, and so -astonished, that, asking themselves the question, they could no longer -tell whether such and such a sentiment, as they had just expressed, was -natural or affected. How could such women judge of the portraiture of -real feelings? In fact this work has been their _bête noire_: they say -that the author must be a wretch. - -To blush suddenly at the thought of certain youthful doings; to have -committed follies through sensibility - -[Pg 6] -and to suffer for them, not because you cut a silly figure in the eyes -of the _salon_, but in the eyes of a certain person in the _salon_; -to be in love at the age of twenty-six in good earnest with a woman -who loves another, or even (but the case is so rare that I scarcely -dare write it, for fear of sinking again into the unintelligible, as -in the first edition)--or even to enter the _salon_ where the woman -is whom you fancy that you love, and to think only of reading in her -eyes her opinion of you at the moment, without any idea of putting on -a love-lorn expression yourself--these are the antecedents I shall ask -of my reader. The description of many of these rare and subtle feelings -has appeared obscure to people with positive ideas. How manage to be -clear in their eyes? Tell them of a rise of fifty centimes or a change -in the tariff of Columbia.[2] - -The book before you explains simply and mathematically, so to speak, -the curious feelings which succeed each other and form a whole called -the Passion of Love. - -Imagine a fairly complicated geometrical figure, drawn with white chalk -on a large blackboard. Well, I am going to explain that geometrical -figure, but on one condition--that it exists already on the blackboard, -for I personally cannot draw it. It is this impossibility that makes -it so difficult to write on Love a book which is not a novel. In order -to follow with interest a philosophic examination of this feeling, -something is wanted in the reader besides understanding: it is -absolutely necessary that Love has been seen by him. But then where can -a passion be seen? - -This is a cause of obscurity that I shall never be able to eliminate. - -[Pg 7] -Love resembles what we call the Milky Way in heaven, a gleaming mass -formed by thousands of little stars, each of which may be a nebula. -Books have noted four or five hundred of the little feelings hanging -together and so hard to recognise, which compose this passion. But -even in these, the least refined, they have often blundered and taken -the accessory for the principal. The best of these books, such as -the _Nouvelle Héloïse_, the novels of Madame Cottin, the Letters of -Mademoiselle de Lespinasse and _Manon Lescaut_, have been written in -France, where the plant called Love is always in fear of ridicule, is -overgrown by the demands of vanity, the national passion, and reaches -its full height scarcely ever. - -What is a knowledge of Love got from novels? After seeing it -described--without ever feeling it--in hundreds of celebrated volumes, -what is to be said of seeking in mine the explanation of this madness? -I answer like an echo: "'Tis madness." - -Poor disillusioned young lady, would you enjoy again that which busied -you so some years ago, which you dared mention to no one, which almost -cost you your honour? It is for you that I have refashioned this book -and tried to make it clearer. After reading it, never speak of it -without a little scornful turn, and throw it in your citron bookcase -behind the other books--I should even leave a few pages uncut. - -'Tis not only a few pages that will be left uncut by the imperfect -creature, who thinks himself philosopher, because he has remained -always stranger to those reckless emotions, which cause all our -happiness of a week to depend upon a glance. Some people, coming to -the age of discretion, use the whole force of their vanity to forget -that there was a day when they were able to stoop so low as to court a -woman and expose themselves to the humiliation of a refusal: this book -will win their hatred. Among the many clever people, whom I have seen -condemn this work, for different reasons but all angrily, - -[Pg 8] -those only seemed to me ridiculous, who had the twofold conceit to -pretend always to have been above the weakness of sensibility, and yet -to possess enough penetration to judge _a priori_ of the degree of -exactitude of a philosophic treatise, which is nothing but an ordered -description of these weaknesses. - -The grave persons, who enjoy in society their reputation as safe men -with no romantic nonsense, are far nearer to the understanding of a -novel, however impassioned, than of a book of philosophy, wherein the -author describes coldly the various stages of the malady of the soul -called Love. The novel moves them a little; but before the philosophic -treatise these sensible people are like blind men, who getting a -description of the pictures in a museum read out to them, would say to -the author: "You must agree, sir, that your work is horribly obscure." -What is to happen if these blind men chance to be wits, established -long since in possession of that title and with sovereign claims to -clairvoyance? The poor author will be treated prettily. In fact, it is -what happened to him at the time of the first edition. Several copies -were actually burnt through the raging vanity of very clever people. -I do not speak of insults all the more flattering for their fury: the -author was proclaimed to be coarse, immoral, a writer for the people, -a suspicious character, etc. In countries outworn by monarchy, these -titles are the surest reward for whoever thinks good to write on morals -and does not dedicate his book to the Mme. Dubarry of the day. Blessed -literature, if it were not in fashion, and interested those alone for -whom it was written! - -In the time of the _Cid_, Corneille was nothing for M. le Marquis de -Danjeau[3] but "a good fellow." Today the whole world thinks itself -made to read M. de Lamartine: so much the better for his publisher, but -so much the worse, and a hundred times the worse, for - -[Pg 9] -that great poet. In our days genius offers accommodation to people to -whom, under penalty of losing caste, it should never so much as give a -thought. - -The laborious and active, very estimable and very positive life of a -counsellor of State, of a manufacturer of cotton goods or of a banker -with a keen eye for loans finds its reward in millions, not in tender -sensation. Little by little the heart of these gentlemen ossifies: -the positive and the useful are for them everything, and their soul -is closed to that feeling, which of all others has the greatest need -of our leisure and makes us most unfit for any rational and steady -occupation. - -The only object of this preface is to proclaim that this book has the -misfortune of being incomprehensible to all who have not found time to -play the fool. Many people will feel offended and I trust they will go -no further. - - -[1] [May, 1826.--Tr.] - -[2] "Cut this passage out," say my friends. "Nothing could be truer, -but beware of the men of business: they'll cry out on the aristocrat." -In 1812 I was not afraid of the Treasury: so why should I be afraid -of the millionaire in 1820? The ships supplied to the Pasha of Egypt -have opened my eyes in their direction, and I fear nothing but what I -respect. - -[3] _Vide_ p. 120 of _Mémoires de Danjeau_ (Édition Genlis). - - -[Pg 10] - PREFACE[1] - - -I write for a hundred readers only and of these unhappy charming -beings, without hypocrisy or moral cant, whom I would please, I know -scarcely a couple. Of such as lie to gain consideration as writers, I -take little heed. Certain fine ladies should keep to the accounts of -their cook and the fashionable preacher of the day, be it Massillon -or Mme. Necker, to be able to talk on these topics with the women of -importance who mete out consideration. And to be sure, in France this -noble distinction is always to be won by turning high priest of any fad. - -To anyone who would read this book I would say: In all your life have -you been unhappy six months for love? - -Or, was your soul ever touched by sorrow not connected with the thought -of a lawsuit, with failure at the last election, or with having cut a -less brilliant figure than usual last season at Aix? I will continue -my indiscretions and ask if in the year you have read any of those -impudent works, which compel the reader to think? For example, _Émile_ -of J. J. Rousseau, or the six volumes of Montaigne? If, I should say, -you have never suffered through this infirmity of noble minds, if you -have not, in defiance of nature, the habit of thinking as you read, -this book will give you a grudge against its author: for it will make -you suspect that there exists a certain happiness, unknown to you and -known to Mlle. de Lespinasse. - - -[1] [May, 1834.--Tr. - - - -[Pg 11] - PREFACE[1] - - -I come to beg indulgence of the reader for the peculiar form of -this Physiology of Love. It is twenty-eight years (in 1842) since -the turmoil, which followed the fall of Napoleon, deprived me of my -position. Two years earlier chance threw me, immediately after the -horrors of the retreat from Russia, into the midst of a charming town, -where I had the enchanting prospect of passing the rest of my days. -In happy Lombardy, at Milan, at Venice, the great, or rather only, -business of life is pleasure. No attention, there, to the deeds and -movements of your neighbour; hardly a troubled thought for what is -to happen to you. If a man notice the existence of his neighbour, it -does not enter his head to hate him. Take away from the occupations -of a French provincial town jealousy--and what is left? The absence, -the impossibility of that cruel jealousy forms the surest part of that -happiness, which draws all the provincials to Paris. - -Following the masked balls of Carnival, which in 1820 was more -brilliant than usual, the noise of five or six completely reckless -proceedings occupied the society of Milan an entire month; although -they are used over there to things which in France would pass for -incredible. The fear of ridicule would in this country paralyse such -fantastic actions: only to speak of them I need great courage. - -One evening people were discussing profoundly the - -[Pg 12] -effects and the causes of these extravagances, at the house of the -charming Mme. Pietra Grua(6), who happened, extraordinarily enough, -not to be mixed up with these escapades. The thought came to me that -perhaps in less than a year I should have nothing left of all those -strange facts, and of the causes alleged for them, but a recollection, -on which I could not depend. I got hold of a concert programme, and -wrote a few words on it in pencil. A game of faro was suggested: we -were thirty seated round a card-table, but the conversation was so -animated that people forgot to play. Towards the close of the evening -came in Col. Scotti, one of the most charming men in the Italian army: -he was asked for his quantum of circumstances relative to the curious -facts with which we were busy, and, indeed, his story of certain -things, which chance had confided to his knowledge, gave them an -entirely new aspect. I took up my concert programme and added these new -circumstances. - -This collection of particulars on Love was continued in the same way, -with pencil and odd scraps of paper, snatched up in the _salons_, where -I heard the anecdotes told. Soon I looked for a common rule by which -to recognise different degrees in them. Two months later fear of being -taken for a _Carbonaro_ made me return to Paris--only for a few months -I hoped, but never again have I seen Milan, where I had passed seven -years. - -Pining with boredom at Paris, I conceived the idea of occupying myself -again with the charming country from which fear had driven me. I strung -together my scraps of paper and presented the book to a publisher. -But soon a difficulty was raised: the printer declared that it was -impossible to work from notes written in pencil and I could see that he -found such copy beneath his dignity. The printer's young apprentice, -who brought me back my notes, seemed quite ashamed of the more than -doubtful compliment, which had been put into - -[Pg 13] -his mouth: he knew how to write and I dictated to him my pencil notes. - -I understood, too, that discretion required me to change the proper -names, and, above all, abridge the anecdotes. Although no one reads in -Milan, the book, if ever it reached there, might have seemed a piece of -wicked mischief. - -So I brought out an ill-fated volume. I have the courage to own that I -despised at that period elegance in style. I saw the young apprentice -wholly taken up with avoiding sentence-endings that were unmusical and -odd sounds in the arrangement of words. In return, he made throughout -no scruple of changing details of fact, difficult to express: Voltaire -himself is afraid of things which are difficult to tell. - -The Essay on Love had no claim to merit except the number of the fine -shades of feeling, which I begged the reader to verify among his -memories, if he were happy enough to have any. But in all this there -was something much worse: I was then, as ever, very inexperienced in -the department of literature and the publisher, to whom I had presented -the MS., printed it on bad paper and in an absurd _format_. In fact a -month later, when I asked him for news of the book--"On peut dire qu'il -est sacré,"[2] he said, "For no one comes near it." - -It had never even crossed my mind to solicit articles in the papers: -such a thing would have seemed to me an ignominy. And yet no work was -in more pressing need of recommendation to the patience of the reader. -Under the menace of becoming unintelligible at the very outset, it was -necessary to bring the public to accept the new word "crystallisation," -suggested as a lively expression for that collection of strange -fancies, which we weave round our idea of the loved one, as true and -even indubitable realities. - - -[Pg 14] -At that time wholly absorbed in my love for the least details, which -I had lately observed in the Italy of my dreams, I avoided with care -every concession, every amenity of style, which might have rendered the -Essay on Love less peculiarly fantastic in the eyes of men of letters. - -Further, I was not flattering to the public. Literature at that time, -all defaced by our great and recent misfortunes, seemed to have no -other interest than the consolation of our unhappy pride: it used to -rhyme "_gloire_" with "_victoire_," "_guerriers_" with "_lauriers_,"[3] -etc. The true circumstances of the situations, which it pretends to -treat, seem never to have any attraction for the tedious literature of -that period: it looks for nothing but an opportunity of complimenting -that people, enslaved to fashion, whom a great man had called a great -nation, forgetting that they were only great on condition that their -leader was himself. - -As the result of my ignorance of the exigencies of the humblest -success, I found no more than seventeen readers between 1822 and 1833: -it is doubtful whether the Essay on Love has been understood after -twenty years of existence by a hundred connoisseurs. A few have had the -patience to observe the various phases of this disease in the people -infected with it in their circle; for we must speak of it as a disease, -in order to understand that passion which in the last thirty years our -fear of ridicule has taken so much trouble to hide--it is this way -which sometimes leads to its cure. - -Now and now only, after half a century of revolutions, engrossing one -after another our whole attention, now and now only after five complete -changes in the form and the tendencies of our government, does the -revolution just begin to show itself in our way of living. Love, or -that which commonly appropriates Love's name and fills its place, was -all-powerful in the France of - -[Pg 15] -Lewis XV. Colonels were created by the ladies of the court; and that -court was nothing less than the fairest place in the kingdom. Fifty -years after, the court is no more; and the gift of a licence to sell -tobacco in the meanest provincial town is beyond the power of the most -surely established ladies of the reigning _bourgeoisie_ or of the -pouting nobility. - -It must be owned, women are out of fashion. In our brilliant _salons_ -the young men of twenty affect not to address them; they much prefer to -stand round the noisy talker dealing, in a provincial accent, with the -question of the right to vote, and to try and slip in their own little -word. The rich youths, who, to keep up a show of the good-fellowship of -past times, take a pride in seeming frivolous, prefer to talk horses -and play high in the circles where women are excluded. The deadly -indifference which seems to preside over the relations of young men and -the women of five-and-twenty, for whose presence society has to thank -the boredom of marriage, will bring, perhaps, a few wise spirits to -accept this scrupulously exact description of the successive phases of -the malady called Love. - -Seeing the terrible change which has plunged us into the stagnation of -to-day, and makes unintelligible to us the society of 1778, such as -we find it in the letters of Diderot to Mlle. Voland, his mistress, -or in the Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay, a man might ask the question, -which of our successive governments has killed in us the faculty of -enjoying ourselves, and drawn us nearer to the gloomiest people on -the face of the earth? The only passable thing which that people have -invented--parliament and the honesty of their parties--we are unable -even to copy. In return, the stupidest of their gloomy conceptions, the -spirit of dignity, has come among us to take the place of our French -gaiety, which is to be found now only in the five hundred balls in the -outskirts of Paris or in the south of France, beyond Bordeaux. - - -[Pg 16] -But which of our successive governments has cost us the fearful -misfortune of anglicisation? Must we accuse that energetic government -of 1793, which prevented the foreigners from coming to pitch their camp -in Montmartre--that government which in a few years will seem heroic in -our eyes and forms a worthy prelude to that, which under Napoleon, went -forth to carry our name into all the capitals of Europe? - -We shall pass over the well-meaning stupidity of the _Directoire_, -illustrated by the talents of Carnot and the immortal campaign of -1796-1797 in Italy. - -The corruption of the court of Barras still recalled something of the -gaiety of the old order; the graces of Madame Bonaparte proved that we -had no aptitude at that time for the churlishness and charnel-house of -the English. - -The profound respect, which despite the jealousy of the faubourg -Saint-Germain, we could not but feel for the First Consul's method -of government, and the men whose superior merit adorned the society -of Paris--such as the Cretets and the Darus--relieves the Empire of -the burden of responsibility for the remarkable change which has been -effected, in the first half of the nineteenth century, in the character -of the French. - -Unnecessary to carry my investigation further: the reader will reflect -and be quite able to draw his own conclusions. - - -[1] [1842. As Stendhal died early in that year, this probably is his -last writing.--Tr.] - -[2] ["One might say it's taboo..." "Taboo" is a poor equivalent for -"sacré," which means "cursed" as well as "blessed."--Tr.] - -[3] ["Glory with victory, warrior with laurel."--Tr. - - -[Pg 17] - BOOK I - -[Pg 18] -[Pg 19] - - - ON LOVE - - - CHAPTER I - - OF LOVE - - -My aim is to comprehend that passion, of which every sincere -development has a character of beauty. - -There are four kinds of love. - -1. Passion-love--that of the Portuguese nun(1), of Héloïse for Abelard, -of Captain de Vésel, of Sergeant de Cento. - -2. Gallant love--that which ruled in Paris towards 1760, to be found -in the memoirs and novels of the period, in Crébillon, Lauzun, Duclos, -Marmontel, Chamfort, Mme. d'Épinay, etc. etc. - -'Tis a picture in which everything, to the very shadows, should be -rose-colour, in which may enter nothing disagreeable under any pretext -whatsoever, at the cost of a lapse of etiquette, of good taste, of -refinement, etc. A man of breeding foresees all the ways of acting, -that he is likely to adopt or meet with in the different phases of -this love. True love is often less refined; for that in which there -is no passion and nothing unforeseen, has always a store of ready -wit: the latter is a cold and pretty miniature, the former a picture -by the Carracci. Passion-love carries us away in defiance of all our -interests, gallant love manages always to respect them. True, if we -take from this poor love its vanity, there is very little left: once -stripped, it is like a tottering convalescent, scarcely able to drag -himself along. - -3. Physical love. Out hunting--a fresh, pretty country - -[Pg 20] -girl crosses your path and escapes into the wood. Everyone knows the -love founded on this kind of pleasure: and all begin that way at -sixteen, however parched and unhappy the character. - -4. Vanity-love. The vast majority of men, especially in France, desire -and have a fashionable woman, in the same way as a man gets a fine -horse, as something which the luxury of a young man demands. Their -vanity more or less flattered, more or less piqued, gives birth to -transports of feelings. Sometimes there is also physical love, but by -no means always: often there is not so much as physical pleasure. A -duchess is never more than thirty for a bourgeois, said the Duchesse -de Chaulnes, and those admitted to the Court of that just man, king -Lewis of Holland, recall with amusement a pretty woman from the Hague, -who could not help finding any man charming who was Duke or Prince. -But true to the principle of monarchy, as soon as a Prince arrived at -Court, the Duke was dismissed: she was, as it were, the decoration of -the diplomatic body. - -The happiest case of this uninspiring relationship is that in which -to physical pleasure is added habit. In that case store of memories -makes it resemble love a little; there is the pique of self-esteem -and sadness on being left; then, romance forces upon us its ideas and -we believe that we are in love and melancholy, for vanity aspires to -credit itself with a great passion. This, at least, is certain that, -whatever kind of love be the source of pleasure, as soon as the soul -is stirred, the pleasure is keen and its memory alluring, and in this -passion, contrary to most of the others, the memory of our losses seems -always to exceed the bounds of what we can hope for in the future. - -Sometimes, in vanity-love habit or despair of finding better produces a -kind of friendship, of all kinds the least pleasant: it prides itself -on its security, etc.[1] - - -[Pg 21] -Physical pleasure, being of our nature, is known to everybody, but it -takes no more than a subordinate position in the eyes of tender and -passionate souls. If they raise a laugh in the salons, if often they -are made unhappy in the intrigues of society, in return the pleasure -which they feel must remain always inaccessible to those hearts, whose -beat only vanity and gold can quicken. - -A few virtuous and sensitive women have scarcely a conception of -physical pleasures: they have so rarely risked them, if one may use the -expression, and even then the transports of passion-love caused bodily -pleasure almost to be forgotten. - -There are men victims and instruments of diabolical pride, of a pride -in the style of Alfieri. Those people who, perhaps, are cruel because, -like Nero, judging all men after the pattern of their own heart, they -are always a-tremble--such people, I say, can attain physical pleasure -only in so far as it is accompanied by the greatest possible exercise -of pride, in so far, that is to say, as they practise cruelties on the -companion of their pleasures. Hence the horrors of _Justine_(2). At any -rate such men have no sense of security. - -To conclude, instead of distinguishing four different forms of love, -we can easily admit eight or ten shades of difference. Perhaps mankind -has as many ways of feeling as of seeing; but these differences of -nomenclature alter in no degree the judgments which follow. Subject to -the same laws, all forms of love, which can be seen here below, have -their birth, life and death or ascend to immortality.[2] - - -[1] Well-known dialogue of Pont de Veyle with Madame du Deffant, at the -fireside. - -[2] This book is a free translation of an Italian MS. of M. Lisio -Visconti, a young man of the highest distinction, who died recently at -Volterra, the place of his birth. The day of his sudden death he gave -the translator permission to publish his Essay on Love, if means were -found to shape it to a decorous form. Castel Fiorentino, June 10th, -1819. - - -[Pg 22] - CHAPTER II - - OF THE BIRTH OF LOVE - - -This is what takes place in the soul:-- - -1. Admiration. - -2. A voice within says: "What pleasure to kiss, to be kissed." - -3. Hope(3). - -We study her perfections: this is the moment at which a woman should -yield to realise the greatest possible physical pleasure. In the case -even of the most reserved women, their eyes redden at the moment when -hope is conceived: the passion is so strong, the pleasure so keen, that -it betrays itself by striking signs. - -4. Love is born. - -To love--that is to have pleasure in seeing, touching, feeling, through -all the senses and as near as possible, an object to be loved and that -loves us. - -5. The first crystallisation begins. - -The lover delights in decking with a thousand perfections the woman of -whose love he is sure: he dwells on all the details of his happiness -with a satisfaction that is boundless. He is simply magnifying a superb -bounty just fallen to him from heaven,--he has no knowledge of it but -the assurance of its possession. - -Leave the mind of a lover to its natural movements for twenty-four -hours, and this is what you will find. - -At the salt mines of Salzburg a branch stripped of its leaves by winter -is thrown into the abandoned depths of the mine; taken out two or three -months later it is covered with brilliant crystals; the smallest twigs, -those - -[Pg 23] -no stouter than the leg of a sparrow, are arrayed with an infinity -of sparkling, dazzling diamonds; it is impossible to recognise the -original branch. - -I call crystallisation the operation of the mind which, from everything -which is presented to it, draws the conclusion that there are new -perfections in the object of its love. - -A traveller speaks of the freshness of the orange groves at Genoa, on -the sea coast, during the scorching days of summer.--What pleasure to -enjoy that freshness with her! - -One of your friends breaks his arm in the hunting-field.--How sweet -to be nursed by a woman you love! To be always with her, to see every -moment her love for you, would make pain almost a blessing: and -starting from the broken arm of your friend, you conclude with the -absolute conviction of the angelic goodness of your mistress. In a -word, it is enough to think of a perfection in order to see it in that -which you love. - -This phenomenon, which I venture to call crystallisation, is the -product of human nature, which commands us to enjoy and sends warm -blood rushing to our brain; it springs from the conviction that the -pleasures of love increase with the perfections of its object, and from -the idea: "She is mine." The savage has no time to go beyond the first -step. He is delighted, but his mental activity is employed in following -the flying deer in the forest, and with the flesh with which he must -as soon as possible repair his forces, or fall beneath the axe of his -enemy. - -At the other pole of civilisation, I have no doubt that a sensitive -woman may come to the point of feeling no physical pleasure but with -the man she loves.[1] It is the opposite with the savage. But among -civilised peoples, woman has leisure at her disposal, while the savage -is so pressed with necessary occupations that he is forced to - -[Pg 24] -treat his female as a beast of burden. If the females of many animals -are more fortunate, it is because the subsistence of the males is more -assured. - -But let us leave the backwoods again for Paris. A man of passion sees -all perfections in that which he loves. And yet his attention may still -be distracted; for the soul has its surfeit of all that is uniform, -even of perfect bliss.[2] - -This is what happens to distract his attention:-- - -6. Birth of Doubt. - -After ten or twelve glances, or some other series of actions, which -can last as well several days as one moment, hopes are first given and -later confirmed. The lover, recovered from his first surprise and, -accustomed to his happiness or guided by theory, which, always based on -the most frequent cases, must only take light women into account--the -lover, I say, demands more positive proofs and wishes to press his good -fortune. - -He is parried with indifference,[3] coldness, even anger, if he show -too much assurance--in France a shade of irony, which seems to say: -"You are not quite as far as you think." - -A woman behaves in this way, either because she wakes up from a moment -of intoxication, and obeys the word of modesty, which she trembles to -have infringed, or simply through prudence or coquetry. - -[Pg 25] -The lover comes to doubt of the happiness, to which he looked forward: -he scans more narrowly the reasons that he fancied he had for hope. - -He would like to fall back upon the other pleasures of life, and finds -them annihilated. He is seized with the fear of a terrible disaster, -and at the same time with a profound preoccupation. - -7. Second crystallisation. - -Here begins the second crystallisation, which forms diamonds out of the -proofs of the idea--"She loves me." - -The night which follows the birth of doubts, every quarter of an hour, -after a moment of fearful unhappiness, the lover says to himself--"Yes, -she loves me"--and crystallisation has its turn, discovering new -charms. Then doubt with haggard eye grapples him and brings him to -a standstill, blank. His heart forgets to beat--"But does she love -me?" he says to himself. Between these alternatives, agonising and -rapturous, the poor lover feels in his very soul: "She would give me -pleasures, which she alone can give me and no one else." - -It is the palpability of this truth, this path on the extreme -edge of a terrible abyss and within touch, on the other hand, of -perfect happiness, which gives so great a superiority to the second -crystallisation over the first. - -The lover wanders from moment to moment between these three ideas:-- - -1. She has every perfection. - -2. She loves me. - -3. What means of obtaining the greatest proof of her love? - -The most agonising moment of love, still young, is when it sees -the false reasoning it has made, and must destroy a whole span of -crystallisation. - -Doubt is the natural outcome of crystallisation. - - -[1] If this peculiarity is not observed in the case of man, the reason -is that on his side there is no modesty to be for a moment sacrificed. - -[2] That is to say, that the same tone of existence can give but one -instant of perfect happiness; but with a man of passion, his mood -changes ten times a day. - -[3] The _coup de foudre_ (thunderbolt from the blue), as it was called -in the novels of the seventeenth century, which disposes of the fate of -the hero and his mistress, is a movement of the soul, which for having -been abused by a host of scribblers, is experienced none the less in -real life. It comes from the impossibility of this defensive manoeuvre. -The woman who loves finds too much happiness in the sentiment, which -she feels, to carry through successful deception: tired of prudence, -she neglects all precaution and yields blindly to the passion of -loving. Diffidence makes the _coup de foudre_ impossible. - - -[Pg 26] - CHAPTER III - - OF HOPE - - -A very small degree of hope is enough to cause the birth of love. - -In the course of events hope may fail--love is none the less born. With -a firm, daring and impetuous character, and in an imagination developed -by the troubles of life, the degree of hope may be smaller: it can come -sooner to an end, without killing love. - -If a lover has had troubles, if he is of a tender, thoughtful -character, if he despairs of other women, and if his admiration is -intense for her whom he loves, no ordinary pleasure will succeed in -distracting him from the second crystallisation. He will prefer to -dream of the most doubtful chance of pleasing her one day, than to -accept from an ordinary woman all she could lavish. - -The woman whom he loves would have to kill his hope at that period, and -(note carefully, not later) in some inhuman manner, and overwhelm him -with those marks of patent contempt, which make it impossible to appear -again in public. - -Far longer delays between all these periods are compatible with the -birth of love. - -It demands much more hope and much more substantial hope, in the case -of the cold, the phlegmatic and the prudent. The same is true of people -no longer young. - -It is the second crystallisation which ensures love's duration, for -then every moment makes it clear that the question is--be loved or die. -Long months of love have - -[Pg 27] -turned into habit this conviction of our every moment--how find means -to support the thought of loving no more? The stronger the character -the less is it subject to inconstancy. - -This second crystallisation is almost entirely absent from the passions -inspired by women who yield too soon. - -After the crystallisations have worked--especially the second, which -is far the stronger--the branch is no longer to be recognised by -indifferent eyes, for:-- - -(1) It is adorned with perfections which they do not see. - -(2) It is adorned with perfections which for them are not perfections -at all. - -The perfection of certain charms, mentioned to him by an old friend of -his love, and a certain hint of liveliness noticed in her eye, are a -diamond in the crystallisation[1] - -[Pg 28] -of Del Rosso. These ideas, conceived during the evening, keep him -dreaming all the night. - -An unexpected answer, which makes me see more clearly a tender, -generous, ardent, or, as it is popularly called, romantic[2] soul, -preferring to the happiness of kings the simple pleasures of a walk -with the loved one at midnight in a lonely wood, gives me food for -dreams[3] for a whole night. - -Let him call my mistress a prude: I shall call his a whore. - - -[1] I have called this essay a book of Ideology. My object was to -indicate that, though it is called "Love," it is not a novel and still -less diverting like a novel. I apologise to philosophers for having -taken the word Ideology: I certainly did not intend to usurp a title -which is the right of another. If Ideology is a detailed description -of ideas and all the parts which can compose ideas, the present book -is a detailed description of all the feelings which can compose the -passion called Love. Proceeding, I draw certain consequences from this -description: for example, the manner of love's cure. I know no word to -say in Greek "discourse on ideas." I might have had a word invented by -one of my learned friends, but I am already vexed enough at having to -adopt the new word crystallisation, and, if this essay finds readers, -it is quite possible that they will not allow my new word to pass. To -avoid it, I own, would have been the work of literary talent: I tried, -but without success. Without this word, which expresses, according to -me, the principal phenomenon of that madness called Love--madness, -however, which procures for man the greatest pleasures which it is -given to the beings of his species to taste on earth--without the use -of this word, which it were necessary to replace at every step by a -paraphrase of considerable length, the description, which I give of -what passes in the head and the heart of a man in love, would have -become obscure, heavy and tedious, even for me who am the author: what -would it have been for the reader? - -I invite, therefore, the reader, whose feelings the word -crystallisation shocks too much, to close the book. To be read by many -forms no part of my prayers--happily, no doubt, for me. I should love -dearly to give great pleasure to thirty or forty people of Paris, -whom I shall never see, but for whom, without knowing, I have a blind -affection. Some young Madame Roland, for example, reading her book -in secret and precious quickly hiding it, at the least noise, in the -drawers of her father's bench--her father the engraver of watches. A -soul like that of Madame Roland will forgive me, I hope, not only the -word crystallisation, used to express that act of madness which makes -us perceive every beauty, every kind of perfection, in the woman whom -we begin to love, but also several too daring ellipses besides. The -reader has only to take a pencil and write between the lines the five -or six words which are missing. - -[2] All his actions had at first in my eyes that heavenly air, which -makes of a man a being apart, and differentiates him from all others. I -thought that I could read in his eyes that thirst for a happiness more -sublime, that unavowed melancholy, which yearns for something better -than we find here below, and which in all the trials that fortune and -revolution can bring upon a romantic soul, - - ... still prompts the celestial sight - For which we wish to live or dare to die. - -(Last letter of Bianca to her mother. Forlì, 1817.) - -[3] It is in order to abridge and to be able to paint the interior -of the soul, that the author, using the formula of the first person, -alleges several feelings to which he is a stranger: personally, he -never had any which would be worth quoting. - - -[Pg 29] - CHAPTER IV - - -In a soul completely detached--a girl living in a lonely castle in the -depth of the country--the slightest astonishment may bring on a slight -admiration, and, if the faintest hope intervene, cause the birth of -love and crystallisation(4). - -In this case love delights, to begin with, just as a diversion. - -Surprise and hope are strongly supported by the need, felt at the age -of sixteen, of love and sadness. It is well known that the restlessness -of that age is a thirst for love, and a peculiarity of thirst is not to -be extremely fastidious about the kind of draught that fortune offers. - -Let us recapitulate the seven stages of love. They are:-- - -1. Admiration. - -2. What pleasure, etc. - -3. Hope. - -4. Love is born. - -5. First crystallisation. - -6. Doubt appears. - -7. Second crystallisation. - -Between Nos. 1 and 2 may pass one year. One month between Nos. 2 and 3; -but if hope does not make haste in coming, No. 2 is insensibly resigned -as a source of unhappiness. - -A twinkling of the eye between Nos. 3 and 4. - -There is no interval between Nos. 4 and 5. The sequence can only be -broken by intimate intercourse. - -Some days may pass between Nos. 5 and 6, according to the degree to -which the character is impetuous and used to risk, but between Nos. 6 -and 7 there is no interval. - - -[Pg 30] - CHAPTER V - - -Man is not free to avoid doing that which gives him more pleasure to do -than all other possible actions.[1] - -Love is like the fever(5), it is born and spends itself without the -slightest intervention of the will. That is one of the principal -differences between gallant-love and passion-love. And you cannot give -yourself credit for the fair qualities in what you really love, any -more than for a happy chance. - -Further, love is of all ages: observe the passion of Madame du Deffant -for the graceless Horace Walpole. A more recent and more pleasing -example is perhaps still remembered in Paris. - -In proof of great passions I admit only those of their consequences, -which are exposed to ridicule: timidity, for example, proves love. I am -not speaking of the bashfulness of the enfranchised schoolboy. - - -[1] As regards crime, it belongs to good education to inspire remorse, -which, foreseen, acts as a counterbalance. - - -[Pg 31] - CHAPTER VI - - THE CRYSTALS OF SALZBURG - - -Crystallisation scarcely ceases at all during love. This is its -history: so long as all is well between the lover and the loved, there -is crystallisation by imaginary solution; it is only imagination which -make him sure that such and such perfection exists in the woman he -loves. But after intimate intercourse, fears are continually coming to -life, to be allayed only by more real solutions. Thus his happiness is -only uniform in its source. Each day has a different bloom. - -If the loved one yields to the passion, which she shares, and falls -into the enormous error of killing fear by the eagerness of her -transports,[1] crystallisation ceases for an instant; but when love -loses some of its eagerness, that is to say some of its fears, it -acquires the charm of entire abandon, of confidence without limits: a -sense of sweet familiarity comes to take the edge from all the pains of -life, and give to fruition another kind of interest. - -Are you deserted?--Crystallisation begins again; and every glance of -admiration, the sight of every happiness which she can give you, and -of which you thought no longer, leads up to this agonising reflexion: -"That happiness, that charm, I shall meet it no more. It is lost and -the fault is mine!" You may look for happiness in sensations of another -kind. Your heart refuses to feel them. Imagination depicts for you well -enough the physical situation, mounts you well enough on a fast hunter -in - -[Pg 32] -Devonshire woods.[2] But you feel quite certain that there you would -find no pleasure. It is the optical illusion produced by a pistol shot. - -Gaming has also its crystallisation, provoked by the use of the sum of -money to be won. - -The hazards of Court life, so regretted by the nobility, under the -name of Legitimists, attached themselves so dearly only by the -crystallisation they provoked. No courtier existed who did not dream of -the rapid fortune of a Luynes or a Lauzun, no charming woman who did -not see in prospect the duchy of Madame de Polignac. No rationalist -government can give back that crystallisation. Nothing is so -_anti-imagination_ as the government of the United States of America. -We have noticed that to their neighbours, the savages, crystallisation -is almost unknown. The Romans scarcely had an idea of it, and -discovered it only for physical love. - -Hate has its crystallisation: as soon as it is possible to hope for -revenge, hate begins again. - -If every creed, in which there is absurdity and inconsequence, tends -to place at the head of the party the people who are most absurd, that -is one more of the effects of crystallisation. Even in mathematics -(observe the Newtonians in 1740) crystallisation goes on in the -mind, which cannot keep before it at every moment every part of the -demonstration of that which it believes. - -In proof, see the destiny of the great German philosophers, whose -immortality, proclaimed so often, never manages to last longer than -thirty or forty years. - -It is the impossibility of fathoming the "why?" of our feelings, which -makes the most reasonable man a fanatic in music. - -In face of certain contradictions it is not possible to be convinced at -will that we are right. - - -[1] Diane de Poitiers, in the _Princesse de Clèves_, by Mme. de -Lafayette. - -[2] If you could imagine being happy in that position, crystallisation -would have deferred to your mistress the exclusive privilege of giving -you that happiness. - - -[Pg 33] - CHAPTER VII - - DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE BIRTH OF LOVE IN THE TWO SEXES - - -Women attach themselves by the favours they dispense. As -nineteen-twentieths of their ordinary dreams are relative to love, -after intimate intercourse these day-dreams group themselves round -a single object; they have to justify a course so extraordinary, so -decisive, so contrary to all the habits of modesty. Men have no such -task; and, besides, the imagination of women has time to work in detail -upon the sweetness of such moments. - -As love casts doubts upon things the best proved, the woman who, before -she gave herself, was perfectly sure that her lover was a man above the -crowd, no sooner thinks she has nothing left to refuse him, than she is -all fears lest he was only trying to put one more woman on his list. - -Then, and then only appears the second crystallisation, which, being -hand in hand with fear, is far the stronger.[1] - -Yesterday a queen, to-day she sees herself a slave. This state of soul -and mind is encouraged in a woman by the nervous intoxication resulting -from pleasures, which are just so much keener as they are more rare. -Besides, a woman before her embroidery frame--insipid work which only -occupies the hand--is thinking about her lover; while he is galloping -with his squadron over the - -[Pg 34] -plain, where leading one wrong movement would bring him under arrest. - -I should think, therefore, that the second crystallisation must be far -stronger in the case of women, because theirs are more vivid fears; -their vanity and honour are compromised; distraction at least is more -difficult. - -A woman cannot be guided by the habit of being reasonable, which I, -Man, working at things cold and reasonable for six hours every day, -contract at my office perforce. Even outside love, women are inclined -to abandon themselves to their imagination and habitual high spirits: -faults, therefore, in the object of their love ought more rapidly to -disappear. - -Women prefer emotion to reason--that is plain: in virtue of the -futility of our customs, none of the affairs of the family fall on -their shoulders, so that reason is of no use to them and they never -find it of any practical good. - -On the contrary, to them it is always harmful; for the only object of -its appearance is to scold them for the pleasures of yesterday, or -forbid them others for tomorrow. - -Give over to your wife the management of your dealings with the -bailiffs of two of your farms--I wager the accounts will be kept -better than by you, and then, sorry tyrant, you will have the _right_ -at least to complain, since to make yourself loved you do not possess -the talent. As soon as women enter on general reasonings, they are -unconsciously making love. But in matters of detail they take pride in -being stricter and more exact than men. Half the small trading is put -into the hands of women, who acquit themselves of it better than their -husbands. It is a well-known maxim that, if you are speaking business -with a woman, you cannot be too serious. - -This is because they are at all times and in all places greedy of -emotion.--Observe the pleasures of burial rites in Scotland. - - -[1] This second crystallisation is wanting in light women, who are far -away from all these romantic ideas. - - -[Pg 35] - CHAPTER VIII - -This was her favoured fairy realm, and here she erected her aerial -palaces.--_Bride of Lammermoor_, Chap. III. - - -A girl of eighteen has not enough crystallisation in her power, -forms desires too limited by her narrow experiences of the things of -life, to be in a position to love with as much passion as a woman of -twenty-eight(4). - -This evening I was exposing this doctrine to a clever woman, who -maintains the contrary. "A girl's imagination being chilled by no -disagreeable experience, and the prime of youth burning with all its -force, any man can be the motive upon which she creates a ravishing -image. Every time that she meets her lover, she will enjoy, not what -he is in reality, but that image of delight which she has created for -herself. - -"Later, she is by this lover and by all men disillusioned, experience -of the dark reality has lessened in her the power of crystallisation, -mistrust has clipped the wings of imagination. At the instance of no -man on earth, were he a very prodigy, could she form so irresistible -an image: she could love no more with the same fire of her first -youth. And as in love it is only the illusion formed by ourselves -which we enjoy, never can the image, which she may create herself at -twenty-eight, have the brilliance and the loftiness on which first -love was built at sixteen: the second will always seem of a degenerate -species." - -"No, madam. Evidently it is the presence of mistrust, absent at -sixteen, which must give to this second love a different colour. In -early youth love is like an immense stream, which sweeps all before it -in its course, - -[Pg 36] -and we feel that we cannot resist it. Now at twenty-eight a gentle -heart knows itself: it knows that, if it is still to find some -happiness in life, from love it must be claimed; and this poor, torn -heart becomes the seat of a fearful struggle between love and mistrust. -Crystallisation proceeds gradually; but the crystallisation, which -emerges triumphant from this terrible proof, in which the soul in all -its movements never loses sight of the most awful danger, is a thousand -times more brilliant and more solid than crystallisation at sixteen, in -which everything, by right of age, is gaiety and happiness." - -"In this way love should be less gay and more passionate."[1] - -This conversation (Bologna, 9 March, 1820), bringing into doubt a -point which seemed to me so clear, makes me believe more and more, -that a man can say practically nothing with any sense on that which -happens in the inmost heart of a woman of feeling: as to a coquet it is -different--_we_ also have senses and vanity. - -The disparity between the birth of love in the two sexes would seem to -come from the nature of their hopes, which are different. One attacks, -the other defends; one asks, the other refuses; one is daring, the -other timid. - -The man reflects: "Can I please her? Will she love me?" - -The woman: "When he says he loves me, isn't it for sport? Is his -a solid character? Can he answer to himself for the length of his -attachments?" Thus it is that many women regard and treat a young man -of twenty-three as a child. If he has gone through six campaigns, he -finds everything different--he is a young hero. - -On the man's side, hope depends simply on the actions of that which he -loves--nothing easier to interpret. On the side of woman, hope must -rest on moral considerations--very difficult rightly to appreciate. - -[Pg 37] -Most men demand such a proof of love, as to their mind dissipates -all doubts; women are not so fortunate as to be able to find such a -proof. And there is in life this trouble for lovers--that what makes -the security and happiness of one, makes the danger and almost the -humiliation of the other. - -In love, men run the risk of the secret torture of the soul--women -expose themselves to the scoffs of the public; they are more timid, -and, besides, for them public opinion means much more.--"Sois -considérée, il le faut."[2] - -They have not that sure means of ours of mastering public opinion by -risking for an instant their life. - -Women, then, must naturally be far more mistrustful. In virtue of their -habits, all the mental movements, which form periods in the birth of -love, are in their case more mild, more timid, more gradual and less -decided. There is therefore a greater disposition to constancy; they -will less easily withdraw from a crystallisation once begun. - -A woman, seeing her lover, reflects with rapidity, or yields to -the happiness of loving--happiness from which she is recalled in a -disagreeable manner, if he make the least attack; for at the call to -arms all pleasures must be abandoned. - -The lover's part is simpler--he looks in the eyes of the woman he -loves; a single smile can raise him to the zenith of happiness, and he -looks continually for it.[3] - -[Pg 38] -The length of the siege humiliates a man; on the contrary it makes a -woman's glory. - -A woman is capable of loving and, for an entire year, not saying more -than ten or twelve words to the man whom she loves. At the bottom of -her heart she keeps note how often she has seen him--twice she went -with him to the theatre, twice she sat near him at dinner, three times -he bowed to her out walking. - -One evening during some game he kissed her hand: it is to be noticed -that she allows no one since to kiss it under any pretext, at the risk -even of seeming peculiar. - -In a man, Léonore(6) remarked to me, such conduct would be called a -feminine way of love. - - -[1] Epicurus said that discrimination is necessary to participation in -pleasure. - -[2] Remember the maxim of Beaumarchais: "Nature has said to woman: 'Be -fair if you can, wise if you wish, but be _estimed_--you must.' No -admiration in France without _estime_--equally no love." - -[3] Quando leggemmo il disiato riso - Esser baciato da cotanto amante, - Costui che mai da me non fia diviso, - La bocca mi bacciò tutto tremante. - - Dante, _Inf._, Cant. V. - -["When we read how the desired smile was kissed by such a lover, -he, who never from me shall be divided, on my mouth kissed me all -trembling."--Tr.] - - -[Pg 39] - CHAPTER IX - - -I make every possible effort to be dry. I would impose silence upon my -heart, which feels that it, has much to say. When I think that I have -noted a truth, I always tremble lest I have written only a sigh. - - -[Pg 40] - CHAPTER X - - -In proof of crystallisation I shall content myself with recalling the -following anecdote. A young woman hears that Edward, her relation, who -is to return from the Army, is a youth of great distinction; she is -assured that he loves her on her reputation; but he will want probably -to see her, before making a proposal and asking her of her parents. She -notices a young stranger at church, she hears him called Edward, she -thinks of nothing but him--she is in love with him. Eight days later -the real Edward arrives; he is not the Edward of church. She turns pale -and will be unhappy for ever, if she is forced to marry him. - -That is what the poor of understanding call an example of the -senselessness of love. - -A man of generosity lavishes the most delicate benefits upon a girl -in distress. No one could have more virtues, and love was about to be -born; but he wears a shabby hat, and she notices that he is awkward in -the saddle. The girl confesses with a sigh that she cannot return the -warm feelings, which he evidently has for her. - -A man pays his attentions to a lady of the greatest respectability. -She hears that this gentleman has had physical troubles of a comical -nature: she finds him intolerable. And yet she had no intention of -giving herself to him, and these secret troubles in no way blighted his -understanding or amiability. It is simply that crystallisation was made -impossible. - -In order that a human being may delight in deifying an object to be -loved, be it taken from the Ardennes forest or picked up at a Bal de -Coulon, that it seems to - -[Pg 41] -him perfect is the first necessity--perfect by no means in every -relation, but in every relation in which it is seen at the time. -Perfect in all respects it will seem only after several days of the -second crystallisation. The reason is simple--then it is enough to have -the idea of a perfection in order to see it in the object of our love. - -Beauty is only thus far necessary to the birth of love--ugliness -must not form an obstacle. The lover soon comes to find his mistress -beautiful, such as she is, without thinking of ideal beauty. - -The features which make up the ideally beautiful would promise, if he -could see them, a quantity of happiness, if I may use the expression, -which I would express by the number one; whereas the features of his -mistress, such as they are, promise him one thousand units of happiness. - -Before the birth of love beauty is necessary as advertisement: it -predisposes us towards that passion by means of the praises, which we -hear given to the object of our future love. Very eager admiration -makes the smallest hope decisive. - -In gallant-love, and perhaps in passion-love during the first five -minutes, a woman, considering a possible lover, gives more weight to -the way in which he is seen by other women, than to the way in which -she sees him herself. - -Hence the success of princes and officers.[1] The pretty women of the -Court of old king Lewis XIV were in love with that sovereign. - -[Pg 42] -Great care should be taken not to offer facilities to hope, before it -is certain that admiration is there. It might give rise to dullness, -which makes love for ever impossible, and which, at any rate, is only -to be cured by the sting of wounded pride. - -No one feels sympathy for the simpleton, nor for a smile which -is always there; hence the necessity in society of a veneer of -rakishness--that is, the privileged manner. From too debased a plant we -scorn to gather even a smile. In love, our vanity disdains a victory -which is too easy; and in all matters man is not given to magnifying -the value of an offering. - - -[1] Those who remarked in the countenance of this young hero a -dissolute audacity mixed with extreme haughtiness and indifference to -the feelings of others, could not yet deny to his countenance that sort -of comeliness, which belongs to an open set of features well formed -by nature, modelled by art to the usual rules of courtesy, yet so far -frank and honest that they seemed as if they disclaimed to conceal the -natural working of the soul. Such an expression is often mistaken for -manly frankness, when in truth it arises from the reckless indifference -of a libertine disposition, conscious of superiority of birth and -wealth, or of some other adventitious advantage totally unconnected -with personal merit. - -_Ivanhoe_, Chap. VIII - - -[Pg 43] - CHAPTER XI - - -Crystallisation having once begun, we enjoy with delight each new -beauty discovered in that which we love. - -But what is beauty? It is the appearance of an aptitude for giving you -pleasure. - -The pleasures of all individuals are different and often opposed to one -another; which explains very well how that, which is beauty for one -individual, is ugliness for another. (Conclusive example of Del Rosso -and Lisio, 1st January, 1820.) - -The right way to discover the nature of beauty is to look for the -nature of the pleasures of each individual. Del Rosso, for example, -needs a woman who allows a certain boldness of movement, and who by her -smiles authorises considerable licence; a woman who at each instant -holds physical pleasures before his imagination, and who excites in him -the power of pleasing, while giving him at the same time the means of -displaying it. - -Apparently, by love Del Rosso understands physical love, and Lisio -passion-love. Obviously they are not likely to agree about the word -beauty.[1] - -The beauty then, discovered by you, being the appearance of an aptitude -for giving you pleasure, and pleasure being different from pleasure as -man from man, the crystallisation formed in the head of each individual -must bear the colour of that individual's pleasures. - -[Pg 44] -A man's crystallisation of his mistress, or her _beauty_, is no other -thing than the collection of all the satisfactions of all the desires, -which he can have felt successively at her instance. - - -[1] _My Beauty_, promise of a character useful to _my_ soul, is above -the attraction of the senses; that attraction is only one particular -kind of attraction(7). 1815. - - -[Pg 45] - CHAPTER XII - - FURTHER CONSIDERATION OF CRYSTALLISATION - - -Why do we enjoy with delight each new beauty, discovered in that which -we love? - -It is because each new beauty gives the full and entire satisfaction of -a desire. You wish your mistress gentle--she is gentle; and then you -wish her proud like Emilie in Corneille, and although these qualities -are probably incompatible, instantly she appears with the soul of a -Roman. That is the moral reason which makes love the strongest of the -passions. In all others, desires must accommodate themselves to cold -realities; here it is realities which model themselves spontaneously -upon desires. Of all the passions, therefore, it is in love that -violent desires find the greatest satisfaction. - -There are certain general conditions of happiness, whose influence -extends over every fulfilment of particular desires:-- - -1. She seems to belong to you, for you only can make her happy. - -2. She is the judge of your worth. This condition was very important -at the gallant and chivalrous Courts of Francis I and Henry II, and at -the elegant Court of Lewis XV. Under a constitutional and rationalist -government women lose this range of influence entirely. - -3. For a romantic heart--The loftier her soul, the more sublime will be -the pleasures that await her in your arms, and the more purified of the -dross of all vulgar considerations. - -[Pg 46] -The majority of young Frenchmen are, at eighteen, disciples of -Rousseau; for them this condition of happiness is important. - -In the midst of operations so apt to mislead our desire of happiness, -there is no keeping cool. - -For, the moment he is in love, the steadiest man sees no object such -as it is. His own advantages he minimises, and magnifies the smallest -favours of the loved one. Fears and hopes take at once a tinge of the -romantic. (Wayward.) He no longer attributes anything to chance; he -loses the perception of probability; in its effect upon his happiness a -thing imagined is a thing existent.[1] - -A terrible symptom that you are losing your head:--you think of some -little thing which is difficult to make out; you see it white, and -interpret that in favour of your love; a moment later you notice that -actually it is black, and still you find it conclusively favourable to -your love. - -Then indeed the soul, a prey to mortal uncertainties, feels keenly the -need of a friend. But there is no friend for the lover. The Court knew -that; and it is the source of the only kind of indiscretion which a -woman of delicacy might forgive. - - -[1] There is a physical cause--a mad impulse, a rush of blood to the -brain, a disorder in the nerves and in the cerebral centre. Observe -the transitory courage of stags and the spiritual state of a soprano. -Physiology, in 1922, will give us a description of the physical side of -this phenomenon. I recommend this to the attention of Dr. Edwards(8). - - -[Pg 47] - CHAPTER XIII - - OF THE FIRST STEP; OF THE FASHIONABLE WORLD; OF MISFORTUNES - - -That which is most surprising in the passion of love is the first -step--the extravagance of the change, which comes over a man's brain. - -The fashionable world, with its brilliant parties, is of service to -love in favouring this first step. - -It begins by changing simple admiration (i) into tender admiration -(ii)--what pleasure to kiss her, etc. - -In a _salon_ lit by thousands of candles a fast valse throws a fever -upon young hearts, eclipses timidity, swells the consciousness of -power--in fact, gives them the daring to love. For to see a lovable -object is not enough: on the contrary, the fact that it is extremely -lovable discourages a gentle soul--he must see it, if not in love with -him,[1] at least despoiled of its majesty. - -Who takes it into his head to become the paramour of a queen unless the -advances are from her?[2] - -Thus nothing is more favourable to the birth of love than a life of -irksome solitude, broken now and again by a long-desired ball. This is -the plan of wise mothers who have daughters. - -The real fashionable world, such as was found at the - -[Pg 48] -Court of France,[3] and which since 1780,[4] I think, exists no more, -was unfavourable to love, because it made the solitude and the leisure, -indispensable to the work of crystallisation, almost impossible. - -Court life gives the habit of observing and making a great number of -subtle distinctions, and the subtlest distinction may be the beginning -of an admiration and of a passion.[5] - -When the troubles of love are mixed with those of another kind (the -troubles of vanity--if your mistress offend your proper pride, your -sense of honour or personal dignity--troubles of health, money and -political persecution, etc.), it is only in appearance that love is -increased by these annoyances. Occupying the imagination otherwise, -they prevent crystallisation in love still hopeful, and in happy love -the birth of little doubts. When these misfortunes have departed, the -sweetness and the folly of love return. - -Observe that misfortunes favour the birth of love in light and -unsensitive characters, and that, after it is born, misfortunes, -which existed before, are favourable to it; in as much as the -imagination, recoiling from the gloomy impressions offered by all the -other circumstances of life, throws itself wholly into the work of -crystallisation. - - -[1] Hence the possibility of passions of artificial origin--those of -Benedict and of Beatrice (Shakespeare). - -[2] Cf. the fortunes of Struensee in Brown's _Northern Courts_, 3 -vols., 1819. - -[3] See the letters of Madame du Deffant, Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, -Bezenval, Lauzun, the Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay, the _Dictionnaire -des Étiquettes_ of Madame de Genlis, the Memoirs of Danjeau and Horace -Walpole. - -[4] Unless, perhaps, at the Court of Petersburg. - -[5] See Saint-Simon and Werther. However gentle and delicate are the -solitary, their soul is distracted, and part of their imagination is -busy in foreseeing the world of men. Force of character is one of the -charms which most readily seduces the truly feminine heart. Hence -the success of serious young officers. Women well know how to make -the distinction between force of character and the violence of those -movements of passion, the possibility of which they feel strongly in -their own hearts. The most distinguished women are sometimes duped by -a little charlatanism in this matter. It can be used without fear, as -soon as crystallisation is seen to have begun. - - -[Pg 49] - CHAPTER XIV - - -The following point, which will be disputed, I offer only to -those--shall I say unhappy enough?--to have loved with passion during -long years, and loved in the face of invincible obstacles:-- - -The sight of all that is extremely beautiful in nature and in art -recalls, with the swiftness of lightning, the memory of that which -we love. It is by the process of the jewelled branch in the mines of -Salzburg, that everything in the world which is beautiful and lofty -contributes to the beauty of that which we love, and that forthwith a -sudden glimpse of delight fills the eyes with tears. In this way, love -and the love of beauty give life mutually to one another. - -One of life's miseries is that the happiness of seeing and talking to -the object of our love leaves no distinct memories behind. The soul, -it seems, is too troubled by its emotions for that which causes or -accompanies them to impress it. The soul and its sensations are one -and the same. It is perhaps because these pleasures cannot be used up -by voluntary recollection, that they return again and again with such -force, as soon as ever some object comes to drag us from day-dreams -devoted to the woman we love, and by some new connexion[1] to bring her -still more vividly to our memory. - -A dry old architect used to meet her in society every evening. -Following a natural impulse, and without paying attention to what I -was saying to her,[2] I one day sang his praises in a sentimental and -pompous strain, - -[Pg 50] -which made her laugh at me. I had not the strength to say to her: "He -sees you every evening." - -So powerful is this sensation that it extends even to the person of my -enemy, who is always at her side. When I see her, she reminds me of -Léonore so much, that at the time I cannot hate her, however much I try. - -It looks as if, by a curious whim of the heart, the charm, which -the woman we love can communicate, were greater than that which she -herself possesses. The vision of that distant city, where we saw her a -moment,[3] throws us into dreams sweeter and more profound than would -her very presence. It is the effect of harsh treatment. - -The day-dreams of love cannot be scrutinised. I have observed that I -can re-read a good novel every three years with the same pleasure. It -gives me feelings akin to the kind of emotional taste, which dominates -me at the moment, or if my feelings are nil, makes for variety in my -ideas. Also, I can listen with pleasure to the same music, but, in -this, memory must not intrude. The imagination should be affected and -nothing else; if, at the twentieth representation, an opera gives more -pleasure, it is either because the music is better understood, or -because it also brings back the feeling it gave at the first. - -As to new lights, which a novel may throw upon our knowledge of the -human heart, I still remember clearly the old ones, and am pleased even -to find them noted in the margin. But this kind of pleasure pertains -to the novels, in so far as they advance me in the knowledge of man, -and not in the least to day-dreaming--the veritable pleasure of novels. -Such day-dreaming is inscrutable. To watch it is for the present to -kill it, for you fall into a philosophical analysis of pleasure; and it - -[Pg 51] -is killing it still more certainly for the future, for nothing is surer -to paralyse the imagination than the appeal to memory(9). If I find in -the margin a note, depicting my feelings on reading _Old Mortality_ -three years ago in Florence, I am plunged immediately into the history -of my life, into an estimate of the degree of happiness at the two -epochs, in short, into the deepest problems of philosophy--and then -good-bye for a long season to the unchecked play of tender feelings. - -Every great poet with a lively imagination is timid, he is afraid of -men, that is to say, for the interruptions and troubles with which they -can invade the delight of his dreams. He fears for his concentration. -Men come along with their gross interests to drag him from the gardens -of Armida, and force him into a fetid slough: only by irritating him -can they fix his attention on themselves. It is this habit of feeding -his soul upon touching dreams and this horror of the vulgar which draws -a great artist so near to love. - -The more of the great artist a man has in him, the more must he wish -for titles and honours as a bulwark. - - -[1] Scents. - -[2] See note 2, p. 28. - -[3] - - Nessun maggior dolore - Che ricordarsi del tempo felice - Nella miseria.--Dante, _Inf._, V (Francesca). - -[No greater sorrow than to remember happy times in misery.--Tr.] - - -[Pg 52] - CHAPTER XV - - -Suddenly in the midst of the most violent and the most thwarted passion -come moments, when a man believes that he is in love no longer--as it -were a spring of fresh water in the middle of the sea. To think of his -mistress is no longer very much pleasure, and, although he is worn-out -by the severity of her treatment, the fact that everything in life -has lost its interest is a still greater misery. After a manner of -existence which, fitful though it was, gave to all nature a new aspect, -passionate and absorbing, now follows the dreariest and most despondent -void. - -It may be that your last visit to the woman, whom you love, left you -in a situation, from which, once before, your imagination had gathered -the full harvest of sensation. For example, after a period of coldness, -she has treated you less badly, letting you conceive exactly the -same degree of hope and by the same external signs as on a previous -occasion--all this perhaps unconsciously. Imagination picks up memory -and its sinister warnings by the way, and instantly crystallisation[1] -ceases. - - -[1] First, I am advised to cut out this word; next, if I fail in this -for want of literary power, to repeat again and again that I mean by -crystallisation a certain fever in the imagination, which transforms -past recognition what is, as often as not, a quite ordinary object, -and makes of it a thing apart. A man who looks to excite this fever in -souls, which know no other path but vanity to reach their happiness, -must tie his necktie well and constantly give his attention to a -thousand details, which preclude all possibility of unrestraint. -Society women own to the effect, denying at the same time or not seeing -the cause. - - -[Pg 53] - CHAPTER XVI - - In a small port, the name of which I forget, near Perpignan, 25th - February, 1822.[1] - - -This evening I have just found out that music, when it is perfect, puts -the heart into the same state as it enjoys in the presence of the loved -one--that is to say, it gives seemingly the keenest happiness existing -on the face of the earth. - -If this were so for all men, there would be no more favourable -incentive to love. - -But I had already remarked at Naples last year that perfect music, like -perfect pantomime, makes me think of that which is at the moment the -object of my dreams, and that the ideas, which it suggests to me, are -excellent: at Naples, it was on the means of arming the Greeks. - -Now this evening I cannot deceive myself--I have the misfortune _of -being too great an admirer of milady L_.[2] - -And perhaps the perfect music, which I have had the luck to hear again, -after two or three months of privation, although going nightly to the -Opera, has simply had the effect, which I recognised long ago--I mean -that of producing lively thoughts on what is already in the heart. - -March 4th--eight days later. - -I dare neither erase nor approve the preceding observation. Certain it -is that, as I wrote it, I read it in my heart. If to-day I bring it -into question, it is - -[Pg 54] -because I have lost the memory of what I saw at that time. - -The habit of hearing music and dreaming its dreams disposes towards -love. A sad and gentle air, provided it is not too dramatic, so that -the imagination is forced to dwell on the action, is a direct stimulant -to dreams of love and a delight for gentle and unhappy souls: for -example, the drawn-out passage on the clarionet at the beginning of the -quartet in _Bianca and Faliero_(10), and the recitative of La Camporesi -towards the middle of the quartet. - -A lover at peace with his mistress enjoys to distraction Rossini's -famous duet in _Armida and Rinaldo_, depicting so justly the little -doubts of happy love and the moments of delight which follow its -reconciliations. It seems to him that the instrumental part, which -comes in the middle of the duet, at the moment when Rinaldo wishes -to fly, and represents in such an amazing way the conflict of the -passions, has a physical influence upon his heart and touches it in -reality. On this subject I dare not say what I feel; I should pass for -a madman among people of the north. - - -[1] Copied from the diary of Lisio. - -[2] [Written thus in English by Stendhal,--Tr.] - - -[Pg 55] - CHAPTER XVII - - BEAUTY DETHRONED BY LOVE - - -Alberic meets in a box at the theatre a woman more beautiful than his -mistress (I beg to be allowed here a mathematical valuation)--that -is to say, her features promise three units of happiness instead of -two, supposing the quantity of happiness given by perfect beauty to be -expressed by the number four. - -Is it surprising that he prefers the features of his mistress, which -promise a hundred units of happiness _for him_? Even the minor defects -of her face, a small-pox mark, for example, touches the heart of the -man who loves, and, when he observes them even in another woman, sets -him dreaming far away. What, then, when he sees them in his mistress? -Why, he has felt a thousand sentiments in presence of that small-pox -mark, sentiments for the most part sweet, and all of the greatest -interest; and now, such as they are, they are evoked afresh with -incredible vividness by the sight of this sign, even in the face of -another woman. - -If ugliness thus comes to be preferred and loved, it is because in -this case ugliness is beauty.[1] A man was passionately in love with a -woman, very thin and scarred with small-pox: death bereft him of her. -At Rome, three years after, he makes friends with two women, one more -lovely than the day, the other thin, scarred with - -[Pg 56] -small-pox, and thereby, if you will, quite ugly. There he is, -at the end of a week, in love with the ugly one--and this week he -employs in effacing her ugliness with his memories; and with a very -pardonable coquetry the lesser beauty did not fail to help him in the -operation with a slight whip-up of the pulse.[2] A man meets a woman -and is offended by her ugliness; soon, if she is unpretentious, her -expression makes him forget the defects of her features; he finds her -amiable--he conceives that one could love her. A week later he has -hopes; another week and they are taken from him; another and he's mad. - - -[1] Beauty is only the promise of happiness. The happiness of a -Greek was different to that of a Frenchman of 1822. See the eyes of -the Medici Venus and compare them with the eyes of the Magdalen of -Pordenone (in the possession of M. de Sommariva.) - -[2] If one is sure of the love of a woman, one examines to see if she -is more or less beautiful; if one is uncertain of her heart, there is -no time to think of her face. - - -[Pg 57] - CHAPTER XVIII - - LIMITATIONS OF BEAUTY - - -An analogy is to be seen at the theatre in the reception of the -public's favourite actors: the spectators are no longer conscious of -the beauty or ugliness which the actors have in reality. Lekain, for -all his remarkable ugliness, had a harvest of broken hearts--Garrick -also. There are several reasons for this; the principal being that it -was no longer the actual beauty of their features or their ways which -people saw, but emphatically that which imagination was long since used -to lend them, as a return for, and in memory of, all the pleasure they -had given it. Why, take a comedian--his face alone raises a laugh as he -first walks on. - -A girl going for the first time to the Français would perhaps feel some -antipathy to Lekain during the first scene; but soon he was making her -weep or shiver--and how resist him as Tancrède[1] or Orosmane? - -If his ugliness were still a little visible to her eyes, the fervour -of an entire audience, and the nervous effect produced upon a young -heart,[2] soon managed to eclipse - -[Pg 58] -it. If anything was still heard about his ugliness, it was mere talk; -but not a word of it--Lekain's lady enthusiasts could be heard to -exclaim "He's lovely!" - -Remember that beauty is the expression of character, or, put -differently, of moral habits, and that consequently it is exempt from -all passion. Now it is passion that we want. Beauty can only supply us -with probabilities about a woman, and probabilities, moreover, based on -her capacity for self-possession; while the glances of your mistress -with her small-pox scars are a delightful reality, which destroys all -the probabilities in the world. - - -[1] See Madame de Staël in _Delphine_, I think; there you have the -artifice of plain women. - -[2] I should be inclined to attribute to this nervous sympathy the -prodigious and incomprehensible effect of fashionable music. (Sympathy -at Dresden for Rossini, 1821.) As soon as it is out of fashion, it -becomes no worse for that, and yet it ceases to have any effect upon -perfectly ingenuous girls. Perhaps it used to please them, as also -stimulating young men to fervour. - -Madame de Sévigné says to her daughter (Letter 202, May 6, 1672): -"Lully surpassed himself in his royal music; that beautiful _Miserere_ -was still further enlarged: there was a _Libera_ at which all eyes were -full of tears." - -It is as impossible to doubt the truth of this effect, as to refuse wit -or refinement to Madame de Sévigné. Lully's music, which charmed her, -would make us run away at present; in her day, his music encouraged -crystallisation--it makes it impossible in ours. - - -[Pg 59] - CHAPTER XIX - - LIMITATIONS OF BEAUTY--(_continued_) - - -A woman of quick fancy and tender heart, but timid and cautious in her -sensibility, who the day after she appears in society, passes in review -a thousand times nervously and painfully all that she may have said or -given hint of--such a woman, I say, grows easily used to want of beauty -in a man: it is hardly an obstacle in rousing her affection. - -It is really on the same principle that you care next to nothing for -the degree of beauty in a mistress, whom you adore and who repays you -with harshness. You have very nearly stopped crystallising her beauty, -and when your _friend in need_ tells you that she isn't pretty, you are -almost ready to agree. Then he thinks he has made great way. - -My friend, brave Captain Trab, described to me this evening his -feelings on seeing Mirabeau once upon a time. No one looking upon that -great man felt a disagreeable sensation in the eyes--that is to say, -found him ugly. People were carried away by his thundering words; they -fixed their attention, they delighted in fixing their attention, only -on what was beautiful in his face. As he had practically no beautiful -features (in the sense of sculpturesque or picturesque beauty) -they minded only what beauty he had of another kind, the beauty of -expression.[1] - -[Pg 60] -While attention was blind to all traces of ugliness, picturesquely -speaking, it fastened on the smallest passable details with -fervour--for example, the beauty of his vast head of hair. If he had -had horns, people would have thought them lovely.[2] - -[Pg 61] -The appearance every evening of a pretty dancer forces a little -interest from those poor souls, blasé or bereft of imagination, who -adorn the balcony of the opera. By her graceful movements, daring and -strange, she awakens their physical love and procures them perhaps -the only crystallisation of which they are still capable. This is the -way by which a young scarecrow, who in the street would not have been -honoured with a glance, least of all from people the worse for wear, -has only to appear frequently on the stage, and she manages to get -herself handsomely supported. Geoffroy used to say that the theatre is -the pedestal of woman. The more notorious and the more dilapidated a -dancer, the more she is worth; hence the green-room proverb: "Some get -sold at a price who wouldn't be taken as a gift." These women steal -part of their passions from their lovers, and are very susceptible of -love from pique. - -How manage not to connect generous or lovable sentiments with the face -of an actress, in whose features there is nothing repugnant, whom for -two hours every evening we see expressing the most noble feelings, -and whom otherwise we do not know? When at last you succeed in being -received by her, her features recall such pleasing feelings, that the -entire reality which surrounds her, however little nobility it may -sometimes possess, is instantly invested with romantic and touching -colours. - -"Devotee, in the days of my youth, of that boring French tragedy,[3] -whenever I had the luck of supping with Mlle. Olivier, I found myself -every other moment overbrimming with respect, in the belief that I was -speaking to a queen; and really I have never been quite sure whether, -in her case, I had fallen in love with a queen or a pretty tart." - - -[1] That is the advantage of being _à la mode_. Putting aside the -defects of a face which are already familiar, and no longer have any -effect upon the imagination, the public take hold of one of the three -following ideas of beauty:-- - -(1) The people--of the idea of wealth. - -(2) The upper classes--of the idea of elegance, material or moral. - -(3) The Court--of the idea: "My object is to please the women." - -Almost all take hold of a mixture of all three. The happiness attached -to the idea of riches is linked to a refinement in the pleasure which -the idea of elegance suggests, and the whole comes into touch with -love. In one way or another the imagination is led on by novelty. It -is possible in this way to be interested in a very ugly man without -thinking of his ugliness,[*] and in good time his ugliness becomes -beauty. At Vienna, in 1788, Madame Viganò, a dancer and _the_ woman -of the moment, was with child--very soon the ladies took to wearing -little _Ventres à la Viganò_. For the same reason reversed, nothing -more fearful than a fashion out of date! Bad taste is a confusion of -fashion, which lives only by change, with the lasting beauty produced -by such and such a government, guided by such and such a climate. A -building in fashion to-day, in ten years will be out of fashion. It -will be less displeasing in two hundred years, when its fashionable day -will be forgotten. Lovers are quite mad to think about their dress; a -woman has other things to do, when seeing the object of her love, than -to bother about his get-up; we look at our lover, we do not examine -him, says Rousseau. If this examination takes place, we are dealing -with gallant-love and not passion-love. The brilliance of beauty is -almost offensive in the object of our love; it is none of our business -to see her beautiful, we want her tender and languishing. Adornment has -effect in love only upon girls, who are so rigidly guarded in their -parents' house, that they often lose their hearts through their eyes. -(L.'s words. September 15, 1820.) - -* Le petit Germain, _Mémoires de Grammont_. - -[2] For their polish or their size or their form! In this way, or by -the combination of sentiments (see above, the small-pox scars) a woman -in love grows used to the faults of her lover. The Russian Princess -C. has actually become used to a man who literally has no nose. The -picture of his courage, of his pistol loaded to kill himself in despair -at his misfortune, and pity for the bitter calamity, enhanced by the -idea that he will recover and is beginning to recover, are the forces -which have worked this miracle. The poor fellow with his wound must -appear not to think of his misfortune. (Berlin, 1807.) - -[3] Improper expression copied from the Memoirs of my friend, the -late Baron de Bottmer. It is by the same trick that Feramorz pleases -Lalla-Rookh. See that charming poem. - - -[Pg 62] - CHAPTER XX - - -Perhaps men who are not susceptible to the feelings of passion-love are -those most keenly sensitive to the effects of beauty: that at least is -the strongest impression which such men can receive of women. - -He who has felt his heart beating at a distant glimpse of the white -satin hat of the woman he loves, is quite amazed by the chill left upon -him by the approach of the greatest beauty in the world. He may even -have a qualm of distress, to observe the excitement of others. - -Extremely lovely women cause less surprise the second day. 'Tis a great -misfortune, it discourages crystallisation. Their merit being obvious -to all and public property, they are bound to reckon more fools in the -list of their lovers than princes, millionaires, etc.[1] - -[1] It is quite clear that the author is neither prince nor -millionaire. I wanted to steal that sally from the reader. - - -[Pg 63] - CHAPTER XXI - - LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT - - -Imaginative souls are sensitive and also mistrustful, even the most -ingenuous,[1]--I maintain. They may be suspicious without knowing it: -they have had so many disappointments in life. Thus everything set-out -and official, when a man is first introduced, scares the imagination -and drives away the possibility of crystallisation; the romantic is -then, on the contrary, love's triumph. - -Nothing simpler--for in the supreme astonishment, which keeps the -thoughts busy for long upon something out of the ordinary, is already -half the mental exercise necessary to crystallisation. - -I will quote the beginning of the Amours of Séraphine (_Gil Blas_, Bk. -IV, Chap. X). It is Don Fernando who tells the story of his flight, -when pursued by the agents of the inquisition.... - - After crossing several walks I came to a drawing-room, the door - of which was also left open. I entered, and when I had observed all - its magnificence.... One side of the room a door stood ajar; I partly - opened it and saw a suite of apartments - -[Pg 64] - whereof only the furthest was lighted. "What is to be done now?" - I asked myself.... I could not resist my curiosity.... Advancing - boldly, I went through all the rooms and reached one where there - was a light--to wit, a taper upon a marble table in a silver-gilt - candlestick.... But soon afterwards, casting my eyes upon a bed, the - curtains of which were partly drawn on account of the heat, I perceived - an object which at once engrossed my attention: a young lady, fast - asleep in spite of the noise of the thunder, which had just been - bursting forth. I softly drew near her. My mind was suddenly troubled - at the sight. Whilst I feasted my eyes with the pleasure of beholding - her, she awoke. - - Imagine her surprise at seeing in her room at midnight a man who was - an utter stranger to her! She trembled on beholding me and shrieked - aloud.... I took pains to reassure her and throwing myself on my knees - before her, said--"Madam, have no fear." She called her women.... Grown - a little braver by his (an old servant's) presence, she haughtily asked - me who was, etc. etc."[2] - -There is an introduction not easily to be forgotten! On the other hand, -could there be anything sillier in our customs of to-day than the -official, and at the same time almost sentimental, introduction of the -young wooer to his future wife: such legal prostitution goes so far as -to be almost offensive to modesty. - -"I have just been present this afternoon, February 17th, 1790," says -Chamfort, "at a so-called family function. That is to say, men of -respectable reputation and a decent company were congratulating on -her good fortune Mlle. de Marille, a young person of beauty, wit and -virtue, who is to be favoured with becoming the wife of M. R.--an -unhealthy dotard, repulsive, dishonest, and mad, but rich: she has -seen him for the third time to-day, when signing the contract. If -anything characterises an age of infamy, it is the jubilation on an -occasion like this, it is the folly of such joy and--looking ahead--the -sanctimonious cruelty, with which the same society will heap contempt -without reserve upon - -[Pg 65] -the pettiest imprudence of a poor young woman in love." - -Ceremony of all kinds, being in its essence something affected and -set-out beforehand, in which the point is to act "properly," paralyses -the imagination and leaves it awake only to that which is opposed -to the object of the ceremony, e. g. something comical--whence the -magic effect of the slightest joke. A poor girl, struggling against -nervousness and attacks of modesty during the official introduction of -her _fiancé_, can think of nothing but the part she is playing, and -this again is a certain means of stifling the imagination. - -Modesty has far more to say against getting into bed with a man whom -you have seen but twice, after three Latin words have been spoken in -church, than against giving way despite yourself to the man whom for -two years you have adored. But I am talking double Dutch. - -The fruitful source of the vices and mishaps, which follow our -marriages nowadays, is the Church of Rome. It makes liberty for girls -impossible before marriage, and divorce impossible, when once they have -made their mistake, or rather when they find out the mistake of the -choice forced on them. Compare Germany, the land of happy marriages: a -delightful princess (Madame la Duchesse de Sa----) has just married in -all good faith for the fourth time, and has not failed to ask to the -wedding her three first husbands, with whom she is on the best terms. -That is going too far; but a single divorce, which punishes a husband -for his tyranny, prevents a thousand cases of unhappy wedded life. -What is amusing is that Rome is one of the places where you see most -divorces. - -Love goes out at first sight towards a face, which reveals in a man at -once something to respect and something to pity. - - -[1] _The Bride of Lammermoor_, Miss Ashton. - -A man who has lived finds in his memory numberless examples of -"affairs," and his only trouble is to make his choice. But if he -wishes to write, he no longer knows where to look for support. The -anecdotes of the particular circles he has lived in are unknown to the -public, and it would require an immense number of pages to recount them -with the necessary circumstantiality. I quote for that reason from -generally-known novels, but the ideas which I submit to the reader I do -not ground upon such empty fictions, calculated for the most part with -an eye to the picturesque rather than the true effect. - -[2] [Translation of Henri van Laun.--Tr.] - - -[Pg 66] - CHAPTER XXII - - OF INFATUATION - - -The most fastidious spirits are very given to curiosity and -prepossession: this is to be seen, especially, in beings in which that -sacred fire, the source of the passions, is extinct--in fact it is one -of the most fatal symptoms. There is also the infatuation of schoolboys -just admitted to society. At the two poles of life, with too much or -too little sensibility, there is little chance of simple people getting -the right effect from things, or feeling the genuine sensation which -they ought to give. These beings, either too ardent or excessive in -their ardour, amorous on credit, if one may use the expression, throw -themselves at objects instead of awaiting them. - -From afar off and without looking they enfold things in that imaginary -charm, of which they find a perennial source within themselves, long -before sensation, which is the consequence of the object's nature, has -had time to reach them. Then, on coming to close quarters, they see -these things not such as they are, but as they have made them; they -think they are enjoying such and such an object, while, under cover of -that object, they are enjoying themselves. But one fine day a man gets -tired of keeping the whole thing going; he discovers that his idol is -_not playing the game_; infatuation collapses and the resulting shock -to his self-esteem makes him unfair to that which he appreciated too -highly. - - -[Pg 67] - CHAPTER XXIII - - THE THUNDERBOLT FROM THE BLUE(11) - - -So ridiculous an expression ought to be changed, yet the thing exists. -I have seen the amiable and noble Wilhelmina, the despair of the -beaux of Berlin, making light of love and laughing at its folly. In -the brilliance of youth, wit, beauty and all kinds of good luck--a -boundless fortune, giving her the opportunity of developing all her -qualities, seemed to conspire with nature to give the world an example, -rarely seen, of perfect happiness bestowed upon an object perfectly -worthy. She was twenty-three years old and, already some time at Court, -had won the homage of the bluest blood. Her virtue, unpretentious but -invulnerable, was quoted as a pattern. Henceforth the most charming -men, despairing of their powers of fascination, aspired only to make -her their friend. One evening she goes to a ball at Prince Ferdinand's: -she dances for ten minutes with a young Captain. - -"From that moment," she writes subsequently to a friend,[1] "he was -master of my heart and of me, and this to a degree that would have -filled me with terror, if the happiness of seeing Herman had left me -time to think of the rest of existence. My only thought was to observe -whether he gave me a little notice. - -"To-day the only consolation that I might find for my fault is to nurse -the illusion within me, that it is through a superior power that I am -lost to reason and to myself. I have no word to describe, in a way that -comes at all near the reality, the degree of disorder and turmoil - -[Pg 68] -to which the mere sight of him could bring my whole being. I blush to -think of the rapidity and the violence with which I was drawn towards -him. If his first word, when at last he spoke to me, had been 'Do you -adore me?'--truly I should not have had the power to have answered -anything but 'yes.' I was far from thinking that the effect of a -feeling could be at once so sudden and so unforeseen. In fact, for an -instant, I believed that I had been poisoned. - -"Unhappily you and the world, my dear friend, know how well I have -loved Herman. Well, after quarter of an hour he was so dear to me that -he cannot have become dearer since. I saw then all his faults and I -forgave them all, provided only he would love me. - -"Soon after I had danced with him, the king left: Herman, who belonged -to the suite, had to follow him. With him, everything in nature -disappeared. It is no good to try to depict the excess of weariness -with which I felt weighed down, as soon as he was out of my sight. It -was equal only to the keenness of my desire to be alone with myself. - -"At last I got away. No sooner the door of my room shut and bolted than -I wanted to resist my passion. I thought I should succeed. Ah, dear -friend, believe me I paid dear that evening and the following days for -the pleasure of being able to credit myself with some virtue." - -The preceding lines are the exact story of an event which was the topic -of the day; for after a month or two poor Wilhelmina was unfortunate -enough for people to take notice of her feelings. Such was the origin -of that long series of troubles by which she perished so young and so -tragically--poisoned by herself or her lover. All that we could see in -this young Captain was that he was an excellent dancer; he had plenty -of gaiety and still more assurance, a general air of good nature and -spent his time with prostitutes; for the rest, scarcely a nobleman, -quite poor and not seen at Court. - -[Pg 69] -In these cases it is not enough to have no misgivings--one must be sick -of misgivings--have, so to speak, the impatience of courage to face -life's chances. - -The soul of a woman, grown tired, without noticing it, of living -without loving, convinced in spite of herself by the example of other -women--all the fears of life surmounted and the sorry happiness of -pride found wanting--ends in creating unconsciously a model, an ideal. -One day she meets this model: crystallisation recognises its object by -the commotion it inspires and consecrates for ever to the master of its -fortunes the fruit of all its previous dreams.[2] - -Women, whose hearts are open to this misfortune, have too much grandeur -of soul to love otherwise than with passion. They would be saved if -they could stoop to gallantry. - -As "thunderbolts" come from a secret lassitude in what the catechism -calls Virtue, and from boredom brought on by the uniformity of -perfection, I should be inclined to think that it would generally be -the privilege of what is known in the world as "a bad lot" to bring -them down. I doubt very much whether rigidity _à la_ Cato has ever been -the occasion of a "thunderbolt." - -What makes them so rare is that if the heart, thus disposed to love -beforehand, has the slightest inkling of its situation, there is no -thunderbolt. - -The soul of a woman, whom troubles have made mistrustful, is not -susceptible of this revolution. - -Nothing facilitates "a thunderbolt" like praise, given in advance and -by women, to the person who is to occasion it. - -False "thunderbolts" form one of the most comic sources of love -stories. A weary woman, but one without much feeling, thinks for a -whole evening that she is in love for life. She is proud of having -found at last one of those great commotions of the soul, which used to - -[Pg 70] -allure her imagination. The next day she no longer knows where to hide -her face and, still more, how to avoid the wretched object she was -adoring the night before. - -Clever people know how to spot, that is to say, make capital out of -these "thunderbolts." - -Physical love also has its "thunderbolts." Yesterday in her carriage -with the prettiest and most easy-going woman in Berlin, we saw her -suddenly blush. She became deeply absorbed and preoccupied. Handsome -Lieutenant Findorff had just passed. In the evening at the play, -according to her own confession to me, she was out of her mind, she -was beside herself, she could think of nothing but Findorff, to whom -she had never spoken. If she had dared, she told me, she would have -sent for him--that pretty face bore all the signs of the most violent -passion. The next day it was still going on. After three days, Findorff -having played the blockhead, she thought no more about it. A month -later she loathed him. - - -[1] Translated _ad litteram_ from the Memoirs of Bottmer. - -[2] Several phrases taken from Crébillon. - - -[Pg 71] - CHAPTER XXIV - - VOYAGE IN AN UNKNOWN LAND - - -I advise the majority of people born in the North to skip the present -chapter. It is an obscure dissertation upon certain phenomena -relative to the orange-tree, a plant which does not grow or reach its -full height except in Italy and Spain. In order to be intelligible -elsewhere, I should have had to cut down the facts. - -I should have had no hesitation about this, if for a single moment -I had intended to write a book to be generally appreciated. But -Heaven having refused me the writer's gift, I have thought solely of -describing with all the ill-grace of science, but also with all its -exactitude, certain facts, of which I became involuntarily the witness -through a prolonged sojourn in the land of the orange-tree. Frederick -the Great, or some such other distinguished man from the North, who -never had the opportunity of seeing the orange-tree growing in the -open, would doubtless have denied the facts which follow--and denied in -good faith. I have an infinite respect for such good faith and can see -its _wherefore_. - -As this sincere declaration may seem presumption, I append the -following reflexion:-- - -We write haphazard, each one of us what we think true, and each gives -the lie to his neighbour. I see in our books so many tickets in a -lottery and in reality they have no more value. Posterity, forgetting -some and reprinting others, declares the lucky numbers. And in so far, -each one of us having written as best he can, what he thinks true, has -no right to laugh at his neighbour--except - -[Pg 72] -where the satire is amusing. In that case he is always right, -especially if he writes like M. Courrier to Del Furia(12). - -After this preamble, I am going bravely to enter into the examination -of facts which, I am convinced, have rarely been observed at Paris. But -after all at Paris, superior as of course it is to all other towns, -orange-trees are not seen growing out in the open, as at Sorrento, -and it is there that Lisio Visconti observed and noted the following -facts--at Sorrento, the country of Tasso, on the Bay of Naples in a -position half-way down to the sea, still more picturesque than that of -Naples itself, but where no one reads the _Miroir_. - -When we are to see in the evening the woman we love, the suspense, the -expectation of so great a happiness makes every moment, which separates -us from it, unbearable. - -A devouring fever makes us take up and lay aside twenty different -occupations. We look every moment at our watch--overjoyed when we see -that we have managed to pass ten minutes without looking at the time. -The hour so longed-for strikes at last, and when we are at her door -ready to knock--we would be glad not to find her in. It is only on -reflexion that we would be sorry for it. In a word, the suspense before -seeing her produces an unpleasant effect. - -There you have one of the things which make good folk say that love -drives men silly. - -The reason is that the imagination, violently withdrawn from dreams of -delight in which every step forward brings happiness, is brought back -face to face with severe reality. - -The gentle soul knows well that in the combat which is to begin the -moment he sees her, the least inadvertency, the least lack of attention -or of courage will be paid for by a defeat, poisoning, for a long time -to come, the dreams of fancy and of passion, and humiliating to a man's -pride, if he try to find consolation outside the - -[Pg 73] -sphere of passion. He says to himself: "I hadn't the wit, I hadn't -the pluck"; but the only way to have pluck before the loved one is by -loving her a little less. - -It is a fragment of attention, torn by force with so much trouble -from the dreams of crystallisation, which allows the crowd of things -to escape us during our first words with the woman we love--things -which have no sense or which have a sense contrary to what we mean--or -else, what is still more heartrending, we exaggerate our feelings and -they become ridiculous in our own eyes. We feel vaguely that we are -not paying enough attention to our words and mechanically set about -polishing and loading our oratory. And, also, it is impossible to hold -one's tongue--silence would be embarrassing and make it still less -possible to give one's thoughts to her. So we say in a feeling way a -host of things that we do not feel, and would be quite embarrassed to -repeat, obstinately keeping our distance from the woman before us, in -order more really to be with her. In the early hours of my acquaintance -with love, this oddity which I felt within me, made me believe that I -did not love. - -I understand cowardice and how recruits, to be delivered of their fear, -throw themselves recklessly into the midst of the fire. The number of -silly things I have said in the last two years, in order not to hold my -tongue, makes me mad when I think of them. - -And that is what should easily mark in a woman's eyes the difference -between passion-love and gallantry, between the gentle soul and the -prosaic.[1] - -In these decisive moments the one gains as much as the other loses: the -prosaic soul gets just the degree of warmth which he ordinarily wants, -while excess of feeling drives mad the poor gentle heart, who, to crown -his troubles, really means to hide his madness. Completely taken up -with keeping his own transports in check, he is miles away from the -self-possession necessary in order to seize opportunities, - -[Pg 74] -and leaves in a muddle after a visit, in which the prosaic soul would -have made a great step forward. Directly it is a question of advancing -his too violent passion, a gentle being with pride cannot be eloquent -under the eye of the woman whom he loves: the pain of ill-success is -too much for him. The vulgar being, on the contrary, calculates nicely -the chances of success: he is stopped by no foretastes of the suffering -of defeat, and, proud of that which makes him vulgar, laughs at the -gentle soul, who, with all the cleverness he may have, is never quite -enough at ease to say the simplest things and those most certain to -succeed. The gentle soul, far from being able to grasp anything by -force, must resign himself to obtaining nothing except through the -_charity_ of her whom he loves. If the woman one loves really has -feelings, one always has reason to regret having wished to put pressure -on oneself in order to make love to her. One looks shame-faced, looks -chilly, would look deceitful, did not passion betray itself by other -and surer signs. To express what we feel so keenly, and in such detail, -at every moment of the day, is a task we take upon our shoulders -because we have read novels; for if we were natural, we would never -undertake anything so irksome. Instead of wanting to speak of what we -felt a quarter of an hour ago, and of trying to make of it a general -and interesting topic, we would express simply the passing fragment of -our feelings at the moment. But no! we put the most violent pressure -upon ourselves for a worthless success, and, as there is no evidence of -actual sensation to back our words, and as our memory cannot be working -freely, we approve at the time of things to say--and say them--comical -to a degree that is more than humiliating. - -When at last, after an hour's trouble, this extremely painful effort -has resulted in getting away from the enchanted gardens of the -imagination, in order to enjoy quite simply the presence of what you -love, it often happens--that you've got to take your leave. - -[Pg 75] -All this looks like extravagance, but I have seen better still. A -woman, whom one of my friends loved to idolatry, pretending to take -offence at some or other want of delicacy, which I was never allowed -to learn, condemned him all of a sudden to see her only twice a month. -These visits, so rare and so intensely desired, meant an attack of -madness, and it wanted all Salviati's strength of character to keep it -from being seen by outward signs. - -From the very first, the idea of the visit's end is too insistent for -one to be able to take pleasure in the visit. One speaks a great deal, -deaf to one's own thoughts, saying often the contrary of what one -thinks. One embarks upon discourses which have got suddenly to be cut -short, because of their absurdity--if one manage to rouse oneself and -listen to one's thoughts within. The effort we make is so violent that -we seem chilly. Love hides itself in its excess. - -Away from her, the imagination was lulled by the most charming -dialogues: there were transports the most tender and the most touching. -And thus for ten days or so you think you have the courage to speak; -but two days before what should have been our day of happiness, the -fever begins, and, as the terrible instant draws near, its force -redoubles. - -Just as you come into her _salon_, in order not to do or say some -incredible piece of nonsense, you clutch in despair at the resolution -of keeping your mouth shut and your eyes on her--in order at least to -be able to remember her face. Scarcely before her, something like a -kind of drunkenness comes over your eyes; you feel driven like a maniac -to do strange actions; it is as if you had two souls--one to act and -the other to blame your actions. You feel, in a confused way, that to -turn your strained attention to folly would temporarily refresh the -blood, and make you lose from sight the end of the visit and the misery -of parting for a fortnight. - -[Pg 76] -If some bore be there, who tells a pointless story, the poor lover, in -his inexplicable madness, as if he were nervous of losing moments so -rare, becomes all attention. That hour, of which he drew himself so -sweet a picture, passes like a flash of lightning and yet he feels, -with unspeakable bitterness, all the little circumstances which show -how much a stranger he has become to her whom he loves. There he is in -the midst of indifferent visitors and sees himself the only one who -does not know her life of these past days, in all its details. At last -he goes: and as he coldly says good-bye, he has the agonising feeling -of two whole weeks before another meeting. Without a doubt he would -suffer less never to see the object of his love again. It is in the -style, only far blacker, of the Duc de Policastro, who every six months -travelled a hundred leagues to see for a quarter of an hour at Lecce a -beloved mistress guarded by a jealous husband. - -Here you can see clearly Will without influence upon Love. - -Out of all patience with one's mistress and oneself, how furious the -desire to bury oneself in indifference! The only good of such visits is -to replenish the treasure of crystallisation. - -Life for Salviati was divided into periods of two weeks, which took -their colour from the last evening he had been allowed to see Madame -----. For example, he was in the seventh heaven of delight the 21st of -May, and the 2nd of June he kept away from home, for fear of yielding -to the temptation of blowing out his brains. - -I saw that evening how badly novelists have drawn the moment of -suicide. Salviati simply said to me: "I'm thirsty, I must take this -glass of water." I did not oppose his resolution, but said good-bye: -then he broke down. - -Seeing the obscurity which envelops the discourse of lovers, it would -not be prudent to push too far conclusions drawn from an isolated -detail of their conversation. - -[Pg 77] -They give a fair glimpse of their feelings only in sudden -expressions--then it is the cry of the heart. Otherwise it is from the -complexion of the bulk of what is said that inductions are to be drawn. -And we must remember that quite often a man, who is very moved, has no -time to notice the emotion of the person who is the cause of his own. - - -[1] The word was one of Léonore's. - - -[Pg 78] - CHAPTER XXV - - THE INTRODUCTION - - -To see the subtlety and sureness of judgment with which women grasp -certain details, I am lost in admiration: but a moment later, I see -them praise a blockhead to the skies, let themselves be moved to tears -by a piece of insipidity, or weigh gravely a fatuous affectation, as if -it were a telling characteristic. I cannot conceive such simplicity. -There must be some general law in all this, unknown to me. - -Attentive to one merit in a man and absorbed by one detail, women feel -it deeply and have no eyes for the rest. All the nervous fluid is used -up in the enjoyment of this quality: there is none left to see the -others. - -I have seen the most remarkable men introduced to very clever women; -it was always a particle of bias which decided the effect of the first -inspection. - -If I may be allowed a familiar detail, I shall tell the story how -charming Colonel L. B---- was to be introduced to Madame de Struve of -Koenigsberg--she a most distinguished woman. "_Farà colpo?_"[1]--we -asked each other; and a wager was made as a result. I go up to -Madame de Struve, and tell her the Colonel wears his ties two days -running--the second he turns them--she could notice on his tie the -creases downwards. Nothing more palpably untrue! - -As I finish, the dear fellow is announced. The silliest little Parisian -would have made more effect. Observe that Madame de Struve was one who -could love. She is - -[Pg 79] -also a respectable woman and there could have been no question of -gallantry between them. - -Never were two characters more made for each other. People blamed -Madame de Struve for being romantic, and there was nothing could touch -L. B. but virtue carried to the point of the romantic. Thanks to her, -he had a bullet put through him quite young. - -It has been given to women admirably to feel the fine shades of -affection, the most imperceptible variations of the human heart, the -lightest movements of susceptibility. - -In this regard they have an organ which in us is missing: watch them -nurse the wounded. - -But, perhaps, they are equally unable to see what mind consists in--as -a moral composition. I have seen the most distinguished women charmed -with a clever man, who was not myself, and, at the same time and almost -with the same word, admire the biggest fools. I felt caught like a -connoisseur, who sees the loveliest diamonds taken for paste, and paste -preferred for being more massive. - -And so I concluded that with women you have to risk everything. Where -General Lassale came to grief, a captain with moustaches and heavy -oaths succeeded.[2] There is surely a whole side in men's merit which -escapes them. For myself, I always come back to physical laws. The -nervous fluid spends itself in men through the brain and in women -through the heart: that is why they are more sensitive. Some great and -obligatory work, within the profession we have followed all our life, -is our consolation, but for them nothing can console but distraction. - -Appiani, who only believes in virtue as a last resort, and with whom -this evening I went routing out ideas (exposing meanwhile those of this -chapter) answered:-- - -"The force of soul, which Eponina used with heroic - -[Pg 80] -devotion, to keep alive her husband in a cavern underground and to keep -him from sinking into despair, would have helped her to hide from him a -lover, if they had lived at Rome in peace. Strong souls must have their -nourishment." - - -[1] [Will he impress her?--Tr.] - -[2] Posen, 1807. - - -[Pg 81] - CHAPTER XXVI - - OF MODESTY - - -In Madagascar, a woman exposes without a thought what is here most -carefully hidden, but would die of shame sooner than show her arm. -Clearly three-quarters of modesty come from example. It is perhaps the -one law, daughter of civilisation, which produces only happiness. - -People have noticed that birds of prey hide themselves to drink; the -reason being that, obliged to plunge their head in the water, they are -at that moment defenceless. After a consideration of what happens at -Tahiti,[1] I see no other natural basis for modesty. - -Love is the miracle of civilisation. There is nothing but a physical -love of the coarsest kind among savage or too barbarian peoples. - -And modesty gives love the help of imagination--that is, gives it life. - -Modesty is taught little girls very early by their mothers with such -jealous care, that it almost looks like fellow-feeling; in this way -women take measures in good time for the happiness of the lover to come. - -There can be nothing worse for a timid, sensitive woman than the -torture of having, in the presence of a man, allowed herself something -for which she thinks she ought to blush; I am convinced that a woman -with a - -[Pg 82] -little pride would sooner face a thousand deaths. A slight liberty, -which touches a soft corner in the lover's heart, gives her a moment -of lively pleasure.[2] If he seem to blame it, or simply not to enjoy -it to the utmost, it must leave in the soul an agonising doubt. And -so a woman above the common sort has everything to gain by being very -reserved in her manner. The game is not fair: against the chance of -a little pleasure or the advantage of seeming a little more lovable, -a woman runs the risk of a burning remorse and a sense of shame, -which must make even the lover less dear. An evening gaily passed, in -care-devil thoughtless fashion, is dearly paid for at the price. If a -woman fears she has made this kind of mistake before her lover, he must -become for days together hateful in her sight. Can one wonder at the -force of a habit, when the lightest infractions of it are punished by -such cruel shame? - -As for the utility of modesty--she is the mother of love: impossible, -therefore, to doubt her claims. And for the mechanism of the -sentiment--it's simple enough. The soul is busy feeling shame instead -of busy desiring. You deny yourself desires and your desires lead to -actions. - -Evidently every woman of feeling and pride--and, these two things being -cause and effect, one can hardly go without the other--must fall into -ways of coldness, which the people whom they disconcert call prudery. - -The accusation is all the more specious because of the extreme -difficulty of steering a middle course: a woman has only to have little -judgment and a lot of pride, and very soon she will come to believe -that in modesty one cannot go too far. In this way, an Englishwoman -takes it as an insult, if you pronounce before her the name of certain -garments. An Englishwoman must be very careful, in the country, not to -be seen in the evening - -[Pg 83] -leaving the drawing-room with her husband; and, what is still more -serious, she thinks it an outrage to modesty, to show that she -is enjoying herself a little in the presence of anyone _but_ her -husband.[3] It is perhaps due to such studied scrupulousness that the -English, a people of judgment, betray signs of such boredom in their -domestic bliss. Theirs the fault--why so much pride?[4] - -To make up for this--and to pass straight from Plymouth to Cadiz and -Seville--I found in Spain that the warmth of climate and passions -caused people to overlook a little the necessary measure of restraint. -The very tender caresses, which I noticed could be given in public, far -from seeming touching, inspired me with feelings quite the reverse: -nothing is more distressing. - -We must expect to find incalculable the force of habits, which -insinuate themselves into women under the pretext of modesty. A common -woman, by carrying modesty to extremes, feels she is getting on a level -with a woman of distinction. - -Such is the empire of modesty, that a woman of feeling betrays her -sentiments for her lover sooner by deed than by word. - -The prettiest, richest and most easy-going woman of Bologna has just -told me, how yesterday evening a fool of a Frenchman, who is here -giving people a strange idea of his nation, thought good to hide under -her bed. Apparently he did not want to waste the long string of absurd -declarations, with which he has been pestering her for a month. But the -great man should have had more presence of mind. He waited all right -till Madame M---- sent away her maid and had got to bed, but he had not -the patience to give the household time to go to sleep. She seized hold -of the bell and had him thrown - -[Pg 84] -out ignominiously, in the midst of the jeers and cuffs of five or six -lackeys. "And if he had waited two hours?" I asked her. "I should have -been very badly off. 'Who is to doubt,' he would have said, 'that I am -here by your orders?'"[5] - -After leaving this pretty woman's house, I went to see a woman more -worthy of being loved than any I know. Her extremely delicate nature is -something greater, if possible, than her touching beauty. I found her -alone, told the story of Madame M---- and we discussed it. "Listen," -was what she said; "if the man, who will go as far as that, was lovable -in the eyes of that woman beforehand, he'll have her pardon, and, all -in good time, her love." I own I was dumbfounded by this unexpected -light thrown on the recesses of the human heart. After a short silence -I answered her--"But will a man, who loves, dare go to such violent -extremities?" - -There would be far less vagueness in this chapter had a woman written -it. Everything relating to women's haughtiness or pride, to their -habits of modesty and its excesses, to certain delicacies, for the most -part dependent wholly on associations of feelings,[6] which cannot -exist for men, and often delicacies not founded on Nature--all these -things, I say, can only find their way here so far as it is permissible -to write from hearsay. - -A woman once said to me, in a moment of philosophical frankness, -something which amounts to this:-- - -"If ever I sacrificed my liberty, the man whom I should happen to -favour would appreciate still more my - -[Pg 85] -affection, by seeing how sparing I had always been of favours--even -of the slightest." It is out of preference for this lover, whom -perhaps she will never meet, that a lovable woman will offer a cold -reception to the man who is speaking to her at the moment. That is the -first exaggeration of modesty; that one can respect. The second comes -from women's pride. The third source of exaggeration is the pride of -husbands. - -To my idea, this possibility of love presents itself often to the fancy -of even the most virtuous woman--and why not? Not to love, when given -by Heaven a soul made for love, is to deprive yourself and others of a -great blessing. It is like an orange-tree, which would not flower for -fear of committing a sin. And beyond doubt a soul made for love can -partake fervently of no other bliss. In the would-be pleasures of the -world it finds, already at the second trial, an intolerable emptiness. -Often it fancies that it loves Art and Nature in its grander aspects, -but all they do for it is to hold out hopes of love and magnify it, if -that is possible; until, very soon, it finds out that they speak of a -happiness which it is resolved to forego. - -The only thing I see to blame in modesty is that it leads to -untruthfulness, and that is the only point of vantage, which light -women have over women of feeling. A light woman says to you: "As soon, -my friend, as you attract me, I'll tell you and I'll be more delighted -than you; because I have a great respect for you." - -The lively satisfaction of Constance's cry after her lover's victory! -"How happy I am, not to have given myself to anyone, all these eight -years that I've been on bad terms with my husband!" - -However comical I find the line of thought, this joy seems to me full -of freshness. - -Here I absolutely must talk about the sort of regrets, felt by a -certain lady of Seville who had been deserted by her lover. I ought to -remind the reader that, in love. - -[Pg 86] -everything is a sign, and, above all, crave the benefit of a little -indulgence for my style.[7] - - * * * * * - -As a man, I think my eye can distinguish nine points in modesty. - -1. Much is staked against little; hence extreme reserve; hence often -affectation. For example, one doesn't laugh at what amuses one the -most. Hence it needs a great deal of judgment to have just the right -amount of modesty.[8] That is why many women have not enough in -intimate gatherings, or, to put it more exactly, do not insist on the -stories told them being sufficiently disguised, and only drop their -veils according to the degree of their intoxication or recklessness.[9] - -Could it be an effect of modesty and of the deadly dullness it must -impose on many women, that the majority of them respect nothing in a -man so much as impudence? Or do they take impudence for character? - -2. Second law: "My lover will think the more of me for it." - -3. Force of habit has its way, even at the moments of greatest passion. - -4. To the lover, modesty offers very flattering pleasures; it makes him -feel what laws are broken for his sake. - -5. And to women it offers more intoxicating pleasures, which, causing -the fall of a strongly established habit, throw the soul into greater -confusion. The Comte de Valmont finds himself in a pretty woman's -bedroom at - -[Pg 87] -midnight. The thing happens every week to him; to her perhaps every -other year. Thus continence and modesty must have pleasures infinitely -more lively in store for women.[10] - -6. The drawback of modesty is that it is always leading to falsehood. - -7. Excess of modesty, and its severity, discourages gentle and timid -hearts from loving[11]--just those made for giving and feeling the -sweets of love. - -8. In sensitive women, who have not had several lovers, modesty is a -bar to ease of manner, and for this reason they are rather apt to let -themselves be led by those friends, who need reproach themselves with -no such failing.[12] They go into each particular case, instead of -falling back blindly on habit. Delicacy and modesty give their actions -a touch of restraint; by being natural they make - -[Pg 88] -themselves appear unnatural; but this awkwardness is akin to heavenly -grace. - -If familiarity in them sometimes resembles tenderness, it is because -these angelic souls are coquettes without knowing it. They are -disinclined to interrupt their dreams, and, to save themselves the -trouble of speaking and finding something both pleasant and polite to -say to a friend (which would end in being nothing but polite), they -finish by leaning tenderly on his arm.[13] - -9. Women only dare be frank by halves; which is the reason why they -very rarely reach the highest, when they become authors, but which also -gives a grace to their shortest note. For them to be frank means going -out without a _fichu_. For a man nothing more frequent than to write -absolutely at the dictate of his imagination, without knowing where he -is going. - - _Résumé_ - -The usual fault is to treat woman as a kind of man, but more generous, -more changeable and with whom, above all, no rivalry is possible. It is -only too easy to forget that there are two new and peculiar laws, which -tyrannise over these unstable beings, in conflict with all the ordinary -impulses of human nature--I mean:-- - -Feminine pride and modesty, and those often inscrutable habits born of -modesty. - - -[1] See the Travels of Bougainville, Cook, etc. In some animals, the -female seems to retract at the moment she gives herself. We must expect -from comparative anatomy some of the most important revelations about -ourselves. - -[2] Shows one's love in a new way. - -[3] See the admirable picture of these tedious manners at the end of -_Corinne_; and Madame de Staël has made a flattering portrait. - -[4] The Bible and Aristocracy take a cruel revenge upon people who -believe that duty is everything. - -[5] I am advised to suppress this detail--"You take me for a very -doubtful woman, to dare tell such stories in my presence." - -[6] Modesty is one of the sources of taste in dress: by such and such -an arrangement, a woman engages herself in a greater or less degree. -This is what makes dress lose its point in old age. - -A provincial, who puts up to follow the fashion in Paris, engages -herself in an awkward way, which makes people laugh. A woman coming -to Paris from the provinces ought to begin by dressing as if she were -thirty. - -[7] P. 84, note 5. - -[8] See the tone of society at Geneva, above all in the "best" -families--use of a Court to correct the tendency towards prudery by -laughing at it--Duclos telling stories to Madame de Rochefort--"Really, -you take us for too virtuous." Nothing in the world is so nauseous as -modesty not sincere. - -[9] "Ah, my dear Fronsac, there are twenty bottles of champagne between -the story, that you're beginning to tell us, and our talk at this time -of day." - -[10] It is the story of the melancholy temperament and the sanguine. -Consider a virtuous woman (even the mercenary virtue of certain of the -faithful--virtue to be had for a hundredfold reward in Paradise) and -a blasé debauchee of forty. Although the Valmont(13) of the _Liaisons -Dangereuses_ is not as far gone as that, the Présidente de Tourvel(13) -is happier than he all the way through the book: and if the author, -with all his wit, had had still more, that would have been the moral of -his ingenious novel. - -[11] Melancholy temperament, which may be called the temperament of -love. I have seen women, the most distinguished and the most made for -love, give the preference, for want of sense, to the prosaic, sanguine -temperament. (Story of Alfred, Grande Chartreuse, 1810.) - -I know no thought which incites me more to keep what is called bad -company. - -(Here poor Visconti loses himself in the clouds.) - -Fundamentally all women are the same so far as concerns the movements -of the heart and passion: the forms the passions take are different. -Consider the difference made by greater fortune, a more cultivated -mind, the habit of higher thoughts, and, above all, (and more's the -pity) a more irritable pride. - -Such and such a word irritates a princess, but would not in the very -least shock an Alpine shepherdess. Only, once their anger is up, the -passion works in princess and shepherdess the same). (The Editor's only -note.) - -[12] M.'s remark. - -[13] Vol. _Guarna_. - - -[Pg 89] - CHAPTER XXVII - - THE GLANCE - - -This is the great weapon of virtuous coquetry. With a glance, one may -say everything, and yet one can always deny a glance; for it cannot be -repeated textually. - -This reminds me of Count G----, the Mirabeau of Rome. The delightful -little government of that land has taught him an original way of -telling stories by a broken string of words, which say everything--and -nothing. He makes his whole meaning clear, but repeat who will his -sayings word for word, it is impossible to compromise him. Cardinal -Lante told him he had stolen this talent from women--yes, and -respectable women, I add. This roguery is a cruel, but just, reprisal -on man's tyranny. - - -[Pg 90] - CHAPTER XXVIII - - OF FEMININE PRIDE - - -All their lives women hear mention made by men of things claiming -importance--large profits, success in war, people killed in duels, -fiendish or admirable revenges, and so on. Those of them, whose heart -is proud, feel that, being unable to reach these things, they are not -in a position to display any pride remarkable for the importance of -what it rests on. They feel a heart beat in their breast, superior -by the force and pride of its movements to all which surrounds them, -and yet they see the meanest of men esteem himself above them. They -find out, that all their pride can only be for little things, or at -least for things, which are without importance except for sentiment, -and of which a third party cannot judge. Maddened by this desolating -contrast between the meanness of their fortune and the conscious worth -of their soul, they set about making their pride worthy of respect by -the intensity of its fits or by the relentless tenacity with which they -hold by its dictates. Before intimate intercourse women of this kind -imagine, when they see their lover, that he has laid siege to them. -Their imagination is absorbed in irritation at his endeavours, which, -after all, cannot do otherwise than witness to his love--seeing that -he does love. Instead of enjoying the feelings of the man of their -preference, their vanity is up in arms against him; and it comes to -this, that, with a soul of the tenderest, so long as its sensibility is -not centred on a special object, they have only to love, in - -[Pg 91] -order, like a common flirt, to be reduced to the barest vanity. - -A woman of generous character will sacrifice her life a thousand times -for her lover, but will break with him for ever over a question of -pride--for the opening or shutting of a door. Therein lies their point -of honour. Well! Napoleon came to grief rather than yield a village. - -I have seen a quarrel of this kind last longer than a year. It was a -woman of the greatest distinction who sacrificed all her happiness, -sooner than give her lover the chance of entertaining the slightest -possible doubt of the magnanimity of her pride. The reconciliation -was the work of chance, and, on my friend's side, due to a moment of -weakness, which, on meeting her lover, she was unable to overcome. -She imagined him forty miles away, and found him in a place, where -certainly he did not expect to see her. She could not hide the first -transports of delight; her lover was more overcome than she; they -almost fell at each other's feet and never have I seen tears flow so -abundantly--it was the unlooked-for appearance of happiness. Tears are -the supreme smile. - -The Duke of Argyll gave a fine example of presence of mind, in not -drawing Feminine Pride into a combat, in the interview he had at -Richmond with Queen Caroline.[1] The more nobility in a woman's -character, the more terrible are these storms-- - - As the blackest sky - Foretells the heaviest tempest. - - (_Don Juan_.) - -Can it be that the more fervently, in the normal course of life, a -woman delights in the rare qualities of her lover, the more she tries, -in those cruel moments, when sympathy seems turned to the reverse, to -wreak her vengeance on what usually she sees in him superior - -[Pg 92] -to other people? She is afraid of being confounded with them. - -It is a precious long time since I read that boring _Clarissa_; but I -think it is through feminine pride that she lets herself die, and does -not accept the hand of Lovelace. - -Lovelace's fault was great; but as she did love him a little, she could -have found pardon in her heart for a crime, of which the cause was love. - -Monime, on the contrary, seems to me a touching model of feminine -delicacy. What cheek does not blush with pleasure to hear from the lips -of an actress worthy of the part:-- - - That fatal love which I had crushed and conquered, - - * * * * * - - Your wiles detected, and I cannot now - Disown what I confess'd; you cannot raze - Its memory; the shame of that avowal, - To which you forced me, will abide for ever - Present before my mind, and I should think - That you were always of my faith uncertain. - The grave itself to me were less abhorrent - Than marriage bed shared with a spouse, who took - Cruel advantage of my simple trust, - And, to destroy my peace for ever, fann'd - A flame that fired my cheek for other love - Than his.[2] - -I can picture to myself future generations saying: "So that's what -Monarchy[3] was good for--to produce that sort of character and their -portrayal by great artists. " - -And yet I find an admirable example of this delicacy even in the -republics of the Middle Ages; which seems to destroy my system of the -influence of governments on the passions, but which I shall cite in -good faith. - -[Pg 93] -The reference is to those very touching verses of Dante: - - Deh! quando tu sarai tomato al mondo - - * * * * * - - Ricordati di me, che son la Pia; - Siena mi fè; disfecemi Maremma; - Salsi colui, che inanellata pria - Disposando, m'avea con la sua gemma. - - _Purgatorio_, Cant. V.[4] - -The woman, who speaks with so much restraint, had suffered in secret -the fate of Desdemona, and, by a word, could make known her husband's -crime to the friends, whom she had left on earth. - -Nello della Pietra won the hand of Madonna Pia(14), sole heiress of the -Tolomei, the richest and noblest family of Sienna. Her beauty, which -was the admiration of Tuscany, sowed in her husband's heart the seed -of jealousy, which, envenomed by false reports and suspicions ever and -anon rekindled, led him to a heinous project. It is difficult, at this -hour, to decide whether his wife was altogether innocent, but Dante -represents her as such. - -Her husband carried her off into the fens of Volterra, famous then, as -now, for the effects of the _aria cattiva_. Never would he tell his -unhappy wife the reason of her exile in so dangerous a place. His pride -did not deign to utter complaint or accusation. He lived alone with her -in a deserted tower, the ruins of which by the edge of the sea I have -been myself to visit. There he never broke his scornful silence, never -answered his young wife's questions, never listened to her prayers. -Coldly he waited at her side for the pestilential air to have its -effect. The exhalations of these morasses were not long in withering -those features--the loveliest, it is said, - -[Pg 94] -which, in that century, the world had seen. In a few months she died. -Some chroniclers of those remote times report that Nello used the -dagger to hasten her end. She died in the fens in some horrible way; -but the kind of death was a mystery even to her contemporaries. Nello -della Pietra survived to pass the rest of his days in a silence which -he never broke. - -Nothing nobler and more delicate than the way in which young la Pia -addresses Dante. She wishes to be recalled to the memory of the -friends, whom she had left on earth so young; and yet, telling who she -is and giving the name of her husband, she will not allow herself the -slightest complaint against a piece of cruelty unheard of, but for the -future irreparable; she only points out that he knows the story of her -death. - -This constancy in pride's revenge is not met, I think, except in the -countries of the South. - -In Piedmont I happened to be the involuntary witness of something very -nearly parallel; though at the time I did not know the details. I was -sent with twenty-five dragoons into the woods along the Sesia, to -intercept contraband. Arriving in the evening at this wild and desolate -spot, I caught sight between the trees of the ruins of an old castle. -I went up to it and to my great surprise--it was inhabited. I found -within a nobleman of the country, of sinister appearance, a man six -foot high and forty years old. He gave me two rooms with a bad grace. -I passed my time playing music with my quartermaster; after some days, -we discovered that our friend kept a woman in the background, whom -we used to call Camille, laughingly; but we were far from suspecting -the fearful truth. Six weeks later she was dead. I had the morbid -curiosity to see her in the coffin, paying a monk, who was watching, to -introduce me into the chapel towards midnight, under pretext of going -to sprinkle holy water. There I found one of those superb faces, which -are beautiful even in the arms of death; - -[Pg 95] -she had a large aquiline nose--the nobility and delicacy of its outline -I shall never forget. Then I left that deadly spot. Five years later, -a detachment of my regiment accompanying the Emperor to his coronation -as King of Italy(15), I had the whole story told me. I learnt that the -jealous husband, Count ----, had found one morning fastened to his -wife's bed an English watch, belonging to a young man of the small town -in which they lived. That very day he carried her off to the ruined -castle in the midst of the woods of the Sesia. Like Nello della Pietra, -he never uttered a single word. If she made him any request, he coldly -and silently presented to her the English watch, which he carried -always with him. Almost three years passed, spent thus alone with her. -At last she died of despair, in the flower of life. Her husband tried -to put a knife into the proprietor of the watch, missed him, passed on -to Genoa, took ship and no one has heard of him since. His property has -been divided. - -As for these women with feminine pride, if you take their injuries with -a good grace, which the habits of a military life make easy, you annoy -these proud souls; they take you for a coward, and very soon become -outrageous. Such lofty characters yield with pleasure to men whom they -see overbearing with other men. That is, I fancy, the only way--you -must often pick a quarrel with your neighbour in order to avoid one -with your mistress. - -One day Miss Cornel, the celebrated London actress, was surprised by -the unexpected appearance of the rich colonel, whom she found useful. -She happened to be with a little lover, whom she just liked--and -nothing more. "Mr. So-and-so," says she in great confusion to the -colonel, "has come to see the pony I want to sell." "I am here for -something very different," put in proudly the little lover who was -beginning to bore her, but whom, from the moment of that answer, she -started - -[Pg 96] -to love again madly.[5] Women of that kind sympathise with their -lover's haughtiness, instead of exercising at his expense their own -disposition to pride. - -The character of the Duc de Lauzun (that of 1660[6]), if they can -forgive the first day its want of grace, is very fascinating for -such women, and perhaps for all women of distinction. Grandeur on a -higher plane escapes them; they take for coldness the calm gaze which -nothing escapes, but which a detail never disturbs. Have I not heard -women at the Court of Saint-Cloud maintain that Napoleon had a dry and -prosaic character?[7] A great man is like an eagle: the higher he rises -the less he is visible, and he is punished for his greatness by the -solitude of his soul. - -From feminine pride arises what women call want of refinement. I fancy, -it is not at all unlike what kings call _lèse majesté_, a crime all the -more dangerous, because - -[Pg 97] -one slips into it without knowing. The tenderest lover may be accused -of wanting refinement, if he is not very sharp, or, what is sadder, if -he dares give himself up to the greatest charm of love--the delight of -being perfectly natural with the loved one and of not listening to what -he is told. - -These are the sort of things, of which a well-born heart could have no -inkling; one must have experience, in order to believe in them; for -we are misled by the habit of dealing justly and frankly with our men -friends. - -It is necessary to keep in mind incessantly that we have to do with -beings, who can, however wrongly, think themselves inferior in vigour -of character, or, to put it better, can think that others believe they -are inferior. - -Should not a woman's true pride reside in the power of the feeling -she inspires? A maid of honour to the queen and wife of Francis I was -chaffed about the fickleness of her lover, who, it was said, did not -really love her. A little time after, this lover had an illness and -reappeared at Court--dumb. Two years later, people showing surprise one -day that she still loved him, she turned to him, saying: "Speak." And -he spoke. - - -[1] _The Heart of Midlothian_. - -[2] Racine, _Mithridates_, Act IV, Sc. 4. [From the Metrical English -version of R. B. Boswell. (Bohn's Standard Library.--Tr.)] - -[3] Monarchy without charter and without chambers. - -[4] Ah! when you are returned to the world of the living, give me a -passing thought. I am la Pia. Sienna gave me life, death took me in our -fens. He who, wedding me, gave me his ring, knows my story. - -[5] I always come back from Miss Cornel's full of admiration and -profound views on the passions laid bare. Her very imperious way of -giving orders to her servants has nothing of despotism in it: she -merely sees with precision and rapidity what has to be done. - -Incensed against me at the beginning of the visit, she thinks no more -about it at the end. She tells me in detail of the economy of her -passion for Mortimer. "I prefer seeing him in company than alone with -me." A woman of the greatest genius could do no better, for she has -the courage to be perfectly natural and is unhampered by any theory. -"I'm happier an actress than the wife of a peer."--A great soul whose -friendship I must keep for my enlightenment. - -[6] Loftiness and courage in small matters, but a passionate care for -these small matters.--The vehemence of the choleric temperament.--His -behaviour towards Madame de Monaco (Saint-Simon, V. 383) and adventure -under the bed of Madame de Montespan while the king was there.--Without -the care for small matters, this character would remain invisible to -the eye of women. - -[7] When Minna Troil heard a tale of woe or of romance, it was -then her blood rushed to her cheeks and showed plainly how warm it -beat, notwithstanding the generally serious, composed and retiring -disposition which her countenance and demeanour seemed to exhibit. -(_The Pirate_, Chap. III.) - -Souls like Minna Troil, in whose judgment ordinary circumstances are -not worth emotion, by ordinary people are thought cold. - - -[Pg 98] - CHAPTER XXIX - - OF WOMEN'S COURAGE - - I tell thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles hast thou - displayed more of thy vaunted courage than has been shewn by women, - when called upon to suffer by affection or duty. (_Ivanhoe_.) - - -I remember meeting the following phrase in a book of history: "All -the men lost their head: that is the moment when women display an -incontestable superiority." - -Their courage has a reserve which that of their lover wants; he acts -as a spur to their sense of worth. They find so much pleasure in being -able, in the fire of danger, to dispute the first place for firmness -with the man, who often wounds them by the proudness of his protection -and his strength, that the vehemence of that enjoyment raises them -above any kind of fear, which at the moment is the man's weak point. -A man, too, if the same help were given him at the same moment, would -show himself superior to everything; for fear never resides in the -danger, but in ourselves. - -Not that I mean to depreciate women's courage--I have seen them, on -occasions, superior to the bravest men. Only they must have a man to -love. Then they no longer feel except through him; and so the most -obvious and personal danger becomes, as it were, a rose to gather in -his presence.[1] - -I have found also in women, who did not love, intrepidity, - -[Pg 99] -the coldest, the most surprising and the most exempt from nerves. - -It is true, I have always imagined that they are so brave, only because -they do not know the tiresomeness of wounds! - -As for moral courage, so far superior to the other, the firmness of a -woman who resists her love is simply the most admirable thing, which -can exist on earth. All other possible marks of courage are as nothing -compared to a thing so strongly opposed to nature and so arduous. -Perhaps they find a source of strength in the habit of sacrifice, which -is bred in them by modesty. - -Hard on women it is that the proofs of this courage should always -remain secret and be almost impossible to divulge. - -Still harder that it should always be employed against their own -happiness: the Princesse de Clèves would have done better to say -nothing to her husband and give herself to M. de Nemours. - -Perhaps women are chiefly supported by their pride in making a fine -defence, and imagine that their lover is staking his vanity on having -them--a petty and miserable idea. A man of passion, who throws himself -with a light heart into so many ridiculous situations, must have a lot -of time to be thinking of vanity! It is like the monks who mean to -catch the devil and find their reward in the pride of hair-shirts and -macerations. - -I should think that Madame de Clèves would have repented, had she come -to old age,--to the period at which one judges life and when the joys -of pride appear in all their meanness. She would have wished to have -lived like Madame de la Fayette.[2] - -[Pg 100] -I have just re-read a hundred pages of this essay: and a pretty poor -idea I have given of true love, of love which occupies the entire -soul, fills it with fancies, now the happiest, now heart-breaking--but -always sublime--and makes it completely insensible to all the rest -of creation. I am at a loss to express what I see so well; I have -never felt more painfully the want of talent. How bring into relief -the simplicity of action and of character, the high seriousness, the -glance that reflects so truly and so ingenuously the passing shade -of feeling, and above all, to return to it again, that inexpressible -_What care I?_ for all that is not the woman we love? A yes or a no -spoken by a man in love has an _unction_ which is not to be found -elsewhere, and is not found in that very man at other times. This -morning (August 3rd) I passed on horseback about nine o'clock in front -of the lovely English garden of Marchese Zampieri, situated on the -last crests of those tree-capped hills, on which Bologna rests, and -from which so fine a view is enjoyed over Lombardy rich and green--the -fairest country in the world. In a copse of laurels, belonging to the -Giardino Zampieri, which dominates the path I was taking, leading to -the cascade of the Reno at Casa Lecchio, I saw Count Delfante. He was -absorbed in thought and scarcely returned my greeting, though we had -passed the night together till two o'clock in the morning. I went to -the cascade, I crossed the Reno; after which, passing again, at least -three hours later, under the copse of the Giardino Zampieri, I saw him -still there. He was precisely in the same position, leaning against a -great pine, which rises above the copse of laurels--but this detail I -am afraid will be found too simple and pointless. He came up to me with -tears in his eyes, asking me not to go telling people of his trance. -I was touched, and suggested retracing my steps and going with him to -spend the day in the country. At the end of two hours he had told me -everything. His is a fine soul, - -[Pg 101] -but oh! the coldness of these pages, compared to his story. - -Furthermore, he thinks his love is not returned--which is not my -opinion. In the fair marble face of the Contessa Ghigi, with whom we -spent the evening, one can read nothing. Only now and then a light and -sudden blush, which she cannot check, just betrays the emotions of -that soul, which the most exalted feminine pride disputes with deeper -emotions. You see the colour spread over her neck of alabaster and as -much as one catches of those lovely shoulders, worthy of Canova. She -somehow finds a way of diverting her black and sombre eyes from the -observation of those, whose penetration alarms her woman's delicacy; -but last night, at something which Delfante was saying and of which she -disapproved, I saw a sudden blush spread all over her. Her lofty soul -found him less worthy of her. - -But when all is said, even if I were mistaken in my conjectures on -the happiness of Delfante, vanity apart, I think him happier than I, -in my indifference, although I am in a thoroughly happy position, in -appearance and in reality. - -Bologna, _August 3rd_, 1818. - - -[1] Mary Stuart speaking of Leicester, after the interview with -Elizabeth, where she had just met her doom. (Schiller.) - -[2] It is well known that that celebrated woman was the author, -probably in company with M. de la Rochefoucauld, of the novel, _La -Princesse de Clèves_, and that the two authors passed together in -perfect friendship the last twenty years of their life. That is exactly -love _à l'Italienne_. - - -[Pg 102] - CHAPTER XXX - - A PECULIAR AND MOURNFUL SPECTACLE - - -Women with their feminine pride visit the iniquities of the fools upon -the men of sense, and those of the prosaic, prosperous and brutal upon -the noble-minded. A very pretty result--you'll agree! - -The petty considerations of pride and worldly proprieties are the -cause of many women's unhappiness, for, through pride, their parents -have placed them in their abominable position. Destiny has reserved -for them, as a consolation far superior to all their misfortunes, the -happiness of loving and being loved with passion, when suddenly one -fine day they borrow from the enemy this same mad pride, of which they -were the first victims--all to kill the one happiness which is left -them, to work their own misfortune and the misfortune of him, who loves -them. A friend, who has had ten famous intrigues (and by no means -all one after another), gravely persuades them that if they fall in -love, they will be dishonoured in the eyes of the public, and yet this -worthy public, who never rises above low ideas, gives them generously a -lover a year; because that, it says, "is the thing." Thus the soul is -saddened by this odd spectacle: a woman of feeling, supremely refined -and an angel of purity, on the advice of a low t----, runs away from -the boundless, the only happiness which is left to her, in order to -appear in a dress of dazzling white, before a great fat brute of a -judge, whom everyone knows has been blind a hundred years, and who -bawls out at the top of his voice: "She is dressed in black!" - - -[Pg 103] - CHAPTER XXXI - - EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF SALVIATI - - Ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit. - (_Propertius_, II, I.) - - -Bologna, _April 29th_, 1818. - -Driven to despair by the misfortune to which love has reduced me, I -curse existence. I have no heart for anything. The weather is dull; it -is raining, and a late spell of cold has come again to sadden nature, -who after a long winter was hurrying to meet the spring. - -Schiassetti, a half-pay colonel, my cold and reasonable friend, came to -spend a couple of hours with me "You should renounce your love." - -"How? Give me back my passion for war." - -"It is a great misfortune for you to have known her." - -I agree very nearly--so low-spirited and craven do I feel--so much has -melancholy taken possession of me to-day. We discuss what interest -can have led her friend to libel me, but find nothing but that old -Neapolitan proverb: "Woman, whom love and youth desert, a nothing -piques." What is certain is that that cruel woman is _enraged_ with -me--it is the expression of one of her friends. I could revenge myself -in a fearful way, but, against her hatred, I am without the smallest -means of defence. Schiassetti leaves me. I go out into the rain, not -knowing what to do with myself. My rooms, this drawing-room, which I -lived in during the first days of our acquaintance, and when I saw her -every evening, have become insupportable to me. Each engraving, each -piece of furniture, brings up again the - -[Pg 104] -happiness I dreamed of in their presence--which now I have lost for -ever. - -I tramped the streets through a cold rain: chance, if I can call it -chance, made me pass under her windows. Night was falling and I went -along, my eyes full of tears fixed on the window of her room. Suddenly -the curtains were just drawn aside, as if to give a glimpse into the -square, then instantly closed again. I felt within me a physical -movement about the heart. I was unable to support myself and took -refuge under the gateway of the next house. A thousand feelings crowd -upon my soul. Chance may have produced this movement of the curtains; -but oh! if it was her hand that had drawn them aside. - -There are two misfortunes in the world: passion frustrated and the -"dead blank." - -In love--I feel that two steps away from me exists a boundless -happiness, something beyond all my prayers, which depends upon nothing -but a word, nothing but a smile. - -Passionless like Schiassetti, on gloomy days I see happiness nowhere, I -come to doubt if it exists for me, I fall into depression. One ought to -be without strong passions and have only a little curiosity or vanity. - -It is two o'clock in the morning; I have seen that little movement of -the curtain; at six o'clock I paid some calls and went to the play, but -everywhere, silent and dreaming, I passed the evening examining this -question: "After so much anger with so little foundation (for after -all did I wish to offend her and is there a thing on earth which the -intention does not excuse?)--has she felt a moment of love?" - -Poor Salviati, who wrote the preceding lines on his Petrarch, died a -short time after. He was the intimate friend of Schiassetti and myself; -we knew all his thoughts, and it is from him that I have all the -tearful part of this essay. He was imprudence incarnate; moreover, - -[Pg 105] -the woman, for whom he went to such wild lengths, is the most -interesting creature that I have met. Schiassetti said to me: "But do -you think that that unfortunate passion was without advantages for -Salviati? To begin with, the most worrying of money troubles that can -be imagined came upon him. These troubles, which reduced him to a very -middling fortune after his dazzling youth, and would have driven him -mad with anger in any other circumstances, crossed his mind not once in -two weeks. - -"And then--a matter of importance of a quite different kind for a mind -of his range--that passion is the first true course of logic, which -he ever had. That may seem peculiar in a man who has been at Court; -but the fact is explained by his extreme courage. For example, he -passed without winking the day of ----, the day of his undoing; he was -surprised then, as in Russia(16), not to feel anything extraordinary. -It is an actual fact, that his fear of anything had never gone so far -as to make him think about it for two days together. Instead of this -callousness, the last two years he was trying every minute to be brave. -Before he had never seen danger. - -"When as a result of his imprudence and his faith in the generosity of -critics,[1] he had managed to get condemned to not seeing the woman he -was in love with, except twice a month, we would see him pass those -evenings, talking to her as if intoxicated with joy, because he had -been received with that noble frankness which he worshipped. He held -that Madame ---- and he were two souls without their like, who should -understand each other with a glance. It was beyond him to grasp that -she should pay the least attention to petty bourgeois comments, which -tried to make a criminal of him. The result of this fine confidence in -a woman, surrounded by his enemies, was to find her door closed to him. - -"'With M----,' I used to say to him, 'you forget - -[Pg 106] -your maxim--that you mustn't believe in greatness of soul, except in -the last extremity.' - -"'Do you think,' he answered, 'that the world contains another heart -which is more suited to hers? True, I pay for this passionate way of -being, which Léonore, in anger, made me see on the horizon in the line -of the rocks of Poligny, with the ruin of all the practical enterprises -of my life--a disaster which comes from my lack of patient industry and -imprudence due to the force of momentary impressions.'" One can see the -touch of madness! - -For Salviati life was divided into periods of a fortnight, which took -their hue from the last interview, which he had been granted. But -I noticed often, that the happiness he owed to a welcome, which he -thought less cold, was far inferior in intensity to the unhappiness -with which a hard reception overwhelmed him.[2] At times Madame ----- failed to be quite honest with him; and these are the only two -criticisms I ever dared offer him. Beyond the more intimate side of his -sorrow, of which he had the delicacy never to speak even to the friends -dearest to him and most devoid of envy, he saw in a hard reception -from Léonore the triumph of prosaic and scheming beings over the -open-hearted and the generous. At those times he lost faith in virtue -and, above all, in glory. It was his way to talk to his friends only -of sad notions, to which it is true his passion led up, but notions -capable besides of having some interest in the eyes of philosophy. I -was curious to observe that uncommon soul. Ordinarily passion-love is -found in people, a little simple in the German way.[3] Salviati, on the -contrary, was among the firmest and sharpest men I have known. - -I seemed to notice that, after these cruel visits, he had - -[Pg 107] -no peace until he had found a justification for Léonore's severities. -So long as he felt that she might have been wrong in ill-using him, he -was unhappy. Love, so devoid of vanity, I should never have thought -possible. - -He was incessantly singing us the praises of love. - -"If a supernatural power said to me: Break the glass of that watch and -Léonore will be for you, what she was three years ago, an indifferent -friend--really I believe I would never as long as I live have the -courage to break it." I saw in these discourses such signs of madness, -that I never had the courage to offer my former objections. - -He would add: "Just as Luther's Reformation at the end of the Middle -Ages, shaking society to its base, renewed and reconstructed the world -on reasonable foundations, so is a generous character renewed and -retempered by love. - -"It is only then, that he casts off all the baubles of life; without -this revolution he would always have had in him a pompous and -theatrical _something_. It is only since I began to love that I have -learnt to put greatness into my character--such is the absurdity of -education at our military academy. - -"Although I behaved well, I was a child at the Court of Napoleon and at -Moscow. I did my duty, but I knew nothing of that heroic simplicity, -the fruit of entire and whole-hearted sacrifice. For example, it is -only this last year, that my heart takes in the simplicity of the -Romans in Livy. Once upon a time, I thought them cold compared to our -brilliant colonels. What they did for their Rome, I find in my heart -for Léonore. If I had the luck to be able to do anything for her, my -first desire would be to hide it. The conduct of a Regulus or a Decius -was something confirmed beforehand, which had no claim to surprise -them. Before I loved, I was small, precisely because I was tempted -sometimes to think myself great; I felt a certain effort, for which I -applauded myself. - -[Pg 108] -"And, on the side of affection, what do we not owe to love? After -the hazards of early youth, the heart is closed to sympathy. Death -and absence remove our early companions, and we are reduced to -passing our life with lukewarm partners, measure in hand, for ever -calculating ideas of interest and vanity. Little by little all the -sensitive and generous region of the soul becomes waste, for want of -cultivation, and at less than thirty a man finds his heart steeled to -all sweet and gentle sensations. In the midst of this arid desert, -love causes a well of feelings to spring up, fresher and more abundant -even than that of earliest youth. In those days it was a vague hope, -irresponsible and incessantly distracted[4]--no devotion to one thing, -no deep and constant desire; the soul, at all times light, was athirst -for novelty and forgot to-day its adoration of the day before. But, -than the crystallisation of love nothing is more concentrated, more -mysterious, more eternally single in its object. In those days only -agreeable things claimed to please and to please for an instant: now -we are deeply touched by everything which is connected with the loved -one--even by objects the most indifferent. Arriving at a great town, -a hundred miles from that which Léonore lives in, I was in a state of -fear and trembling; at each street corner I shuddered to meet Alviza, -the intimate friend of Madame ----, although I did not know her. For me -everything took a mysterious and sacred tint. My heart beat fast, while -talking to an old scholar; for I could not hear without blushing the -name of the city gate, near which the friend of Léonore lives. - -"Even the severities of the woman we love have an infinite grace, which -the most flattering moments in the company of other women cannot offer. -It is like the great shadows in Correggio's pictures, which far from -being, as in other painters, passages less pleasant, but necessary in -order to give effect to the lights and relief to the figures, - -[Pg 109] -have graces of their own which charm and throw us into a gentle -reverie.[5] - -"Yes, half and the fairest half of life is hidden from the man, who has -not loved with passion." - -Salviati had need of the whole force of his dialectic powers, to hold -his own against the wise Schiassetti, who was always saying to him: -"You want to be happy, then be content with a life exempt from pains -and with a small quantity of happiness every day. Keep yourself from -the lottery of great passions." - -"Then give me your curiosity," was Salviati's answer. - -I imagine there were not a few days, when he would have liked to be -able to follow the advice of our sensible colonel; he made a little -struggle and thought he was succeeding; but this line of action was -absolutely beyond his strength. And yet what strength was in that soul! - -A white satin hat, a little like that of Madame ----, seen in the -distance in the street, made his heart stop beating, and forced him -to rest against the wall. Even in his blackest moments, the happiness -of meeting her gave him always some hours of intoxication, beyond the -reach of all misfortune and all reasoning.[6] For the rest, at the time -of his death[7] his character had certainly contracted more than one -noble habit, after two years of - -[Pg 110] -this generous and boundless passion; and, in so far at least, he judged -himself correctly. Had he lived, and circumstances helped him a little, -he would - -[Pg 111] -have made a name for himself. Maybe also, just through his simplicity, -his merit would have passed on this earth unseen. - - O lasso - Quanti dolci pensier, quanto desio - Menò costui al doloroso passo! - Biondo era, e bello, e di gentile aspetto; - Ma l'un de' cigli un colpo avea diviso. - - (_Dante._)[8] - - -[1] Sotto l'usbergo del sentirsi pura. [Under the shield of conscious -purity.--Tr.] (Dante, _Inf._, XXVIII, 117.) - -[2] That is a thing which I have often seemed to notice in love--that -propensity to reap more unhappiness from what is unhappy than happiness -from what is happy. - -[3] Don Carlos,(17) Saint-Preux,(17) Racine's _Hippolyte_ and _Bajazet_. - -[4] Mordaunt Mertoun, _Pirate_, Vol. I. - -[5] As I have mentioned Correggio, I will add that in the sketch of an -angel's head in the gallery of the museum at Florence, is to be seen -the glance of happy love, and at Parma in the Madonna crowned by Jesus -the downcast eyes of love. - -[6] Come what sorrow can - It cannot countervail the exchange of joy - That one short moment gives me in her sight.--(_Romeo and Juliet_.) - -[7] Some days before the last he made a little ode, which has the merit -of expressing just the sentiments, which formed the subject of our -conversations:--. - - L'ULTIMO DI. - Anacreontica. - A ELVIRA. - - Vedi tu dove il rio - Lambendo un mirto va, - Là del riposo mio - La pietra surgerà. - Il passero amoroso, - E il nobile usignuol - Entro quel mirto ombroso - Raccoglieranno il vol. - Vieni, diletta Elvira, - A quella tomba vien, - E sulla muta lira, - Appoggia il bianco sen. - Su quella bruna pietra, - Le tortore verran, - E intorno alia mia cetra, - Il nido intrecieran. - E ogni anno, il di che offendere - M'osasti tu infedel, - Faro la su discendere - La folgore del ciel. - Odi d'un uom che muore - Odi l'estremo suon - Questo appassito fiore - Ti lascio, Elvira, in don - Quanto prezioso ei sia - Saper tu il devi appien - Il di che fosti mia, - Te l'involai dal sen. - Simbolo allor d'affetto - Or pegno di dolor - Torno a posarti in petto - Quest' appassito fior. - E avrai nel cuor scolpito - Se crudo il cor non è, - Come ti fu rapito, - Come fu reso a te.--(_S. Radael._)* - -* [Lo! where the passing stream laps round the myrtle-tree, raise -there the stone of my resting-place. The amorous sparrow and the noble -nightingale within the shade of that myrtle will rest from flight. -Come, beloved Elvira, come to that tomb and press my mute lyre to your -white bosom. Turtles shall perch on that dark stone and will twine -their nest about my harp. And every year on the day when you did dare -cruelly betray me, on this spot will I make the lightning of heaven -descend. Listen, listen to the last utterances of a dying man. This -faded flower, Elvira, is the gift I leave you. How precious it is you -must know full well: from your bosom I stole it the day you became -mine. Then it was a symbol of love; now as a pledge of suffering I -will put it back in your bosom--this faded flower. And you shall -have engraved on your heart, if a woman's heart you have, how it was -snatched from you, how it was returned.] - -[8] "Poor wretch, how many sweet thoughts, what constancy brought him -to his last hour. He was fair and beautiful and gentle of countenance, -only a noble scar cut through one of his eyebrows." - - -[Pg 112] - CHAPTER XXXII - - OF INTIMATE INTERCOURSE - - -The greatest happiness that love can give--'tis first joining your hand -to the hand of a woman you love. - -The happiness of gallantry is quite otherwise--far more real, and far -more subject to ridicule. - -In passion-love intimate intercourse is not so much perfect delight -itself, as the last step towards it. - -But how depict a delight, which leaves no memories behind? - -Mortimer returned from a long voyage in fear and trembling; he adored -Jenny, but Jenny had not answered his letters. On his arrival in -London, he mounts his horse and goes off to find her at her country -home. When he gets there, she is walking in the park; he runs up to -her, with beating heart, meets her and she offers him her hand and -greets him with emotion; he sees that she loves him. Roaming together -along the glades of the park, Jenny's dress became entangled in an -acacia bush. Later on Mortimer won her; but Jenny was faithless. I -maintain to him that Jenny never loved him and he quotes, as proof of -her love, the way in which she received him at his return from the -Continent; but he could never give me the slightest details of it. Only -he shudders visibly directly he sees an acacia bush: really, it is the -only distinct remembrance he succeeded in preserving of the happiest -moment of his life.[1] - -A sensitive and open man, a former _chevalier_, confided - -[Pg 113] -to me this evening (in the depth of our craft buffeted by a high sea -on the Lago di Garda[2]) the history of his loves, which I in my turn -shall not confide to the public. But I feel myself in a position to -conclude from them that the day of intimate intercourse is like those -fine days in May, a critical period for the fairest flowers, a moment -which can be fatal and wither in an instant the fairest hopes. - - * * * * *[3] - -_Naturalness_ cannot be praised too highly. It is the only coquetry -permissible in a thing so serious as love _à la_ Werther; in which a -man has no idea where he is going, and in which at the same time by a -lucky chance for virtue, that is his best policy. A man, really moved, -says charming things unconsciously; he speaks a language which he does -not know himself. - -Woe to the man the least bit affected! Given he were in love, allow him -all the wit in the world, he loses three-quarters of his advantages. -Let him relapse for an instant into affectation--a minute later comes a -moment of frost. - -The whole art of love, as it seems to me, reduces itself to saying -exactly as much as the degree of intoxication at the moment allows of, -that is to say in other terms, to listen to one's heart. It must not be -thought, that this is so easy; a man, who truly loves, has no longer -strength to speak, when his mistress says anything to make him happy. - -[Pg 114] -Thus he loses the deeds which his words[4] would have given birth to. -It is better to be silent than say things too tender at the wrong -time, and what was in point ten seconds ago, is now no longer--in fact -at this moment it makes a mess of things. Every time that I used to -infringe this rule[5] and say something, which had come into my head -three minutes earlier and which I thought pretty, Léonore never failed -to punish me. And later I would say to myself, as I went away--"She is -right." This is the sort of thing to upset women of delicacy extremely; -it is indecency of sentiment. Like tasteless rhetoricians, they are -readier to admit a certain degree of weakness and coldness. There being -nothing in the world to alarm them but the falsity of their lover, the -least little insincerity of detail, be it the most innocent in the -world, robs them instantly of all delight and puts mistrust into their -heart. - -Respectable women have a repugnance to what is vehement and unlooked -for--those being none the less characteristics of passion--and, -furthermore, that vehemence alarms their modesty; they are on the -defensive against it. - -When a touch of jealousy or displeasure has occasioned some chilliness, -it is generally possible to begin subjects, fit to give birth to the -excitement favourable to love, and, after the first two or three -phrases of introduction, as long as a man does not miss the opportunity -of saying exactly what his heart suggests, the pleasure he will give to -his loved one will be keen. The fault of most men is that they want to -succeed in saying something, which they think either pretty or witty or -touching--instead of - -[Pg 115] -releasing their soul from the false gravity of the world, until a -degree of intimacy and _naturalness_ brings out in simple language what -they are feeling at the moment. The man, who is brave enough for this, -will have instantly his reward in a kind of peacemaking. - -It is this reward, as swift as it is involuntary, of the pleasure one -gives to the object of one's love, which puts this passion so far above -the others. - -If there is perfect _naturalness_ between them, the happiness of two -individuals comes to be fused together.[6] This is simply the greatest -happiness which can exist, by reason of sympathy and several other laws -of human nature. - -It is quite easy to determine the meaning of this word -_naturalness_--essential condition of happiness in love. - -We call _natural_ that which does not diverge from an habitual way of -acting. It goes without saying that one must not merely never lie to -one's love, but not even embellish the least bit or tamper with the -simple outline of truth. For if a man is embellishing, his attention -is occupied in doing so and no longer answers simply and truly, as -the keys of a piano, to the feelings mirrored in his eye. The woman -finds it out at once by a certain chilliness within her, and she, in -her turn, falls back on coquetry. Might not here be found hidden the -cause why it is impossible to love a woman with a mind too far below -one's own--the reason being that, in her case, one can make pretence -with impunity, and, as that course is more convenient, one abandons -oneself to unnaturalness by force of habit? From that moment love is no -longer love; it sinks to the level of an ordinary transaction--the only -difference being that, instead of money, you get pleasure or flattery -or a mixture of both. It is hard not to feel a shade of contempt for a -woman, before whom one can with impunity act a part, and - -[Pg 116] -consequently, in order to throw her over, one only needs to come across -something better in her line. Habit or vow may hold, but I am speaking -of the heart's desire, whose nature it is to fly to the greatest -pleasure. - -To return to this word _natural_--natural and habitual are two -different things. If one takes these words in the same sense, it is -evident that the more sensibility in a man, the harder it is for him -to be natural, since the influence of _habit_ on his way of being and -acting is less powerful, and he himself is more powerful at each new -event. In the life-story of a cold heart every page is the same: take -him to-day or take him to-morrow, it is always the same dummy. - -A man of sensibility, so soon as his heart is touched, loses all traces -of habit to guide his action; and how can he follow a path, which he -has forgotten all about? - -He feels the enormous weight attaching to every word which he says to -the object of his love--it seems to him as if a word is to decide his -fate. How is he not to look about for the right word? At any rate, -how is he not to have the feeling that he is trying to say "the right -thing"? And then, there is an end of candour. And so we must give up -our claim to candour, that quality of our being, which never reflects -upon itself. We are the best we can be, but we feel what we are. - -I fancy this brings us to the last degree of _naturalness_, to which -the most delicate heart can pretend in love. - -A man of passion can but cling might and main, as his only refuge in -the storm, to the vow never to change a jot or tittle of the truth -and to read the message of his heart correctly. If the conversation -is lively and fragmentary, he may hope for some fine moments of -_naturalness_: otherwise he will only be perfectly natural in hours -when he will be a little less madly in love. - -In the presence of the loved one, we hardly retain _naturalness_ even -in our movements, however deeply such habits are rooted in the muscles. -When I gave my - -[Pg 117] -arm to Léonore, I always felt on the point of stumbling, and I wondered -if I was walking properly. The most one can do is never to be affected -willingly: it is enough to be convinced that want of _naturalness_ is -the greatest possible disadvantage, and can easily be the source of the -greatest misfortunes. For the heart of the woman, whom you love, no -longer understands your own; you lose that nervous involuntary movement -of sincerity, which answers the call of sincerity. It means the loss of -every way of touching, I almost said of winning her. Not that I pretend -to deny, that a woman worthy of love may see her fate in that pretty -image of the ivy, which "dies if it does not cling"--that is a law of -Nature; but to make your lover's happiness is none the less a step that -will decide your own. To me it seems that a reasonable woman ought not -to give in completely to her lover, until she can hold out no longer, -and the slightest doubt thrown on the sincerity of your heart gives her -there and then a little strength--enough at least to delay her defeat -still another day.[7] - -Is it necessary to add that to make all this the last word in absurdity -you have only to apply it to gallant-love? - - -[1] _Life of Haydn_(18). - -[2] 20 September, 1811. - -[3] At the first quarrel Madame Ivernetta gave poor Bariac his _congé_. -Bariac was truly in love and this _congé_ threw him into despair; but -his friend Guillaume Balaon, whose life we are writing, was of great -help to him and managed, finally, to appease the severe Ivernetta. -Peace was restored, and the reconciliation was accompanied by -circumstances so delicious, that Bariac swore to Balaon that the hour -of the first favours he had received from his mistress had not been -as sweet as that of this voluptuous peacemaking. These words turned -Balaon's head; he wanted to know this pleasure, of which his friend had -just given him a description, etc. etc. (_Vie de quelques Troubadours_, -by Nivernois, Vol. I, p. 32.) - -[4] It is this kind of timidity which is decisive, and which is proof -of passion-love in a clever man. - -[5] Remember that, if the author uses sometimes the expression "I," -it is an attempt to give the form of this essay a little variety. He -does not in the least pretend to fill the readers' ears with the story -of his own feelings. His aim is to impart, with as little monotony as -possible, what he has observed in others. - -[6] Resides in exactly the same actions. - -[7] Haec autem ad acerbam rei memoriam, amara quadam dulcedine, -scribere visum est--ut cogitem nihil esse debere quod amplius mihi -placeat in hac vita. (_Petrarch_, Ed. Marsand.) [These things, to be -a painful reminder, yet not without a certain bitter charm, I have -seen good to write--to remind me that nothing any longer can give me -pleasure in this life.--Tr. - -15 January, 1819. - - -[Pg 118] - CHAPTER XXXIII - - -Always a little doubt to allay--that is what whets our appetite -every moment, that is what makes the life of happy love. As it is -never separated from fear, so its pleasures can never tire. The -characteristic of this happiness is its high seriousness. - - -[Pg 119] - CHAPTER XXXIV - - OF CONFIDENCES - - -There is no form of insolence so swiftly punished as that which leads -you, in passion-love, to take an intimate friend into your confidence. -He knows that, if what you say is true, you have pleasures a thousand -times greater than he, and that your own make you despise his. - -It is far worse between women--their lot in life being to inspire a -passion, and the _confidante_ having commonly also displayed her charms -for the advantage of the lover. - -On the other hand, for anyone a prey to this fever, there is no moral -need more imperative than that of a friend, before whom to dilate on -the fearful doubts which at every instant beset his soul; for in this -terrible passion, always a thing imagined is a thing existent. - -"A great fault in Salviati's character," he writes in 1817, "--in this -point how opposed to Napoleon's!--is that when, in the discussion of -interests in which passion is concerned, something is at last morally -proved, he cannot resolve to take that as a fact once and for all -established and as a point to start from. In spite of himself and -greatly to his hurt, he brings it again and again under discussion." -The reason is that, in the field of ambition, it is easy to be brave. -Crystallisation, not being subjected to the desire of the thing to be -won, helps to fortify our courage; in love it is wholly in the service -of the object against which our courage is wanted. - -A woman may find an unfaithful friend, she also may find one with -nothing to do. - -[Pg 120] -A princess of thirty-five,[1] with nothing to do and dogged by the need -of action, of intrigue, etc. etc., discontented with a lukewarm lover -and yet unable to hope to sow the seeds of another love, with no use to -make of the energy which is consuming her, with no other distraction -than fits of black humour, can very well find an occupation, that is -to say a pleasure, and a life's work, in accomplishing the misfortune -of a true passion--passion which someone has the insolence to feel for -another than herself, while her own lover falls to sleep at her side. - -It is the only case in which hate produces happiness; the reason being -that it procures occupation and work. - -Just at first, the pleasure of doing something, and, as soon as the -design is suspected by society, the prick of doubtful success add -a charm to this occupation. Jealousy of the friend takes the mask -of hatred for the lover; otherwise how would it be possible to hate -so madly a man one has never set eyes on? You cannot recognise the -existence of envy, or, first, you would have to recognise the existence -of merit; and there are flatterers about you who only hold their place -at Court by poking fun at your good friend. - -The faithless _confidante_, all the while she is indulging in -villainies of the deepest dye, may quite well think herself solely -animated by the desire not to lose a precious friendship. A woman with -nothing to do tells herself that even friendship languishes in a heart -devoured by love and its mortal anxieties. Friendship can only hold its -own, by the side of love, by the exchange of confidences; but then what -is more odious to envy than such confidences? - -The only kind of confidences well received between women are those -accompanied in all its frankness by a statement of the case such as -this:--"My dear friend, in this war, as absurd as it is relentless, -which the prejudices, - -[Pg 121] -brought into vogue by our tyrants, wage upon us, you help me -to-day--to-morrow it will be my turn."[2] - -Beyond this exception there is another--that of true friendship born in -childhood and not marred since by any jealousy... - - * * * * * - -The confidences of passion-love are only well received between -schoolboys in love with love, and girls eaten up with unemployed -curiosity and tenderness or led on perhaps by the instinct,[3] which -whispers to them that there lies the great business of their life, and -that they cannot look after it too early. - -We have all seen little girls of three perform quite creditably the -duties of gallantry. Gallant-love is inflamed, passion-love chilled by -confidences. - -Apart from the danger, there is the difficulty of confidences. In -passion-love, things one cannot express (because the tongue is too -gross for such subtleties) exist none the less; only, as these are -things of extreme delicacy, we are more liable in observing them to -make mistakes. - -Also, an observer in a state of emotion is a bad observer; he won't -allow for chance. - -Perhaps the only safe way is to make yourself your own confidant. Write -down this evening, under borrowed - -[Pg 122] -names, but with all the characteristic details, the dialogue you had -just now with the woman you care for, and the difficulty which troubles -you. In a week, if it is passion-love, you will be a different man, and -then, rereading your consultation, you will be able to give a piece of -good advice to yourself. - -In male society, as soon as there are more than two together, and envy -might make its appearance, politeness allows none but physical love -to be spoken of--think of the end of dinners among men. It is Baffo's -sonnets[4] that are quoted and which give such infinite pleasure; -because each one takes literally the praises and excitement of his -neighbour, who, quite often, merely wants to appear lively or polite. -The sweetly tender words of Petrarch or French madrigals would be out -of place. - - -[1] Venice, 1819. - -[2] Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay, Geliotte. - -Prague, Klagenfurth, all Moravia, etc. etc. Their women are great wits -and their men are great hunters. Friendship is very common between the -women. The country enjoys its fine season in the winter; among the -nobles of the province a succession of hunting parties takes place, -each lasting from fifteen to twenty days. One of the cleverest of these -nobles said to me one day that Charles V had reigned legitimately over -all Italy, and that, consequently, it was all in vain for the Italians -to want to revolt. The wife of this good man read the Letters of Mlle. -de Lespinasse. (Znaym, 1816.) - -[3] Important point. It seems to me that independent of their -education, which begins at eight or ten months, there is a certain -amount of instinct. - -[4] The Venetian dialect boasts descriptions of physical love which -for vivacity leave Horace, Propertius, La Fontaine and all the poets -a hundred miles behind. M. Buratti of Venice is at the moment the -first satirical poet of our unhappy Europe. He excels above all in -the description of the physical grotesqueness of his heroes; and he -finds himself frequently in prison. (See _l'Elefanteide, l'Uomo, la -Strefeide._) - - -[Pg 123] - CHAPTER XXXV - - OF JEALOUSY - - -When you are in love, as each new object strikes your eye or your -memory, whether crushed in a gallery and patiently listening to a -parliamentary debate, or galloping to the relief of an outpost under -the enemy's fire, you never fail to add a new perfection to the idea -you have of your mistress, or discover a new means (which at first -seems excellent) of winning her love still more. - -Each step the imagination takes is repaid by a moment of sweet delight. -No wonder that existence, such as this, takes hold of one. - -Directly jealousy comes into existence, this turn of feelings -continues in itself the same, though the effect it is to produce is -contrary. Each perfection that you add to the crown of your beloved, -who now perhaps loves someone else, far from promising you a heavenly -contentment, thrusts a dagger into your heart. A voice cries out: "This -enchanting pleasure is for my rival to enjoy."[1] - -Even the objects which strike you, without producing this effect, -instead of showing you, as before, a new way of winning her love, cause -you to see a new advantage for your rival. - -You meet a pretty woman galloping in the park[2]; your rival is famous -for his fine horses which can do ten miles in fifty minutes. - -[Pg 124] -In this state, rage is easily fanned into life; you no longer -remember that in love possession is nothing, enjoyment everything. -You exaggerate the happiness of your rival, exaggerate the insolence -happiness produces in him, and you come at last to the limit of -tortures, that is to say to the extremest unhappiness, poisoned still -further by a lingering hope. - -The only remedy is, perhaps, to observe your rival's happiness at close -quarters. Often you will see him fall peacefully asleep in the same -_salon_ as the woman, for whom your heart stops beating, at the mere -sight of a hat like hers some way off in the street. - -To wake him up you have only to show your jealousy. You may have, -perhaps, the pleasure of teaching him the price of the woman who -prefers him to you, and he will owe to you the love he will learn to -have for her. - -Face to face with a rival there is no mean--you must either banter with -him in the most off-hand way you can, or frighten him. - -Jealousy being the greatest of all evils, endangering one's life will -be found an agreeable diversion. For then not all our fancies are -embittered and blackened (by the mechanism explained above)--sometimes -it is possible to imagine that one kills this rival. - -According to this principle, that it is never right to add to the -enemy's forces, you must hide your love from your rival, and, under -some pretext of vanity as far as possible removed from love, say to -him very quietly, with all possible politeness, and in the calmest, -simplest tone: "Sir, I cannot think why the public sees good to make -little So-and-so mine; people are even good enough to believe that I am -in love with her. As for you, if you want her, I would hand her over -with all my heart, if unhappily there were not the risk of placing -myself into a ridiculous position. In six months, take her as much as -ever you like, but at the present moment, honour, such as people attach -(why, I don't know) to these things, - -[Pg 125] -forces me to tell you, to my great regret, that, if by chance you have -not the justice to wait till your turn comes round, one of us must die." - -Your rival is very likely a man without much passion, and perhaps a -man of much prudence, who once convinced of your resolution, will -make haste to yield you the woman in question, provided he can find -any decent pretext. For that reason you must give a gay tone to your -challenge, and keep the whole move hidden with the greatest secrecy. - -What makes the pain of jealousy so sharp is that vanity cannot help you -to bear it. But, according to the plan I have spoken of, your vanity -has something to feed on; you can respect yourself for bravery, even if -you are reduced to despising your powers of pleasing. - -If you would rather not carry things to such tragic lengths, you must -pack up and go miles away, and keep a chorus-girl, whose charms people -will think have arrested you in your flight. - -Your rival has only to be an ordinary person and he will think you are -consoled. - -Very often the best way is to wait without flinching, while he wears -himself out in the eyes of the loved one through his own stupidity. -For, except in a serious passion formed little by little and in early -youth, a clever woman does not love an undistinguished man for long.[3] -In the case of jealousy after intimate intercourse, there must follow -also apparent indifference or real inconstancy. Plenty of women, -offended with a lover whom they still love, form an attachment with -the man, of whom he has shown himself jealous, and the play becomes a -reality.[4] - -I have gone into some detail, because in these moments of jealousy one -often loses one's head. Counsels, made in writing a long time ago, are -useful, and, the essential - -[Pg 126] -thing being to feign calmness, it is not out of place in a -philosophical piece of writing, to adopt that tone. - -As your adversaries' power over you consists in taking away from you or -making you hope for things, whose whole worth consists in your passion -for them, once manage to make them think you are indifferent, and -suddenly they are without a weapon. - -If you have no active course to take, but can distract yourself in -looking for consolation, you will find some pleasure in reading -_Othello_; it will make you doubt the most conclusive appearances. You -will feast your eyes on these words:-- - - Trifles light as air - Seem to the jealous confirmations strong - As proofs from Holy Writ. (_Othello_, Act III.) - -It is my experience that the sight of a fine sea is consoling. - - The morning which had arisen calm and bright gave a pleasant effect - to the waste mountain view, which was seen from the castle on looking - to the landward, and the glorious ocean crisped with a thousand - rippling waves of silver extended on the other side in awful, yet - complacent majesty to the verge of the horizon. With such scenes of - calm sublimity the human heart sympathises even in its most disturbed - moods, and deeds of honour and virtue are inspired by their majestic - influence. (_The Bride of Lammermoor_, Chap. VII.) - -I find this written by Salviati:-- - - _July 20th_, 1818.--I often--and I think unreasonably--apply to life - as a whole the feelings of a man of ambition or a good citizen, if he - finds himself set in battle to guard the baggage or in any other post - without danger or action. I should have felt regret at forty to have - passed the age of loving without deep passion. I should have had that - bitter and humiliating displeasure, to have found out too late that I - had been fool enough to let life pass, without living. - - Yesterday I spent three hours with the woman I love and a rival, whom - she wants to make me think she favours. Certainly, - -[Pg 127] - there were moments of bitterness, in watching her lovely eyes fixed - on him, and, on my departure, there were wild transports from utter - misery to hope. But what changes, what sudden lights, what swift - thoughts, and, in spite of the apparent happiness of my rival, with - what pride and what delight my love felt itself superior to his! I - went away saying to myself: The most vile fear would bleach those - cheeks at the least of the sacrifices, which my love would make for - the fun of it, nay, with delight--for example, to put this hand into a - hat and draw one of these two lots: "Be loved by her," the other--"Die - on the spot." And this feeling in me is so much second nature, that it - did not prevent me being amiable and talkative. - - If someone had told me all that two years ago, I should have laughed. - -I find in the _Travels to the Source of the Missouri River ... in_ -1804-6 of Captains Lewis and Clarke (p. 215):-- - - The Ricaras are poor and generous; we stayed some time in three of - their villages. Their women are more beautiful than those of the other - tribes we came across; they are also not in the least inclined to let - their lover languish. We found a new example of the truth that you - only have to travel to find out that there is variety everywhere. - Among the Ricaras, for a woman to grant her favours without the - consent of her husband or her brother, gives great offence. But then - the brothers and the husband are only too delighted to have the - opportunity of showing this courtesy to their friends. - - There was a negro in our crew; he created a great sensation among a - people who had never seen a man of his colour before. He was soon a - favourite with the fair sex, and we noticed that the husbands, instead - of being jealous, were overjoyed to see him come to visit them. The - funny part was that the interior of the huts was so narrow that - everything was visible.[5] - - -[1] Here you see one of love's follies; for this perfection, seen by -your eyes, is not one for him. - -[2] Montaguola, 13th April, 1819. - -[3] _La Princesse de Tarente_. Story by Scarron. - -[4] As in the _Curieux-impertinent_, story by Cervantes. - -[5] There ought to be instituted at Philadelphia an academy, whose sole -occupation would be the collection of materials for the study of man in -the savage state, instead of waiting till these curious peoples have -been exterminated. - -I know quite well that such academies exist--but apparently regulated -in a way worthy of our academies in Europe. (Memoir and Discussion on -the Zodiac of Denderah at the Académie des Sciences of Paris, 1821.) I -notice that the academy of, I fancy, Massachusetts wisely charges a - -[Pg 128] -member of the clergy (Mr. Jarvis) to make a report on the religion of -the savage. The priest, of course, refutes energetically an impious -Frenchman, called Volney. According to the priest, the savage has -the most exact and noble ideas of the Divinity, etc. If he lived in -England, such a report would bring the worthy academician a preferment -of three or four hundred pounds and the protection of all the noble -lords in the county. But in America! For the rest, the absurdity of -this academy reminds me of the free Americans, who set the greatest -store on seeing fine coats-of-arms painted on the panels of their -carriages; what upsets them is that, through their carriage-painter's -want of instruction, the blazoning is often wrong. - - -[Pg 129] - CHAPTER XXXVI - - OF JEALOUSY--(continued) - - -Now for the woman suspected of inconstancy! - -She leaves you, because you have discouraged crystallisation, but it is -possible that in her heart you have habit to plead for you. - -She leaves you, because she is too sure of you. You have killed fear, -and there is nothing left to give birth to the little doubts of happy -love. Just make her uneasy, and, above all, beware of the absurdity of -protestations! - -During all the time you have lived in touch with her, you will -doubtless have discovered what woman, in society or outside it, she is -most jealous or most afraid of. Pay court to that woman, but so far -from blazoning it about, do your best to keep it secret, and do your -best sincerely; trust to the eyes of anger to see everything and feel -everything. The strong aversion you will have felt for several months -to all women ought to make this easy.[1] Remember that in the position -you are in, everything is spoiled by a show of passion: avoid seeing -much of the woman you love, and drink champagne with the wits. - -In order to judge of your mistress' love, remember:-- - -1. The more physical pleasure counts for in the basis of her love and -in what formerly determined her to yield, the more prone it is to -inconstancy, and, still more, to infidelity. This applies especially to -love in - -[Pg 130] -which crystallisation has been favoured by the fire of sweet seventeen. - -2. Two people in love are hardly ever equally in love:[2] passion-love -has its phases, during which now one, now the other is more -impassioned. Often, too, it is merely gallantry or vain love which -responds to passion-love, and it is generally the woman who is -carried away by passion. But whatever the love may be that either of -them feels, directly one of them is jealous, he insists on the other -fulfilling all the conditions of passion-love; vanity pretends to all -the claims of a heart that feels. - -Furthermore, nothing wearies gallant-love like passion-love from the -other side. - -Often a clever man, paying court to a woman, just sets her thinking -of love in a sentimental frame of mind. She receives this clever man -kindly for giving her this pleasure--he conceives hopes. - -But one fine day that woman meets the man, who makes her feel what the -other has described. - -I do not know what are the effects of a man's jealousy on the heart of -the woman he loves. Displayed by an admirer who wearies her, jealousy -must inspire a supreme disgust, and it may even turn to hatred, if -the man he is jealous of is nicer than the jealous one; for we want -jealousy, said Madame de Coulanges, only from those of whom we could be -jealous. - -If the jealous one is liked, but has no real claims, his jealousy -may offend that feminine pride so hard to keep in humour or even to -recognise. Jealousy may please women of pride, as a new way of showing -them their power. - -Jealousy can please as a new way of giving proof of love. It can also -offend the modesty of a woman who is over-refined. - -[Pg 131] -It can please as a sign of the lover's hot blood--_ferrum est quod -amant_. But note that it is hot blood they love, and not courage _à la_ -Turenne, which is quite compatible with a cold heart. - -One of the consequences of crystallisation is that a woman can never -say "yes" to the lover, to whom she has been unfaithful, if she ever -means to make anything of him. - -Such is the pleasure of continuing to enjoy the perfect image we have -formed of the object of our attachment, that until that fatal "yes"-- - - L'on va chercher bien loin, plutot que de mourir, - Quelque prétexte ami pour vivre et pour souffrir. - - (_André Chénier_.[3]) - -Everyone in France knows the anecdote of Mademoiselle de Sommery, who, -caught in flagrant delict by her lover, flatly denied the fact. On his -protesting, she replied: "Very well, I see you don't love me any more: -you believe what you see before what I tell you." - -To make it up with an idol of a mistress, who has been unfaithful, is -to set yourself to undo with the point of a dagger a crystallisation -incessantly forming afresh. Love has got to die, and your heart will -feel the cruel pang of every stage in its agony. - -It is one of the saddest dispositions of this passion and of life. You -must be strong enough to make it up only as friends. - - -[1] You compare the branch adorned with diamonds to the branch left -bare, and contrast adds sting to your memories. - -[2] e. g. the love of Alfieri for that great English lady (Lady -Ligonier) who also philandered with her footman and prettily signed -herself Penelope. (_Vita_, Epoca III, Chaps. X and XI.) - -[3] ["Sooner than die, we will go very far in search of some friendly -pretext to live and suffer."--Tr.] - - -[Pg 132] - CHAPTER XXXVII - - ROXANA - - -As for women's jealousy--they are suspicious, they have infinitely more -at stake than we, they have made a greater sacrifice to love, have far -fewer means of distraction and, above all, far fewer means of keeping -a check on their lover's actions. A woman feels herself degraded by -jealousy; she thinks her lover is laughing at her, or, still worse, -making fun of her tenderest transports. Cruelty must tempt her--and -yet, legally, she cannot kill her rival! - -For women, jealousy must be a still more abominable evil than it is for -men. It is the last degree of impotent rage and self-contempt[1] which -a heart can bear without breaking. - -I know no other remedy for so cruel an evil, than the death of the -one who is the cause of it or of the one who suffers. An example of -French jealousy is the story of Madame de la Pommeraie in _Jacques le -Fataliste_(19). - -La Rochefoucauld says: "We are ashamed of owning we are jealous, but -pride ourselves on having been and of being capable of jealousy."[2] -Poor woman dares not own even to having suffered this torture, so much -ridicule does it bring upon her. So painful a wound can never quite -heal up. - -If cold reason could be unfolded before the fire of imagination with -the merest shade of success, I would say - -[Pg 133] -to those wretched women, who are unhappy from jealousy: "There is a -great difference between infidelity in man and in you. In you, the -importance of the act is partly direct, partly symbolic. But, as an -effect of the education of our military schools, it is in man the -symbol of nothing at all. On the contrary, in women, through the effect -of modesty, it is the most decisive of all the symbols of devotion. Bad -habit makes it almost a necessity to men. During all our early years, -the example set by the so-called 'bloods' makes us set all our pride on -the number of successes of this kind--as the one and only proof of our -worth. For you, your education acts in exactly the opposite direction." - -As for the value of an action as symbol--in a moment of anger I upset -a table on to the foot of my neighbour; that gives him the devil of a -pain, but can quite easily be fixed up--or again, I make as if to give -him a slap in the face.... - -The difference between infidelity in the two sexes is so real, that a -woman of passion may pardon it, while for a man that is impossible. - -Here we have a decisive ordeal to show the difference between -passion-love and love from pique: infidelity in women all but kills the -former and doubles the force of the latter. - -Haughty women disguise their jealousy from pride. They will spend long -and dreary evenings in silence with the man whom they adore, and whom -they tremble to lose, making themselves consciously disagreeable in -his eyes. This must be one of the greatest possible tortures, and is -certainly one of the most fruitful sources of unhappiness in love. In -order to cure these women, who merit so well all our respect, it needs -on the man's side a strong and out-of-the-way line of action--but, -mind, he must not seem to notice what is going on--for example, a long -journey with them undertaken at a twenty-four hours' notice. - - -[1] This contempt is one of the great causes of suicide: people kill -themselves to give their sense of honour satisfaction. - -[2] _Pensée_ 495. The reader will have recognised, without my marking -it each time, several other thoughts of celebrated writers. It is -history which I am attempting to write, and such thoughts are the facts. - - -[Pg 134] - CHAPTER XXXVIII - - OF SELF-ESTEEM PIQUED[1] - - -Pique is a manifestation of vanity; I do not want my antagonist to go -higher than myself and _I take that antagonist himself as judge of -my worth_. I want to produce an effect on his heart. It is this that -carries us so far beyond all reasonable limits. - -Sometimes, to justify our own extravagance, we go so far as to tell -ourselves that this rival has a mind to dupe us. - -Pique, being an infirmity of honour, is far more common in monarchies; -it must, surely, be exceedingly rare in countries, where the habit is -rampant of valuing things according to their utility--for example, in -the United States. - -Every man, and a Frenchman sooner than any other, loathes being taken -for a dupe; and yet the lightness of the French character under the old -monarchic _régime_[2], prevented pique from working great havoc beyond -the domains of gallantry and gallant-love. Pique has produced serious -tragedies only in monarchies, where, through the climate, the shade of -character is darker (Portugal, Piedmont). - -The provincial in France forms a ludicrous idea of what is considered -a gentleman in good society--and then he takes cover behind his model, -and waits there all his - -[Pg 135] -life to see that no one trespasses. And so good-bye naturalness! He is -always in a state of pique, a mania which gives a laughable character -even to his love affairs. This enviousness is what makes it most -unbearable to live in small towns, and one should remind oneself of -this, when one admires the picturesque situation of any of them. The -most generous and noble emotions are there paralysed by contact with -all that is most low in the products of civilisation. In order to put -the finishing touch to their awfulness, these bourgeois talk of nothing -but the corruption of great cities.[3] - -Pique cannot exist in passion-love; it is feminine pride. "If I let my -lover treat me badly, he will despise me and no longer be able to love -me." It may also be jealousy in all its fury. - -Jealousy desires the death of the object it fears. The man in a state -of pique is miles away from that--he wants his enemy to live, and, -above all, be witness of his triumph. - -He would be sorry to see his rival renounce the struggle, for the -fellow may have the insolence to say in the depth of his heart: "If I -had persevered in my original object, I should have outdone him." - -With pique, there is no interest in the apparent purpose--the point of -everything is victory. This is well brought out in the love affairs -of chorus-girls; take away the rival, and the boasted passion, which -threatened suicide from the fifth-floor window, instantly subsides. - -Love from pique, contrary to passion-love, passes in a moment; it -is enough for the antagonist by an irrevocable step to own that he -renounces the struggle. I hesitate, however, to advance this maxim, -having only one example, and that leaves doubts in my mind. Here are -the facts--the reader will judge. Dona Diana is a - -[Pg 136] -young person of twenty-three, daughter of one of the richest and -proudest citizens of Seville. She is beautiful, without any doubt, but -of a peculiar type of beauty, and is credited with ever so much wit and -still more pride. She was passionately in love, to all appearances at -least, with a young officer, with whom her family would have nothing to -do. The officer left for America with Morillo, and they corresponded -continuously. One day in the midst of a lot of people, assembled round -the mother of Dona Diana, a fool announced the death of the charming -officer. All eyes are turned upon Dona Diana; Dona Diana says nothing -but these words: "What a pity--so young." - -Just that day we had been reading a play of old Massinger, which ends -tragically, but in which the heroine takes the death of her lover with -this apparent tranquillity. I saw the mother shudder in spite of her -pride and dislike; the father went out of the room to hide his joy. In -the midst of this scene and the dismay of all present, who were making -eyes at the fool who had told the story, Dona Diana, the only one at -ease, proceeded with the conversation, as if nothing had happened. Her -mother, in apprehension, set her maid to watch her, but nothing seemed -to be altered in her behaviour. - -Two years later, a very fine young man paid his attentions to her. -This time again, and, still for the same reason, Dona Diana's parents -violently opposed the marriage, because the aspirant was not of noble -birth. She herself declared it should take place. A state of pique -ensues between the daughter's sense of honour and the father's. The -young man is forbidden the house. Dona Diana is no longer taken to the -country and hardly ever to church. With scrupulous care, every means -of meeting her lover is taken from her. He disguises himself and sees -her secretly at long intervals. She becomes more and more resolute, and -refuses the most - -[Pg 137] -brilliant matches, even a title and a great establishment at the Court -of Ferdinand VII. The whole town is talking of the misfortunes of the -two lovers and of their heroic constancy. At last the majority of Dona -Diana draws near. She gives her father to understand that she means to -make use of her right of disposing of her own hand. The family, driven -back on its last resources, opens negotiations for the marriage. When -it is half concluded, at an official meeting of the two families, the -young man, after six years' constancy, refuses Dona Diana.[4] - -A quarter of an hour later no trace of anything--she was consoled. Did -she love from pique? Or are we face to face with a great soul, that -disclaims to parade its sorrow before the eyes of the world? - -In passion-love satisfaction, if I can call it such, is often only to -be won by piquing the loved one's self-esteem. Then, in appearance, the -lover realises all that can be desired; complaints would be ridiculous -and seem senseless. He cannot speak of his misfortune, and yet how -constantly he knows and feels its prick! Its traces are inwoven, so -to speak, with circumstances, the most flattering and the most fit to -awaken illusions of enchantment. This misfortune rears its monstrous -head at the tenderest moments, as if to taunt the lover and make him -feel, at one and the same instant, all the delight of being loved by -the charming and unfeeling creature in his arms, and the impossibility -of this delight being his. Perhaps after jealousy, this is the -cruellest unhappiness. - -The story is still fresh in a certain large town[5] of a man of soft -and gentle nature, who was carried away by a rage of this kind to spill -the blood of his mistress, who only loved him from pique against her -sister. He arranged - -[Pg 138] -with her, one evening, to come for a row on the sea by themselves, in -a pretty little boat he had devised himself. Once well out to sea, he -touches a spring, the boat divides and disappears for ever. - -I have seen a man of sixty set out to keep an actress, the most -capricious, irresponsible, delightful and wonderful on the London -stage--Miss Cornel. - -"And you expect that she'll be faithful?" people asked him. - -"Not in the least. But she'll be in love with me--perhaps madly in -love." - -And for a whole year she did love him--often to distraction. For three -whole months together she never even gave him subject for complaint. -He had put a state of pique, disgraceful in many ways, between his -mistress and his daughter. - -Pique wins the day in gallant-love, being its very life and blood. It -is the ordeal best fitted to differentiate between gallant-love and -passion-love. There is an old maxim of war, given to young fellows new -to their regiment, that if you are billeted on a house, where there are -two sisters, and you want to have one, you must pay your attentions to -the other. To win the majority of Spanish women, who are still young -and ready for love affairs, it is enough to give out, seriously and -modestly, that you have no feelings whatever for the lady of the house. -I have this useful maxim from dear General Lassale. This is the most -dangerous way of attacking passion-love. - -Piqued self-esteem is the bond which ties the happiest marriages, -after those formed by love. Many husbands make sure of their wives' -love for many years, by taking up with some little woman a couple of -months after their marriage.[6] In this way the habit is engendered of -thinking only of one man, and family ties succeed in making the habit -invincible. - -[Pg 139] -If in the past century at the Court of Louis XV a great lady (Madame -de Choiseul) was seen to worship her husband,[7] the reason is that he -seemed to take a keen interest in her sister, the Duchesse de Grammont. - -The most neglected mistress, once she makes us see that she prefers -another man, robs us of our peace and afflicts our heart with all the -semblance of passion. - -The courage of an Italian is an access of rage; the courage of a German -a moment of intoxication; that of a Spaniard an outburst of pride. If -there were a nation, in which courage were generally a matter of piqued -self-esteem between the soldiers of each company and the regiments of -each division, in the case of a rout there would be no support, and -consequently there would be no means of rallying the armies of such -a nation. To foresee the danger and try to remedy it, would be the -greatest of all absurdities with such conceited runaways. - - "It is enough to have opened any single description of a voyage - among the savages of North America," says one of the most delightful - philosophers of France,[8] "to know that the ordinary fate of - prisoners of war is not only to be burnt alive and eaten, but first to - be bound to a stake near a flaming bonfire and to be tortured there - for several hours, by all the most ferocious and refined devices - that fury can imagine. Read what travellers, who have witnessed - these fearful scenes, tell of the cannibal joy of the assistants, - above all, of the fury of the women and children, and of their - gruesome delight in this competition of cruelty. See also what they - add about the heroic firmness and immutable self-possession of the - prisoner, who not only gives no sign of pain, but taunts and defies - his torturers, by all that pride can make most haughty, irony most - bitter, and sarcasm most insulting--singing his own glorious deeds, - going through the number of the relations and friends of the onlookers - whom he has killed, detailing the sufferings he has inflicted on them, - and accusing all that stand around him of cowardice, timidity and - ignorance of the methods of torture; until falling limb from limb, - devoured alive - -[Pg 140] - under his own eyes by enemies drunk with fury, he gasps out his last - whisper and his last insult together with his life's breath.[9] All - this would be beyond belief in civilised nations, will look like fable - to the most fearless captains of our grenadiers, and will one day be - brought into doubt by posterity." - -This physiological phenomenon is closely connected with a particular -moral state in the prisoner, which constitutes, between him on the one -side and all his torturers on the other, a combat of self-esteem--of -vanity against vanity, as to who can hold out longer. - -Our brave military doctors have often observed that wounded soldiers, -who, in a calm state of mind and senses, would have shrieked out, -during certain operations, display, on the contrary, only calmness -and heroism, if they are prepared for it in a certain manner. It is a -matter of piquing their sense of honour; you have to pretend, first -in a roundabout way, and then with irritating persistence, that it is -beyond their present power to bear the operation without shrieking. - - -[1] In Italian _puntiglio_(20). - -[2] Three-quarters of the great French noblemen about 1778 would have -been on the high road to prison in a country where the laws were -executed without respect of persons. - -[3] As the one keeps strict watch on the other in all that touches -love, there is less love and more immorality in provincial towns. Italy -is luckier. - -[4] Every year there is more than one example of women abandoned just -as vilely, and so I can pardon suspiciousness in respectable women. -Mirabeau, _Lettres à Sophie_(21). Opinion is powerless in despotic -countries: there is nothing solid but the friendship of the pasha. - -[5] Leghorn, 1819. - -[6] See _The Confessions of an Odd-tempered Man_. Story by Mrs. Opie. - -[7] Letters of Madame du Deffant, Memoirs of Lauzun. - -[8] Volney, _Tableau des États-Unis d'Amérique_, pp. 491-96. - -[9] Anyone accustomed to a spectacle like this, who feels the risk of -being the hero of such another, may possibly be interested only in its -heroic aspect, and, in that case, the spectacle must be the foremost -and most intimate of the non-active pleasures. - - -[Pg 141] - CHAPTER XXXIX - - OF QUARRELSOME LOVE - - -It is of two kinds: - -I. In which the originator of the quarrel loves. - -2. In which he does not love. - -If one of the lovers is too superior in advantages which both value, -the love of the other must die; for sooner or later comes the fear of -contempt, to cut short crystallisation. - -Nothing is so odious to the mediocre as mental superiority. There lies -the source of hatred in the world of to-day, and if we do not have to -thank this principle for desperate enmities, it is solely due to the -fact that the people it comes between are not forced to live together. -What then of love? For here, everything being natural, especially on -the part of the superior being, superiority is not masked by any social -precaution. - -For the passion to be able to survive, the inferior must ill-treat the -other party; otherwise the latter could not shut a window, without the -other taking offence. - -As for the superior party, he deludes himself: the love he feels is -beyond the reach of danger, and, besides, almost all the weaknesses in -that which we love, make it only the dearer to us. - -In point of duration, directly after passion-love reciprocated between -people on the same level, one must put quarrelsome love, in which the -quarreller does not love. Examples of this are to be found in the -anecdotes, relative to the Duchesse de Berri (Memoirs of Duclos). - -Partaking, as it does, of the nature of set habits, which - -[Pg 142] -are rooted in the prosaic and egoistic side of life and follow man -inseparably to the grave, this love can last longer than passion-love -itself. But it is no longer love, it is a habit engendered by love, -which has nothing of that passion but memories and physical pleasure. -This habit necessarily presupposes a less noble kind of being. Each day -a little scene is got ready--"Will he make a fuss?"--which occupies -the imagination, just as, in passion-love, every day a new proof of -affection had to be found. See the anecdotes about Madame d'Houdetot -and Saint-Lambert.[1] - -It is possible that pride refuses to get used to this kind of -occupation; in which case, after some stormy months, pride kills love. -But we see the nobler passion make a long resistance before giving in. -The little quarrels of happy love foster a long time the illusion of -a heart that still loves and sees itself badly treated. Some tender -reconciliations may make the transition more bearable. A woman excuses -the man she has deeply loved, on the score of a secret sorrow or a -blow to his prospects. At last she grows used to being scolded. Where, -really, outside passion-love, outside gambling or the possession of -power,[2] can you find any other unfailing entertainment to be compared -with it for liveliness? If the scolder happens to die, the victim who -survives proves inconsolable. This is the principle which forms the -bond of many middle-class marriages; the scolded can listen to his own -voice all day long talking of his favourite subject. - -There is a false kind of quarrelsome love. I took from the letters of a -woman of extraordinary brilliance this in Chapter XXXIII:-- - -"Always a little doubt to allay--that is what whets our - -[Pg 143] -appetite in passion-love every moment.... As it is never separated from -fear, so its pleasures can never tire." - -With rough and ill-mannered people, or those with a very violent -nature, this little doubt to calm, this faint misgiving shows itself in -the form of a quarrel. - -If the loved one has not the extreme susceptibility, which comes of a -careful education, she may find that love of this kind has more life in -it, and consequently is more enjoyable. Even with all the refinement -in the world, it is hard not to love "your savage" all the more, if -you see him the first to suffer for his transports. What Lord Mortimer -thinks back on, perhaps, with most regret for his lost mistress, are -the candlesticks she threw at his head. And, really, if pride forgives -and permits such sensations, it must also be allowed that they do wage -implacable warfare upon boredom--that arch-enemy of the happy! - -Saint-Simon, the one historian France has had, says:-- - - After several passing fancies, the Duchesse de Berri had fallen in - love, in real earnest, with Riom, cadet of the house of d'Aydie, son - of a sister of Madame de Biron. He had neither looks nor sense: a - stout, short youth, with a puffy white face, who with all his spots - looked like one big abscess--though, true, he had fine teeth. He had - no idea of having inspired a passion, which in less than no time went - beyond all limits and lasted ever after, without, indeed, preventing - passing fancies and cross-attachments. He had little property, and - many brothers and sisters who had no more. M. and Madame de Pons, - lady-in-waiting to the Duchesse de Berri, were related to them and - of the same province, and they sent for the young man, who was a - lieutenant in the dragoons, to see what could be made of him. He had - scarcely arrived before the Duchess's weakness for him became public - and Riom was master of the Luxembourg. - - M. de Lauzun, whose grand-nephew he was, laughed in his sleeve; he was - delighted to see in Riom a reincarnation at the Luxembourg of himself - from the time of Mademoiselle. He gave Riom instructions which were - listened to by him, as befitted - -[Pg 144] - a mild and naturally polite and respectful young fellow, well behaved - and straightforward. But before long Riom began to feel the power - of his own charms, which could only captivate the incomprehensible - humour of this princess. Without abusing his power with others, he - made himself liked by everyone, but he treated his duchess as M. de - Lauzun had treated Mademoiselle. He was soon dressed in the richest - laces, the richest suits, furnished with money, buckles, jewels. He - made himself an object of admiration and took a delight in making the - princess jealous or pretending to be jealous himself--bringing her - often to tears. Little by little he reduced her to the state of doing - nothing without his permission, not even in matters of indifference. - At one time, ready to go out to the Opera, he made her stay at home; - at another he made her go against her will. He forced her to do - favours to ladies she disliked, or of whom she was jealous, and to - injure people she liked, or of whom he pretended to be jealous. Even - as far as dress, she was not allowed the smallest liberty. He used to - amuse himself by making her have her hair done all over again, or have - her dress changed when she was completely ready--and this happened - so often and so publicly, that he had accustomed her to take in the - evening his orders for dress and occupation for the next day. The - next day he would change it all and make the princess cry still more. - At last she came to sending him messages by trusted valets--for he - lived in the Luxembourg almost from the day of his arrival--and the - messages had often to be repeated during her toilet for her to know - what ribbons to wear and about her frock and other details of dress; - and nearly always he made her wear what she disliked. If sometimes she - gave herself some liberty in the smallest matter without leave, he - treated her like a servant, and often her tears lasted several days. - - This haughty princess, who was so fond of display and indulging her - boundless pride, could bring herself so low as to partake of obscene - parties with him and unmentionable people--she with whom no one could - dine unless he were prince of the blood. The Jesuit Riglet, whom she - as a child had known, and who had brought her up, was admitted to - these private meals, without feeling ashamed himself or the Duchess - being embarrassed. Madame de Mouchy was admitted into the secret of - all these strange events; she and Riom summoned the company and chose - the days. This lady was the peacemaker between the two lovers, - -[Pg 145] - and the whole of this existence was a matter of general knowledge at - the Luxembourg. Riom was there looked to, as the centre of everything, - while on his side he was careful to live on good terms with all, - honouring them with a show of respect, which he refused in public only - to his princess. Before everybody he would give her curt answers, - which would make the whole company lower their eyes and bring blushes - to the cheeks of the Duchess, who put no constraint upon her idolatry - of him." - -Riom was a sovereign remedy, for the Duchess, against the monotony of -life. - -A famous woman said once off-hand to General Bonaparte, then a young -hero covered with glory and with no crimes against liberty on his -conscience: "General, a woman could only be a wife or a sister to you." -The hero did not understand the compliment, which the world has made up -for with some pretty slanders. - -The women, of whom we are speaking, like to be despised by their lover, -whom they only love in his cruelty. - - -[1] Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay, I think, or of Marmontel. - -[2] Whatever certain hypocritical ministers may say, power is the -foremost of pleasures. I believe love alone can beat it, and love is a -lucky illness, which cannot be got like a ministry. - - -[Pg 146] - CHAPTER XXXIX - - (Part II) - - REMEDIES AGAINST LOVE - - -The leap of Leucas was a fine image of antiquity. It is true, the -remedy of love is almost impossible. A danger is needed to call man's -attention back sharply to look to his own preservation.[1] But that is -not all. What is harder to realise--a pressing danger must continue, -and one that can only be averted with care, in order that the habit of -thinking of his own preservation may have time to take root. I can see -nothing that will do but a storm of sixteen days, like that in _Don -Juan_[2] or the shipwreck of M. Cochelet among the Moors. Otherwise, -one gets soon used to the peril, and even drops back into thoughts -of the loved one with still more charm--when reconnoitring at twenty -yards' range from the enemy. - -We have repeated over and over again that the love of a man, who loves -well, delights in and vibrates to every movement of his imagination, -and that there is nothing in nature which does not speak to him of the -object of his love. Well, this delight and this vibration form a most -interesting occupation, next to which all others pale. - -A friend who wants to work the cure of the patient, must, first of all, -be always on the side of the woman - -[Pg 147] -the patient is in love with--and all friends, with more zeal than -sense, are sure to do exactly the opposite. - -It is attacking with forces too absurdly inferior that combination of -sweet illusions, which earlier we called crystallisation.[3] - -The _friend in need_ should not forget this fact, that, if there is -an absurdity to be believed, as the lover has either to swallow it or -renounce everything which holds him to life, he will swallow it. With -all the cleverness in the world, he will deny in his mistress the most -palpable vices and the most villainous infidelities. This is how, in -passion-love, everything is forgiven after a little. - -In the case of reasonable and cold characters, for the lover to swallow -the vices of a mistress, he must only find them out after several -months of passion.[4] - -Far from trying bluntly and openly to distract the lover, the _friend -in need_ ought to tire him with talking of his love and his mistress, -and at the same time manage that a host of little events force -themselves upon his notice. Even if travel isolates,[5] it is still -no remedy, and in fact nothing recalls so tenderly the object of our -love as change of scene. It was in the midst of the brilliant Paris -_salons_, next to women with the greatest reputation for charm, that I -was most in love with my poor mistress, solitary and sad in her little -room in the depth of the Romagna.[6] - -I looked at the superb clock in the brilliant _salon_, where I was -exiled, for the hour she goes out on foot, even in the rain, to call on -her friend. Trying to forget her, I have found that change of scene is -the source of memories of one's love, less vivid but far more heavenly - -[Pg 148] -than those one goes in search for in places, where once upon a time one -met her. - -In order that absence may prove useful, the _friend in need_ must -be always at hand, and suggest to the lover's mind all possible -reflections on the history of his love, trying to make these -reflections tiresome through their length and importunity. In this -way he gives them the appearance of commonplaces. For example, tender -sentimental talk after a dinner enlivened with good wine. - -It is hard to forget a woman, with whom one has been happy; for, -remember, that there are certain moments the imagination can never be -tired of evoking and beautifying. - -I leave out all mention of pride, cruel but sovereign remedy, which, -however, is not to be applied to sensitive souls. - -The first scenes of Shakespeare's _Romeo_ form an admirable picture; -there is so vast a gap between the man who says sorrowfully to himself: -"She hath forsworn to love," and he who cries out in the height of -happiness: "Come what sorrow can!" - - -[1] Danger of Henry Morton in the Clyde. (_Old Mortality_, Vol. IV, -Chap. X.) - -[2] Of the over-extolled Lord Byron. - -[3] Merely in order to abbreviate, and with apologies for the new word. - -[4] Madame Dornal and Serigny. _Confessions of le Comte_ ... of Duclos. -See the note to p. 50: death of General Abdallah at Bologna. - -[5] I cried almost every day. (Precious words of the 10th of June.) - -[6] Salviati. - - -[Pg 149] - CHAPTER XXXIX - - (Part III) - - Her passion will die like a lamp for want of what the flame should - feed upon. (_Bride of Lammermoor_, II, Chap. VI.)] - - -The _friend in need_ must beware of faulty reasoning--for example, of -talking about ingratitude. You are giving new life to crystallisation, -by procuring it a victory and a new enjoyment. - -In love there is no such thing as ingratitude; the actual pleasure -always repays, and more than repays, sacrifices that seem the greatest. -In love no other crime but want of honesty seems to me possible: one -should be scrupulous as to the state of one's heart. - -The _friend in need_ has only to attack fair and square, for the lover -to answer:-- - -"To be in love, even while enraged with the loved one, is nothing less, -to bring myself down to your £ s. d. style, than having a ticket in -a lottery, in which the prize is a thousand miles above all that you -can offer me, in your world of indifference and selfish interests. One -must have plenty of vanity--and precious petty vanity--to be happy, -because people receive you well. I do not blame men for going on like -this, in their world, but in the love of Léonore I found a world where -everything was heavenly, tender and generous. The most lofty and almost -incredible virtue of your world counted, between her and me, only as -any ordinary and everyday virtue. Let me at all events dream of the -happiness of passing my life close to such a creature. Although I -understand that - -[Pg 150] -slander has ruined me, and that I have nothing to hope for, at least I -shall make her the sacrifice of my vengeance." - -It is quite impossible to put a stop to love except in its first -stages. Besides a prompt departure, and the forced distractions of -society (as in the case of the Comtesse Kalember), there are several -other little ruses, which the _friend in need_ can bring into play. -For example, he can bring to your notice, as if by chance, the fact -that the woman you love, quite outside the disputed area, does not -even observe towards you the same amount of politeness and respect, -with which she honours your rival. The smallest details are enough; -for in love everything is a sign. For example, she does not take your -arm to go up to her box. This sort of nonsense, taken tragically by -a passionate heart, couples a pang of humiliation to every judgment -formed by crystallisation, poisons the source of love and may destroy -it. - -One way against the woman, who is behaving badly to our friend, is to -bring her under suspicion of some absurd physical defect, impossible -to verify. If it were possible for the lover to verify the calumny, -and even if he found it substantiated, it would be disqualified by -his imagination, and soon have no place with him at all. It is only -imagination itself which can resist imagination: Henry III knew that -very well when he scoffed at the famous Duchesse de Montpensier(22). - -Hence it is the imagination you must look to--above all, in a girl -whom you want to keep safe from love. And the less her spirit has of -the common stuff, the more noble and generous her soul, in a word the -worthier she is of our respect, just so much greater the danger through -which she must pass. - -It is always perilous, for a girl, to suffer her memories to group -themselves too repeatedly and too agreeably round the same individual. -Add gratitude, admiration or curiosity to strengthen the bonds of -memory, and she is almost certainly on the edge of the - -[Pg 151] -precipice. The greater the monotony of her everyday life, the more -active are those poisons called gratitude, admiration and curiosity. -The only thing, then, is a swift, prompt and vigorous distraction. - -Just so, a little roughness and "slap-dash" in the first encounter, is -an almost infallible means of winning the respect of a clever woman, if -only the drug be administered in a natural and simple manner. - -[Pg 152] -[Pg 153] - - BOOK II - -[Pg 154] -[Pg 155] - CHAPTER XL - - -Every kind of love and every kind of imagination, in the individual, -takes its colour from one of these six temperaments:-- - -The sanguine, or French,--M. de Francueil (Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay); - -The choleric, or Spanish,--Lauzun (the Peguilhen of Saint-Simon's -Memoirs); - -The melancholy, or German,--Schiller's Don Carlos; - -The phlegmatic, or Dutch; - -The nervous--Voltaire; - -The athletic--Milo of Croton.[1] - -If the influence of temperament makes itself felt in ambition, avarice, -friendship, etc. etc., what must it be in the case of love, in which -the physical also is perforce an ingredient? Let us suppose that all -kinds of love can be referred to the four varieties, which we have -noted:-- - -Passion-love--Julie d'Étanges;(23) - -Gallant-love or gallantry; - -Physical love; - -Vanity-love--"a duchess is never more than thirty for a bourgeois." - -We must submit these four kinds of love to the six different -characters, with which habits, dependent upon the six kinds of -temperament, stamp the imagination. Tiberius did not have the wild -imagination of Henry VIII. - -[Pg 156] -Then let us submit all these combinations, thus obtained, to the -differences of habit which depend upon government or national -character:-- - -1. Asiatic despotism, such as may be seen at Constantinople; - -2. Absolute monarchy _à la_ Louis XIV; - -3. Aristocracy masked by a charter, or government of a nation for the -profit of the rich, as in England--all according to the rules of a -self-styled biblical morality; - -4. A federal republic, or government for the profit of all, as in the -United States of America; - -5. Constitutional monarchy, or-- - -6. A State in revolution, as Spain, Portugal, France(24). This state of -things in a country gives lively passions to everyone, makes manners -more natural, destroys puerilities, the conventional virtues and -senseless proprieties[2]--gives seriousness to youth and causes it to -despise vanity-love and neglect gallantry. - -This state can last a long time and form the habits of a generation. In -France it began in 1788, was interrupted in 1802, and began again in -1818--to end God knows when! - -After all these general ways of considering love, we have the -differences of age, and come finally to individual peculiarities. - -For example, we might say:-- - -I found at Dresden, in Count Woltstein, vanity-love, a melancholy -temperament, monarchical habits, thirty years, and ... his individual -peculiarities. - -For anyone who is to form a judgment on love, this way of viewing -things is conveniently short and cooling to the head--an essential, but -difficult operation. - -Now, as in physiology man has learnt scarcely anything about himself, -except by means of comparative anatomy, - -[Pg 157] -so in the case of passions, through vanity and many other causes of -illusion, we can only get enlightenment on what goes on in ourselves -from the foibles we have observed in others. If by chance this essay -has any useful effect, it will be by bringing the mind to make -comparisons of this sort. To lead the way, I am going to attempt a -sketch of some general traits in the character of love in different -nations. - -I beg for pardon if I often come back to Italy; in the present state -of manners in Europe, it is the only country where the plant, which -I describe, grows in all freedom. In France, vanity; in Germany, a -pretentious and highly comical philosophy; in England, pride, timid, -painful and rancorous, torture and stifle it, or force it into a -crooked channel.[3] - - -[1] See Cabanis, influence of the physical, etc. - -[2] The laces missing from Minister Roland's shoes: "Ah, Monsieur, all -is lost," answers Dumouriez. At the royal sitting, the President of the -Assembly crosses his legs. - -[3] The reader will have perceived only too easily that this treatise -is made up of Lisio's Visconti's fragmentary account of events, written -in the order that they were presented to him on his travels. All these -events may be found related at length in the journal of his life; -perhaps I ought to have inserted them--but they might have been found -scarcely suitable. The oldest notes bear the date, Berlin 1807, and the -last are some days before his death, June 1819. Some dates have been -altered expressly to avoid indiscretion; but the changes, which I have -made, go no further than that. I have not thought myself authorised -to recast the style. This book was written in a hundred different -places--so may it be read! - - -[Pg 158] - CHAPTER XLI - - OF NATIONS WITH REGARD TO LOVE. - - FRANCE - - -I mean to put aside my natural affections and be only a cold -philosopher. French women, fashioned by their amiable men, themselves -creatures only of vanity and physical desires, are less active, less -energetic, less feared, and, what's more, less loved and less powerful, -than Spanish and Italian women. - -A woman is powerful only according to the degree of unhappiness, which -she can inflict as punishment on her lover. Where men have nothing but -vanity, every woman is useful, but none is indispensable. It is success -in winning a woman's love, not in keeping it, which flatters a man. -When men have only physical desires, they go to prostitutes, and that -is why the prostitutes of France are charming and those of Spain the -very reverse. In France, to a great many men prostitutes can give as -much happiness as virtuous women--happiness, that is to say, without -love. There is always one thing for which a Frenchman has much more -respect than for his mistress--his vanity. - -In Paris a young man sees in his mistress a kind of slave, whose -destiny it is, before everything, to please his vanity. If she resist -the orders of this dominating passion, he leaves her--and is only the -better pleased with himself, when he can tell his friends in what a -piquant way, with how smart a gesture, he waved her off. - -A Frenchman, who knew his own country well (Meilhan), said: "In France, -great passions are as rare as great men." - -[Pg 159] -No language has words to express how impossible it is for a Frenchman -to play the role of a deserted and desperate lover, in full view of a -whole town--yet no sight is commoner at Venice or Bologna. - -To find love at Paris, we must descend to those classes, in which the -absence of education and of vanity, and the struggle against real want, -have left more energy. - -To let oneself be seen with a great and unsatisfied desire, is -to let oneself be seen in a position of inferiority--and that is -impossible in France, except for people of no position at all. -It means exposing oneself to all kinds of sneers--hence come the -exaggerated praises bestowed on prostitutes by young men who mistrust -their own hearts. A vulgar susceptibility and dread of appearing in -a position of inferiority forms the principle of conversation among -provincial people. Think of the man who only lately, when told of the -assassination of H. R. H. the Duke of Berri(25), answered: "I knew -it."[1] - -In the Middle Ages hearts were tempered by the presence of danger, and -therein, unless I am mistaken, lies another cause of the astonishing -superiority of the men of the sixteenth century. Originality, which -among us is rare, comical, dangerous and often affected, was then of -everyday and unadorned. Countries where even to-day danger often shows -its iron hand, such as Corsica,[2] - -[Pg 160] -Spain or Italy, can still produce great men. In those climates, where -men's gall cooks for three months under the burning heat, it is -activity's direction that is to seek; at Paris, I fear, it is activity -itself.[3] - -Many young men, fine enough to be sure at Montmirail or the Bois de -Boulogne, are afraid of love; and when you see them, at the age of -twenty, fly the sight of a young girl who has struck them as pretty, -you may know that cowardice is the real cause. When they remember what -they have read in novels is expected of a lover, their blood runs cold. -These chilly spirits cannot conceive how the storm of passion, which -lashes the sea to waves, also fills the sails of the ship and gives her -the power of riding over them. - -Love is a delicious flower, but one must have the courage to go and -pick it on the edge of a frightful precipice. Besides ridicule, love -has always staring it in the face the desperate plight of being -deserted by the loved one, and in her place only a _dead blank_ for all -the rest of one's life. - -Civilisation would be perfect, if it could continue the delicate -pleasures of the nineteenth century with a more frequent presence of -danger.[4] - -[Pg 161] -It ought to be possible to augment a thousandfold the pleasures of -private life by exposing it frequently to danger. I do not speak only -of military danger. I would have this danger present at every instant, -in every shape, and threatening all the interests of existence, such -as formed the essence of life in the Middle Ages. Such danger as our -civilisation has trained and refined, goes hand in hand quite naturally -with the most insipid feebleness of character. - -I hear the words of a great man in _A Voice from St Helena_ by Mr. -O'Meara:-- - - Order Murat to attack and destroy four or five thousand men in such - a direction, it was done in a moment; but leave him to himself, he - was an imbecile without judgment. I cannot conceive how so brave - a man could be so "lâche." He was nowhere brave unless before the - enemy. There he was probably the bravest man in the world.... He was - a paladin, in fact a Don Quixote in the field; but take him into the - Cabinet, he was a poltroon without judgment or decision. Murat and Ney - were the bravest men I ever witnessed. (O'Meara, Vol. II, p. 95.) - - -[1] This is historical. Many people, though very curious, are annoyed -at being told news; they are frightened of appearing inferior to him -who tells them the news. - -[2] Memoirs of M. Realier-Dumas. Corsica, which, as regards its -population of one hundred and eighty thousand souls, would not form -a half of most French Departments, has produced in modern times -Salliceti, Pozzo di Borgo, General Sebastiani, Cervioni, Abbatucci, -Lucien and Napoleon Bonaparte and Aréna. The Département du Nord, -with its nine hundred thousand inhabitants, is far from being able -to show a similar list. The reason is that in Corsica anyone, on -leaving his house, may be greeted by a bullet; and the Corsican, -instead of submitting like a good Christian, tries to defend himself -and still more to be revenged. That is the way spirits like Napoleon -are forged. It's a long cry from such surroundings to a palace with -its lords-in-waiting and chamberlains, and a Fénelon obliged to find -reasons for his respect to His Royal Highness, when speaking to H. R. -H. himself, aged twelve years. See the works of that great writer. - -[3] At Paris, to get on, you must pay attention to a million little -details. None the less there is this very powerful objection. -Statistics show many more women who commit suicide from love at Paris -than in all the towns of Italy together. This fact gives me great -difficulty; I do not know what to say to it for the moment, but it -doesn't change my opinion. It may be that our ultra-civilised life -is so wearisome, that death seems a small matter to the Frenchman of -to-day--or more likely, overwhelmed by the wreck of his vanity, he -blows out his brains. - -[4] I admire the manners of the time of Lewis XIV: many a man might -pass in three days from the salons of Marly to the battlefield of Senet -or Ramillies. Wives, mothers, sweethearts, were all in a continual -state of apprehension. See the Letters of Madame de Sévigné. The -presence of danger had kept in the language an energy and a freshness -that we would not dare to hazard nowadays; and yet M. de Lameth killed -his wife's lover. If a Walter Scott were to write a novel of the times -of Lewis XIV, we should be a good deal surprised. - - -[Pg 162] - CHAPTER XLII - - FRANCE (_continued_) - - -I beg leave to speak ill of France a little longer. The reader need -have no fear of seeing my satire remain unpunished; if this essay finds -readers, I shall pay for my insults with interest. Our national honour -is wide awake. - -France fills an important place in the plan of this book, because -Paris, thanks to the superiority of its conversation and its -literature, is, and will always be, the _salon_ of Europe. - -Three-quarters of the _billets_ in Vienna, as in London, are written in -French or are full of French allusions and quotations--Lord knows what -French![1] - -As regards great passions, France, in my opinion, is void of -originality from two causes:-- - -1. True honour--the desire to resemble Bayard(26)--in order to be -honoured in the world and there, every day, to see your vanity -satisfied. - -2. The fool's honour, or the desire to resemble the upper classes, the -fashionable world of Paris. The art of entering a drawing-room, of -showing aversion to a rival, of breaking with your mistress, etc. - -The fool's honour is much more useful than true honour in ministering -to the pleasures of our vanity, - -[Pg 163] -both in itself, as being intelligible to fools, and also as being -applicable to the actions of every day and every hour. We see people, -with only this fool's honour and without true honour, very well -received in society; but the contrary is impossible. - -This is the way of the fashionable world:-- - -1. To treat all great interests ironically. 'Tis natural enough. -Formerly people, really in society, could not be profoundly affected -by anything; they hadn't the time. Residence in the country has -altered all this. Besides, it is contrary to a Frenchman's nature to -let himself be seen in a posture of admiration,[2] that is to say, -in a position of inferiority, not only in relation to the object of -his admiration--that goes without saying--but also in relation to his -neighbour, if his neighbour choose to mock at what he admires. - -In Germany, Italy and Spain, on the contrary, admiration is genuine and -happy; there the admirer is proud of his transports and pities the man -who turns up his nose. I don't say the mocker, for that's an impossible -rôle in countries, where it is not in failing in the imitation of -a particular line of conduct, but in failing to strike the road to -happiness, that the only ridicule exists. In the South, mistrust and -horror at being troubled in the midst of pleasures vividly felt, plants -in men an inborn admiration of luxury and pomp. See the Courts of -Madrid and Naples; see a _funzione_ at Cadiz--things are carried to a -point of delirium.[3] - -2. A Frenchman thinks himself the most miserable of men, and almost the -most ridiculous, if he is obliged to spend his time alone. But what is -love without solitude? - -3. A passionate man thinks only of himself; a man - -[Pg 164] -who wants consideration thinks only of others. Nay more: before 1789, -individual security was only found in France by becoming one of a body, -the Robe, for example,[4] and by being protected by the members of -that body. The thoughts of your neighbour were then an integral and -necessary part of your happiness. This was still truer at the Court -than in Paris. It is easy to - -[Pg 165] -see how far such manners, which, to say the truth, are every day losing -their force, but which Frenchmen will retain for another century, are -favourable to great passions. - -Try to imagine a man throwing himself from a window, and at the same -time trying to reach the pavement in a graceful position. - -In France, the passionate man, merely as such, and in no other -light, is the object of general ridicule. Altogether, he offends his -fellow-men, and that gives wings to ridicule. - - -[1] In England, the gravest writers think they give themselves a smart -tone by quoting French words, which, for the most part, have never been -French, except in English grammars. See the writers for the _Edinburgh -Review_; see the Memoirs of the Comtesse de Lichtnau, mistress of the -last King of Prussia but one. - -[2] The fashionable admiration of Hume in 1775, for example, or of -Franklin in 1784, is no objection to what I say. - -[3] _Voyage en Espagne_, by M. Semple; he gives a true picture, and the -reader will find a description of the Battle of Trafalgar, heard in the -distance which sticks in the memory. - -[4] _Correspondance_ of Grimm, January, 1783. "Comte de N----, -Captain commanding the guards of the Duke of Orleans, being piqued at -finding no place left in the balcony, the day of the opening of the -new hall, was so ill-advised as to dispute his place with an honest -Procureur; the latter, one Maître Pernot, was by no means willing to -give it up.--'You've taken my place.'--'I'm in my own.'--'Who are -you?'--'I'm Mr. Six Francs'... (that is to say, the price of these -places). Then, angrier words, insults, jostling. Comte de N---- pushed -his indiscretion so far as to treat the poor joker as a thief, and -finally took it upon himself to order the sergeant on duty to arrest -the person of the Procureur, and to conduct him to the guard-room. -Maître Pernot surrendered with great dignity, and went out, only to go -and depose his complaint before a Commissary. The redoubtable body, of -which he had the honour to be a member, had no intention of letting the -matter drop. The affair came up before the Parlement. M. de N---- was -condemned to pay all the expenses, to make reparation to the Procureur, -to pay him two thousand crowns damages and interest, which were to -be applied, with the Procureur's consent, to the poor prisoners of -the Conciergerie; further, the said Count was very expressly enjoined -never again, under pretext of the king's orders, to interfere with -a performance, etc. This adventure made a lot of noise, and great -interests were mixed up in it: the whole Robe has considered itself -insulted by an outrage done to a man who wears its livery, etc. M. de -N----, that his affair may be forgotten, has gone to seek his laurels -at the Camp of St. Roch. He couldn't do better, people say, for no one -can doubt of his talent for carrying places by sheer force. Now suppose -an obscure philosopher in the place of Maître Pernot. Use of the Duel. -(Grimm, Part III, Vol. II, p. 102.) - -See further on, p. 496, a most sensible letter of Beaumarchais refusing -a closed box (_loge grillée_) for Figaro, which one of his friends had -asked of him. So long as people thought that his answer was addressed -to a Duke, there was great excitement, and they talked about severe -punishment. But it turned to laughter when Beaumarchais declared that -his letter was addressed to Monsieur le Président du Paty. It is a far -cry from 1785 to 1822! We no longer understand these feelings. And yet -people pretend that the same tragedies that touched those generations -are still good for us! - - -[Pg 166] - CHAPTER XLIII - - ITALY(27) - - -Italy's good fortune is that it has been left to the inspiration of the -moment, a good fortune which it shares, up to a certain point, with -Germany and England. - -Furthermore, Italy is a country where Utility, which was the guiding -principle of the mediæval republic,[1] has not been dethroned by Honour -or Virtue, disposed to the advantages of monarchy.[2] True honour leads -the way to the fool's honour. It accustoms men to ask themselves: What - -[Pg 167] -will my neighbour think of my happiness? But how can happiness of the -heart be an object of vanity, since no one can see it.?[3] In proof of -all this, France is the country, where there are fewer marriages from -inclination than anywhere else in the world.[4] - -And Italy has other advantages. The Italian has undisturbed leisure and -an admirable climate, which makes men sensible to beauty under every -form. He is extremely, yet reasonably, mistrustful, which increases the -aloofness of intimate love and doubles its charms. He reads no novels, -indeed hardly any books, and this leaves still more to the inspiration -of the moment. He has a passion for music, which excites in the soul a -movement very similar to that of love. - -In France, towards 1770, there was no mistrust.; on the contrary, it -was good form to live and die before the public. As the Duchess of -Luxemburg was intimate with a hundred friends, there was no intimacy -and no friendship, properly so-called. - -In Italy, passion, since it is not a very rare distinction, is not a -subject of ridicule,[5] and you may hear people in the _salons_ openly -quoting general maxims of love. The public knows the symptoms and -periods of this illness, and is very much concerned with it. They say -to a man who has been deserted: "You'll be in despair for six months, -but you'll get over it in the end, like So-and-so, etc." - -In Italy, public opinion is the very humble attendant on passion. Real -pleasure there exercises the power, which elsewhere is in the hands of -society. 'Tis quite simple--for society can give scarcely any pleasure -to a people, who has no time to be vain, and can have - -[Pg 168] -but little authority over those, who are only trying to escape the -notice of their "pacha"(29). The _blasés_ censure the passionate--but -who cares for them? South of the Alps, society is a despot without a -prison. - -As in Paris honour challenges, sword in hand, or, if possible, _bon -mot_ in the mouth, every approach to every recognised great interest, -it is much more convenient to take refuge in irony. Many young men have -taken up a different attitude, and become disciples of J. J. Rousseau -and Madame de Staël. As irony had become vulgar, one had to fall back -on feelings. A. de Pezai in our days writes like M. Darlincourt. -Besides, since 1789, everything tends to favour utility or individual -sensibility, as opposed to honour or the empire of opinion. The sight -of the two Chambers teaches people to discuss everything, even mere -nonsense. The nation is becoming serious, and gallantry is losing -ground. - -As a Frenchman, I ought to say that it is not a small number of -colossal fortunes, but the multiplicity of middling ones, that makes -up the riches of a country. In every country passion is rare, and -gallantry is more graceful and refined: in France, as a consequence, it -has better fortune. This great nation, the first in the world,[6] has -the same kind of aptitude for love as for intellectual achievements. -In 1822 we have, to be sure, no Moore, no Walter Scott, no Crabbe, -no Byron, no Monti, no Pellico; but we have among us more men of -intellect, clear-sighted, agreeable and up to the level of the lights -of this century, than England has, or Italy. It is for this reason that -the debates in our Chamber of Deputies in 1822, are so superior to -those in the English Parliament, and that when a Liberal from England -comes to France, we are quite surprised to find in him several opinions -which are distinctly feudal. - -[Pg 169] -A Roman artist wrote from Paris:-- - - I am exceedingly uncomfortable here; I suppose it's because I have no - leisure for falling in love at my ease. Here, sensibility is spent - drop by drop, just as it forms, in such a way, at least so I find it, - as to be a drain on the source. At Rome, owing to the little interest - created by the events of every day and the somnolence of the outside - world, sensibility accumulates to the profit of passion. - - -[1] G. Pecchio, in his very lively _Letters_ to a beautiful young -English woman, says on the subject of free Spain, where the Middle Ages -are not a revival, but have never ceased to exist (p. 60): "The aim of -the Spaniards was not glory, but independence. If the Spaniards had -only fought for honour, the war had ended with the battle of Tudela. -Honour is a thing of an odd nature--once soiled, it loses all its power -of action. ... The Spanish army of the line, having become imbued in -its turn with prejudices in favour of honour (that means having become -modern-European) disbanded, once beaten, with the thought that, with -honour, all was lost, etc." - -[2] In 1620 a man was honoured by saying unceasingly and as servilely -as he could: "The King my Master" (See the Memoirs of Noailles, Torcy -and all Lewis XIV's ambassadors). Quite simple--by this turn of phrase, -he proclaims the rank he occupies among subjects. This rank, dependent -on the King, takes the place, in the eyes and esteem of these subjects, -of the rank which in ancient Rome depended on the good opinion of his -fellow-citizens, who had seen him fighting at Trasimene and speaking -in the Forum. You can batter down absolute monarchy by destroying -vanity and its advance works, which it calls _conventions_. The dispute -between Shakespeare and Racine(28) is only one form of the dispute -between Louis XIV and constitutional government. - -[3] It can only be estimated in unpremeditated actions. - -[4] Miss O'Neil, Mrs. Couts, and most of the great English actresses, -leave the stage in order to marry rich husbands. - -[5] One can allow women gallantry, but love makes them laughed at, -wrote the judicious Abbé Girard in Paris in 1740. - -[6] I want no other proof than the world's envy. See the _Edinburgh -Review_ for 1821. See the German and Italian literary journals, and the -_Scimiatigre_ of Alfieri. - - -[Pg 170] - CHAPTER XLIV - - ROME - - -Only at Rome[1] can a respectable woman, seated in her carriage, say -effusively to another woman, a mere acquaintance, what I heard this -morning: "Ah, my dear, beware of love with Fabio Vitteleschi; better -for you to fall in love with a highwayman! For all his soft and -measured air, he is capable of stabbing you to the heart with a knife, -and of saying with the sweetest smile, while he plunged the knife into -your breast: 'Poor child, does it hurt?'" And this conversation took -place in the presence of a pretty young lady of fifteen, daughter of -the woman who received the advice, and a very wide-awake young lady. - -If a man from the North has the misfortune not to be shocked at first -by the candour of this southern capacity for love, which is nothing but -the simple product of a magnificent nature, favoured by the twofold -absence of _good form_ and of all interesting novelty, after a stay of -one year the women of all other countries will become intolerable to -him. - -He will find Frenchwomen, perfectly charming, with their little -graces,[2] seductive for the first three days, but boring the -fourth--fatal day, when one discovers that all these graces, studied -beforehand, and learned by - -[Pg 171] -rote, are eternally the same, every day and for every lover. - -He will see German women, on the contrary, so very natural, and giving -themselves up with so much ardour to their imagination, but often with -nothing to show in the end, for all their naturalness, but barrenness, -insipidity, and blue-stocking tenderness. The phrase of Count -Almaviva(30) seems made for Germany: "And one is quite astonished, one -fine evening, to find satiety, where one went to look for happiness." - -At Rome, the foreigner must not forget that, if nothing is tedious in -countries where everything is natural, the bad is there still more -bad than elsewhere. To speak only of the men,[3] we can see appearing -here in society a kind of monster, who elsewhere lies low--a man -passionate, clear-sighted and base, all in an equal degree. Suppose -evil chance has set him near a woman in some capacity or other: madly -in love with her, suppose, he will drink to the very dregs the misery -of seeing her prefer a rival. There he is to oppose her happier lover. -Nothing escapes him, and everyone sees that nothing escapes him; but he -continues none the less, in despite of every honourable sentiment, to -trouble the woman, her lover and himself. No one blames him--"That's -his way of getting pleasure."--"He is doing what gives him pleasure." -One evening, the lover, at the end of his patience, gives him a -kick. The next day the wretch is full of excuses, and begins again -to torment, constantly and imperturbably, the woman, the lover and -himself. One shudders, when one thinks of the amount of unhappiness -that these base spirits have every day to swallow--and doubtless there -is but one grain less of cowardice between them and a poisoner. - -It is also only in Italy that you can see young and elegant -millionaires entertaining with magnificence, in - -[Pg 172] -full view of a whole town, ballet girls from a big theatre, at a cost -of thirty halfpence a day.[4] - -Two brothers X----, fine young fellows, always hunting and on -horseback, are jealous of a foreigner. Instead of going and laying -their complaint before him, they are sullen, and spread abroad -unfavourable reports of this poor foreigner. In France, public opinion -would force such men to prove their words or give satisfaction to -the foreigner. Here public opinion and contempt mean nothing. Riches -are always certain of being well received everywhere. A millionaire, -dishonoured and excluded from every house in Paris, can go quite -securely to Rome; there he will be estimated just according to the -value of his dollars. - - -[1] September 30th, 1819. - -[2] Not only had the author the misfortune not to be born at Paris, but -he had also lived there very little. (Editor's note.) - -[3] Heu! male nunc artes miseras haec secula tractant; - Jam tener assuevit munera velle puer. (Tibull., I, iv.) - -[4] See in the manners of the age of Lewis XV how Honour and -Aristocracy load with profusion such ladies as Duthé, La Guerre -and others. Eighty or a hundred thousand francs a year was nothing -extraordinary; with less, a man of fashion would have lowered himself. - - -[Pg 173] - CHAPTER XLV - - ENGLAND(31) - - -I have lived a good deal of late with the ballet-girls of the Teatro -Del Sol, at Valencia. People assure me that many of them are very -chaste; the reason being that their profession is too fatiguing. Vigano -makes them rehearse his ballet, the _Jewess of Toledo_, every day, from -ten in the morning to four, and from midnight to three in the morning. -Besides this, they have to dance every evening in both ballets. - -This reminds me that Rousseau prescribes a great deal of walking for -Émile. This evening I was strolling at midnight with these little -ballet girls out along the seashore, and I was thinking especially how -unknown to us, in our sad lands of mist, is this superhuman delight -in the freshness of a sea breeze under this Valencian sky, under the -eyes of these resplendent stars that seem close above us. This alone -repays the journey of four hundred leagues; this it is that banishes -thought, for feeling is too strong. I thought that the chastity of my -little ballet girls gives the explanation of the course adopted by -English pride, in order, little by little, to bring back the morals of -the harem into the midst of a civilised nation. One sees how it is that -some of these young English girls, otherwise so beautiful and with so -touching an expression, leave something to be desired as regards ideas. -In spite of liberty, which has only just been banished from their -island, and the admirable originality of their national character, they -lack interesting ideas and originality. Often there is nothing - -[Pg 174] -remarkable in them but the extravagance of their refinements. It's -simple enough--in England the modesty of the women is the pride of -their husbands. But, however submissive a slave may be, her society -becomes sooner or later a burden. Hence, for the men, the necessity -of getting drunk solemnly every evening,[1] instead of as in Italy, -passing the evening with their mistresses. In England, rich people, -bored with their homes and under the pretext of necessary exercise, -walk four or five leagues a day, as if man were created and put into -the world to trot up and down it. They use up their nervous fluid by -means of their legs, not their hearts; after which, they may well talk -of female refinement and look down on Spain and Italy. - -No life, on the other hand, could be less busy than that of young -Italians; to them all action is importunate, if it take away their -sensibility. From time to time they take a walk of half a league for -health's sake, as an unpleasant medicine. As for the women, a Roman -woman in a whole year does not walk as far as a young Miss in a week. - -It seems to me that the pride of an English husband exalts very -adroitly the vanity of his wretched wife. He persuades her, first of -all, that one must not be vulgar, and the mothers, who are getting -their daughters ready to find husbands, are quick enough to seize upon -this idea. Hence fashion is far more absurd and despotic in reasonable -England than in the midst of light-hearted France: in Bond Street was -invented the idea of the "carefully careless." In England fashion is -a duty, at Paris it is a pleasure. In London fashion raises a wall of -bronze between New Bond Street and Fenchurch Street far different from -that between the Chaussée d'Antin and the rue Saint-Martin at Paris. -Husbands are quite - -[Pg 175] -willing to allow their wives this aristocratic nonsense, to make up -for the enormous amount of unhappiness, which they impose on them. I -recognise a perfect picture of women's society in England, such as the -taciturn pride of its men produces, in the once celebrated novels of -Miss Burney. Since it is vulgar to ask for a glass of water, when one -is thirsty, Miss Burney's heroines do not fail to let themselves die of -thirst. While flying from vulgarity, they fall into the most abominable -affectation. - -Compare the prudence of a young Englishman of twenty-two with the -profound mistrust of a young Italian of the same age. The Italian must -be mistrustful to be safe, but this mistrust he puts aside, or at least -forgets, as soon as he becomes intimate, while it is apparently just -in his most tender relationships that you see the young Englishman -redouble his prudence and aloofness. I once heard this:-- - -"In the last seven months I haven't spoken to her of the trip to -Brighton." This was a question of a necessary economy of twenty-four -pounds, and a lover of twenty-two years speaking of a mistress, a -married woman, whom he adored. In the transports of his passion -prudence had not left him: far less had he let himself go enough to say -to his mistress: "I shan't go to Brighton, because I should feel the -pinch." - -Note that the fate of Gianone de Pellico, and of a hundred others, -forces the Italian to be mistrustful, while the young English _beau_ is -only forced to be prudent by the excessive and morbid sensibility of -his vanity. A Frenchman, charming enough with his inspirations of the -minute, tells everything to her he loves. It is habit. Without it he -would lack ease, and he knows that without ease there is no grace. - -It is with difficulty and with tears in my eyes that I have plucked up -courage to write all this; but, since I would not, I'm sure, flatter a -king, why should I say of a country anything but what seems to me the - -[Pg 176] -truth? Of course it may be all very absurd, for the simple reason that -this country gave birth to the most lovable woman that I have known. - -It would be another form of cringing before a monarch. I will -content myself with adding that in the midst of all this variety of -manners, among so many Englishwomen, who are the spiritual victims -of Englishmen's pride, a perfect form of originality does exist, and -that a family, brought up aloof from these distressing restrictions -(invented to reproduce the morals of the harem) may be responsible -for charming characters. And how insufficient, in spite of its -etymology,--and how common--is this word "charming" to render what I -would express. The gentle Imogen, the tender Ophelia might find plenty -of living models in England; but these models are far from enjoying the -high veneration that is unanimously accorded to the true accomplished -Englishwoman, whose destiny is to show complete obedience to every -convention and to afford a husband full enjoyment of the most morbid -aristocratic pride and a happiness that makes him die of boredom.[2] - -In the great suites of fifteen or twenty rooms, so fresh and so dark, -in which Italian women pass their lives softly propped on low divans, -they hear people speak of love and of music for six hours in the day. -At night, at the theatre, hidden in their boxes for four hours, they -hear people speak of music and love. - -Then, besides the climate, the whole way of living is in Spain or Italy -as favourable to music and love, as it is the contrary in England. - -I neither blame nor approve; I observe. - - -[1] This custom begins to give way a little in very good society, -which is becoming French, as everywhere; but I'm speaking of the vast -generality. - -[2] See Richardson: the manners of the Harlowe family, translated into -modern manners, are frequent in England. Their servants are worth more -than they. - - -[Pg 177] - CHAPTER XLVI - - ENGLAND--(_continued_) - - -I love England too much and I have seen of her too little to be able to -speak on the subject. I shall make use of the observations of a friend. - -In the actual state of Ireland (1822) is realised, for the twentieth -time in two centuries,[1] that curious state of society which is so -fruitful of courageous resolutions, and so opposed to a monotonous -existence, and in which people, who breakfast gaily together, may -meet in two hours' time on the field of battle. Nothing makes a -more energetic and direct appeal to that disposition of the spirit, -which is most favourable to the tender passions--to naturalness. -Nothing is further removed from the two great English vices--cant and -bashfulness,--moral hypocrisy and haughty, painful timidity. (See the -Travels of Mr. Eustace(32) in Italy.) If this traveller gives a poor -picture of the country, in return he gives a very exact idea of his own -character, and this character, as that of Mr. Beattie(32), the poet -(see his Life written by an intimate friend), is unhappily but too -common in England. For the priest, honest in spite of his cloth, refer -to the letters of the Bishop of Landaff.[2](32). - -One would have thought Ireland already unfortunate enough, bled as -it has been for two centuries by the cowardly and cruel tyranny of -England; but now there - -[Pg 178] -enters into the moral state of Ireland a terrible personage: the -PRIEST.... - -For two centuries Ireland has been almost as badly governed as Sicily. -A thorough comparison between these two islands, in a volume of five -hundred pages, would offend many people and overwhelm many established -theories with ridicule. What is evident is that the happiest of these -two countries--both of them governed by fools, only for the profit of -a minority--is Sicily. Its governors have at least left it its love of -pleasure; they would willingly have robbed it of this as of the rest, -but, thanks to its climate, Sicily knows little of that moral evil -called Law and Government.[3] - -It is old men and priests who make the laws and have them executed, -and this seems quite in keeping with the comic jealousy, with which -pleasure is hunted down in the British Isles. The people there might -say to its governors as Diogenes said to Alexander: "Be content with -your sinecures, but please don't step between me and my daylight."[4] - -By means of laws, rules, counter-rules and punishments, the Government -in Ireland has created the potato, and the population of Ireland -exceeds by far that of Sicily. This is to say, they have produced -several millions of degenerate and half-witted peasants, broken down by - -[Pg 179] -work and misery, dragging out a wretched life of some forty or fifty -years among the marshes of old Erin--and, you may be sure, paying their -taxes! A real miracle! With the pagan religion these poor wretches -would at least have enjoyed some happiness--but not a bit of it, they -must adore St. Patrick. - -Everywhere in Ireland one sees none but peasants more miserable than -savages. Only, instead of there being a hundred thousand, as there -would be in a state of nature, there are eight millions,[5] who allow -five hundred "absentees" to live in prosperity at London or Paris. - -Society is infinitely more advanced in Scotland,[6] where, in very many -respects, government is good (the rarity of crime, the diffusion of -reading, the non-existence of bishops, etc.). There the tender passions -can develop much more freely, and it is possible to leave these sombre -thoughts and approach the humorous. - -One cannot fail to notice a foundation of melancholy in Scottish women. -This melancholy is particularly seductive at dances, where it gives -a singular piquancy to the extreme ardour and energy with which they -perform their national dances. Edinburgh has another advantage, that -of being withdrawn from the vile empire of money. In this, as well -as in the singular and savage beauty of its site, this city forms -a complete contrast with London. Like Rome, fair Edinburgh seems -rather the sojourn of the contemplative life. At London you have the -ceaseless whirlwind and restless interests of active life, with all its -advantages and inconveniences. Edinburgh seems to me to pay its tribute -to the devil by a slight disposition to pedantry. Those days when Mary -Stuart lived at old Holyrood, and Riccio was assassinated in her arms, -were worth more to Love (and here all - -[Pg 180] -women will agree with me) than to-day, when one discusses at such -length, and even in their presence, the preference to be accorded -to the neptunian system over the vulcanian system of ... I prefer a -discussion on the new uniform given by the king to the Guards, or on -the peerage which Sir B. Bloomfield(35) failed to get--the topic of -London in my day--to a learned discussion as to who has best explored -the nature of rocks, de Werner or de.... - -I say nothing about the terrible Scottish Sunday, after which a Sunday -in London looks like a beanfeast. That day, set aside for the honour -of Heaven, is the best image of Hell that I have ever seen on earth. -"Don't let's walk so fast," said a Scotchman returning from church to a -Frenchman, his friend; "people might think we were going for a walk."[7] - -Of the three countries, Ireland is the one in which there is the least -hypocrisy. See the _New Monthly Magazine_ thundering against Mozart and -the _Nozze di Figaro_.[8] - -In every country it is the aristocrats, who try to judge a literary -magazine and literature; and for the last four years in England these -have been hand in glove with the bishops. As I say, that of the three -countries where, it seems to me, there is the least hypocrisy, is -Ireland: on the contrary, you find there a reckless, a most fascinating -vivacity. In Scotland there is the strict observance of Sunday, but on -Monday they dance with a joy and an abandon unknown to London. There is -plenty of love among the peasant class in Scotland. The omnipotence of -imagination gallicised the country in the sixteenth century. - -The terrible fault of English society, that which in a single day -creates a greater amount of sadness than the national debt and its -consequences, and even than the - -[Pg 181] -war to the death waged by the rich against the poor, is this sentence -which I heard last autumn at Croydon, before the beautiful statue of -the bishop: "In society no one wants to put himself forward, for fear -of being deceived in his expectations." - -Judge what laws, under the name of modesty, such men must impose on -their wives and mistresses. - - -[1] The young child of Spenser was burnt alive in Ireland. - -[2] To refute otherwise than by insults the portraiture of a certain -class of Englishmen presented in these three works seems to me an -impossible task. Satanic school. - -[3] I call moral evil, in 1822, every government which has not got two -chambers; the only exception can be when the head of the government is -great by reason of his probity, a miracle to be seen in Saxony and at -Naples. - -[4] See in the trial of the late Queen of England(33), a curious list -of the peers with the sums which they and their families receive from -the State. For example, Lord Lauderdale and his family, £36,000. -The half-pint of beer that is necessary to the miserable existence -of the poorest Englishman, is taxed a halfpenny for the profit of -the noble peer. And, what is very much to the point, both of them -know it. As a result, neither the lord nor the peasant have leisure -enough to think of love; they are sharpening their arms, the one -publicly and haughtily, the other secretly and enraged. (Yeomanry and -Whiteboys.)(34). - -[5] Plunkett Craig, _Life of Curran_. - -[6] Degree of civilisation to be seen in the peasant Robert Burns and -his family; a peasants' club with a penny subscription each meeting; -the questions discussed there. (See the Letters of Burns.) - -[7] The same in America. In Scotland, display of titles. - -[8] January, 1822, _Cant_. - - -[Pg 182] - CHAPTER XLVII - - SPAIN(36) - - -Andalusia is one of the most charming sojourns that Pleasure has chosen -for itself on earth. I had three or four anecdotes to show how my ideas -about the three or four different acts of madness, which together -constitute Love, hold good for Spain: I have been advised to sacrifice -them to French refinement. In vain I protested that I wrote in French, -but emphatically not French literature. God preserve me from having -anything in common with the French writers esteemed to-day! - -The Moors, when they abandoned Andalusia, left it their architecture -and much of their manners. Since it is impossible for me to speak -of the latter in the language of Madame de Sévigné, I'll at least -say this of Moorish architecture:--its principal trait consists in -providing every house with a little garden surrounded by an elegant and -graceful portico. There, during the unbearable heat of summer, when -for whole weeks together the Réaumur thermometer never falls below -a constant level of thirty degrees, a delicious obscurity pervades -these porticoes. In the middle of the little garden there is always -a fountain, monotonous and voluptuous, whose sound is all that stirs -this charming retreat. The marble basin is surrounded by a dozen -orange-trees and laurels. A thick canvas, like a tent, covers in the -whole of the little garden, and, while it protects it from the rays of -the sun and from the light, lets in the gentle - -[Pg 183] -breezes which, at midday, come down from the mountains. - -There live and receive their guests the fair ladies of Andalusia: a -simple black silk robe, ornamented with fringes of the same colour, -and giving glimpses of a charming ankle; a pale complexion and eyes -that mirror all the most fugitive shades of the most tender and ardent -passion--such are the celestial beings, whom I am forbidden to bring -upon the scene. - -I look upon the Spanish people as the living representatives of the -Middle Age. - -It is ignorant of a mass of little truths (the puerile vanity of its -neighbours); but it has a profound knowledge of great truths and -enough character and wit to follow their consequences down to their -most remote effects. The Spanish character offers a fine contrast to -French intellect--hard, brusque, inelegant, full of savage pride, and -unconcerned with others. It is just the contrast of the fifteenth with -the eighteenth century. - -Spain provides me with a good contrast; the only people, that was able -to withstand Napoleon, seems to me to be absolutely lacking in the -fool's honour and in all that is foolish in honour. - -Instead of making fine military ordinances, of changing uniforms -every six months and of wearing large spurs, Spain has general _No -importa_.[1] - -[1] See the charming Letters of M. Pecchio. Italy is full of people of -this wonderful type; but, instead of letting themselves be seen, they -try to keep quiet--_paese della virtù scunosciuta_--"Land of mute, -inglorious virtue. - - -[Pg 184] - CHAPTER XLVIII - - GERMAN LOVE(37) - - -If the Italian, always agitated between love and hate, is a creature of -passion, and the Frenchman of vanity, the good and simple descendants -of the ancient Germans are assuredly creatures of imagination. Scarcely -raised above social interests, the most directly necessary to their -subsistence, one is amazed to see them soar into what they call their -philosophy, which is a sort of gentle, lovable, quite harmless folly. -I am going to cite, not altogether from memory, but from hurriedly -taken notes, a work whose author, though writing in a tone of -opposition, illustrates clearly, even in his admirations, the military -spirit in all its excesses--I speak of the Travels in Austria of M. -Cadet-Gassicourt, in 1809. What would the noble and generous Desaix -have said, if he had seen the pure heroism of '95 lead on to this -execrable egoism? - -Two friends find themselves side by side with a battery at the battle -of Talavera, one as Captain in command, the other as lieutenant. A -passing bullet lays the Captain low. "Good," says the lieutenant, -quite beside himself with joy, "that's done for Francis--now I shall -be Captain." "Not so quick," cries Francis, as he gets up. He had only -been stunned by the bullet. The lieutenant, as well as the Captain, -were the best fellows in the world, not a bit ill-natured, and only -a little stupid; the excitement of the chase and the furious egoism -which the Emperor had succeeded in awakening, by decorating it with the -name of glory, made these enthusiastic worshippers of him forget their -humanity. - -After the harsh spectacle offered by men like this, who - -[Pg 185] -dispute on parade at Schoenbrunn for a look from their master and a -barony--see how the Emperor's apothecary describes German love, page -188: - -"Nothing can be more sweet, more gentle, than an Austrian woman. With -her, love is a cult, and when she is attached to a Frenchman, she -adores him--in the full force of the word. - -"There are light, capricious women everywhere, but in general the -Viennese are faithful and in no way coquettes; when I say that they are -faithful, I mean to the lover of their own choice, for husbands are the -same at Vienna as everywhere else" (June 7, 1809). - -The most beautiful woman of Vienna accepts the homage of one of my -friends, M. M----, a captain attached to the Emperor's headquarters. -He's a young man, gentle and witty, but certainly neither his figure -nor face are in any way remarkable. - -For some days past his young mistress has made a very great sensation -among our brilliant staff officers, who pass their life ferreting about -in every corner of Vienna. It has become a contest of daring. Every -possible manœuvre has been employed. The fair one's house has been -put in a state of siege by all the best-looking and richest. Pages, -brilliant colonels, generals of the guard, even princes, have gone -to waste their time under her windows, and their money on the fair -lady's servants. All have been turned away. These princes were little -accustomed to find a deaf ear at Paris or Milan. When I laughed at -their discomfiture before this charming creature: "But good Heavens," -she said, "don't they know that I'm in love with M. M....?" - -A singular remark and certainly a most improper one! - -Page 290: "While we were at Schoenbrunn I noticed that two young men, -who were attached to the Emperor, never received anyone in their -lodgings at Vienna. We used to chaff them a lot on their discretion. -One of them said to me one day: 'I'll keep no secrets from - -[Pg 186] -you: a young woman of the place has given herself to me, on condition -that she need never leave my apartment, and that I never receive anyone -at all without her leave.' I was curious," says the traveller, "to know -this voluntary recluse, and my position as doctor giving me, as in the -East, an honourable pretext, I accepted a breakfast offered me by my -friend. The woman I found was very much in love, took the greatest care -of the household, never wanted to go out, though it was just a pleasant -time of the year for walking--and for the rest, was quite certain that -her lover would take her back with him to France. - -"The other young man, who was also never to be found in his rooms, soon -after made me a similar confession. I also saw his mistress. Like the -first, she was fair, very pretty, and an excellent figure. - -"The one, eighteen years of age, was the daughter of a well-to-do -upholsterer; the other, who was about twenty-four, was the wife of -an Austrian officer, on service with the army of the Archduke John. -This latter pushed her love to the verge of what we, in our land of -vanity, would call heroism. Not only was her lover faithless to her, -he also found himself under the necessity of making a confession of -a most unpleasant nature. She nursed him with complete devotion; the -seriousness of his illness attached her to her lover; and perhaps she -only cherished him the more for it, when soon after his life was in -danger. - -"It will be understood that I, a stranger and a conqueror, have had -no chance of observing love in the highest circles, seeing that the -whole of the aristocracy of Vienna had retired at our approach to their -estates in Hungary. But I have seen enough of it to be convinced that -it is not the same love as at Paris. - -"The feeling of love is considered by the Germans as a virtue, as an -emanation of the Divinity, as something mystical. It is riot quick, -impetuous, jealous, tyrannical, - -[Pg 187] -as it is in the heart of an Italian woman: it is profound and something -like illuminism; in this Germany is a thousand miles away from England. - -"Some years ago a Leipsic tailor, in a fit of jealousy, waited for his -rival in the public garden and stabbed him. He was condemned to lose -his head. The moralists of the town, faithful to the German traditions -of kindness and unhampered emotion (which makes for feebleness of -character) discussed the sentence, decided that it was severe and, -making a comparison between the tailor and Orosmanes, were moved to -pity for his fate. Nevertheless they were unable to have his sentence -mitigated. But the day of the execution, all the young girls of -Leipsic, dressed in white, met together and accompanied the tailor to -the scaffold, throwing flowers in his path. - -"No one thought this ceremony odd; yet, in a country which considers -itself logical, it might be said that it was honouring a species of -murder. But it was a ceremony--and everything which is a ceremony, -is always safe from ridicule in Germany. See the ceremonies at the -Courts of the small princes, which would make us Frenchmen die with -laughter, but appear quite imposing at Meiningen or Koethen. In the six -gamekeepers who file past their little prince, adorned with his star, -they see the soldiers of Arminius marching out to meet the legions of -Varus. - -"A point of difference between the Germans and all other peoples: they -are exalted, instead of calming themselves, by meditation. A second -subtle point: they are all eaten up with the desire to have character. - -"Life at Court, ordinarily so favourable to love, in Germany deadens -it. You have no idea of the mass of incomprehensible _minutiæ_ and the -pettinesses that constitute what is called a German Court,[1]--even the -Court of the best princes. (Munich, 1820). - -[Pg 188] -"When we used to arrive with the staff in a German town, at the end -of the first fortnight the ladies of the district had made their -choice. But that choice was constant; and I have heard it said that -the French were a shoal, on which foundered many a virtue till then -irreproachable." - - * * * * * - -The young Germans whom I have met at Gottingen, Dresden, Koenigsberg, -etc., are brought up among pseudo-systems of philosophy, which are -merely obscure and badly written poetry, but, as regards their ethics, -of the highest and holiest sublimity. They seem to me to have inherited -from their Middle Age, not like the Italians, republicanism, mistrust -and the dagger, but a strong disposition to enthusiasm and good faith. -Thus it is that every ten years they have a new great man who's going -to efface all the others. (Kant, Steding, Fichte, etc. etc.[2]) - -Formerly Luther made a powerful appeal to the moral sense, and the -Germans fought thirty years on end, in order to obey their conscience. -It's a fine word and one quite worthy of respect, however absurd -the belief; I say worthy of respect even from an artist. See the -struggle in the soul of S---- between the third [sixth] commandment of -God--"Thou shalt not kill"--and what he believed to be the interest of -his country. - -Already in Tacitus we find a mystical enthusiasm for women and love, at -least if that writer was not merely aiming his satire at Rome.[3] - -One has not been five hundred miles in Germany, - -[Pg 189] -before one can distinguish in this people, disunited and scattered, -a foundation of enthusiasm, soft and tender, rather than ardent and -impetuous. - -If this disposition were not so apparent, it would be enough to reread -three or four of the novels of Auguste La Fontaine, whom the pretty -Louise, Queen of Prussia, made Canon of Magdeburg, as a reward for -having so well painted the Peaceful Life.[4] - -I see a new proof of this disposition, which is common to all the -Germans, in the Austrian code, which demands the confession of the -guilty for the punishment of almost all crimes. This code is calculated -to fit a people, among whom crime is a rare phenomenon, and sooner -an excess of madness in a feeble being than the effect of interests, -daring, reasoned and for ever in conflict with society. It is precisely -the contrary of what is wanted in Italy, where they are trying to -introduce it--a mistake of well-meaning people. - -I have seen German judges in Italy in despair over sentences of death -or, what's the equivalent, the irons, if they were obliged to pronounce -it without the confession of the guilty. - - -[1] See the Memoirs of the Margrave de Bayreuth and _Vingt ans de -séjour à Berlin_, by M. Thiébaut. - -[2] See in 1821 their enthusiasm for the tragedy, the _Triumph of the -Cross_,(38) which has caused _Wilhelm Tell_ to be forgotten. - -[3] I have had the good fortune to meet a man of the liveliest wit, -and at the same time as learned as ten German professors, and one who -discloses his discoveries in terms clear and precise. If ever M. F.(39) -publishes, we shall see the Middle Age revealed to our eyes in a full -light, and we shall love it. - -[4] The title of one of the novels of Auguste La Fontaine. The peaceful -life, another great trait of German manners--it is the "farniente" of -the Italian, and also the physiological commentary on a Russian droski -and on the English "horseback." - - -[Pg 190] - CHAPTER XLIX - - A DAY IN FLORENCE - - -FLORENCE, _February_ 12, 1819. - -This evening, in a box at the theatre, I met a man who had some -favour to ask of a magistrate, aged fifty. His first question was: -"Who is his mistress? _Chi avvicina adesso?_" Here everyone's -affairs are absolutely public; they have their own laws; there is -an approved manner of acting, which is based on justice without any -conventionality--if you act otherwise, you are a _porco_. - -"What's the news?" one of my friends asked yesterday, on his arrival -from Volterra. After a word of vehement lamentation about Napoleon -and the English, someone adds, in a tone of the liveliest interest: -"La Vitteleschi has changed her lover: poor Gherardesca is in -despair."--"Whom has she taken?"--"Montegalli, the good-looking officer -with a moustache, who had Princess Colonna; there he is down in the -stalls, nailed to her box; he's there the whole evening, because her -husband won't have him in the house, and there near the door you can -see poor Gherardesca, walking about so sadly and counting afar the -glances, which his faithless mistress throws his successor. He's very -changed and in the depths of despair; it's quite useless for his -friends to try to send him to Paris or London. He is ready to die, he -says, at the very idea of leaving Florence." - -Every year there are twenty such cases of despair in high circles; some -of them I have seen last three or four - -[Pg 191] -years. These poor devils are without any shame and take the whole world -into their confidence. For the rest, there's little society here, and -besides, when one's in love, one hardly mixes with it. It must not be -thought that great passions and great hearts are at all common, even in -Italy; only, in Italy, hearts which are more inflamed and less stunted -by the thousand little cares of our vanity, find delicious pleasures -even in the subaltern species of love. In Italy I have seen love from -caprice, for example, cause transports and moments of madness, such as -the most violent passion has never brought with it under the meridian -of Paris.[1] - -I noticed this evening that there are proper names in Italian for a -million particular circumstances in love, which, in French, would need -endless paraphrases; for example, the action of turning sharply away, -when from the floor of the house you are quizzing a woman you are in -love with, and the husband or a servant come towards the front of her -box. - -The following are the principal traits in the character of this -people:-- - -1. The attention, habitually at the service of deep passions, cannot -move rapidly. This is the most marked difference between a Frenchman -and an Italian. You have only to see an Italian get into a diligence or -make a payment, to understand "la furia francese." It's for this reason -that the most vulgar Frenchman, provided that he is not a witty fool, -like Démasure, always seems a superior being to an Italian woman. (The -lover of Princess D---- at Rome.) - -2. Everyone is in love, and not under cover, as in France; the husband -is the best friend of the lover. - -3. No one reads. - -4. There is no society. A man does not reckon, in - -[Pg 192] -order to fill up and occupy his life, on the happiness which he derives -from two hours' conversation and the play of vanity in this or that -house. The word _causerie_ cannot be translated into Italian. People -speak when they have something to say, to forward a passion, but they -rarely talk just in order to talk on any given subject. - -5. Ridicule does not exist in Italy. - -In France, both of us are trying to imitate the same model, and I am a -competent judge of the way in which you copy it.[2] In Italy I cannot -say whether the peculiar action, which I see this man perform, does not -give pleasure to the performer and might not, perhaps, give pleasure to -me. - -What is affectation of language or manner at Rome, is good form or -unintelligible at Florence, which is only fifty leagues away. The same -French is spoken at Lyons as at Nantes. Venetian, Neapolitan Genoese, -Piedmontese are almost entirely different languages, and only spoken -by people who are agreed never to print except in a common language, -namely that spoken at Rome. Nothing is so absurd as a comedy, with -the scene laid at Milan and the characters speaking Roman. It is only -by music that the Italian language, which is far more fit to be sung -than spoken, will hold its own against the clearness of French, which -threatens it. - -In Italy, fear of the "pacha"(29) and his spies causes the useful to be -held in esteem; the fool's honour simply doesn't exist.[3] Its place -is taken by a kind of petty hatred of society, called "petegolismo." -Finally, to make fun of a person is to make a mortal enemy, a -very dangerous thing in a country where the power and activity of -governments is limited to exacting taxes and punishing everything above -the common level. - -[Pg 193] -6. The patriotism of the antechamber. - -That pride which leads a man to seek the esteem of his fellow-citizens -and to make himself one of them, but which in Italy was cut off, about -the year 1550, from any noble enterprise by the jealous despotism of -the small Italian princes, has given birth to a barbarous product, -to a sort of Caliban, to a monster full of fury and sottishness, the -patriotism of the antechamber, as M. Turgot called it, _à propos_ of -the siege of Calais (the _Soldat laboureur_(40) of those times.) I have -seen this monster blunt the sharpest spirits. For example, a stranger -will make himself unpopular, even with pretty women, if he thinks fit -to find anything wrong with the painter or poet of the town; he will -be soon told, and that very seriously, that he ought not to come among -people to laugh at them, and they will quote to him on this topic a -saying of Lewis XIV about Versailles. - -At Florence people say: "our Benvenuti," as at Brescia--"our Arrici": -they put on the word "our" a certain emphasis, restrained yet very -comical, not unlike the _Miroir_ talking with unction about national -music and of M. Monsigny, the musician of Europe. - -In order not to laugh in the face of these fine patriots one must -remember that, owing to the dissensions of the Middle Age, envenomed by -the vile policy of the Popes,[4] each city has a mortal hatred for its -neighbour, and the name of the inhabitants in the one always stands in -the other as a synonym for some gross fault. The Popes have succeeded -in making this beautiful land into the kingdom of hate. - -This patriotism of the antechamber is the greatest moral sore in -Italy, a corrupting germ that will still show its disastrous effects -long after Italy has thrown off the yoke of its ridiculous little -priests.[5] The form of this patriotism is an inexorable hatred for -everything foreign. - -[Pg 194] -Thus they look on the Germans as fools, and get angry when someone -says: "What has Italy in the eighteenth century produced the equal of -Catherine II or Frederick the Great? Where have you an English garden -comparable to the smallest German garden, you who, with your climate, -have a real need of shade?" - -7. Unlike the English or French, the Italians have no political -prejudices; they all know by heart the line of La Fontaine:-- - - Notre ennemi c'est notre M.[6] - -Aristocracy, supported by the priest and a biblical state of society, -is a worn-out illusion which only makes them smile. In return, an -Italian needs a stay of three months in France to realise that a draper -may be a conservative. - -8. As a last trait of character I would mention intolerance in -discussion, and anger as soon as they do not find an argument ready -to hand, to throw out against that of their adversary. At that point -they visibly turn pale. It is one form of their extreme sensibility, -but it is not one of its most amiable forms: consequently it is one -of those that I am most willing to admit as proof of the existence of -sensibility. - -I wanted to see love without end, and, after considerable difficulty, I -succeeded in being introduced this evening to Chevalier C---- and his -mistress, with whom he has lived for fifty-four years. I left the box -of these charming old people, my heart melted; there I saw the art of -being happy, an art ignored by so many young people. - -Two months ago I saw Monsignor R----, by whom I was well received, -because I brought him some copies of the _Minerve_. He was at his -country house with Madame D----, whom he is still pleased, after -thirty-four years, "_avvicinare_," as they say. She is still beautiful, -but there is a touch of melancholy in this household. People - -[Pg 195] -attribute it to the loss of a son, who was poisoned long ago by her -husband. - -Here, to be in love does not mean, as at Paris, to see one's mistress -for a quarter of an hour every week, and for the rest of the time to -obtain a look or a shake of the hand: the lover, the happy lover, -passes four or five hours every day with the woman he loves. He talks -to her about his actions at law, his English garden, his hunting -parties, his prospects, etc. There is the completest, the most tender -intimacy. He speaks to her with the familiar "_tu_," even in the -presence of her husband and everywhere. - -A young man of this country, one very ambitious as he believed, was -called to a high position at Vienna (nothing less than ambassador). But -he could not get used to his stay abroad. At the end of six months he -said good-bye to his job, and returned to be happy in his mistress's -box at the opera. - -Such continual intercourse would be inconvenient in France, where one -must display a certain degree of affectation, and where your mistress -can quite well say to you: "Monsieur So-and-so, you're glum this -evening; you don't say a word." In Italy it is only a matter of telling -the woman you love everything that passes through your head--you must -actually think aloud. There is a certain nervous state which results -from intimacy; freedom provokes freedom, and is only to be got in this -way. But there is one great inconvenience; you find that love in this -way paralyses all your tastes and renders all the other occupations of -your life insipid. Such love is the best substitute for passion. - -Our friends at Paris, who are still at the stage of trying to conceive -that it's possible to be a Persian(71), not knowing what to say, will -cry out that such manners are indecent. To begin with, I am only an -historian; and secondly, I reserve to myself the right to show one day, -by dint of solid reasoning, that as regards - -[Pg 196] -manners and fundamentally, Paris is not superior to Bologna. -Quite unconsciously these poor people are still repeating their -twopence-halfpenny catechism. - -12 _July_, 1821. There is nothing odious in the society of Bologna. At -Paris the role of a deceived husband is execrable; here (at Bologna) it -is nothing--there are no deceived husbands. Manners are the same, it is -only hate that is missing; the recognised lover is always the husband's -friend, and this friendship, which has been cemented by reciprocal -services, quite often survives other interests. Most love-affairs last -five or six years, many for ever. People part at last, when they no -longer find it sweet to tell each other everything, and when the first -month of the rupture is over, there is no bitterness. - -_January_, 1822. The ancient mode of the _cavaliere servente_, imported -into Italy by Philip II, along with Spanish pride and manners, has -entirely fallen into disuse in the large towns. I know of only one -exception, and that's Calabria, where the eldest brother always takes -orders, marries his younger brother, sets up in the service of his -sister-in-law and becomes at the same time her lover. - -Napoleon banished libertinism from upper Italy, and even from here -(Naples). - -The morals of the present generation of pretty women shame their -mothers; they are more favourable to passion-love, but physical love -has lost a great deal.[7] - - -[1] Of that Paris which has given the world Voltaire, Molière and so -many men of distinguished wit--but one can't have everything, and it -would show little wit to be annoyed at it. - -[2] This French habit, growing weaker every day, will increase the -distance between us and Molière's heroes. - -[3] Every infraction of this honour is a subject of ridicule in -bourgeois circles in France. (See M. Picard's _Petite Ville_.) - -[4] See the excellent and curious _Histoire de l'Église_, by M. de -Potter. - -[5] 1822. - -[6] [Our enemy is our Master.--_Fables_, VI, 8.--Tr.] - -[7] Towards 1780 the maxim ran: - - Molti averne, - Un goderne, - E cambiar spesso - -Travels of Shylock [Sherlock?--Tr.]. - - -[Pg 197] - CHAPTER L - - LOVE IN THE UNITED STATES(41) - - -A free government is a government which does no harm to its citizens, -but which, on the contrary, gives them security and tranquillity. -But 'tis a long cry from this to happiness. That a man must find for -himself; for he must be a gross creature who thinks himself perfectly -happy, because he enjoys security and tranquillity. We mix these things -up in Europe, especially in Italy. Accustomed as we are to governments, -which do us harm, it seems to us that to be delivered from them would -be supreme happiness; in this we are like invalids, worn out with -the pain of our sufferings. The example of America shows us just the -contrary. There government discharges its office quite well, and does -harm to no one. But we have been far removed, for very many centuries, -thanks to the unhappy state of Europe, from any actual experience of -the kind, and now destiny, as if to disconcert and give the lie to -all our philosophy, or rather to accuse it of not knowing all the -elements of human nature, shows us, that just when the unhappiness of -bad government is wanting to America, the Americans are wanting to -themselves. - -One is inclined to say that the source of sensibility is dried up -in this people. They are just, they are reasonable, but they are -essentially not happy. - -Is the Bible, that is to say, the ridiculous consequences and rules of -conduct which certain fantastic wits deduce from that collection of -poems and songs, sufficient to cause all this unhappiness? To me it -seems a very considerable effect for such a cause. - -[Pg 198] -M. de Volney related that, being at table in the country at the house -of an honest American, a man in easy circumstances, and surrounded by -children already grown up, there entered into the dining-room a young -man. "Good day, William," said the father of the family; "sit down." -The traveller enquired who this young man was. "He's my second son." -"Where does he come from?"--"From Canton." - -The arrival of one of his sons from the end of the world caused no more -sensation than that. - -All their attention seems employed on finding a reasonable arrangement -of life, and on avoiding all inconveniences. When finally they arrive -at the moment of reaping the fruit of so much care and of the spirit of -order so long maintained, there is no life left for enjoyment. - -One might say that the descendants of Penn never read that line, which -looks like their history:-- - - Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas. - -The young people of both sexes, when winter comes, which in this -country, as in Russia, is the gay season, go sleighing together day and -night over the snow, often going quite gaily distances of fifteen or -twenty miles, and without anyone to look after them. No inconvenience -ever results from it. - -They have the physical gaiety of youth, which soon passes away with -the warmth of their blood, and is over at twenty-five. But I find no -passions which give pleasure. In America there is such a reasonable -habit of mind that crystallisation has been rendered impossible. - -I admire such happiness, but I do not envy it; it is like the happiness -of human beings of a different and lower species. I augur much better -things from Florida and Southern America.[1] - -[Pg 199] -What strengthens my conjecture about the North is the absolute lack of -artists and writers. The United States have not yet(42) sent us over -one scene of a tragedy, one picture, or one life of Washington. - - -[1] See the manners of the Azores: there, love of God and the -other sort of love occupy every moment. The Christian religion, as -interpreted by the Jesuits, is much less of an enemy to man, in this -sense, than English protestantism; it permits him at least to dance on -Sunday; and one day of pleasure in the seven is a great thing for the -agricultural labourer, who works hard for the other six. - - -[Pg 200] - CHAPTER LI - - LOVE IN PROVENCE UP TO THE CONQUEST OF TOULOUSE, IN 1328, BY THE - BARBARIANS FROM THE NORTH - - -Love took a singular form in Provence, from the year 1100 up to 1328. -It had an established legislation for the relations of the two sexes in -love, as severe and as exactly followed as the laws of Honour could be -to-day. The laws of Love began by putting completely aside the sacred -rights of husbands. They presuppose no hypocrisy. These laws, taking -human nature such as it is, were of the kind to produce a great deal of -happiness. - -There was an official manner of declaring oneself a woman's lover, -and another of being accepted by her as lover. After so many months -of making one's court in a certain fashion, one obtained her leave to -kiss her hand. Society, still young, took pleasure in formalities and -ceremonies, which were then a sign of civilisation, but which to-day -would bore us to death. The same trait is to be found in the language -of Provence, in the difficulty and interlacing of its rhymes, in its -masculine and feminine words to express the same object, and indeed in -the infinite number of its poets. Everything formal in society, which -is so insipid to-day, then had all the freshness and savour of novelty. - -After having kissed a woman's hand, one was promoted from grade to -grade by force of merit, and without extraordinary promotion. - -It should be remarked, however, that if the husbands - -[Pg 201] -were always left out of the question, on the other hand the official -promotion of the lover stopped at what we should call the sweetness of -a most tender friendship between persons of a different sex.[1] But -after several months or several years of probation, in which a woman -might become perfectly sure of the character and discretion of a man, -and he enjoy at her hand all the prerogatives and outward signs which -the tenderest friendship can give, her virtue must surely have had to -thank his friendship for many a violent alarm. - -I have spoken of extraordinary promotion, because a woman could have -more than one lover, but one only in the higher grades. It seems that -the rest could not be promoted much beyond that degree of friendship -which consisted in kissing her hand and seeing her every day. All that -is left to us of this singular civilisation is in verse, and in a verse -that is rhymed in a very fantastic and difficult way; and it need not -surprise us if the notions, which we draw from the ballads of the -troubadours, are vague and not at all precise. Even a marriage contract -in verse has been found. After the conquest in 1328, as a result of -its heresy, the Pope, on several occasions, ordered everything written -in the vulgar tongue to be burnt. Italian cunning proclaimed Latin the -only language worthy of such clever people. 'Twere a most advantageous -measure could we renew it in 1822. - -Such publicity and such official ordering of love seem at first sight -to ill-accord with real passion. But if a lady said to her lover: "Go -for your love of me and visit the tomb of our Lord Jesus Christ at -Jerusalem; there you will pass three years and then return"--the lover -was gone immediately: to hesitate a moment would have covered him with -the same ignominy as would nowadays a sign of wavering on a point of -honour. The language of this people has an extreme fineness in - -[Pg 202] -expressing the most fugitive shades of feeling. Another sign that their -manners were well advanced on the road of real civilisation is that, -scarcely out of the horrors of the Middle Ages and of Feudalism, when -force was everything, we see the feebler sex less tyrannised over than -it is to-day with the approval of the law; we see the poor and feeble -creatures, who have the most to lose in love and whose charms disappear -the quickest, mistresses over the destiny of the men who approach them. -An exile of three years in Palestine, the passage from a civilisation -full of gaiety to the fanaticism and boredom of the Crusaders' camp, -must have been a painful duty for any other than an inspired Christian. -What can a woman do to her lover who has basely deserted her at Paris? - -I can only see one answer to be made here: at Paris no self-respecting -woman has a lover. Certainly prudence has much more right to counsel -the woman of to-day not to abandon herself to passion-love. But does -not another prudence, which, of course, I am far from approving, -counsel her to make up for it with physical love? Our hypocrisy and -asceticism[2] imply no homage to virtue; for you can never oppose -nature with impunity: there is only less happiness on earth and -infinitely less generous inspiration. - -A lover who, after ten years of intimate intercourse, deserted his poor -mistress, because he began to notice her two-and-thirty years, was lost -to honour in this lovable Provence; he had no resource left but to bury -himself in the solitude of a cloister. In those days it was to the -interest of a man, not only of generosity but even of prudence, to make -display of no more passion than he really had. We conjecture all this; -for very few remains are left to give us any exact notions.... - -We must judge manners as a whole, by certain particular facts. You know -the anecdote of the poet who - -[Pg 203] -had offended his lady: after two years of despair she deigned at last -to answer his many messages and let him know that if he had one of his -nails torn off and had this nail presented to her by fifty loving and -faithful knights, she might perhaps pardon him. The poet made all haste -to submit to the painful operation. Fifty knights, who stood in their -ladies' good graces, went to present this nail with all imaginable pomp -to the offended beauty. It was as imposing a ceremony as the entry of -a prince of the blood into one of the royal towns. The lover, dressed -in the garb of a penitent, followed his nail from afar. The lady, after -having watched the ceremony, which was of great length, right through, -deigned to pardon him; he was restored to all the sweets of his former -happiness. History tells that they spent long and happy years together. -Sure it is that two such years of unhappiness prove a real passion and -would have given birth to it, had it not existed before in that high -degree. - -I could cite twenty anecdotes which show us everywhere gallantry, -pleasing, polished and conducted between the two sexes on principles -of justice. I say gallantry, because in all ages passion-love is an -exception, rather curious than frequent, a something we cannot reduce -to rules. In Provence every calculation, everything within the domain -of reason, was founded on justice and the equality of rights between -the two sexes; and I admire it for this reason especially, that it -eliminates unhappiness as far as possible. The absolute monarchy under -Lewis XV, on the contrary, had come to make baseness and perfidy the -fashion in these relations.[3] - -Although this charming Provencal language, so full of delicacy and so -laboured in its rhymes,[4] was probably not - -[Pg 204] -the language of the people, the manners of the upper classes had -permeated the lower classes, which in Provence were at that time far -from coarse, for they enjoyed a great deal of comfort. They were in -the first enjoyment of a very prosperous and very valuable trade. The -inhabitants of the shores of the Mediterranean had just realised (in -the ninth century) that to engage in commerce, by risking a few ships -on this sea, was less troublesome and almost as amusing as following -some little feudal lord and robbing the passers-by on the neighbouring -high-road. Soon after, the Provencals of the tenth century learnt from -the Arabs that there are sweeter pleasures than pillage, violence and -war. - -One must think of the Mediterranean as the home of European -civilisation. The happy shores of this lovely sea, so favoured in -its climate, were still more favoured in the prosperous state of -their inhabitants and in the absence of all religion or miserable -legislation. The eminently gay genius of the Provencals had by then -passed through the Christian religion, without being altered by it. - -We see a lively image of a like effect from a like cause in the cities -of Italy, whose history has come down to us more distinctly and which -have had the good fortune besides of bequeathing to us Dante, Petrarch -and the art of painting. - -The Provencals have not left us a great poem like the _Divine Comedy_, -in which are reflected all the peculiarities of the manners of the -time. They had, it seems to me, less passion and much more gaiety than -the Italians. They learnt this pleasant way of taking life from their -neighbours, the Moors of Spain. Love reigned with joy, festivity and -pleasure in the castles of happy Provence. - -Have you seen at the opera the finale of one of Rossini's beautiful -operettas? On the stage all is gaiety, beauty, ideal magnificence. We -are miles away from all the - -[Pg 205] -mean side of human nature. The opera is over, the curtain falls, the -spectators go out, the great chandelier is drawn up, the lights are -extinguished. The house is filled with the smell of lamps hastily put -out; the curtain is pulled up half-way, and you see dirty, ill-dressed -roughs tumble on to the stage; they bustle about it in a hideous way, -occupying the place of the young women who filled it with their graces -only a moment ago. - -Such for the kingdom of Provence was the effect of the conquest of -Toulouse by the army of Crusaders. Instead of love, of grace, of -gaiety, we have the Barbarians from the North and Saint Dominic. I -shall not darken these pages with a blood-curdling account of the -horrors of the Inquisition in all the zeal of its early days. As for -the Barbarians, they were our fathers; they killed and plundered -everywhere; they destroyed, for the pleasure of destroying, whatever -they could not carry off; a savage madness animated them against -everything that showed the least trace of civilisation; above all, they -understood not a word of that beautiful southern language; and that -redoubled their fury. Highly superstitious and guided by the terrible -S. Dominic, they thought to gain Heaven by killing the Provencals. For -the latter all was over; no more love, no more gaiety, no more poetry. -Less than twenty years after the conquest (1335), they were almost as -barbarous and as coarse as the French, as our fathers.[5] - -Whence had lighted on this corner of the world that charming form of -civilisation, which for two centuries was the happiness of the upper -classes of society? Apparently from the Moors of Spain. - - -[1] Memoirs of the life of Chabanon, written by himself. The rapping of -a cane on the ceiling. - -[2] The ascetic principle of Jeremy Bentham. - -[3] The reader should have heard charming General Laclos talk at Naples -in 1802. If he has not had the luck he can open the _Vie privée du -maréchal de Richelieu_, nine volumes very pleasantly put together. - -[4] It originated at Narbonne--a mixture of Latin and Arabic. - -[5] See _The State of the Military Power of Russia_, a truthful work by -General Sir Robert Wilson. - - -[Pg 206] - CHAPTER LII(39) - - PROVENCE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY - - -I am going to translate an anecdote from the Provençal manuscripts. The -facts, of which you are going to read, happened about the year 1180 and -the history was written about 1250.[1] The anecdote, to be sure, is -very well known: the style especially gives the colour of the society -which produced it. - -I beg that I be allowed to translate it word for word, and without -seeking in any way after the elegance of the language of to-day. - -"My Lord Raymond of Roussillon was a valiant baron, as you know, and -he took to wife my Lady Marguerite, the most beautiful woman of all -her time and one of the most endowed with all good qualities, with all -worth and with all courtesy. Now it happened that William of Cabstaing -came to the Court of my Lord Raymond of Roussillon, presented himself -to him and begged, if it so pleased him, that he might be a page in his -Court. My Lord Raymond, who saw that he was fair and of good grace, -told him that he was welcome and that he might dwell at his Court. Thus -William dwelt with him, and succeeded in bearing himself so gently -that great and small loved him; and he succeeded in placing himself in -so good a light that my Lord Raymond wished him to be page to my Lady -Marguerite, his wife; and - -[Pg 207] -so it was. Then William set himself to merit yet more both in word and -deed. But now, as is wont to happen in love, it happened that Love -wished to take hold of my Lady Marguerite and to inflame her thoughts. -So much did the person of William please her, both his word and his -air, that one day she could not restrain herself from saying to him: -'Now listen, William, if a woman showed you likelihood of love, tell me -would you dare love her well?' 'Yes, that I would, madam, provided only -that the likelihood were the truth.'--'By S. John,' said the lady, 'you -have answered well, like a man of valour; but at present I wish to try -you, whether you can understand and distinguish in matter of likelihood -the difference between what is true and what is not.' - -"When William heard these words he answered: 'My lady, it is as it -shall please you.' - -"He began to be pensive, and at once Love sought war with him; and -the thoughts that love mingled with his entered into the depth of his -heart, and straightway he was of the servants of Love and began to -'find'[2] little couplets, gracious and gay, and tunes for the dance -and tunes with sweet words,[3] by which he was well received, and the -more so by reason of her for whom he sang. Now Love, that grants to -his servants their reward, when he pleases, wished to grant William -the price of his; and behold, he began to take hold of the lady with -such keen thoughts and meditations on love that neither night nor day -could she rest, thinking of the valour and prowess that had been so -beautifully disposed and set in William. - -"One day it happened that the lady took William and said to him: -'William, come now, tell me, have you up to this hour taken note of our -likelihood, whether it truly is or lies?' William answered: 'My lady, -so help me God, from that moment onward that I have been your - -[Pg 208] -servant, no thought has been able to enter my heart but that you were -the best woman that was ever born, and the truest in the world and the -most likely. So I think, and shall think, all my life.' And the lady -answered: 'William, I tell you that, if God help me, you shall never -be deceived by me, and that what you think shall not prove vain or -nothing.' And she opened her arms and kissed him softly in the room -where they two sat together, and they began their "_druerie_";[4] -and straightway there wanted not those, whom God holds in wrath, who -set themselves to talk and gossip of their love, by reason of the -songs that William made, saying that he had set his love on my Lady -Marguerite, and so indiscriminately did they talk that the matter -came to the ears of my Lord Raymond. Then he was sorely pained and -grievously sad, first that he must lose his familiar squire, whom he -loved so well, and more still for his wife's shame. - -"One day it happened that William went out to hunt with his hawks and -a single squire; and my Lord Raymond made enquiry where he was; and -a groom answered him that he had gone out to hawk, and one who knew -added that it was in such-and-such a spot. Immediately Raymond took -arms, which he hid, and had his horse brought to him, and all alone -took his way towards the spot whither William had gone: by dint of -hard riding he found him. When William saw him approach he was greatly -astonished, and at once evil thoughts came to him, and he advanced to -meet him and said: 'My lord, welcome. Why are you thus alone?' My Lord -Raymond answered: 'William, because I have come to find you to enjoy -myself with you. Have you caught anything?'--'I have caught nothing, my -lord, because I have found nothing; and he who finds little will not -catch much, as the saying goes.'--'Enough of this talk,' said my Lord -Raymond, 'and by the faith - -[Pg 209] -you owe me, tell me the truth on all the questions that I may wish to -ask.'--'By God, my lord,' said William, 'if there is ought to say, -certainly to you shall I say it.' Then said my Lord Raymond: 'I wish -for no subtleties here, but you must answer me in all fullness on -everything that I shall ask you.'--'My lord, as it shall please you -to ask,' said William, 'so shall I tell you the truth.' And my Lord -Raymond asked: 'William, as you value God and the holy faith, have -you a mistress for whom you sing and for whom Love constrains you?' -William answered: 'My lord, and how else should I be singing, if Love -did not urge me on? Know the truth, my lord, that Love has me wholly -in his power.' Raymond answered: 'I can well believe it, for otherwise -you could not sing so well; but I wish to know, if you please, who is -your lady.'--'Ah, my lord, in God's name,' said William, 'see what you -ask me. You know too well that a man must not name his lady, and that -Bernard of Ventadour says:-- - - "'In one thing my reason serves me,[5] - That never man has asked me of my joy, - But I have lied to him thereof willingly. - For this does not seem to me good doctrine, - But rather folly or a child's act, - That whoever is well treated in love - Should wish to open his heart thereon to another man, - Unless he can serve him or help him.' - -"My Lord Raymond answered: 'And I give you my word that I will serve -you according to my power.' So said Raymond, and William answered him: -'My lord, you must know that I love the sister of my Lady Marguerite, -your wife, and that I believe I have exchange with her of love. Now -that you know it, I beg you to come to my aid and at least not to -prejudice me.'--'Take my word,' said Raymond, 'for I swear to you and -engage - -[Pg 210] -myself to you that I will use all my power for you.' And then he gave -his word, and when he had given it to him Raymond said to him: 'I wish -us to go to her castle, for it is near by.'--'And I beg we may do so, -in God's name,' said William. And so they took their road towards -the castle of Liet. And when they came to the castle they were well -received by _En_[6] Robert of Tarascon, who was the husband of my Lady -Agnes, the sister of my Lady Marguerite, and by my Lady Agnes herself. -And my Lord Raymond took my Lady Agnes by the hand and led her into her -chamber, and they sat down on the bed. And my Lord Raymond said: 'Now -tell me, my sister-in-law, by the faith that you owe me, are you in -love with Love?' And she said: 'Yes, my lord.'--'And whose?' said he. -'Oh, that I do not tell you,' answered she; 'what means this parleying?' - -"In the end, so insistently did he demand that she said that she loved -William of Cabstaing; this she said because she saw William sad and -pensive and she knew well that he loved her sister; and so she feared -that Raymond might have had evil thoughts of William. Such a reply -gave great joy to Raymond. Agnes related it all to her husband, and -her husband answered her that she had done well and gave her his word -that she was at liberty to do and say anything that could save William. -Agnes was not wanting to him. She called William all alone into her -chamber, and remained so long with him that Raymond thought he must -have had the pleasures of love with her; and all this pleased him, and -he began to think that what he had been told of William was untrue and -random talk. Agnes and William came out of her chamber, supper was -prepared and they supped with great gaiety. And after supper Agnes had -the bed of her two neighbours prepared by the door of her chamber, - -[Pg 211] -and so well did the Lady and William act their parts that Raymond -believed he was with her. - -"And the next day they dined in the castle with great joy, and after -dinner they set out with all the honours of a noble leave-taking, -and came to Roussillon. And as soon as Raymond could, he separated -from William and went away to his wife, and related to her all that -he had seen of William and her sister, for which his wife was sorely -grieved all night. And the next day she had William summoned to her and -received him ill, and called him false friend and traitor. And William -cried to her for pity, as a man who had done nought of that with which -she charged him, and related to her all that had passed, word for word. -And the lady sent for her sister and from her she learnt that William -had done no wrong. And therefore she called him and bade him make a -song by which he should show that he loved no woman but her, and then -he made the song which says:-- - - "The sweet thoughts - That Love often gives me. - -"And when Raymond of Roussillon heard the song that William had made -for his wife, he made him come to speak with him some way from the -castle, and cut off his head, which he put in a bag; he drew out the -heart from the body and put it with the head. He went back to the -castle; he had the heart roasted and brought to his wife at table and -made her eat it without her knowing. When she had eaten it, Raymond -rose up and told his wife that what she had just eaten was the heart -of Lord William of Cabstaing, and showed her his head and asked her if -the heart had been good to eat. And she heard what he said, and saw and -recognised the head of Lord William. She answered him and said that -the heart had been so good and savoury, that never other meat or other -drink could take away from her mouth the taste that the heart of Lord -William had left there. And - -[Pg 212] -Raymond ran at her with a sword. She took to flight, threw herself down -from a balcony and broke her head. - -"This became known through all Catalonia and through all the lands of -the King of Aragon. King Alphonse and all the barons of these countries -had great grief and sorrow for the death of Lord William and of the -woman whom Raymond had so basely done to death. They made war on him -with fire and sword. King Alphonse of Aragon having taken Raymond's -castle, had William and his lady laid in a monument before the door of -a church in a borough named Perpignac. All perfect lovers of either sex -prayed God for their souls. The King of Aragon took Raymond and let him -die in prison, and gave all his goods to the relatives of William and -to the relatives of the woman who died for him." - - -[1] The manuscript is in the Laurentian Library. M. Raynouard gives it -in Vol. V of his _Troubadours_, p. 187. There are a good many faults in -his text; he has praised the Troubadours too much and understood them -too little. - -[2] i. e. to compose. - -[3] He made up both the airs and the words. - -[4] A far all' amore. - -[5] Word for word translation of the Provençal verses quoted by William. - -[6] _En_, a form of speech among the Provençals, which we would -translate by _Sir_. - - -[Pg 213] - CHAPTER LIII - - ARABIA - - -'Tis beneath the dusky tent of the Bedouin Arab that we seek the model -and the home of true love. There, as elsewhere, solitude and a fine -climate have kindled the noblest passion of the human heart--that -passion which must give as much happiness as it feels, in order to be -happy itself. - -In order that love may be seen in all the fullness of its power over -the human heart, equality must be established as far as possible -between the mistress and her lover. It does not exist, this equality, -in our poor West; a woman deserted is unhappy or dishonoured. Under the -Arab's tent faith once plighted cannot be broken. Contempt and death -immediately follow that crime. - -Generosity is held so sacred by this people, that you may steal, in -order to give. For the rest, every day danger stares them in the face, -and life flows on ever, so to speak, in a passionate solitude. Even in -company the Arabs speak little. - -Nothing changes for the inhabitant of the desert; there everything is -eternal and motionless. This singular mode of life, of which, owing to -my ignorance, I can give but a poor sketch, has probably existed since -the time of Homer.[1] It is described for the first time about the year -600 of our era, two centuries before Charlemagne. - -Clearly it is we who were the barbarians in the eyes of the East, when -we went to trouble them with our crusades.[2] Also we owe all that is -in our manner to these - -[Pg 214] -crusades and to the Moors of Spain. If we compare ourselves with the -Arabs, the proud, prosaic man will smile with pity. Our arts are very -much superior to theirs, our systems of law to all appearance still -more superior. But I doubt if we beat them in the art of domestic -happiness--we have always lacked loyalty and simplicity. In family -relations the deceiver is the first to suffer. For him the feeling of -safety is departed; always unjust, he is always afraid. - -In the earliest of their oldest historical monuments we can see the -Arabs divided from all antiquity into a large number of independent -tribes, wandering about the desert. As soon as these tribes were able -to supply, with more or less ease, the simplest human wants, their way -of life was already more or less refined. Generosity was the same on -every side; only according to the tribe's degree of wealth it found -expression, now in the quarter of goat's flesh necessary for the -support of life, now in the gift of a hundred camels, occasioned by -some family connexion or reasons of hospitality. - -The heroic age of the Arabs, that in which these generous hearts burnt -unsullied by any affectation of fine wit or refined sentiment, was that -which preceded Mohammed; it corresponds to the fifth century of our -era, to the foundations of Venice and to the reign of Clovis. I beg -European pride to compare the Arab love-songs, which have come down -to us, and the noble system of life revealed in the _Thousand and One -Nights_, with the disgusting horrors that stain every page of Gregory -of Tours, the historian of Clovis, and of Eginhard, the historian of -Charlemagne. - -Mohammed was a puritan; he wished to prescribe pleasures which do no -one any harm; he has killed love in those countries which have accepted -Islamism.[3] It is for this reason that his religion has always been -less - -[Pg 215] -observed in Arabia, its cradle, than in all the other Mohammedan -countries. - -The French brought away from Egypt four folio volumes, entitled _The -Book of Songs_. These volumes contain:-- - -1. Biographies of the poets who composed the songs. - -2. The songs themselves. In them the poet sings of everything that -interests him; when he has spoken of his mistress he praises his -swiftcoursers and his bow. These songs were often love-letters from -their author, giving the object of his love a faithful picture of all -that passed in his heart. Sometimes they tell of cold nights when he -has been obliged to burn his bow and arrows. The Arabs are a nation -without houses. - -3. Biographies of the musicians who have composed the music for these -songs. - -4. Finally, the notation of the musical setting; for us these settings -are hieroglyphics. The music will be for ever unknown, and anyhow, it -would not please us. - -There is another collection entitled _The History of those Arabs who -have died for Love_. - -In order to feel at home in the midst of remains which owe so much -of their interest to their antiquity, and to appreciate the singular -beauty of the manners of which they let us catch a glimpse, we must go -to history for enlightenment on certain points. - -From all time, and especially before Mohammed, the Arabs betook -themselves to Mecca in order to make the tour of the Caaba or house of -Abraham. I have seen at London a very exact model of the Holy City. -There are seven or eight hundred houses with terraces on the roofs, set -in the midst of a sandy desert devoured by the sun. At one extremity -of the city is found an immense building, in form almost a square; -this building surrounds the Caaba. It is composed of a long course of -colonnades, necessary under an Arabian sun for the performance of the -sacred procession, This colonnade is very - -[Pg 216] -important in the history of the manners and poetry of the Arabs; -it was apparently for centuries the one place where men and women -met together. Pell-mell, with slow steps, and reciting in chorus -their sacred songs, they walked round the Caaba--it is a walk of -three-quarters of an hour. The procession was repeated many times in -the same day; this was the sacred rite for which men and women came -forth from all parts of the desert. It is under the colonnade of the -Caaba that Arab manners became polished. A contest between the father -and the lover soon came to be established--in love-lyrics the lover -discovered his passion to the girl, jealously guarded by brothers and -father, as at her side he walked in the sacred procession. The generous -and sentimental habits of this people existed already in the camp; -but Arab gallantry seems to me to have been born in the shadow of the -Caaba, which is also the home of their literature. At first, passion -was expressed with simplicity and vehemence, just as the poet felt it; -later the poet, instead of seeking to touch his mistress, aimed at fine -writing; then followed that affectation which the Moors introduced into -Spain and which still to-day spoils the books of that people.[4] - -I find a touching proof of the Arab's respect for the weaker sex in his -ceremony of divorce. The woman, during the absence of her husband from -whom she wished to separate, opened the tent and drew it up, taking -care to place the opening on the opposite side to that which she had -formerly occupied. This simple ceremony separated husband and wife for -ever. - - -[Pg 217] - FRAGMENTS - -Gathered and translated from an Arabic Collection entitled: _The Divan -of Love_(39) - -Compiled by Ebn-Abi-Hadglat. (Manuscripts of the King's Library, Nos. -1461 and 1462.) - - -Mohammed, son of Djaafar Elahouazadi, relates that Djamil being sick of -the illness of which he died, Elabas, son of Sohail, visited him and -found him ready to give up the ghost. "O son of Sohail," said Djamil -to him, "what do you think of a man who has never drunk wine, who has -never made illicit gain, who has never unrighteously given death to any -living creature that God has forbidden us to kill, and who confesses -that there is no other God but Allah and that Mohammed is his prophet?" -"I think," answered Ben Sohail, "that such a man will be saved and -will gain Paradise; but who is he, this man of whom you talk?" "'Tis -I," answered Djamil. "I did not think that you professed the faith," -returned Ben Sohail, "and moreover, for twenty years now you have been -making love to Bothaina, and celebrating her in your verses." "Here I -am," answered Djamil, "at my first day in the other world and at my -last in this, and I pray that the mercy of our Master Mohammed may not -be extended to me at the day of judgment, if ever I have laid hands on -Bothaina for anything reprehensible." - -This Djamil and Bothaina, his mistress, both belonged to the -Benou-Azra, who are a tribe famous in love among all the tribes of the -Arabs. Also their manner of loving has passed into a proverb, and God -has made no other creatures as tender in love as they. - -Sahid, son of Agba, one day asked an Arab: "Of what people are you?" "I -am of the people that die when they love," replied the Arab. "Then you -are of the - -[Pg 218] -tribe of Azra," added Sahid. "Yes, by the Master of the Caaba," replied -the Arab. "Whence comes it that you love in this manner?" Sahid asked -next. "Our women are beautiful and our young men are chaste," answered -the Arab. - -One day someone asked Aroua-Ben-Hezam:[5] "Is it really true what -people tell of you, that you of all mankind have the heart most tender -in love?" "Yes, by Allah, it is true," answered Aroua, "and I have -known in my tribe thirty young men whom death has carried oil and who -had no other sickness but love." - -An Arab of the Benou-Fazarat said one day to an Arab of the Benou-Azra: -"You, Benou-Azra, you think it a sweet and noble death to die of love; -but therein is a manifest weakness and stupidity; and those whom you -take for men of great heart are only madmen and soft creatures." "You -would not talk like that," the Arab of the tribe of Azra answered him, -"if you had seen the great black eyes of our women darting fire from -beneath the veil of their long lashes, if you had seen them smile and -their teeth gleaming between their brown lips!" - -Abou-el-Hassan, Ali, son of Abdalla, Elzagouni, relates the following -story: A Mussulman loved to distraction the daughter of a Christian. He -was obliged to make a journey to a foreign country with a friend, to -whom he had confided his love. His business prolonged his stay in this -country, and being attacked there by a mortal sickness, he said to his -friend: "Behold, my time approaches; no more in the world shall I meet -her whom I love, and I fear, if I die a Mussulman, that I shall not -meet her again in the other life." He turned Christian and died. His -friend betook himself to the young Christian woman, whom he found sick. -She said to him: - -[Pg 219] -"I shall not see my friend any more in this world, but I want to be -with him in the other; therefore I confess that there is no other God -but Allah, and that Mohammed is the prophet of God." Thereupon she -died, and may God's mercy be upon her.* - -Eltemimi relates that there was in the tribe of the Arabs of Tagleb a -Christian girl of great riches who was in love with a young Mussulman. -She offered him her fortune and all her treasures without succeeding -in making him love her. When she had lost all hope she gave an artist -a hundred dinars, to make her a statue of the young man she loved. The -artist made the statue, and when the girl got it, she placed it in a -certain spot where she went every day. There she would begin by kissing -this statue, and then sat down beside it and spent the rest of the -day in weeping. When the evening came she would bow to the statue and -retire. This she did for a long time. The young man chanced to die; she -desired to see him and to embrace him dead, after which she returned to -her statue, bowed to it, kissed it as usual, and lay down beside it. -When day came, they found her dead, stretching out her hand towards -some lines of writing, which she had written before she died.* - -Oueddah, of the land of Yamen, was renowned among the Arabs for his -beauty. He and Om-el-Bonain, daughter of Abd-el-Aziz, son of Merouan, -while still only children, were even then so much in love that they -could not bear to be parted from each other for a moment. When -Om-el-Bonain became the wife of Oualid-Ben-Abd-el-Malek, Oueddah became -mad for grief. After remaining a long time in a state of distraction -and suffering, he betook himself to Syria and began every day to prowl -around the house of Oualid, son of Malek, without at first finding -the means to attain his desire. In the end, he made the acquaintance -of a girl, whom he succeeded in attaching to himself by dint of his -perseverance and his pains. When he thought he could rely on her, he - -[Pg 220] -asked her if she knew Om-el-Bonain. "To be sure I do," answered the -girl, "seeing she is my mistress." "Listen," continued Oueddah, "your -mistress is my cousin, and if you care to tell her about me, you will -certainly give her pleasure." "I'll tell her willingly," answered -the girl. And thereupon she ran straight to Om-el-Bonain to tell her -about Oueddah. "Take care what you say," cried Om-el-Bonain. "What? -Oueddah is alive?" "Certainly he is," said the girl. "Go and tell him," -Om-el-Bonain went on, "on no account to depart until a messenger comes -to him from me." Then she took measures to get Oueddah brought to her, -where she kept him hidden in a coffer. She let him come out to be with -her when she thought it safe; but if someone arrived who might have -seen him, she made him get inside the coffer again. - -It happened one day that a pearl was brought to Oualid and he said to -one of his attendants: "Take this pearl and give it to Om-el-Bonain." -The attendant took the pearl and gave it to Om-el-Bonain. As he was -not announced, he entered where she dwelt at a time when she was with -Oueddah, and thus he was able to throw a glance into Om-el-Bonain's -apartment without her noticing him. Oualid's attendant fulfilled his -mission and asked something of Om-el-Bonain for the jewel he had -brought her. She refused him with severity and reprimanded him. The -attendant went out incensed against her, and went to tell Oualid what -he had seen, describing the coffer into which he had seen Oueddah -enter. "You lie, bastard slave! You lie," said Oualid. And he ran in -haste to Om-el-Bonain. There were several coffers in her apartment; he -sat down on the one in which Oueddah was hid and which the slave had -described, saying: "Give me one of these coffers." "They are all yours, -as much as I myself," answered Om-el-Bonain. "Then," continued Oualid, -"I would like to have the one on which I am seated." "There are - -[Pg 221] -some things in it that only a woman needs," said Om-el-Bonain. "It is -not them, it is the coffer I desire," added Oualid. "It is yours," she -answered. Oualid had the coffer taken away at once, and summoned two -slaves, whom he ordered to dig a pit in the earth down to the depth -where they would find water. Then placing his mouth against the coffer: -"I have heard something of you," he cried. "If I have heard the truth, -may all trace of you be lost, may all memory of you be buried. If they -have told me false I do no harm by entombing a coffer: it is only the -funeral of a box." Then he had the coffer pushed into the pit and -covered with the stones and the earth which had been dug up. From that -time Om-el-Bonain never ceased to frequent this spot and to weep, until -one day they found her there lifeless, her face pressed towards the -earth.*[6] - - -[1] Nine hundred years before Jesus Christ. - -[2] 1095. - -[3] Morals of Constantinople. The one way of killing passion-love is to -prevent all crystallisation by facility. - -[4] There are a large number of Arabic manuscripts at Paris. Those of -a later date show some affectation, but no imitation of the Greeks or -Romans; it is this that makes scholars despise them. - -[5] This Aroua-Ben-Hezam was of the tribe of Azra, of which mention has -just been made. He is celebrated as a poet, and still more celebrated -as one of the numerous martyrs to love whom the Arabs enumerate. - -[6] These fragments are taken from different chapters of the collection -which I have mentioned. The three marked by an * are taken from the -last chapter, which is a very summary biography of a considerable -number of Arab martyrs to love. - - -[Pg 222] - CHAPTER LIV(43) - - OF THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN - - -In the actual education of girls, which is the fruit of chance and the -most idiotic pride, we allow their most shining faculties, and those -most fertile in happiness for themselves and for us, to lie fallow. But -what man is there, who at least once in his life has not exclaimed:-- - - ... a woman always knows enough - If but her range of understanding reaches - To telling one from t'other, coat and breeches. - (_Les Femmes Savantes_, Act II, Scene VII.) - [Translation of C. H. Page, New York, 1908. ] - -At Paris, this is the highest praise for a young girl of a marriageable -age: "There is so much that's sweet in her character, and she's as -gentle as a lamb." Nothing has more effect on the idiots looking out -for wives. But see them two years later, lunching _tête-à-tête_ with -their wives some dull day, hats on and surrounded by three great -lackeys! - -We have seen a law carried in the United States, in 1818, which -condemns to thirty-four strokes of the cat anyone teaching a Virginian -negro to read.[1] Nothing could be more consequent and more reasonable -than a law of this kind. - -Were the United States of America themselves more useful to the -motherland when they were her slaves or since they have become her -equals? If the work of a - -[Pg 223] -free man is worth two or three times that of a man reduced to slavery, -why should not the same be true of that man's thought? - -If we dared, we would give girls the education of a slave; and the -proof of this is that if they know anything useful, it is against our -wish we teach it them. - -"But they turn against us the little education which unhappily -they get hold of," some husbands might say. No doubt; and Napoleon -was also quite right not to give arms to the National Guard; and -the reactionaries are also quite right to proscribe the monitorial -system(44). Arm a man, and then continue to oppress him, and you will -see that he can be so perverse as to turn his arms against you, as soon -as he can. - -Even if it were permissible to bring girls up like idiots, on _Ave -Marias_ and lewd songs, as they did in the convents of 1770, there -would still be several little objections:-- - -1. In the case of the husband's death, they are called upon to manage -the young family. - -2. As mothers, they give their male children, the young tyrants of -the future, their first education, that education which forms the -character, and accustoms the soul to seek happiness by this route -rather than by that--and the choice is always an accomplished fact by -four or five. - -3. In spite of all our pride, the advice of the inevitable partner of -our whole life has great influence on those domestic affairs on which -our happiness depends so particularly; for, in the absence of passion, -happiness is based on the absence of small everyday vexations. Not that -we would willingly accord this advice the least influence, but she may -repeat the same thing to us for twenty years together. Whose is the -spirit of such Roman fortitude as to resist the same idea repeated -throughout a whole lifetime? The world is full of husbands who let -themselves be led, but it is from weakness - -[Pg 224] -and not from a feeling for justice and equality. As they yield -perforce, the wife is always tempted to abuse her power, and it is -sometimes necessary to abuse power in order to keep it. - -4. Finally, in love, and during a period which, in southern countries, -often comprises twelve or fifteen years, and those the fairest of our -life, our happiness is entirely in the hands of the woman we love. One -moment of untimely pride can make us for ever miserable, and how should -a slave raised up to a throne not be tempted to abuse her power? This -is the origin of women's false refinement and pride. Of course, there -is nothing more useless than these pleas: men are despots and we see -what respect other despots show to the wisest counsels. A man who is -all-powerful relishes only one sort of advice, the advice of those that -tell him to increase his power. Where are poor young girls to find -a Quiroga or a Riego(45) to give the despots, who oppress them, and -degrade them the better to oppress them, that salutary advice, whose -just recompense are favours and orders instead of Porlier's(45) gallows? - -If a revolution of this kind needs several centuries, it is because, -by a most unlucky chance, all our first experiences must necessarily -contradict the truth. Illuminate a girl's mind, form her character, -give her, in short, a good education in the true sense of the -word--remarking sooner or later her own superiority over other women, -she becomes a pedant, that is to say, the most unpleasant and the most -degraded creature that there is in the world. There isn't one of us who -wouldn't prefer a servant to a _savante_, if we had to pass our life -with her. - -Plant a young tree in the midst of a dense forest, deprived of air and -sun by the closeness of the neighbouring trees: its leaves will be -blighted, and it will get an overgrown and ridiculous shape--_not_ its -natural shape. We ought to plant the whole forest at once. What woman -is there who is proud of knowing how to read? - -[Pg 225] -Pedants have repeated to us for two thousand years that women were -more quick and men more judicious, women more remarkable for delicacy -of expression and men for stronger powers of concentration. A Parisian -simpleton, who used once upon a time to take his walk in the gardens of -Versailles, similarly concluded from all he saw that trees grow ready -clipped. - -I will allow that little girls have less physical strength than little -boys: this must be conclusive as regards intellect; for everyone knows -that Voltaire and d'Alembert were the first boxers of their age! -Everyone agrees, that a little girl of ten is twenty times as refined -as a little boy of the same age. Why, at twenty, is she a great idiot, -awkward, timid, and afraid of a spider, while the little boy is a man -of intellect? - -Women only learn the things we do not wish to teach them, and only -read the lessons taught them by experience of life. Hence the extreme -disadvantage it is for them to be born in a very rich family; instead -of coming into contact with beings who behave naturally to them, -they find themselves surrounded by maidservants and governesses, who -are already corrupted and blighted by wealth.[2] There is nothing so -foolish as a prince. - -Young girls soon see that they are slaves and begin to look about them -very early; they see everything, but they are too ignorant to see -properly. A woman of thirty in France has not the acquired knowledge -of a small boy of fifteen, a woman of fifty has not the reason of a -man of twenty-five. Look at Madame de Sévigné admiring Louis XIV's -most ridiculous actions. Look at the puerility of Madame d'Épinay's -reasonings.[3] - -"Women ought to nurse and look after their children." I deny the first -proposition, I allow the second. "They ought, moreover, to keep their -kitchen accounts."--And - -[Pg 226] -so have not time to equal a small boy of fifteen in acquired knowledge! -Men must be judges, bankers, barristers, merchants, doctors, clergymen, -etc., and yet they find time to read Fox's speeches and the _Lusiad_ of -Camoëns. - -The Pekin magistrate, who hastens at an early hour to the law courts -in order to find the means of imprisoning and ruining, in perfect -good faith, a poor journalist who has incurred the displeasure of -an Under-Secretary of State, with whom he had the honour of dining -the day before, is surely as busy as his wife, who keeps her kitchen -accounts, gets stockings made for her little daughter, sees her through -her dancing and piano lessons, receives a visit from the vicar of the -parish who brings her the _Quotidienne_, and then goes to choose a hat -in the Rue de Richelieu and take a turn in the Tuileries. - -In the midst of his noble occupations this magistrate still finds time -to think of this walk his wife is taking in the Tuileries, and, if he -were in as good odour with the Power that rules the universe as with -that which rules the State, he would pray Heaven to grant women, for -their own good, eight or ten hours more sleep. In the present condition -of society, leisure, which for man is the source of all his happiness -and all his riches, is for women so far from being an advantage as to -rank among those baneful liberties, from which the worthy magistrate -would wish to help deliver us. - - -[1] I regret to be unable to find in the Italian manuscript the -quotation of an official source for this fact; I hope it may be found -possible to deny it. - -[2] Memoirs of Madame de Staël, Collé, Duclos, the Margrave of Bayreuth. - -[3] The first volume. - - -[Pg 227] - CHAPTER LV(43) - - OBJECTIONS TO THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN - - -"But women are charged with the petty labours of the household." The -Colonel of my regiment, M. S----, has four daughters, brought up on the -best principles, which means that they work all day. When I come, they -sing the music of Rossini, that I brought them from Naples. For the -rest, they read the Bible of Royaumont, they learn what's most foolish -in history, that is to say, chronological tables and the verses of Le -Ragois; they know a great deal of geography, embroider admirably--and I -expect that each of these pretty little girls could earn, by her work, -eight sous a day. Taking three hundred days, that means four hundred -and eighty francs a year, which is less than is given to one of their -masters. It is for four hundred and eighty francs a year that they lose -for ever the time, during which it is granted to the human machine to -acquire ideas. - -"If women read with pleasure the ten or twelve good volumes that -appear every year in Europe, they will soon give up the care of their -children."--'Tis as if we feared, by planting the shore of the ocean -with trees, to stop the motion of the waves. It is not in this sense -that education is all-powerful. Besides, for four hundred years the -same objection has been offered to every sort of education. And yet a -Parisian woman has more good qualities in 1820 than she ever had in -1720, the age of Law's system and the Regency, and at that time the -daughter of the richest farmer-general had a less good education - -[Pg 228] -than the daughter of the pettiest attorney gets to-day. Are her -household duties less well performed as a result? Certainly not. And -why? Because poverty, illness, shame, instinct, all force her to fulfil -them. It is as if you said of an officer who is becoming too sociable, -that he will forget how to handle his horse; you have to remember that -he'll break his arm the first time he's slack in the saddle. - -_Knowledge, where it produces any bad effects at all, does as much -mischief to one sex as to the other_. We shall never lack vanity, even -in the completest absence of any reason for having it--look at the -middle class in a small town. Why not force it at least to repose on -real merit, on merit useful or agreeable to society? - -Demi-fools, carried away by the revolution that is changing everything -in France, began twenty years ago to allow that women are capable of -something. But they must give themselves up to occupations becoming -their sex: _educate flowers, make friendships with birds, and pick up -plants_. These are called innocent amusements. - -These innocent pleasures are better than idleness. Well! let's leave -them to stupid women; just as we leave to stupid men the glory of -composing verses for the birthday of the master of the house. But -do men in good faith really mean to suggest to Madame Roland or to -Mistress Hutchinson[1] that they should spend their time in tending a -little Bengal rose-bush? - -All such reasoning can be reduced to this: a man likes to be able to -say of his slave: "She's too big a fool to be a knave." - -But owing to a certain law called _sympathy_--a law of nature which, in -truth, vulgar eyes never perceive--the defects in the companion of your -life are not destructive of your happiness by reason only of the direct -ill they - -[Pg 229] -can occasion you. I would almost prefer that my wife should, in a -moment of anger, attempt to stab me once a year, than that she should -welcome me every evening with bad spirits. - -Finally, happiness is contagious among people who live together. - -Let your mistress have passed the morning, while you were on parade -or at the House of Commons, in painting a rose after a masterpiece of -Redouté, or in reading a volume of Shakespeare, her pleasure therein -will have been equally innocent. Only, with the ideas that she has got -from her rose she will soon bore you on your return, and, indeed, she -will crave to go out in the evening among people to seek sensations a -little more lively. Suppose, on the contrary, she has read Shakespeare, -she is as tired as you are, she has had as much pleasure, and she will -be happier to give you her arm for a solitary walk in the Bois de -Vincennes than to appear at the smartest party. The pleasures of the -fashionable world are not meant for happy women. - -Women have, of course, all ignorant men for enemies to their -instruction. To-day they spend their time with them, they make love -to them and are well received by them; what would become of them if -women began to get tired of Boston? When we return from America or the -West Indies with a tanned skin and manners that for six months remain -somewhat coarse, how would these fellows answer our stories, if they -had not this phrase: "As for us, the women are on our side. While you -were at New York the colour of tilburies has changed; it's grey-black -that's fashionable at present." And we listen attentively, for such -knowledge is useful. Such and such a pretty woman will not look at us -if our carriage is in bad taste. - -These same fools, who think themselves obliged, in virtue of the -pre-eminence of their sex, to have more knowledge than women, would be -ruined past all hope, if - -[Pg 230] -women had the audacity to learn something. A fool of thirty says to -himself, as he looks at some little girls of twelve at the country -house of one of his friends: "It's in their company that I shall spend -my life ten years from now." We can imagine his exclamations and his -terror, if he saw them studying something useful. - -Instead of the society and conversation of effeminate men, an educated -woman, if she has acquired ideas without losing the graces of her sex, -can always be sure of finding among the most distinguished men of her -age a consideration verging on enthusiasm. - -"Women would become the rivals instead of the companions of man." Yes, -as soon as you have suppressed love by edict. While we are waiting for -this fine law, love will redouble its charms and its ecstasy. These -are the plain facts: the basis on which crystallisation rests will be -widened; man will be able to take pleasure in all his ideas in company -of the woman he loves; nature in all its entirety will in their eyes -receive new charms; and as ideas always reflect some of the refinements -of character, they will understand each other better and will be guilty -of fewer imprudent acts--love will be less blind and will produce less -unhappiness. - -The _desire of pleasing secures all that delicacy and reserve which are -of such inestimable value to women_ from the influence of any scheme of -education. 'Tis as though you feared teaching the nightingales not to -sing in the spring-time. - -The graces of women do not depend on their ignorance; look at the -worthy spouses of our village bourgeois, look at the wives of the -opulent merchants in England. Affectation is a kind of pedantry; for I -call pedantry the affectation of letting myself talk out of season of a -dress by Leroy or a novel by Romagnesi, just as much as the affectation -of quoting Fra Paolo(46) and the Council of Trent _à propos_ of a -discussion on our own mild missionaries. It is the pedantry of dress -and good form, it - -[Pg 231] -is the necessity of saying exactly the conventional phrase about -Rossini, which kills the graces of Parisian women. Nevertheless, in -spite of the terrible effects of this contagious malady, is it not -in Paris that exist the most delightful women in France? Would not -the reason be that chance filled their heads with the most just and -interesting ideas? Well, it is these very ideas that I expect from -books. I shall not, of course, suggest that they read Grotius of -Puffendorf, now that we have Tracy's(47) commentary on Montesquieu. - -Woman's delicacy depends on the hazardous position in which she finds -herself so early placed, on the necessity of spending her life in the -midst of cruel and fascinating enemies. - -_There are, perhaps, fifty thousand females in Great Britain who are -exempted by circumstances from all necessary labour:_ but without work -there is no happiness. Passion forces itself to work, and to work of an -exceedingly rough kind--work that employs the whole activity of one's -being. - -A woman with four children and ten thousand francs income works by -making stockings or a frock for her daughter. But it cannot be allowed -that a woman who has her own carriage is working when she does her -embroidery or a piece of tapestry. Apart from some faint glow of -vanity, she cannot possibly have any interest in what she is doing. She -does not work. - -And thus her happiness runs a grave risk. - -And what is more, so does the happiness of her lord and master, for -a woman whose heart for two months has been enlivened by no other -interest than that of her needlework, may be so insolent as to imagine -that gallant-love, vanity-love, or, in fine, even physical love, is a -very great happiness in comparison with her habitual condition. - -"A woman ought not to make people speak about - -[Pg 232] -her." To which I answer once more: "Is any woman specially mentioned as -being able to read?" - -And what is to prevent women, while awaiting a revolution in their -destiny, from hiding a study which forms their habitual occupation -and furnishes them every day with an honourable share of happiness. -I will reveal a secret to them by the way. When you have given -yourself a task--for example, to get a clear idea about the conspiracy -of Fiescho(48), at Genoa in 1547--the most insipid book becomes -interesting. The same is true, in love, of meeting someone quite -indifferent, who has just seen the person whom you love. This interest -is doubled every month, until you give up the conspiracy of Fiescho. - -"_The true theatre for a woman is the sick-chamber._" But you must be -careful to secure that the divine goodness redoubles the frequency of -illnesses, in order to give occupation to our women. This is arguing -from the exceptional. - -Moreover, I maintain that a woman ought to spend three or four hours of -leisure every day, just as men of sense spend their hours of leisure. - -A young mother, whose little son has the measles, could not, even if -she would, find pleasure in reading Volney's Travels in Syria, any more -than her husband, a rich banker, could get pleasure out of meditating -on Malthus in the midst of bankruptcy. - -There is one, and only one, way for rich women to distinguish -themselves from the vulgar: moral superiority. For in this there is a -natural distinction of feeling.[2] - -"_We do not wish a lady to write books._" No, but does giving your -daughter a singing-master engage you to make her into an opera-singer? -If you - -[Pg 233] -like, I'll say that a woman ought only to write, like Madame de Staël -(de Launay), posthumous works to be published after her death. For a -woman of less than fifty to publish is to risk her happiness in the -most terrible lottery: if she has the good fortune to have a lover, she -will begin by losing him. - -I know but one exception: it is that of a woman who writes books in -order to keep or bring up her family. In that case she ought always to -confine herself to their money-value when talking of her own works, -and say, for example, to a cavalry major: "Your rank gives you four -thousand francs a year, and I, with my two translations from the -English, was able last year to devote an extra three thousand five -hundred francs to the education of my two boys." - -Otherwise, a woman should publish as Baron d'Holbach or Madame de la -Fayette did; their best friends knew nothing of it. To print a book -can only be without inconvenience for a courtesan; the vulgar, who can -despise her at their will for her condition, will exalt her to the -heavens for her talent, and even make a cult of it. - -Many men in France, among those who have an income of six thousand -francs, find their habitual source of happiness in literature, without -thinking of publishing anything; to read a good book is for them one of -the greatest pleasures. At the end of ten years they find that their -mind is enlarged twofold, and no one will deny that, in general, the -larger the mind the fewer will be its passions incompatible with the -happiness of others.[3] I don't suppose anyone will still deny that the -sons of a woman who reads Gibbon and Schiller will have more genius -than the children of one who tells her beads and reads Madame de Genlis. - -A young barrister, a merchant, an engineer can be - -[Pg 234] -launched on life without any education; they pick it up themselves -every day by practising their profession. But what resources have -their wives for acquiring estimable or necessary qualities? Hidden -in the solitude of their household, for them the great book of life -necessarily remains shut. They spend always in the same way, after -discussing the accounts with their cook, the three _louis_ they get -every Monday from their husbands. - -I say this in the interest of the tyrant: the least of men, if he -is twenty and has nice rosy cheeks, is a danger to a woman with no -knowledge, because she is wholly a creature of instinct. In the eyes -of a woman of intellect he will produce as much effect as a handsome -lackey. - -The amusing thing in present-day education is that you teach young -girls nothing that they won't have to forget as soon as they are -married. It needs four hours a day, for six years, to learn to play -the harp well; to paint well in miniature or water-colours needs -half that time. Most young girls do not attain even to a tolerable -mediocrity--hence the very true saying: "Amateur means smatterer."[4] - -And even supposing a young girl has some talent; three years after she -is married she won't take up her harp or her brushes once a month. -These objects of so much study now only bore her--unless chance has -given her the soul of an artist, and this is always a rarity and -scarcely helpful in the management of a household. - -And thus under the vain pretext of decency you teach young girls -nothing that can give them guidance in the circumstances they will -encounter in their lives. You do more--you hide and deny these -circumstances in order to add to their strength, through the effect (i) -of surprise, and (ii) of mistrust; for education, once - -[Pg 235] -found deceitful, must bring mistrust on education as a whole.[5] I -maintain that one ought to talk of love to girls who have been well -brought up. Who will dare suggest in good faith that, in the actual -state of our manners, girls of sixteen do not know of the existence of -love? From whom do they get this idea so important and so difficult -to give properly? Think of Julie d'Étanges deploring the knowledge -that she owes to la Chaillot, one of the maidservants. One must thank -Rousseau for having dared be a true painter in an age of false decency. - -The present-day education of women being perhaps the most delightful -absurdity in modern Europe, strictly speaking the less education they -have, the better they are.[6] It is for this reason perhaps that in -Italy and Spain they are so superior to the men, and I will even say so -superior to the women of other countries. - - -[1] See the Memoirs of these admirable women. I could find other names -to quote, but they are unknown to the public, and moreover one cannot -even point to living merit. - -[2] See Mistress Hutchinson refusing to be of use to her family and her -husband, whom she adored, by betraying certain of the regicides to the -ministers of the perjured Charles II. (Vol. II, p. 284.) - -[3] It is this that gives me great hopes for the rising generation -among the privileged classes. I also hope that any husbands who read -this chapter will be milder despots for three days. - -[4] The contrary of this proverb is true in Italy, where the loveliest -voices are heard among amateurs who have no connection with the theatre. - -[5] The education given to Madame d'Épinay. (Memoirs, Vol. I.) - -[6] I make an exception as regards education in manners: a woman enters -a drawing-room better in Rue Verte than in Rue St. Martin. - - -[Pg 236] - CHAPTER LVI(43) - - OBJECTIONS TO THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN - - (_continued_) - - -In France all our ideas about women are got from a twopence-halfpenny -catechism. The delightful part of it is that many people, who would not -allow the authority of this book to regulate a matter of fifty francs, -foolishly follow it word for word in that which bears most nearly on -their happiness. Such is the vanity of nineteenth-century ways! - -There must be no divorce because marriage is a mystery--and what -mystery? The emblem of the union of Jesus Christ with the Church. And -what had become of this mystery, if the Church had been given a name of -the masculine gender?[1] But let us pass over prejudices already giving -way,[2] and let us merely observe this singular - -[Pg 237] -spectacle: the root of the tree sapped by the axe of ridicule, but the -branches continuing to flower. - -Now to return to the observation of facts and their consequences. - -In both sexes it is on the manner in which youth has been employed -that depends the fate of extreme old age--this is true for women -earlier than for men. How is a woman of forty-five received in society? -Severely, or more often in a way that is below her dignity. Women are -flattered at twenty and abandoned at forty. - -A woman of forty-five is of importance only by reason of her children -or her lover. - -A mother who excels in the fine arts can communicate her talent to -her son only in the extremely rare case, where he has received from -nature precisely the soul for this talent. But a mother of intellect -and culture will give her young son a grasp not only of all merely -agreeable talents, but also of all talents that are useful to man in -society; and he will be able to make his own choice. The barbarism -of the Turks depends in great part on the state of moral degradation -among the beautiful Georgians. Two young men born at Paris owe to their -mothers the incontestable superiority that they show at sixteen over -the young provincials of their age. It is from sixteen to twenty-five -that the luck turns. - -The men who invented gunpowder, printing, the art of weaving, -contribute every day to our happiness, and the same is true of the -Montesquieus, the Racines and the La Fontaines. Now the number of -geniuses produced by a nation is in proportion to the number of men -receiving sufficient culture,[3] and there is nothing to prove to me -that my bootmaker has not the soul to write like - -[Pg 238] -Corneille. He wants the education necessary to develop his feelings and -teach him to communicate them to the public.[4] - -Owing to the present system of girls' education, all geniuses who are -born women are lost to the public good. So soon as chance gives them -the means of displaying themselves, you see them attain to talents the -most difficult to acquire. In our own days you see a Catherine II, -who had no other education but danger and ...; a Madame Roland; an -Alessandra Mari, who raised a regiment in Arezzo and sent it against -the French; a Caroline, Queen of Naples, who knew how to put a stop to -the contagion of liberalism better than all our Castlereaghs and our -Pitts. As for what stands in the way of women's superiority in works of -art, see the chapter on Modesty, article 9. What might Miss Edgeworth -not have done, if the circumspection necessary to a young English girl -had not forced her at the outset of her career to carry the pulpit into -her novel? - -What man is there, in love or in marriage, who has the good fortune to -be able to communicate his thoughts, just as they occur to him, to the -woman with whom he passes his life? He may find a good heart that will -share his sorrows, but he is always obliged to turn his thoughts into -small change if he wishes to be understood, and it would be ridiculous -to expect reasonable counsel from an intellect that has need of such a -method in order to seize the facts. The most perfect woman, according -to the ideas of present-day education, leaves her partner isolated amid -the dangers of life and soon runs the risk of wearying him. - -[Pg 239] -What an excellent counsellor would a man not find in a wife, if only -she could think--a counsellor, after all, whose interests, apart from -one single object, and one which does not last beyond the morning of -life, are exactly identical with his own! - -One of the finest prerogatives of the mind is that it provides old age -with consideration. See how the arrival of Voltaire in Paris makes the -Royal majesty pale. But poor women! so soon as they have no longer the -brilliance of youth, their one sad happiness is to be able to delude -themselves on the part they take in society. - -The ruins of youthful talents become merely ridiculous, and it were a -happiness for our women, such as they actually are, to die at fifty. As -for a higher morality--the clearer the mind, the surer the conviction -that justice is the only road to happiness. Genius is a power; but -still more is it a torch, to light the way to the great art of being -happy. - -Most men have a moment in their life when they are capable of great -things--that moment when nothing seems impossible to them. The -ignorance of women causes this magnificent chance to be lost to the -human race. Love, nowadays, at the very most will make a man a good -horseman or teach him to choose his tailor. - -I have no time to defend myself against the advances of criticism. If -my word could set up systems, I should give girls, as far as possible, -exactly the same education as boys. As I have no intention of writing a -book about everything and nothing, I shall be excused from explaining -in what regards the present education of men is absurd. But taking it -such as it is (they are not taught the two premier sciences, logic and -ethics), it is better, I say, to give this education to girls than -merely to teach them to play the piano, to paint in water-colours and -to do needlework. - -Teach girls, therefore, reading, writing and arithmetic by the -monitorial(44) system in the central convent - -[Pg 240] -schools, in which the presence of any man, except the masters, should -be severely punished. The great advantage of bringing children together -is that, however narrow the masters may be, in spite of them the -children learn from their little comrades the art of living in the -world and of managing conflicting interests. A sensible master would -explain their little quarrels and friendships to the children, and -begin his course of ethics in this way rather than with the story of -the Golden Calf.[5] - -No doubt some years hence the monitorial system will be applied to -everything that is learnt; but, taking things as they actually are, -I would have girls learn Latin like boys. Latin is a good subject -because it accustoms one to be bored; with Latin should go history, -mathematics, a knowledge of the plants useful as nourishment or -medicine; then logic and the moral sciences, etc. Dancing, music and -drawing ought to begin at five. - -At sixteen a girl ought to think about finding a husband, and get from -her mother right ideas on love, marriage, and the want of honesty that -exists among men.[6] - - -[1] Tu es Petrus, and super hanc petram - Ædificabo Ecclesiam meam. - (See M. de Potter, _Histoire de l'Église_.) - -[2] Religion is a matter between each man and the Divinity. By what -right do you come and place yourself between my God and me? I accept a -proctor appointed by the social contract only in those matters which I -cannot do myself. - -Why should not a Frenchman pay his priest like his baker? If we have -good bread in Paris, the reason is that the State has not yet ventured -to declare the provision of bread gratuitous and put all the bakers at -the charge of the Treasury. - -In the United States every man pays his own priest. These gentry are -compelled to have some merit, and my neighbour does not see good to -make his happiness depend on submitting me to his priest. (Letters of -Birkbeck.) - -What will happen if I have the conviction, as our fathers did, that my -priest is the intimate ally of my bishop? Without a Luther, there will -be no more Catholicism in France in 1850. That religion could only be -saved in 1820 by M. Grégoire(49): see how he is treated. - -[3] See the Generals of 1795. - -[4] As regards the arts, here we have the great defect of a reasonable -government as well as the sole reasonable eulogy of monarchy _à la_ -Louis XIV. Look at the literary sterility of America. Not a single -romance like those of Robert Burns or the Spaniards of the thirteenth -century. See the admirable romances of the modern Greeks, those of the -Spaniards and Danes of the thirteenth century, and still better, the -Arabic poetry of the seventh century. - -[5] My dear pupil, your father loves you; this makes him give me forty -francs a month to teach you mathematics, drawing--in a word, how to -earn your living. If you were cold, because your overcoat was too -small, your father would be unhappy. He would be unhappy because he -would sympathise, etc., etc. But when you are eighteen, you yourself -will have to earn the money needed to buy your overcoat. Your father, -I have heard, has an income of twenty-five thousand francs, but there -are four of you children; therefore you will have to accustom yourself -to do without the carriage you enjoy while you live with your father, -etc., etc. - -[6] Yesterday evening I listened to two charming little girls of four -years old singing very gay love-songs in a swing which I was pushing. -The maidservants teach them these songs and their mother tells them -that "love" and "lover" are words without any meaning. - - -[Pg 241] - CHAPTER LVI - - (Part II) - - ON MARRIAGE - - -The fidelity of married women, where love is absent, is probably -something contrary to nature.[1] - -Men have attempted to obtain this unnatural result by the fear of hell -and sentiments of religion; the example of Spain and Italy shows how -far they have succeeded. - -In France they have attempted to obtain it by public opinion--the one -dyke capable of resistance, yet it has been badly built. It is absurd -to tell a young girl: "You must be faithful to the husband of your -choice," and then to marry her by force to a boring old dotard.[2] - -[Pg 242] -"But girls are pleased to get married." Because, under the narrow -system of present-day education, the slavery that they undergo in -their mother's house is intolerably tedious; further, they lack -enlightenment; and, lastly, there are the demands of nature. There is -but one way to obtain more fidelity among married women: it is to give -freedom to girls and divorce to married people. - -A woman always loses the fairest days of her youth in her first -marriage, and by divorce she gives fools the chance of talking against -her. - -Young women who have plenty of lovers have nothing to get from divorce, -and women of a certain age, who have already had them, hope to repair -their reputation--in France they always succeed in doing so--by -showing themselves extremely severe against the errors which have -left them behind. It is generally some wretched young woman, virtuous -and desperately in love, who seeks a divorce, and gets her good name -blackened at the hands of women who have had fifty different men. - - -[1] Not probably--but certainly. With love there, one has no taste for -any water but that of the beloved fount. So far fidelity is natural. - -In the case of marriage without love, in less than two years the water -of this fountain becomes bitter. Now the desire for water always exists -in nature. Habits may conquer nature, but only when it can be conquered -in an instant: the Indian wife who burns herself (October 21st, 1821), -after the death of the old husband whom she hated; the European girl -who barbarously murders the innocent child to whom she has just given -life. But for a very high wall the monks would soon leave the monastery. - -[2] Even down to details, with us everything that regards the education -of women is comic. For example, in 1820, under the rule of these very -nobles who have proscribed divorce, the Home Office sends to the town -of Lâon a bust and a statue of Gabrielle d'Estrées. The statue is to be -set up in the public square, apparently to spread love of the Bourbons -among the young girls and to exhort them, in case of need, not to be -cruel to amorous kings and to give scions to this illustrious family. - -But, in return, the same office refuses the town of Lâon a bust of -Marshal Serrurier, a brave man who was no gallant, and moreover had -been so vulgar as to begin his career by the trade of private soldier. -(Speech of General Foy, _Courrier_ of 17th June, 1820. Dulaure, in his -curious _History of Paris_, Amours of Henry IV.) - - -[Pg 243] - CHAPTER LVII - - OF VIRTUE, SO CALLED - - -Myself, I honour with the name of virtue the habit of doing painful -actions which are of use to others. - -St. Simon Stylites, who sits twenty-two years on the top of a column -beating himself with a strap, is in my eyes, I confess, not at all -virtuous; and it is this that gives this essay a tone only too -unprincipled. - -I esteem not a bit more the Chartreux monk who eats nothing but fish -and allows himself to talk only on Thursday. I own I prefer General -Carnot, who, at an advanced age, puts up with the rigours of exile in a -little northern town rather than do a base action. - -I have some hope that this extremely vulgar declaration will lead the -reader to skip the rest of this chapter. - -This morning, a holiday, at Pesaro (May 7th, 1819), being obliged to go -to Mass, I got hold of a Missal and fell upon these words:-- - - Joanna, Alphonsi quinti Lusitaniae regis filia, tanta divini amoris - flamma praeventa fuit, ut ab ipsa pueritia rerum caducarum pertaesa, - solo coelestis patriae desiderio flagraret. - -The virtue so touchingly preached by the very beautiful words of the -_Génie du Christianisme_(50) is thus reduced to not eating truffles -for fear of a stomach-ache. It is quite a reasonable calculation, if -you believe in hell; but it is a self-interested calculation, the most -personal and prosaic possible. That philosophic virtue, which so well -explains the return of Regulus to Carthage, and which was responsible -for some similar incidents in our - -[Pg 244] -own Revolution,[1] proves, on the contrary, generosity of soul. - -It is merely in order not to be burned in the next world, in a great -caldron of boiling oil, that Madame de Tourvel resists Valmont. I -cannot imagine how the idea, with all its ignominy, of being the rival -of a caldron of boiling oil does not drive Valmont away. - -How much more touching is Julie d'Étanges, respecting her vows and the -happiness of M. de Wolmar. - -What I say of Madame de Tourvel, I find applicable to the lofty virtue -of Mistress Hutchinson. What a soul did Puritanism steal away from love! - -One of the oddest peculiarities of this world is that men always think -they know whatever it is clearly necessary for them to know. Hear them -talk about politics, that very complicated science; hear them talk of -marriage and morals. - -[1] Memoirs of Madame Roland. M. Grangeneuve, who goes out for a walk -at eight o'clock in a certain street, in order to be killed by the -Capuchin Chabot. A death was thought expedient in the cause of liberty. - - -[Pg 245] - CHAPTER LVIII - - STATE OF EUROPE WITH REGARD TO MARRIAGE - - -So far we have only treated the question of marriage according to -theory;[1] we are now to treat it according to the facts. - -Which of all countries is that in which there are the most happy -marriages? Without dispute, Protestant Germany(52). - -I extract the following fragment from the diary of Captain Salviati, -without changing a single word in it:-- - -"Halberstadt, _June 23rd_, 1807.... Nevertheless, M. de Bülow is -absolutely and openly in love with Mademoiselle de Feltheim; he follows -her about everywhere, always, talks to her unceasingly, and very often -keeps her yards away from us. Such open marks of affection shock -society, break it up--and on the banks of the Seine would pass for the -height of indecency. The Germans think much less than we do about what -breaks up society; indecency is little more than a conventional evil. -For five years M. de Bülow has been paying court in this way to Mina, -whom he has been unable to marry owing to the war. All the young ladies -in society have their lover, and he is known to everyone. Among all -the German acquaintances of my friend M. de Mermann(53) there is not a -single one who has not married for love. - -"Mermann, his brother George, M. de Voigt, M. de - -[Pg 246] -Lazing, etc. He has just given me the names of a dozen of them. - -"The open and passionate way in which these lovers pay their court to -their mistresses would be the height of indecency, absurdity and shame -in France. - -"Mermann told me this evening, as we were returning from the _Chasseur -Vert_, that, among all the women of his very numerous family, he did -not suppose there was a single one who had deceived her husband. -Allowing that he is wrong about half of them, it is still a singular -country. - -"His shady proposal to his sister-in-law, Madame de Munichow, whose -family is about to die out for want of male heirs and its very -considerable possessions revert to the crown, coldly received, but -merely with: 'Let's hear no more of that.' - -"He tells the divine Philippine (who has just obtained a divorce from -her husband, who only wanted to sell her to his Sovereign) something -about it in very covert terms. Unfeigned indignation, toned down in its -expression instead of being exaggerated: 'Have you, then, no longer any -respect for our sex? I prefer to think, for the sake of your honour, -that you're joking.' - -"During a journey to the Brocken with this really beautiful woman, -she reclined on his shoulder while asleep or pretending to sleep; a -jolt threw her somewhat on to the top of him, and he put his arm round -her waist; she threw herself into the other corner of the carriage. -He doesn't think that she is incorruptible, but he believes that she -would kill herself the day after her mistake. What is certain is that -he loved her passionately and that he was similarly loved by her, that -they saw each other continually and that she is without reproach. But -the sun is very pale at Halberstadt, the Government very meddling, and -these two persons very cold. In their most passionate interviews Kant -and Klopstock were always of the party. - -[Pg 247] -"Mermann told me that a married man, convicted of adultery, could be -condemned by the courts of Brunswick to ten years' imprisonment; the -law has fallen into disuse, but at least ensures that people do not -joke about this sort of affair. The distinction of being a man with a -past is very far from being such an advantage here as it is in France, -where you can scarcely refuse it a married man in his presence without -insulting him. - -"Anyone who told my Colonel or Ch... that they no longer have women -since their marriage would get a very poor reception. - -"Some years ago a woman of this country, in a fit of religious fervour, -told her husband, a gentleman of the Court of Brunswick, that she had -deceived him for six years together. The husband, as big a fool as -his wife, went to tell the news to the Duke; the gallant was obliged -to resign all his employments and to leave the country in twenty-four -hours, under a threat from the Duke to put the laws in motion. " - - -"HALBERSTADT, _July 7th_, 1807. - -"Husbands are not deceived here, 'tis true--but ye gods, what women! -Statues, masses scarcely organic! Before marriage they are exceedingly -attractive, graceful as gazelles, with quick tender eyes that always -understand the least hint of love. The reason is that they are on the -look out for a husband. So soon as the husband is found, they become -absolutely nothing but getters of children, in a state of perpetual -adoration before the begetter. In a family of four or five children -there must always be one of them ill, since half the children die -before seven, and in this country, immediately one of the babies -is ill, the mother goes out no more. I can see that they find an -indescribable pleasure in being caressed by their children. Little by -little they lose all their ideas. It is the same at Philadelphia. There -girls of the wildest and most innocent gaiety become, in less - -[Pg 248] -than a year, the most boring of women. To have done with the marriages -of Protestant Germany--a wife's dowry is almost nil because of the -fiefs. Mademoiselle de Diesdorff, daughter of a man with an income of -forty thousand francs, will have a dowry of perhaps two thousand crowns -(seven thousand five hundred francs). - -"M. de Mermann got four thousand crowns with his wife. - -"The rest of the dowry is payable in vanity at the Court. 'One could -find among the middle class,' Mermann told me, 'matches with a hundred -or a hundred and fifty thousand crowns (six hundred thousand francs -instead of fifteen). But one could no longer be presented at Court; one -would be barred all society in which a prince or princess appeared: -_it's terrible._' These were his words, and they came from the heart. - -"A German woman with the soul of Phi..., her intellect, her noble and -sensitive face, the fire she must have had at eighteen (she is now -twenty-seven), a woman such as this country produces, with her virtue, -naturalness and no more than a useful little dose of religion--such -a woman would no doubt make her husband very happy. But how flatter -oneself that one would remain true to such insipid matrons? - -"'But he was married,' she answered me this morning when I blamed the -four years'silence of Corinne's lover, Lord Oswald. She sat up till -three o'clock to read _Corinne_. The novel gave her profound emotion, -and now she answers me with touching candour: 'But he was married.' - -"Phi... is so natural, with so naive a sensibility, that even in this -land of the natural, she seems a prude to the petty heads that govern -petty hearts; their witticisms make her sick, and she in no way hides -it. - -"When she is in good company, she laughs like mad at the most lively -jokes. It was she who told me the story of the young princess of -sixteen, later on so well known. - -[Pg 249] -who often managed to make the officer on guard at her door come up into -her rooms. " - - SWITZERLAND - -I know few families happier than those of the Oberland, the part of -Switzerland that lies round Berne; and it is a fact of public notoriety -(1816) that the girls there spend Saturday to Sunday nights with their -lovers. - -The fools who know the world, after a voyage from Paris to Saint Cloud, -will cry out; happily I find in a Swiss writer confirmation of what I -myself[2] saw during four months. - -"An honest peasant complained of certain losses he had sustained in -his orchard; I asked him why he didn't keep a dog: 'My daughters would -never get married.' I did not understand his answer; he told me he had -had such a bad-tempered dog that none of the young men dared climb up -to the windows any longer. - -"Another peasant, mayor of his village, told me in praise of his -wife, that when she was a girl no one had had more _Kilter_ or -_Wächterer_--that is, had had more young men come to spend the night -with her. - -"A Colonel, widely esteemed, was forced, while crossing the mountains, -to spend the night at the bottom of one of the most lonely and -picturesque valleys in the country. He lodged with the first magistrate -in the valley, a man rich and of good repute. On entering, the stranger -noticed a young girl of sixteen, a model of gracefulness, freshness -and simplicity: she was the daughter of the master of the house. That -night there was a village ball; the stranger paid court to the girl, -who was really strikingly beautiful. At last, screwing up courage, he -ventured to ask her whether he couldn't 'keep watch' with her. 'No,' -answered the girl, 'I share a room with my cousin, but I'll come myself -to yours.' You can judge - -[Pg 250] -of the confusion this answer gave him. They had supper, the stranger -got up, the girl took a torch and followed him into his room; he -imagined the moment was at hand. 'Oh no,' she said simply, 'I must -first ask Mamma's permission.' He would have been less staggered by a -thunderbolt! She went out; his courage revived; he slipped into these -good folks' parlour, and listened to the girl begging her mother in a -caressing tone to grant her the desired permission; in the end she got -it. 'Eh, old man,' said the mother to her husband who was already in -bed, 'd'you allow Trineli to spend the night with the Colonel?' 'With -all my heart,' answers the father, 'I think I'd lend even my wife -to such a man.' 'Right then, go,' says the mother to Trineli; 'but -be a good girl, and don't take off your petticoat...' At day-break, -Trineli, respected by the stranger, rose still virgin. She arranged -the bedclothes, prepared coffee and cream for her partner and, after -she had breakfasted with him, seated on his bed, cut off a little -piece of her _broustpletz_ (a piece of velvet going over the breast). -'Here,' she said, 'keep this souvenir of a happy night; I shall never -forget it.--Why are you a Colonel?' And giving him a last kiss, she ran -away; he didn't manage to see her again.[3] Here you have the absolute -opposite of French morals, and I am far from approving them." - -Were I a legislator, I would have people adopt in France, as in -Germany, the custom of evening dances. Three times a week girls would -go with their mothers to a ball, beginning at seven and ending at -midnight, and demanding no other outlay but a violin and a few glasses -of water. In a neighbouring room the mothers, maybe a little jealous of -their daughters' happy education, - -[Pg 251] -would play boston; in a third, the fathers would find papers and could -talk politics. Between midnight and one o'clock all the families -would collect together and return to the paternal roof. Girls would -get to know young men; they would soon come to loathe fatuity and -the indiscretions it is responsible for--in fact they would choose -themselves husbands. Some girls would have unhappy love-affairs, but -the number of deceived husbands and unhappy matches would diminish to -an immense degree. It would then be less absurd to attempt to punish -infidelity with dishonour. The law could say to young women: "You have -chosen your husband--be faithful to him." In those circumstances I -would allow the indictment and punishment by the courts of what the -English call criminal conversation. The courts could impose, to the -profit of prisons and hospitals, a fine equal to two-thirds of the -seducer's fortune and imprisonment for several years. - -A woman could be indicted for adultery before a jury. The jury should -first declare that the husband's conduct had been irreproachable. - -A woman, if convicted, could be condemned to imprisonment for life. If -the husband had been absent more than two years, the woman could not be -condemned to more than some years' imprisonment. Public morals would -soon model themselves on these laws and would perfect them.[4] - -[Pg 252] -And then the nobles and the priests, still regretting bitterly the -proper times of Madame de Montespan or Madame du Barry, would be forced -to allow divorce.[5] - -There would be in a village within sight of Paris an asylum for -unfortunate women, a house of refuge into which, under pain of the -galleys, no man besides the doctor and the almoner should enter. A -woman who wished to get a divorce would be bound, first of all, to go -and place herself as prisoner in this asylum; there she would spend two -years without going out once. She could write, but never receive an -answer. - -A council composed of peers of France and certain magistrates of repute -would direct, in the woman's name, the proceedings for a divorce -and would regulate the pension to be paid to the institution by the -husband. A woman who failed in her plea before the courts would be -allowed to spend the rest of her life in the asylum. The Government -would compensate the administration of the asylum with a sum of two -thousand francs for each woman who sought its refuge. To be received -in the asylum, a woman must have had a dowry of over twenty thousand -francs. The moral _régime_ would be one of extreme severity. - -After two years of complete seclusion from the world, a divorced woman -could marry again. - -Once arrived at this point, Parliament could consider - -[Pg 253] -whether, in order to infuse in girls a spirit of emulation, it would -not be advisable to allow the sons a share of the paternal heritage -double that of their sisters. The daughters who did not find husbands -would have a share equal to that of the male children. It may be -remarked, by the way, that this system would, little by little, destroy -the only too inconvenient custom of marriages of convenience. The -possibility of divorce would render useless such outrageous meanness. - -At various points in France, and in certain poor villages, thirty -abbeys for old maids should be established. The Government should -endeavour to surround these establishments with consideration, in order -to console a little the sorrows of the poor women who were to end their -lives there. They should be given all the toys of dignity. - -But enough of such chimeras! - - -[1] The author had read a chapter called "Dell' amore," in the Italian -translation of the _Idéologie_ of M. de Tracy(51). In that chapter the -reader will find ideas incomparable, in philosophical importance, with -anything he can find here. - -[2] _Principes philosophiques du Colonel Weiss_, 7 ed.,Vol. II. p. 245. - -[3] I am fortunate to be able to describe in the words of another some -extraordinary facts that I have had occasion to observe. Certainly, -but for M. de Weiss, I shouldn't have related this glimpse of foreign -customs. I have omitted others equally characteristic of Valencia and -Vienna. - -[4] _The Examiner_, an English paper, when giving a report of the -Queen's case (No. 662, September 3rd, 1820), adds:-- - -"We have a system of sexual morality, under which thousands of women -become mercenary prostitutes whom virtuous women are taught to scorn, -while virtuous men retain the privilege of frequenting these very -women, without its being regarded as anything more than a venial -offence." - -In the land of Cant there is something noble in the courage that dares -speak the truth on this subject, however trivial and obvious it be; it -is all the more meritorious in a poor paper, which can only hope for -success if bought by the rich--and they look on the bishops and the -Bible as the one safeguard of their fine feathers. - -[5] Madame de Sévigné wrote to her daughter, December 23rd, 1671: "I -don't know if you have heard that Villarceaux, when talking to the -king of a post for his son, adroitly took the occasion to tell him, -that there were people busy telling his niece (Mademoiselle de Rouxel) -that his Majesty had designs on her; that if it were so, he begged his -Majesty to make use of him; said that the affair would be better in his -hands than in others, and that he would discharge it with success. The -King began to laugh and said: 'Villarceaux, we are too old, you and I, -to attack young ladies of fifteen.' And like a gallant man, he laughed -at him and told the ladies what he had said." See Memoirs of Lauzun, -Bezenval, Madame d'Épinay, etc., etc, I beg my readers not to condemn -me altogether without re-reading these Memoirs. - - -[Pg 254] - CHAPTER LIX - - WERTHER AND DON JUAN - - -Among young people, when they have done with mocking at some poor -lover, and he has left the room, the conversation generally ends by -discussing the question, whether it is better to deal with women like -Mozart's Don Juan or like Werther. The contrast would be more exact, if -I had said Saint-Preux, but he is so dull a personage, that in making -him their representative, I should be wronging feeling hearts. - -Don Juan's character requires the greater number of useful and -generally esteemed virtues--admirable daring, resourcefulness, -vivacity, a cool head, a witty mind, etc. - -The Don Juans have great moments of bitterness and a very miserable old -age--but then most men do not reach old age. - -The lover plays a poor rôle in the drawing-room in the evening, because -to be a success and a power among women a man must show just as much -keenness on winning them as on a game of billiards. As everybody knows -that the lover has a great interest in life, he exposes himself, for -all his cleverness, to mockery. Only, next morning he wakes, not to be -in a bad temper until something piquant or something nasty turns up to -revive him, but to dream of her he loves and build castles in the air -for love to dwell in. - -Love _à la_ Werther opens the soul to all the arts, to all sweet and -romantic impressions, to the moonlight, to the beauty of the forest, to -the beauty of pictures--in a word, to the feeling and enjoyment of the -beautiful, - -[Pg 255] -under whatever form it be found, even under the coarsest cloak. It -causes man to find happiness even without riches.[1] Such souls, -instead of growing weary like Mielhan, Bezenval, etc., go mad, like -Rousseau, from an excess of sensibility. Women endowed with a certain -elevation of soul, who, after their first youth, know how to recognise -love, both where it is and what it is, generally escape the Don -Juan--he is remarkable in their eyes rather by the number than the -quality of his conquests. Observe, to the prejudice of tender hearts, -that publicity is as necessary to Don Juan's triumph as secrecy is to -Werther's. Most of the men who make women the business of their life -are born in the lap of luxury; that is to say, they are, as a result of -their education and the example set by everything that surrounded them -in youth, hardened egoists.[2] - -The real Don Juan even ends by looking on women as the enemy, and -rejoicing in their misfortunes of every sort. - -On the other hand, the charming Duke delle Pignatelle showed us the -proper way to find happiness in pleasures, - -[Pg 256] -even without passion. "I know that I like a woman," he told me one -evening, "when I find myself completely confused in her company, and -don't know what to say to her." So far from letting his self-esteem -be put to shame or take its revenge for these embarrassing moments, -he cultivated them lovingly as the source of his happiness. With this -charming young man gallant-love was quite free from the corroding -influence of vanity; his was a shade of true love, pale, but innocent -and unmixed; and he respected all women, as charming beings, towards -whom we are far from just. (February 20, 1820.) - -As a man does not choose himself a temperament, that is to say, a -soul, he cannot play a part above him. J. J. Rousseau and the Duc de -Richelieu might have tried in vain; for all their cleverness, they -could never have exchanged their fortunes with respect to women. I -could well believe that the Duke never had moments such as those -that Rousseau experienced in the park de la Chevrette with Madame -d'Houdetot; at Venice, when listening to the music of the _Scuole_; and -at Turin at the feet of Madame Bazile. But then he never had to blush -at the ridicule that overwhelmed Rousseau in his affair with Madame de -Larnage, remorse for which pursued him during the rest of his life. - -A Saint-Preux's part is sweeter and fills up every moment of existence, -but it must be owned that that of a Don Juan is far more brilliant. -Saint-Preux's tastes may change at middle age: solitary and retired, -and of pensive habits, he takes a back place on the stage of life, -while Don Juan realises the magnificence of his reputation among men, -and could yet perhaps please a woman of feeling by making sincerely the -sacrifice of his libertine's tastes. - -After all the reasons offered so far, on both sides of the question, -the balance still seems to be even. What makes me think that the -Werthers are the happier, is - -[Pg 257] -that Don Juan reduces love to the level of an ordinary affair. Instead -of being able, like Werther, to shape realities to his desires, he -finds, in love, desires which are imperfectly satisfied by cold -reality, just as in ambition, avarice or other passions. Instead of -losing himself in the enchanting reveries of crystallisation, he -thinks, like a general, of the success of his manoeuvres[3] and, in a -word, he kills love, instead of enjoying it more keenly than other men, -as ordinary people imagine. - -This seems to me unanswerable. And there is another reason, which is -no less so in my eyes, though, thanks to the malignity of Providence, -we must pardon men for not recognising it. The habit of justice is, to -my thinking, apart from accidents, the most assured way of arriving at -happiness--and a Werther is no villain.[4] - -To be happy in crime, it is absolutely necessary to have no remorse. -I do not know whether such a creature can exist;[5] I have never seen -him. I would bet that the affair of Madame Michelin disturbed the Duc -de Richelieu's nights. - -One ought either to have absolutely no sympathy or be able to put the -human race to death--which is impossible.[6] - -People who only know love from novels will experience - -[Pg 258] -a natural repugnance in reading these words in favour of virtue in -love. The reason is that, by the laws of the novel, the portraiture of -a virtuous love is essentially tiresome and uninteresting. Thus the -sentiment of virtue seems from a distance to neutralise that of love, -and the words "a virtuous love" seem synonymous with a feeble love. But -all this comes from weakness in the art of painting, and has nothing to -do with passion such as it exists in nature.[7] - -I beg to be allowed to draw a picture of my most intimate friend. - -Don Juan renounces all the duties which bind him to the rest of men. -In the great market of life he is a dishonest merchant, who is always -buying and never paying. The idea of equality inspires the same rage -in him as water in a man with hydrophobia; it is for this reason that -pride of birth goes so well with the character of Don Juan. With -the idea of the equality of rights disappears that of justice, or, -rather, if Don Juan is sprung from an illustrious family, such common -ideas have never come to him. I could easily believe that a man with -an historic name is sooner disposed than another to set fire to the -town in order to get his egg cooked.[8] We must excuse him; he is so -possessed with - -[Pg 259] -self-love that he comes to the point of losing all idea of the evil he -causes, and of seeing no longer anything in the universe capable of joy -or sorrow except himself. In the fire of youth, when passion fills our -own hearts with the pulse of life and keeps us from mistrust of others, -Don Juan, all senses and apparent happiness, applauds himself for -thinking only of himself, while he sees other men pay their sacrifices -to duty. He imagines that he has found out the great art of living. -But, in the midst of his triumph, while still scarcely thirty years of -age, he perceives to his astonishment that life is wanting, and feels -a growing disgust for what were all his pleasures. Don Juan told me -at Thorn, in an access of melancholy: "There are not twenty different -sorts of women, and once you have had two or three of each sort, -satiety sets in." I answered: "It is only imagination that can for ever -escape satiety. Each woman inspires a different interest, and, what is -more, if chance throws the same woman in your way two or three years -earlier or later in the course of life, and if chance means you to -love, you can love the same woman in different manners. But a woman of -gentle heart, even when she loved you, would produce in you, because of -her pretensions to equality, only irritation to your pride. Your way of -having women kills all the other pleasures of life; Werther's increases -them a hundredfold." - -This sad tragedy reaches the last act. You see Don Juan in old age, -turning on this and that, never on himself, as the cause of his own -satiety. You see him, tormented by a consuming poison, flying from -this to that in a continual change of purpose. But, however brilliant -the appearances may be, in the end he only changes one misery for -another. He tries the boredom of inaction, he tries the boredom of -excitement--there is nothing else for him to choose. - -At last he discovers the fatal truth and confesses it to himself; -henceforward he is reduced for all his enjoyment - -[Pg 260] -to making display of his power, and openly doing evil for evil's sake. -In short, 'tis the last degree of settled gloom; no poet has dared give -us a faithful picture of it--the picture, if true, would strike horror. -But one may hope that a man, above the ordinary, will retrace his steps -along this fatal path; for at the bottom of Don Juan's character there -is a contradiction. I have supposed him a man of great intellect, and -great intellect leads us to the discovery of virtue by the road that -runs to the temple of glory.[9] - -La Rochefoucauld, who, however, was a master of self-love, and who in -real life was nothing but a silly man of letters,[10] says(267): "The -pleasure of love consists in loving, and a man gets more happiness from -the passion he feels than from the passion he inspires." - -Don Juan's happiness consists in vanity, based, it is true, on -circumstances brought about by great intelligence and activity; but he -must feel that the most inconsiderable general who wins a battle, the -most inconsiderable prefect who keeps his department in order, realises -a more signal enjoyment than his own. The Duc de Nemours' happiness -when Madame de Clèves tells him that she loves him, is, I imagine, -above Napoleon's happiness at Marengo. - -Love _à la_ Don Juan is a sentiment of the same kind as a taste for -hunting. It is a desire for activity which must be kept alive by divers -objects and by putting a man's talents continually to the test. - -Love _à la_ Werther is like the feeling of a schoolboy writing a -tragedy--and a thousand times better; it is a new goal, to which -everything in life is referred and which changes the face of -everything. Passion-love casts all nature in its sublimer aspects -before the eyes of a - -[Pg 261] -man, as a novelty invented but yesterday. He is amazed that he has -never seen the singular spectacle that is now discovered to his soul. -Everything is new, everything is alive, everything breathes the most -passionate interest.[11] A lover sees the woman he loves on the horizon -of every landscape he comes across, and, while he travels a hundred -miles to go and catch a glimpse of her for an instant, each tree, each -rock speaks to him of her in a different manner and tells him something -new about her. Instead of the tumult of this magic spectacle, Don Juan -finds that external objects have for him no value apart from their -degree of utility, and must be made amusing by some new intrigue. - -Love _à la_ Werther has strange pleasures; after a year or two, the -lover has now, so to speak, but one heart with her he loves; and this, -strange to say, even independent of his success in love--even under a -cruel mistress. Whatever he does, whatever he sees, he asks himself: -"What would she say if she were with me? What would I say to her about -this view of Casa-Lecchio?" He speaks to her, he hears her answer, he -smiles at her fun. A hundred miles from her, and under the weight of -her anger, he surprises himself, reflecting: "Léonore was very gay that -night." Then he wakes up: "Good God!" he says to himself with a sigh, -"there are madmen in Bedlam less mad than I." - -"You make me quite impatient," said a friend of mine, to whom I read -out this remark: "you are continually opposing the passionate man to -the Don Juan, and that is not the point in dispute. You would be right, -if a man could provide himself with passion at will. But what about -indifference--what is to be done then?"--Gallant-love without horrors. -Its horrors always come from a little soul, that needs to be reassured -as to its own merit. - -To continue.--The Don Juans must find great difficulty - -[Pg 262] -in agreeing with what I was saying just now of this state of the soul. -Besides the fact that they can neither see nor feel this state, it -gives too great a blow to their vanity. The error of their life is -expecting to win in a fortnight what a timid lover can scarcely obtain -in six months. They base their reckoning on experience got at the -expense of those poor devils, who have neither the soul to please a -woman of feeling by revealing its ingenuous workings, nor the necessary -wit for the part of a Don Juan. They refuse to see that the same prize, -though granted by the same woman, is not the same thing. - - L'homme prudent sans cesse se méfie. - C'est pour cela que des amants trompeurs - Le nombre est grand. Les dames que l'on prie - Font soupirer longtemps des serviteurs - Qui n'ont jamais été faux de leur vie. - Mais du trésor qu'elles donnent enfin - Le prix n'est su que du cœur qui le goûte; - Plus on l'achète et plus il est divin: - Le los d'amour ne vaut pas ce qu'il coûte.[12] - - (Nivernais, _Le Troubadour Guillaume de la Tour_, III, 342.) - -Passion-love in the eyes of a Don Juan may be compared to a strange -road, steep and toilsome, that begins, 'tis true, amidst delicious -copses, but is soon lost among sheer rocks, whose aspect is anything -but inviting to the eyes of the vulgar. Little by little the road -penetrates into the mountain-heights, in the midst of a dark forest, -where the huge trees, intercepting the daylight with their shaggy -tops that seem to touch the sky, throw a kind of horror into souls -untempered by dangers. - -[Pg 263] -After wandering with difficulty, as in an endless maze, whose multiple -turnings try the patience of our self-love, on a sudden we turn a -corner and find ourselves in a new world, in the delicious valley of -Cashmire of Lalla Rookh. How can the Don Juans, who never venture along -this road, or at most take but a few steps along it, judge of the views -that it offers at the end of the journey?... - - * * * * * - -So you see inconstancy is good: - - "Il me faut du nouveau, n'en fût-il plus au monde."[13] - -Very well, I reply, you make light of oaths and justice, and what can -you look for in inconstancy? Pleasure apparently. - -But the pleasure to be got from a pretty woman, desired a fortnight and -loved three months, is different from the pleasure to be found in a -mistress, desired three years and loved ten. - -If I do not insert the word "always" the reason is that I have been -told old age, by altering our organs, renders us incapable of loving; -myself, I don't believe it. When your mistress has become your intimate -friend, she can give you new pleasures, the pleasures of old age. 'Tis -a flower that, after it has been a rose in the morning--the season of -flowers--becomes a delicious fruit in the evening, when the roses are -no longer in season.[14] - -A mistress desired three years is really a mistress in every sense of -the word; you cannot approach her without trembling; and let me tell -the Don Juans that a man who trembles is not bored. The pleasures of -love are always in proportion to our fear. - -The evil of inconstancy is weariness; the evil of passion is despair -and death. The cases of despair are noted and become legend. No one -pays attention to the - -[Pg 264] -weary old libertines dying of boredom, with whom the streets of Paris -are lined. - -"Love blows out more brains than boredom." I have no doubt of it: -boredom robs a man of everything, even the courage to kill himself. - -There is a certain type of character which can find pleasure only in -variety. A man who cries up Champagne at the expense of Bordeaux is -only saying, with more or less eloquence: "I prefer Champagne." - -Each of these wines has its partisans, and they are all right, so -long as they quite understand themselves, and run after the kind of -happiness best suited to their organs[15] and their habits. What ruins -the case for inconstancy is that all fools range themselves on that -side from lack of courage. - -But after all, everyone, if he will take the trouble to look into -himself, has his ideal, and there always seems to me something a little -ridiculous in wanting to convert your neighbour. - - -[1] See the first volume of the _Nouvelle Héloïse_. I should say every -volume, if Saint-Preux had happened to have the ghost of a character, -but he was a real poet, a babbler without resolution, who had no -courage until he had made a peroration--yes, a very dull man. Such men -have an immense advantage, in not upsetting feminine pride, and in -never giving their mistress a fright. Weigh the word well; it contains -perhaps the whole secret of the success of dull men with distinguished -women. Nevertheless love is only a passion in so far as it makes one -forget one's self-love. Thus they do not completely know love, these -women, who, like L., ask of it the pleasures of pride. Unconsciously, -they are on the same level as the prosaic man, the object of their -contempt, who in love seeks love plus vanity. And they too, they want -love and pride; but love goes out with flaming cheeks; he is the -proudest of despots; he will be all, or nothing. - -[2] See a certain page of André Chénier (Works, p. 370); or rather look -at life, though that's much harder. "In general, those whom we call -patricians are much further than other men from loving anything," says -the Emperor Marcus Aurelius. (_Meditations_.) - -[3] Compare Lovelace and Tom Jones. - -[4] See the _Vie privée du duc de Richelieu_, nine volumes in 8vo. -Why, at the moment that an assassin kills a man, does he not fall dead -at his victim's feet? Why is there illness? And, if there is illness, -why does not a Troistaillons die of the colic? Why does Henry IV reign -twenty-one years and Lewis XV fifty-nine? Why is not the length of -life in exact proportion to the degree of virtue in each man? These -and other "infamous questions," English philosophers will say there -is certainly no merit in posing; but there would be some merit in -answering them otherwise than with insults and "cant." - -[5] Note Nero after the murder of his mother, in Suetonius, and yet -with what a fine lot of flattery was he surrounded. - -[6] Cruelty is only a morbid kind of sympathy. Power is, after love, -the first source of happiness, only because one believes oneself to be -in a position to command sympathy. - -[7] If you offer the spectator a picture of the sentiment of virtue -side by side with the sentiment of love, you will find that you have -represented a heart divided between two sentiments. In novels the only -good of virtue is to be sacrificed; _vide_ Julie d'Étanges. - -[8] _Vide_ Saint-Simon, _fausse couche_ of the Duchesse de Bourgoyne; -and Madame de Motteville, _passim_: That princess, who was surprised -to find that other women had five fingers on their hands like herself; -that Gaston, Duke of Orleans, brother of Lewis XIII, who found it -quite easy to understand why his favourites went to the scaffold just -to please him. Note, in 1820, these fine gentlemen putting forward an -electoral law that may bring back your Robespierres into France, etc., -etc. And observe Naples in 1799. (I leave this note written in 1820. A -list of the great nobles in 1778, with notes on their morals, compiled -by General Laclos, seen at Naples in the library of the Marchese -Berio--a very scandalous manuscript of more than three hundred pages.) - -[9] The character of the young man of the privileged classes in 1820 is -pretty correctly represented by the brave Bothwell of _Old Mortality_. - -[10] See Memoirs of de Retz and the unpleasant minute he gave the -coadjutor at the Parliament between two doors. - -[11] Vol. 1819. Honeysuckle on the slopes. - -[12] [A prudent man continually mistrusts himself. 'Tis the reason why -the number of false lovers is great. The women whom men worship, make -their servants, who have never been false in their life, sigh a long -time. But the value of the prize that they give them in the end, can -only be known to the heart that tastes it; the greater the cost, the -more divine it is. The praises of love are not worth its pains.--Tr.] - -[13] [I must have novelty, even if there were none left in the -world.--Tr. ] - -[14] See the Memoirs of Collé--his wife. - -[15] Physiologists, who understand our organs, tell you: "Injustice, -in the relations of social life, produces harshness, diffidence and -misery." - -[Pg 265] - - BOOK III - -[Pg 266] -[Pg 267] - SCATTERED FRAGMENTS - - -Under this title, which I would willingly have made still more modest, -I have brought together, without excessive severity, a selection made -from three or four hundred playing cards, on which I found a few lines -scrawled in pencil. That which, I suppose, must be called the original -manuscript, for want of a simpler name, was in many places made up -of pieces of paper of all sizes, written on in pencil, and joined -together by Lisio with sealing-wax, to save him the trouble of copying -them afresh. He told me once that nothing he ever noted down seemed -to him worth the trouble of recopying an hour later. I have entered -so fully into all this in the hope that it may serve as an excuse for -repetitions. - - - I - -Everything can be acquired in solitude, except character. - - - II - -1821. Hatred, love and avarice, the three ruling passions at Rome, and -with gambling added, almost the only ones. - -At first sight the Romans seem ill-natured, but they are only very much -on their guard and blessed with an imagination which flares up at the -least suggestion. - -If they give a gratuitous proof of ill-nature, it is the case of a man, -gnawed by fear, and testing his gun to reassure himself. - -[Pg 268] - III - -If I were to say, as I believe, that good-nature is the keynote of the -Parisian's character, I should be very frightened of having offended -him.--"I won't be good!" - - - IV - -A proof of love comes to light, when all the pleasures and all the -pains, which all the other passions and wants of man can produce, in a -moment cease working. - - - V - -Prudery is a kind of avarice--the worst of all. - - - VI - -To have a solid character is to have a long and tried experience of -life's disillusions and misfortunes. Then it is a question of desiring -constantly or not at all. - - - VII - -Love, such as it exists in smart society, is the love of battle, the -love of gambling. - - - VIII - -Nothing kills gallant love like gusts of passion-love from the other -side. (Contessina L. Forlì--1819). - - - IX - -A great fault in women, and the most offensive of all to a man a -little worthy of that name: The public, in matters of feeling, never -soars above mean ideas, and women make the public the supreme judge -of their lives--even the most distinguished women, I maintain, often -unconsciously, and even while believing and saying the contrary. -(Brescia, 1819). - -[Pg 269] - X - -Prosaic is a new word, which once I thought absurd, for nothing could -be colder than our poetry. If there has been any warmth in France for -the last fifty years, it is assuredly to be found in its prose. - -But anyhow, the little Countess L---- used the word and I like writing -it. - -The definition of prosaic is to be got from _Don Quixote_, and "the -complete contrast of Knight and Squire." The Knight tall and pale; the -Squire fat and fresh. The former all heroism and courtesy; the latter -all selfishness and servility. The former always full of romantic and -touching fancies; the latter a model of worldly wisdom, a compendium -of wise saws. The one always feeding his soul on dreams of heroism and -daring; the other ruminating some really sensible scheme in which, -never fear, he will take into strict account all the shameful, selfish -little movements the human heart is prone to. - -At the very moment when the former should be brought to his senses -by the non-success of yesterday's dreams, he is already busy on his -castles in Spain for to-day. - -You ought to have a prosaic husband and to choose a romantic lover. - -Marlborough had a prosaic soul: Henry IV, in love at fifty-five with a -young princess, who could not forget his age, a romantic heart.[1] - -There are fewer prosaic beings among the nobility than in the -middle-class. - -This is the fault of trade, it makes people prosaic. - - -[1] Dulaure, _History of Paris_. - -Silent episode in the queen's apartment the evening of the flight of -the Princesse de Condé: the ministers transfixed to the wall and mute, -the King striding up and down. - -[Pg 270] - XI - -Nothing so interesting as passion: for there everything is unforeseen, -and the principal is the victim. Nothing so flat as gallantry, where -everything is a matter of calculation, as in all the prosaic affairs of -life. - - - XII - -At the end of a visit you always finish by treating a lover better than -you meant to. (L., _November 2nd_, 1818). - - - XIII - -In spite of genius in an upstart, the influence of rank always makes -itself felt. Think of Rousseau losing his heart to all the "ladies" he -met, and weeping tears of rapture because the Duke of L----, one of the -dullest courtiers of the period, deigns to take the right side rather -than the left in a walk with a certain M. Coindet, friend of Rousseau! -(L., _May 3rd_, 1820.) - - - XIV - -Women's only educator is the world. A mother in love does not hesitate -to appear in the seventh heaven of delight, or in the depth of -despair, before her daughters aged fourteen or fifteen. Remember that, -under these happy skies, plenty of women are quite nice-looking till -forty-five, and the majority are married at eighteen. - -Think of La Valchiusa saying yesterday of Lampugnani: "Ah, that man was -made for me, he could love, ... etc., etc," and so on in this strain -to a friend--all before her daughter, a little thing of fourteen or -fifteen, very much on the alert, and whom she also took with her on the -more than friendly walks with the lover in question. - -Sometimes girls get hold of sound rules of conduct, For examples take -Madame Guarnacci, addressing her two daughters and two men, who have -never called on - -[Pg 271] -her before. For an hour and a half she treats them to profound maxims, -based on examples within their own knowledge (that of La Cercara in -Hungary), on the precise point at which it is right to punish with -infidelity a lover who misbehaves himself. (Ravenna, _January 23rd_, -1820.) - - - XV - -The sanguine man, the true Frenchman (Colonel M----) instead of being -tormented by excess of feeling, like Rousseau, if he has a rendezvous -for the next evening at seven, sees everything, right up to the -blessed moment, through rosy spectacles. People of this kind are not -in the least susceptible to passion-love; it would upset their sweet -tranquillity. I will go so far as to say that perhaps they would find -its transports a nuisance, or at all events be humiliated by the -timidity it produces. - - - XVI - -Most men of the world, through vanity, caution or disaster, let -themselves love a woman freely only after intimate intercourse. - - - XVII - -With very gentle souls a woman needs to be easy-going in order to -encourage crystallisation. - - - XVIII - -A woman imagines that the voice of the public is speaking through the -mouth of the first fool or the first treacherous friend who claims to -be its faithful interpreter to her. - - - XIX - -There is a delicious pleasure in clasping in your arms a woman who has -wronged you grievously, who has been - -[Pg 272] -your bitter enemy for many a day, and is ready to be so again. Good -fortune of the French officers in Spain, 1812. - - - XX - -Solitude is what one wants, to relish one's own heart and to love; but -to succeed one must go amongst men, here, there and everywhere. - - - XXI - -"All the observations of the French on love are well written, carefully -and without exaggeration, but they bear only on light affections," said -that delightful person, Cardinal Lante. - - - XXII - -In Goldoni's comedy, the _Innamorati_, all the workings of passion are -excellent; it is the very repulsive meanness of style and thought which -revolts one. The contrary is true of a French comedy. - - - XXIII - -The youth of 1822: To say "serious turn of mind, active disposition" -means "sacrifice of the present to the future." Nothing develops the -soul like the power and the habit of making such sacrifices. I foresee -the probability of more great passions in 1832 than in 1772. - - - XXIV - -The choleric temperament, when it does not display itself in too -repulsive a form, is one perhaps most apt of all to strike and keep -alive the imagination of women. If the choleric temperament does not -fall among propitious surroundings, as Lauzun in Saint-Simon (Memoirs), -the difficulty is to grow used to it. But - -[Pg 273] -once grasped by a woman, this character must fascinate her: yes, even -the savage and fanatic Balfour (_Old Mortality_). For women it is the -antithesis of the prosaic. - - - XXV - -In love one often doubts what one believes most strongly (La R., 355). -In every other passion, what once we have proved, we no longer doubt. - - - XXVI - -Verse was invented to assist the memory. Later it was kept to increase -the pleasure of reading by the sight of the difficulty overcome. Its -survival nowadays in dramatic art is a relic of barbarity. Example: the -Cavalry Regulations put into verse by M. de Bonnay. - - - XXVII - -While this jealous slave feeds his soul on boredom, avarice, hatred -and other such poisonous, cold passions, I spend a night of happiness -dreaming of her--of her who, through mistrust, treats me badly. - - - XXVIII - -It needs a great soul to dare have a simple style. That is why Rousseau -put so much rhetoric into the _Nouvelle Héloïse_--which makes it -unreadable for anyone over thirty. - - - XXIX - -"The greatest reproach we could possibly make against ourselves is, -certainly, to have let fade, like the shadowy phantoms produced by -sleep, the ideas of honour and justice, which from time to time well up -in our hearts." (_Letter from Jena, March_, 1819.) - -[Pg 274] - XXX - -A respectable woman is in the country and passes an hour in the -hot-house with her gardener. Certain people, whose views she has upset, -accuse her of having found a lover in this gardener. What answer is -there? - -Speaking absolutely, the thing is possible. She could say: "My -character speaks for me, look at my behaviour throughout life"--only -all this is equally invisible to the eyes of the ill-natured who won't -see, and the fools who can't. (Salviati, Rome, _July 23rd_, 1819.) - - - XXXI - -I have known a man find out that his rival's love was returned, and yet -the rival himself remain blinded to the fact by his passion. - - - XXXII - -The more desperately he is in love, the more violent the pressure a man -is forced to put upon himself, in order to risk annoying the woman he -loves by taking her hand. - - - XXXIII - -Ludicrous rhetoric but, unlike that of Rousseau, inspired by true -passion. (Memoirs of M. de Mau..., _Letter of S----_.) - - - XXXIV - - NATURALNESS - -I saw, or I thought I saw, this evening the triumph of naturalness in -a young woman, who certainly seems to me to possess a great character. -She adores, obviously, I think, one of her cousins and must have -confessed to herself the state of her heart. The cousin is in love with -her, but as she is very serious with him, thinks she does not like him, -and lets himself be fascinated by the marks - -[Pg 275] -of preference shown him by Clara, a young widow and friend of Mélanie. -I think he will marry her. Mélanie sees it and suffers all that a proud -heart, struggling involuntarily with a violent passion, is capable of -suffering. She has only to alter her ways a little; but she would look -upon it as a piece of meanness, the consequences of which would affect -her whole life, to depart one instant from her natural self. - - - XXXV - -Sappho saw in love only sensual intoxication or physical pleasure -made sublime by crystallisation. Anacreon looked for sensual and -intellectual amusement. There was too little security in Antiquity for -people to find leisure for passion-love. - - - XXXVI - -The foregoing fact fully justifies me in rather laughing at people who -think Homer superior to Tasso. Passion-love did exist in the time of -Homer, and at no great distance from Greece. - - - XXXVII - -Woman with a heart, if you wish to know whether the man you adore -loves you with passion-love, study your lover's early youth. Every man -of distinction in the early days of his life is either a ridiculous -enthusiast or an unfortunate. A man easy to please, of gay and cheerful -humour, can never love with the passion your heart requires. - -Passion I call only that which has gone through long misfortunes, -misfortunes which novels take good care not to depict--what's more they -can't! - -[Pg 276] - XXXVIII - -A bold resolution can change in an instant the most extreme misfortune -into quite a tolerable state of things. The evening of a defeat, a man -is retreating in hot haste, his charger already spent. He can hear -distinctly the troop of cavalry galloping in pursuit. Suddenly he -stops, dismounts, recharges his carbine and pistols, and makes up his -mind to defend himself. Straightway, instead of having death, he has a -cross of the Legion of Honour before his eyes. - - - XXXIX - -Basis of English habits. About 1730, while we already had Voltaire and -Fontenelle, a machine was invented in England to separate the grain, -after threshing, from the chaff. It worked by means of a wheel, which -gave the air enough movement to blow away the bits of chaff. But in -that biblical country the peasants pretended that it was wicked to go -against the will of Divine Providence, and to produce an artificial -wind like this, instead of begging Heaven with an ardent prayer for -enough wind to thresh the corn and waiting for the moment appointed by -the God of Israel. Compare this with French peasants.[1] - - -[1] For the actual state of English habits, see the Life of Mr. -Beattie, written by an intimate friend. The reader will be edified by -the profound humility of Mr. Beattie, when he receives ten guineas from -an old Marchioness in order to slander Hume. The trembling aristocracy -relies on the bishops with incomes of £200,000, and pays in money and -honour so-called liberal writers to throw mud at Chénier. (_Edinburgh -Review_, 1821.) - -The most disgusting cant leaks through on all sides. Everything except -the portrayal of primitive and energetic feelings is stifled by it: -impossible to write a joyous page in English. - - - XL - -No doubt about it--'tis a form of madness to expose oneself to -passion-love. In some cases, however, the cure - -[Pg 277] -works too energetically. American girls in the United States are so -saturated and fortified with reasonable ideas, that in that country -love, the flower of life, has deserted youth. At Boston a girl can -be left perfectly safely alone with a handsome stranger--in all -probability she's thinking of nothing but her marriage settlement. - - - XLI - -In France men who have lost their wives are melancholy; widows, on the -contrary, merry and light-hearted. There is a proverb current among -women on the felicity of this state. So there must be some inequality -in the articles of union. - - - XLII - -People who are happy in their love have an air of profound -preoccupation, which, for a Frenchman, is the same as saying an air of -profound gloom. (Dresden, 1818.) - - - XLIII - -The more generally a man pleases, the less deeply can he please. - - - XLIV - -As a result of imitation in the early years of life, we contract the -passions of our parents, even when these very passions poison our life. -(L.'s pride.) - - - XLV - -The most honourable source of feminine pride is a woman's fear of -degrading herself in her lover's eyes by some hasty step or some action -that he may think unwomanly. - -[Pg 278] - XLVI - -Real love renders the thought of death frequent, agreeable, -unterrifying, a mere subject of comparison, the price we are willing to -pay for many a thing. - - - XLVII - -How often have I exclaimed for all my bravery: "If anyone would blow -out my brains, I'd thank him before I expired, if there were time." A -man can only be brave, with the woman he loves, by loving her a little -less. (S., _February_, 1820.) - - - XLVIII - -"I could never love!" a young woman said to me. "Mirabeau and his -letters to Sophie have given me a disgust for great souls. Those fatal -letters impressed me like a personal experience." - -Try a plan which you never read of in novels; let two years' constancy -assure you, before intimate intercourse, of your lover's heart. - - - XLIX - -Ridicule scares love. Ridicule is impossible in Italy: what's good -form in Venice is odd at Naples--consequently nothing's odd in Italy. -Besides, nothing that gives pleasure is found fault with. 'Tis this -that does away with the fool's honour and half the farce. - - - L - -Children command by tears, and if people do not attend to their wishes, -they hurt themselves on purpose. Young women are piqued from a sense of -honour. - -[Pg 279] - LI - -'Tis a common reflection, but one for that reason easily forgotten, -that every day sensitive souls become rarer, cultured minds commoner. - - - LII - - FEMININE PRIDE - -I have just witnessed a striking example--but on mature consideration -I should need fifteen pages to give a proper idea of it. If I dared, -I would much rather note the consequences; my eyes have convinced me -beyond the possibility of doubt. But, no, it is a conviction I must -give up all idea of communicating, there are too many little details. -Such pride is the opposite of French vanity. So far as I can remember, -the only work, in which I have seen a sketch of it, is that part of -Madame Roland's Memoirs, where she recounts the petty reasonings she -made as a girl. (Bologna, _April 18th_, 2 a.m.) - - - LIII - -In France, most women make no account of a young man until they have -turned him into a coxcomb. It is only then that he can flatter their -vanity. (Duclos.) - - - LIV - -Zilietti said to me at midnight (at the charming Marchesina R...'s): -"I'm not going to dine at San Michele (an inn). Yesterday I said some -smart things--I was joking with Cl...; it might make me conspicuous." - -Don't go and think that Zilietti is either a fool or a coward. He is a -prudent and very rich man in this happy land. (Modena, 1820.) - -[Pg 280] - LV - -What is admirable in America is the government, not society. Elsewhere -government does the harm. At Boston they have changed parts, and -government plays the hypocrite, in order not to shock society. - - - LVI - -Italian girls, if they love, are entirely given over to natural -inspiration. At the very most all that can aid them is a handful -of excellent maxims, which they have picked up by listening at the -keyhole. As if fate had decreed that everything here should combine to -preserve naturalness, they read no novels--and for this reason, that -there are none. At Geneva or in France, on the contrary, a girls falls -in love at sixteen in order to be a heroine, and at each step, almost -at each tear, she asks herself: "Am I not just like Julie d'Étanges? " - - - LVII - -The husband of a young woman adored by a lover, whom she treats -unkindly and scarcely allows to kiss her hand, has, at the very most, -only the grossest physical pleasure, where the lover would find the -charms and transports of the keenest happiness that exists on earth. - - - LVIII - -The laws of the imagination are still so little understood, that I -include the following estimate, though perhaps it is all quite wrong. - -I seem to distinguish two sorts of imagination:-- - -1. Imagination like Fabio's, ardent, impetuous, inconsiderate, leading -straight to action, consuming itself, and already languishing at a -delay of twenty-four hours. Impatience is its prime characteristic; it -becomes enraged against that which it cannot obtain. It sees all - -[Pg 281] -exterior objects, but they only serve to inflame it. It assimilates -them to its own substance, and converts them straight away to the -profit of passion. - -2. Imagination which takes fire slowly and little by little, but which -loses in time the perception of exterior objects, and comes to find -occupation and nourishment in nothing but its own passion. This last -sort of imagination goes quite easily with slowness, or even scarcity, -of ideas. It is favourable to constancy. It is the imagination of the -greater part of those poor German girls, who are dying of love and -consumption. That sad spectacle, so frequent beyond the Rhine, is never -met with in Italy. - - - LIX - -Imaginative habits. A Frenchman is really shocked by eight changes of -scenery in one act of a tragedy. Such a man is incapable of pleasure in -seeing Macbeth. He consoles himself by damning Shakespeare. - - - LX - -In France the provinces are forty years behind Paris in all that -regards women. A. C., a married woman, tells me that she only liked to -read certain parts of Lanzi's Memoirs. Such stupidity is too much for -me; I can no longer find a word to say to her. As if that were a book -one _could_ put down! - -Want of naturalness--the great failing in provincial women. - -Their effusive and gracious gestures; those who play the first fiddle -in the town are worse than the others. - - - LXI - -Goethe, or any other German genius, esteems money at what it's worth. -Until he has got an income of six thousand francs, he must think of -nothing but his - -[Pg 282] -banking-account. After that he must never think of it again. The fool, -on his side, does not understand the advantage there is of feeling -and thinking like Goethe. All his life he feels in terms of money and -thinks of sums of money. It is owing to this support from both sides, -that the prosaic in this world seem to come off so much better than the -high-minded. - - - LXII - -In Europe, desire is inflamed by constraint; in America it is dulled by -liberty. - - - LXIII - -A mania for discussion has got hold of the younger generation and -stolen it from love. While they are considering whether Napoleon was -of service to France, they let the age of love speed past. Even with -those who mean to be young, it is all affectation--a tie, a spur, their -martial swagger, their all-absorbing self--and they forget to cast a -glance at the girl who passes by so modestly and cannot go out more -than once a week through want of means. - - - LXIV - -I have suppressed a chapter on Prudery, and others as well. - -I am happy to find the following passage in Horace Walpole's Memoirs: - -_The Two Elizabeths_. Let us compare the daughters of two ferocious -men, and see which was sovereign of a civilised nation, which of a -barbarous one. Both were Elizabeths. The daughter of Peter (of Russia) -was absolute, yet spared a competitor and a rival; and thought the -person of an empress had sufficient allurements for as many of her -subjects as she chose to honour with the - -[Pg 283] -communication. Elizabeth of England could neither forgive the claim -of Mary Stuart nor her charms, but ungenerously imprisoned her (as -George IV did Napoleon[1]) when imploring protection, and, without the -sanction of either despotism or law, sacrificed many to her great and -little jealousy. Yet this Elizabeth piqued herself on chastity; and -while she practised every ridiculous art of coquetry to be admired -at an unseemly age, kept off lovers whom she encouraged, and neither -gratified her own desires nor their ambition. Who can help preferring -the honest, open-hearted barbarian empress? (Lord Orford's Memoirs.) - - -[1] [Added, of course, by Stendhal.--Tr.] - - - LXV - -Extreme familiarity may destroy crystallisation. A charming girl of -sixteen fell in love with a handsome youth of the same age, who never -failed one evening to pass under her window at nightfall. Her mother -invites him to spend a week with them in the country--a desperate -remedy, I agree. But the girl was romantic, and the youth rather dull: -after three days she despised him. - - - LXVI - -Ave Maria--twilight in Italy, the hour of tenderness, of the soul's -pleasures and of melancholy--sensation intensified by the sound of -those lovely bells. - -Hours of pleasure, which only in memory touch the senses.... (Bologna, -_April 17th_, 1817.) - - - LXVII - -A young man's first love-affair on entering society is ordinarily one -of ambition. He rarely declares his love for a sweet, amiable and -innocent young girl. How tremble before her, adore her, feel oneself -in the presence of a divinity? Youth must love a being whose qualities -lift him up in his own eyes. It is in the decline of life - -[Pg 284] -that we sadly come back to love the simple and the innocent, despairing -of the sublime. Between the two comes true love, which thinks of -nothing but itself. - - - LXVIII - -The existence of great souls is not suspected. They hide away; all that -is seen is a little originality. There are more great souls than one -would think. - - - LXIX - -The first clasp of the beloved's hand--what a moment that is! The -only joy to be compared to it is the ravishing joy of power--which -statesmen and kings make pretence of despising. This joy also has -its crystallisation, though it demands a colder and more reasonable -imagination. Think of a man whom, a quarter of an hour ago, Napoleon -has called to be a minister. - - - LXX - -The celebrated Johannes von Müller(54) said to me at Cassel in -1808--Nature has given strength to the North and wit to the South. - - - LXXI - -Nothing more untrue than the maxim: No man is a hero before his valet. -Or, rather, nothing truer in the monarchic sense of the word hero--the -affected hero, like Hippolytus in _Phèdre_. Desaix, for example, would -have been a hero even before his valet (it's true I don't know if he -had one), and a still greater hero for his valet than for anyone else. -Turenne and Fénelon might each have been a Desaix, but for "good form" -and the necessary amount of force. - -[Pg 285] - LXXII - -Here is blasphemy. I, a Dutchman, dare say this: the French possess -neither the true pleasures of conversation nor the true pleasures of -the theatre; instead of relaxation and complete unrestraint, they mean -hard labour. Among the sources of fatigue which hastened on the death -of Mme. de Staël I have heard counted the strain of conversation during -her last winter.[1] - - -[1] Memoirs of Marmontel, Montesquieu's conversation. - - - LXXIII - -The degree of tension of the nerves in the ear, necessary to hear each -note, explains well enough the physical part of one's pleasure in music. - - - LXXIV - -What degrades rakish women is the opinion, which they share with the -public, that they are guilty of a great sin. - - - LXXV - -In an army in retreat, warn an Italian soldier of a danger which it is -no use running--he'll almost thank you and he'll carefully avoid it. -If, from kindness, you point out the same danger to a French soldier, -he'll think you're defying him--his sense of honour is piqued, and he -runs his head straight against it. If he dared, he'd like to jeer at -you. (Gyat, 1812.) - - - LXXVI - -In France, any idea that can be explained only in the very simplest -terms is sure to be despised, even the most useful. The Monitorial -system(43), invented by a Frenchman, could never catch on. It is -exactly the opposite in Italy. - -[Pg 286] - LXXVII - -Suppose you are passionately in love with a woman and that your -imagination has not run dry. One evening she is tactless enough to -say, looking at you tenderly and abashed: "Er--yes--come to-morrow at -midday; I shall be in to no one but you." You cannot sleep; you cannot -think of anything; the morning is torture. At last twelve o'clock -strikes, and every stroke of the clock seems to clash and clang on your -heart. - - - LXXVIII - -In love, to share money is to increase love, to give it is to kill love. - -You are putting off the present difficulty, and the odious fear of want -in the future; or rather you are sowing the seeds of policy, of the -feeling of being two.--You destroy sympathy. - - - LXXIX - -Court ceremonies involuntarily call to mind scenes from Aretine--the -way the women display their bare shoulders, like officers their -uniform, and, for all their charms, make no more sensation! - -There you see what in a mercenary way all will do to win a man's -approval; there you see a whole world acting without morality and, -what's more, without passion. All this added to the presence of the -women with their very low dresses and their expression of malice, -greeting with a sardonic smile everything but selfish advantage payable -in the hard cash of solid pleasures--why! it gives the idea of scenes -from the Bagno. It drives far away all doubts suggested by virtue or -the conscious satisfaction of a heart at peace with itself. Yet I have -seen the feeling of isolation amidst all this dispose gentle hearts to -love. (_Mars at the Tuileries_, 1811.) - -[Pg 287] - LXXX - -A soul taken up with bashfulness and the effort to suppress it, is -incapable of pleasure. Pleasure is a luxury--to enjoy it, security is -essential and must run no risks. - - - LXXXI - -A test of love in which mercenary women cannot disguise their -feelings.--"Do you feel real delight in reconciliation or is it only -the thought of what you'll gain by it?" - - - LXXXII - -The poor things who fill La Trappe(55) are wretches who have not had -quite enough courage to kill themselves. I except, of course, the -heads, who find pleasure in being heads. - - - LXXXIII - -It is a misfortune to have known Italian beauty: you lose your -sensibility. Out of Italy, you prefer the conversation of men. - - - LXXXIV - -Italian prudence looks to the preservation of life, and this allows -free play to the imagination. (Cf. a version of the death of Pertica -the famous comic actor, December 24th, 1821.) On the other hand, -English prudence, wholly relative to the gain and safe-keeping of -just enough money to cover expenses, demands detailed and everyday -exactitude, and this habit paralyses the imagination. Notice also how -enormously it strengthens the conception of duty. - - - LXXXV - -The immense respect for money, which is the first and foremost vice of -Englishmen and Italians, is less felt - -[Pg 288] -in France and reduced to perfectly rational limits in Germany. - - - LXXXVI - -French women, having never known the happiness of true passion, are -anything but exacting over internal domestic happiness and the everyday -side of life. (_Compiègne_.) - - - LXXXVII - -"You talk to me of ambition for driving away boredom," said Kamensky: -"but all the time I used to gallop a couple of leagues every evening, -for the pleasure of seeing the Princess at Kolich, I was on terms of -intimacy with a despot whom I respected, who had my whole good fortune -in his power and the satisfaction of all my possible desires." - - LXXXVIII - -Pretty contrast! On the one hand--perfection in the little niceties of -worldly wisdom and of dress, great kindliness, want of genius, daily -cult of a thousand and one petty observances, and incapacity for three -days' attention to the same event: on the other--puritan severity, -biblical cruelty, strict probity, timid, morbid self-love and universal -cant! And yet these are the two foremost nations of the world. - - - LXXXIX - -As among princesses there has been an Empress Catherine II, why should -a female Samuel Bernard(56), or a Lagrange(57) not appear among the -middle-class? - - - XC - -Alviza calls this an unpardonable want of refinement--to dare to make -love by letter to a woman you adore and who looks at you tenderly, but -declares that she can never love you. - -[Pg 289] - XCI - -It was a mistake of the greatest philosopher that France has had, not -to have stayed in some Alpine solitude, in some remote abode, thence -to launch his book on Paris without ever coming there himself(58). -Seeing Helvétius so simple and straightforward, unnatural, hot-house -people like Suard, Marmontel or Diderot could never imagine they had -a great philosopher before them. They were perfectly honest in their -contempt for his profound reason. First of all, it was simple--a fault -unpardonable in France; secondly, the author, not, of course, his -book, was lowered in value by this weakness--the extreme importance -he attached to getting what in France is called glory, to being, like -Balzac, Voiture or Fontenelle, the fashion among his contemporaries. - -Rousseau had too much feeling and too little logic, Buffon, in his -Botanical Garden, was too hypocritical, and Voltaire too paltry to be -able to judge the principle of Helvétius. - -Helvétius was guilty of a little slip in calling this principle -_interest_, instead of giving it a pretty name like _pleasure_;[1] but -what are we to think of a nation's literature, which shows its sense by -letting itself be led astray by a fault so slight? - -The ordinary clever man, Prince Eugene of Savoy for example, finding -himself in the position of Regulus, would have stayed quietly at Rome, -and even laughed at the stupidity of the Carthaginian Senate. Regulus -goes back to Carthage. Prince Eugene would have been prosecuting his -own interest, and in exactly the same way Regulus was prosecuting his. - -All through life a noble spirit is seeing possibilities - -[Pg 290] -of action, of which a common spirit can form no idea. The very second -the possibility of that action becomes visible to the noble spirit, it -is its interest thus to act. - -If this noble spirit did not perform the action, which it has just -perceived, it would despise itself--it would be unhappy. Man's duties -are in the ratio of his moral range. The principle of Helvétius holds -good, even in the wildest exaltations of love, even in suicide. It is -contrary to his nature, it is an impossibility for a man not to do, -always and at any moment you choose to take, that which is possible and -which gives him most pleasure at that moment to do. - -[1] Torva leoena lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capellam; - Florentem cytisum sequitur lasciva capella. - .... Trahit sua quemque voluptas. (Virgil, Eclogue II.) - - - XCII - -To have firmness of character means to have experienced the influence -of others on oneself. Therefore others are necessary. - - - XCIII - - ANCIENT LOVE - -No posthumous love-letters of Roman ladies have been printed. Petronius -has written a charming book, but it is only debauch that he has painted. - -For love at Rome, apart from Virgil's story of Dido[1] and his second -Eclogue, we have no evidence more precise than the writings of the -three great poets, Ovid, Tibullus and Propertius. - -Now, Parny's _Elegies_ or Colardeau's _Letter of Héloïse to Abelard_ -are pictures of a very imperfect and vague kind, if you compare them -to some of the letters in the _Nouvelle Héloïse_, to those of the -Portuguese Nun, of Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, of Mirabeau's Sophie, of -Werther, etc., etc. - - -[Pg 291] -Poetry, with its obligatory comparisons, its mythology in which the -poet doesn't believe, its dignity of style _à la_ Louis XIV, and all -its superfluous stock of ornaments called poetical, is very inferior to -prose when it comes to a question of giving a clear and precise idea -of the working of the heart. And, in this class of writing, clearness -alone is effective. - -Tibullus, Ovid and Propertius had better taste than our poets; they -have painted love such as it was to be found among the proud citizens -of Rome: moreover, they lived under Augustus, who, having shut the -temple of Janus, sought to debase these citizens to the condition of -the loyal subjects of a monarchy. - -The mistresses of these three great poets were coquettes, faithless -and venal women; in their company the poets only sought physical -pleasure, and never, I should think, caught a glimpse of the sublime -sentiments[2] which, thirteen centuries later, stirred the heart of the -gentle Héloïse. - -I borrow the following passage from a distinguished man of letters,[3] -and one who knows the Latin poets much better than I do:-- - - The brilliant genius of Ovid, the rich imagination of Propertius, - the impressionable heart of Tibullus, doubtless inspired them with - verses of a different flavour, but all, in the same manner, they loved - women of much the same kind. They desire, they triumph, they have - fortunate rivals, they are jealous, they quarrel and make it up; they - are faithless in their turn, they are forgiven; and they recover their - happiness only to be ruffled by the return of the same mischances. - - Corinna is married. The first lessons that Ovid gives her are to teach - her the address with which to deceive her husband: the signs they are - to make each other before him and in society, - -[Pg 292] - so that they can understand each other and be understood only by - themselves. Enjoyment quickly follows; afterwards quarrels, and, what - you wouldn't expect from so gallant a man as Ovid, insults and blows; - then excuses, tears and forgiveness. Sometimes he addresses himself to - subordinates--to the servants, to his mistress' porter, who is to open - to him at night, to a cursed old beldam who corrupts her and teaches - her to sell herself for gold, to an old eunuch who keeps watch over - her, to a slave-girl who is to convey the tablets in which he begs for - a rendezvous. The rendezvous is refused: he curses his tablets, that - have had such sorry fortune. Fortune shines brighter: he adjures the - dawn not to come to interrupt his happiness. - - Soon he accuses himself of numberless infidelities, of his - indiscriminate taste for women. A moment after, Corinna is herself - faithless; he cannot bear the idea that he has given her lessons from - which she reaps the profit with someone else. Corinna in her turn is - jealous; she abuses him like a fury rather than a gentle woman; she - accuses him of loving a slave-girl. He swears that there is nothing - in it and writes to the slave--yet everything that made Corinna angry - was true. But how did she get to know of it? What clue had led to - their betrayal? He asks the slave-girl for another rendezvous. If she - refuse him, he threatens to confess everything to Corinna. He jokes - with a friend about his two loves and the trouble and pleasure they - give him. Soon after, it is Corinna alone that fills his thoughts. She - is everything to him. He sings his triumph, as if it were his first - victory. After certain incidents, which for more than one reason we - must leave in Ovid, and others, which it would be too long to recount, - he discovers that Corinna's husband has become too lax. He is no - longer jealous; our lover does not like this, and threatens to leave - the wife, if the husband does not resume his jealousy. The husband - obeys him but too well; he has Corinna watched so closely, that Ovid - can no longer come to her. He complains of this close watch, which - he had himself provoked--but he will find a way to get round it. - Unfortunately, he is not the only one to succeed therein. Corinna's - infidelities begin again and multiply; her intrigues become so public, - that the only boon that Ovid can crave of her, is that she will take - some trouble to deceive him, and show a little less obviously what she - really is. Such were the morals of Ovid and his mistress, such is the - character of their love. - - Cynthia is the first love of Propertius, and she will be his last. - -[Pg 293] - No sooner is he happy, but he is jealous. Cynthia is too fond of - dress; he begs her to shun luxury and to love simplicity. He himself - is given up to more than one kind of debauch. Cynthia expects him; he - only comes to her at dawn, leaving a banquet in his cups. He finds - her asleep; it is a long time before she wakes, in spite of the - noise he makes and even of his kisses; at last she opens her eyes - and reproaches him as he deserves. A friend tries to detach him from - Cynthia; he gives his friend a eulogy of her beauty and talents. - He is threatened with losing her; she goes off with a soldier; she - means to follow the army; she will expose herself to every danger in - order to follow her soldier. Propertius does not storm; he weeps and - prays heaven for her happiness. He will never leave the house she has - deserted; he will look out for strangers who have seen her, and will - never leave off asking them for news of Cynthia. She is touched by - love so great. She deserts the soldier and stays with the poet. He - gives thanks to Apollo and the Muses; he is drunk with his happiness. - This happiness is soon troubled by a new access of jealousy, - interrupted by separation and by absence. Far from Cynthia, he can - only think of her. Her past infidelities make him fear for news. Death - does not frighten him, he only fears to lose Cynthia; let him be but - certain that she will be faithful and he will go down without regret - to the grave. - - After more treachery, he fancies he is delivered from his love; but - soon he is again in its bonds. He paints the most ravishing portrait - of his mistress, her beauty, the elegance of her dress, her talents - in singing, poetry and dancing; everything redoubles and justifies - his love. But Cynthia, as perverse as she is captivating, dishonours - herself before the whole town by such scandalous adventures that - Propertius can no longer love her without shame. He blushes, but he - cannot shake her off. He will be her lover, her husband; he will never - love any but Cynthia. They part and come together again. Cynthia is - jealous, he reassures her. He will never love any other woman. But - in fact it is never one woman he loves--it is all women. He never - has enough of them, he is insatiable of pleasure. To recall him to - himself, Cynthia has to desert him yet again. Then his complaints - are as vigorous as if he had never been faithless himself. He tries - to escape. He seeks distraction in debauch.--Is he drunk as usual? - He pretends that a troupe of loves meets him and brings him back to - Cynthia's feet. Reconciliation is followed by more storms. Cynthia, at - one - -[Pg 294] - of their supper parties, gets heated with wine like himself, upsets - the table and hits him over the head. Propertius thinks this charming. - More perfidy forces him at last to break his chains; he tries to go - away; he means to travel in Greece; he completes all his plans for - the journey, but he renounces the project--and all in order to see - himself once more the butt of new outrages. Cynthia does not confine - herself to betraying him; she makes him the laughing-stock of his - rivals. But illness seizes her and she dies. She reproaches him with - his faithlessness, his caprices and his desertion of her in her last - moments, and swears that she herself, in spite of appearances, was - always faithful. - - Such are the morals and adventures of Propertius and his mistress; - such in abstract is the history of their love. Such was the woman that - a soul like Propertius was reduced to loving. - - Ovid and Propertius were often faithless, but never inconstant. - Confirmed libertines, they distribute their homage far and wide, - but always return to take up the same chains again. Corinna and - Cynthia have womankind for rivals, but no woman in particular. The - Muse of these two poets is faithful, if their love is not, and no - other names besides those of Corinna and of Cynthia figure in their - verses. Tibullus, a tender lover and tender poet, less lively and - less headlong in his tastes, has not their constancy. Three beauties - are one after the other the objects of his love and of his verses. - Delia is the first, the most celebrated and also the best beloved. - Tibullus has lost his fortune, but he still has the country and Delia. - To enjoy her amid the peaceful fields; to be able, at his ease, to - press Delia's hand in his; to have her for his only mourner at his - funeral--he makes no other prayers. Delia is kept shut up by a jealous - husband; he will penetrate into her prison, in spite of any Argus and - triple bolts. He will forget all his troubles in her arms. He falls - ill and Delia alone fills his thoughts. He exhorts her to be always - chaste, to despise gold, and to grant none but him the love she has - granted him. But Delia does not follow his advice. He thought he could - put up with her infidelity; but it is too much for him and he begs - Delia and Venus for pity. He seeks in wine a remedy and does not find - it; he can neither soften his regret nor cure himself of his love. He - turns to Delia's husband, deceived like himself, and reveals to him - all the tricks she uses to attract and see her lovers. If the husband - does not know how to keep watch over her, let her be trusted to - himself; he will manage right enough to ward - -[Pg 295] - the lovers off and to keep from their toils the author of their common - wrongs. He is appeased and returns to her; he remembers Delia's mother - who favoured their love; the memory of this good woman opens his heart - once more to tender thoughts, and all Delia's wrongs are forgotten. - But she is soon guilty of others more serious. She lets herself - be corrupted by gold and presents; she gives herself to another, - to others. At length Tibullus breaks his shameful chains and says - good-bye to her for ever. - - He passes under the sway of Nemesis and is no happier; she loves only - gold and cares little for poetry and the gifts of genius. Nemesis is - a greedy woman who sells herself to the highest bidder; he curses her - avarice, but he loves her and cannot live unless she loves him. He - tries to move her with touching images. She has lost her young sister; - he will go and weep on her tomb and confide his grief to her dumb - ashes. The shade of her sister will take offence at the tears that - Nemesis causes to flow. She must not despise her anger. The sad image - of her sister might come at night to trouble her sleep.... But these - sad memories force tears from Nemesis--and at that price he could not - buy even happiness. Neaera is his third mistress. He has long enjoyed - her love; he only prays the gods that he may live and die with her; - but she leaves him, she is gone; he can only think of her, she is his - only prayer; he has seen in a dream Apollo, who announces to him that - Neaera is unfaithful. He refuses to believe this dream; he could not - survive his misfortune, and none the less the misfortune is there. - Neaera is faithless; once more Tibullus is deserted. Such was his - character and fortune, such is the triple and all unhappy story of his - loves. - - In him particularly there is a sweet, all-pervading melancholy, that - gives even to his pleasures the tone of dreaminess and sadness which - constitutes his charm. If any poet of antiquity introduced moral - sensibility into love, it was Tibullus; but these fine shades of - feeling which he expresses so well, are in himself; he expects no more - than the other two to find them or engender them in his mistresses. - Their grace, their beauty is all that inflames him; their favours all - he desires or regrets; their perfidy, their venality, their loss, all - that torments him. Of all these women, celebrated in the verses of - three great poets, Cynthia seems the most lovable. The attraction of - talent is joined to all the others; she cultivates singing and poetry; - and yet all these talents, which were found - -[Pg 296] - not infrequently in courtesans of a certain standing, were of no - avail--it was none the less pleasure, gold and wine which ruled her. - And Propertius, who boasts only once or twice of her artistic tastes, - in his passion for her is none the less seduced by a very different - power! - -These great poets are apparently to be numbered among the most tender -and refined souls of their century--well! this is how they loved and -whom. We must here put literary considerations on one side. I only ask -of them evidence concerning their century; and in two thousand years a -novel by Ducray-Duminil(59) will be evidence concerning the annals of -ours. - - -[1] Mark Dido's look in the superb sketch by M. Guerin at the -Luxembourg. - -[2] Everything that is beautiful in the world having become a part of -the beauty of the woman you love, you find yourself inclined to do -everything in the world that is beautiful. - -[3] Guinguené's _Histoire littéraire de l'Italie_ (Vol. II, p. 490.) - - - XCIII(b) - -One of my great regrets is not to have been able to see Venice in -1760.[1] A run of happy chances had apparently united, in so small a -space, both the political institutions and the public opinion that are -most favourable to the happiness of mankind. A soft spirit of luxury -gave everyone an easy access to happiness. There were no domestic -struggles and no crimes. Serenity was seen on every face; no one -thought about seeming richer than he was; hypocrisy had no point. I -imagine it must have been the direct contrary to London in 1822. - - -[1] _Travels in Italy_ of the President de Brosses, _Travels_ of -Eustace, Sharp, Smollett. - - - XCIV - -If in the place of the want of personal security you put the natural -fear of economic want, you will see that the United States of America -bears a considerable resemblance to the ancient world as regards that -passion, on which we are attempting to write a monograph. - -In speaking of the more or less imperfect sketches of passion-love -which the ancients have left us, I see that I have forgotten the Loves -of Medea in the _Argonautica_(60). - -[Pg 297] -Virgil copied them in his picture of Dido. Compare that with love as -seen in a modern novel--_Le Doyen de Killerine_, for example. - - - XCV - -The Roman feels the beauties of Nature and Art with amazing strength, -depth and justice; but if he sets out to try and reason on what he -feels so forcibly, it is pitiful. - -The reason may be that his feelings come to him from Nature, but his -logic from government. - -You can see at once why the fine arts, outside Italy, are only a farce; -men reason better, but the public has no feeling. - - - XCVI - -London, _November 20th_, 1821. - -A very sensible man, who arrived yesterday from Madras, told me in a -two hours' conversation what I reduce to the following few lines:-- - - This gloom, which from an unknown cause depresses the English - character, penetrates so deeply into their hearts, that at the end of - the world, at Madras, no sooner does an Englishman get a few days' - holiday, than he quickly leaves rich and flourishing Madras and comes - to revive his spirits in the little French town of Pondicherry, - which, without wealth and almost without commerce, flourishes under - the paternal administration of M. Dupuy. At Madras you drink Burgundy - that costs thirty-six francs a bottle; the poverty of the French in - Pondicherry is such that, in the most distinguished circles, the - refreshments consist of large glasses of water. But in Pondicherry - they laugh. - -At present there is more liberty in England than in Prussia. The -climate is the same as that of Koenigsberg, Berlin or Warsaw, cities -which are far from being famous for their gloom. The working classes -in these towns have less security and drink quite as little wine as in -England; and they are much worse clothed. - -[Pg 298] -The aristocracies of Venice and Vienna are not gloomy. - -I can see only one point of difference: in gay countries the Bible is -little read, and there is gallantry. I am sorry to have to come back -so often to a demonstration with which I am unsatisfied. I suppress a -score of facts pointing in the same direction. - - - XCVII - -I have just seen, in a fine country-house near Paris, a very -good-looking, very clever, and very rich young man of less than twenty; -he has been left there by chance almost alone, for a long time too, -with a most beautiful girl of eighteen, full of talent, of a most -distinguished mind, and also very rich. Who wouldn't have expected -a passionate love-affair? Not a bit of it--such was the affectation -of these two charming creatures that both were occupied solely with -themselves and the effect they were to produce. - - - XCVIII - -I am ready to agree that on the morrow of a great action a savage pride -has made this people fall into all the faults and follies that lay open -to it. But you will see what prevents me from effacing my previous -praises of this representative of the Middle Ages. - -The prettiest woman in Narbonne is a young Spaniard, scarcely twenty -years old, who lives there very retired with her husband, a Spaniard -also, and an officer on half-pay. Some time ago there was a fool -whom this officer was obliged to insult. The next day, on the field -of combat, the fool sees the young Spanish woman arrive. He begins a -renewed flow of affected nothings:-- - -"No, indeed, it's shocking! How could you tell your wife about it? You -see, she has come to prevent us fighting!" "I have come to bury you," -she answered. - -[Pg 299] -Happy the husband who can tell his wife everything! The result did not -belie this woman's haughty words. Her action would have been considered -hardly the thing in England. Thus does false decency diminish the -little happiness that exists here below. - - - XCIX - -The delightful Donézan said yesterday: "In my youth, and well on in my -career--for I was fifty in '89--women wore powder in their hair. - -"I own that a woman without powder gives me a feeling of repugnance; -the first impression is always that of a chamber-maid who hasn't had -time to get dressed." - -Here we have the one argument against Shakespeare and in favour of the -dramatic unities. - -While young men read nothing but La Harpe(61), the taste for great -powdered _toupées_, such as the late Queen Marie Antoinette used -to wear, can still last some years. I know people too, who despise -Correggio and Michael Angelo, and, to be sure, M. Donézan was extremely -clever. - - - C - -Cold, brave, calculating, suspicious, contentious, for ever afraid -of being attracted by anyone who might possibly be laughing at them -in secret, absolutely devoid of enthusiasm, and a little jealous of -people who saw great events with Napoleon, such was the youth of that -age, estimable rather than lovable. They forced on the country that -Right-Centre form of government-to-the-lowest-bidder. This temper in -the younger generation was to be found even among the conscripts, each -of whom only longed to finish his time. - -All systems of education, whether given expressly or by chance, form -men for a certain period in their life. - -[Pg 300] -The education of the age of Louis XV made twenty-five the finest moment -in the lives of its pupils.[1] - -It is at forty that the young men of this period will be at their best; -they will have lost their suspiciousness and pretensions, and have -gained ease and gaiety. - - -[1] M. de Francueil with too much powder: Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay. - - - CI - -DISCUSSION BETWEEN AN HONEST MAN AND AN ACADEMIC - -"In this discussion, the academic always saved himself by fixing on -little dates and other similar errors of small importance; but the -consequences and natural qualifications of things, these he always -denied, or seemed not to understand: for example, that Nero was a cruel -Emperor or Charles II a perjurer. Now, how are you to prove things of -this kind, or, even if you do, manage not to put a stop to the general -discussion or lose the thread of it? - -"This, I have always remarked, is the method of discussion between such -folk, one of whom seeks only the truth and advancement thereto, the -other the favour of his master or his party and the glory of talking -well. And I always consider it great folly and waste of time for an -honest man to stop and talk with the said academics." (_Œuvres badines_ -of Guy Allard de Voiron.) - - - CII - -Only a small part of the art of being happy is an exact science, a sort -of ladder up which one can be sure of climbing a rung per century--and -that is the part which depends on government. (Still, this is only -theory. I - -[Pg 301] -find the Venetians of 1770 happier than the people of Philadelphia -to-day.) - -For the rest, the art of being happy is like poetry; in spite of the -perfecting of all things, Homer, two thousand seven hundred years ago, -had more talent than Lord Byron. - -Reading Plutarch with attention, I think I can see that men were -happier in Sicily in the time of Dion than we manage to be to-day, -although they had no printing and no iced punch! - -I would rather be an Arab of the fifth century than a Frenchman of the -nineteenth. - - - CIII - -People go to the theatre, never for that kind of illusion which is -lost one minute and found again the next, but for an opportunity of -convincing their neighbour, or at least themselves, that they have -read their La Harpe and are people who know what's good. It is an old -pedant's pleasure that the younger generation indulges in. - - - CIV - -A woman belongs by right to the man who loves her and is dearer to her -than life. - - - CV - -Crystallisation cannot be excited by an understudy, and your most -dangerous rivals are those most unlike you. - - - CVI - -In a very advanced state of society passion-love is as natural as -physical love among savages. (M.) - -[Pg 302] - CVII - -But for an infinite number of shades of feeling, to have a woman you -adore would be no happiness and scarcely a possibility. (L., _October -7th._) - - - CVIII - -Whence comes the intolerance of Stoic philosophers? From the same -source as that of religious fanatics. They are put out because they are -struggling against nature, because they deny themselves, and because it -hurts them. If they would question themselves honestly on the hatred -they bear towards those who profess a code of morals less severe, they -would have to own that it springs from a secret jealousy of a bliss -which they envy and have renounced, without believing in the rewards -which would make up for this sacrifice. (Diderot.) - - - CIX - -Women who are always taking offence might well ask themselves whether -they are following a line of conduct, which they think really and truly -is the road to happiness. Is there not a little lack of courage, mixed -with a little mean revenge, at the bottom of a prude's heart? Consider -the ill-humour of Madame de Deshoulières in her last days. (_Note by M. -Lemontey._)(62). - - - CX - -Nothing more indulgent than virtue without hypocrisy--because nothing -happier; yet even Mistress Hutchinson might well be more indulgent. - - - CXI - -Immediately below this kind of happiness comes that of a young, pretty -and easy-going woman, with a conscience - -[Pg 303] -that does not reproach her. At Messina people used to talk scandal -about the Contessina Vicenzella. "Well, well!" she would say, "I'm -young, free, rich and perhaps not ugly. I wish the same to all the -ladies of Messina!" It was this charming woman, who would never be more -than a friend to me, who introduced me to the Abbé Melli's sweet poems -in Sicilian dialect. His poetry is delicious, though still disfigured -by mythology. - -(Delfante.) - - - CXII - -The public of Paris has a fixed capacity for attention--three -days: after which, bring to its notice the death of Napoleon or M. -Béranger(63) sent to prison for two months--the news is just as -sensational, and to bring it up on the fourth day just as tactless. -Must every great capital be like this, or has it to do with the good -nature and light heart of the Parisian? Thanks to aristocratic pride -and morbid reserve, London is nothing but a numerous collection of -hermits; it is not a capital. Vienna is nothing but an oligarchy of two -hundred families surrounded by a hundred and fifty thousand workpeople -and servants who wait on them. No more is that a capital.--Naples and -Paris, the only two capitals. (Extract from Birkbeck's _Travels_, p. -371.) - - - CXIII - -According to common ideas, or reasonable-ideas, as they are called -by ordinary people, if any period of imprisonment could possibly be -tolerable, it would be after several years' confinement, when at last -the poor prisoner is only separated by a month or two from the moment -of his release. But the ways of crystallisation are otherwise. The last -month is more painful than the last three years. In the gaol at Melun, -M. d'Hotelans has seen several prisoners die of impatience within a few -months of the day of release. - -[Pg 304] - CXIV - -I cannot resist the pleasure of copying out a letter written in bad -English by a young German woman. It proves that, after all, constant -love exists, and that not every man of genius is a Mirabeau. Klopstock, -the great poet, passes at Hamburg for having been an attractive person. -Read what his young wife wrote to an intimate friend: - - "After having seen him two hours, I was obliged to pass the evening - in a company, which never had been so wearisome to me. I could not - speak, I could not play; I thought I saw nothing but Klopstock; I - saw him the next day and the following and we were very seriously - friends. But the fourth day he departed. It was a strong hour the - hour of his departure! He wrote soon after; from that time our - correspondence began to be a very diligent one. I sincerely believed - my love to be friendship. I spoke with my friends of nothing but - Klopstock, and showed his letters. They raillied at me and said I - was in love. I raillied then again, and said that they must have a - very friendshipless heart, if they had no idea of friendship to a - man as well as to a woman. Thus it continued eight months, in which - time my friends found as much love in Klopstock's letters as in me. - I perceived it likewise, but I would not believe it. At the last - Klopstock said plainly that he loved; and I startled as for a wrong - thing; I answered that it was no love, but friendship, as it was - what I felt for him; we had not seen one another enough to love (as - if love must have more time than friendship). This was sincerely my - meaning, and I had this meaning till Klopstock came again to Hamburg. - This he did a year after we had seen one another the first time. We - saw, we were friends, we loved; and a short time after, I could even - tell Klopstock that I loved. But we were obliged to part again, and - wait two years for our wedding. My mother would not let me marry a - stranger. I could marry then without - -[Pg 305] - her consent, as by the death of my father my fortune depended not on - her; but this was a horrible idea for me; and thank heaven that I have - prevailed by prayers! At this time knowing Klopstock, she loves him as - her lifely son, and thanks God that she has not persisted. We married - and I am the happiest wife in the world. In some few months it will be - four years that I am so happy...." (_Correspondence of Richardson_, - Vol. III, p. 147.) - - - CXV - -The only unions legitimate for all time are those that answer to a real -passion. - - - CXVI - -To be happy with laxity of morals, one wants the simplicity of -character that is found in Germany and Italy, but never in France. (The -Duchess de C----) - - - CXVII - -It is their pride that makes the Turks deprive their women of -everything that can nourish crystallisation. I have been living for -the last three months in a country where the titled folk will soon be -carried just as far by theirs. - -Modesty is the name given here by men to the exactions of aristocratic -pride run mad. Who would risk a lapse of modesty? Here also, as at -Athens, the intellectuals show a marked tendency to take refuge with -courtesans--that is to say, with the women whom a scandal shelters from -the need to affect modesty. (_Life of Fox._) - - - CXVIII - -In the case of love blighted by too prompt a victory, I have seen in -very tender characters crystallisation trying - -[Pg 306] -to form later. "I don't love you a bit," she says, but laughing. - - - CXIX - -The present-day education of women--that odd mixture of works of -charity and risky songs ("Di piacer mi balza il cor," in _La Gazza -Ladra_)(64)--is the one thing in the world best calculated to keep -off happiness. This form of education produces minds completely -inconsequent. Madame de R----, who was afraid of dying, has just met -her death through thinking it funny to throw her medicines out of the -window. Poor little women like her take inconsequence for gaiety, -because, in appearance, gaiety is often inconsequent. 'Tis like the -German, who threw himself out of the window in order to be sprightly. - - - CXX - -Vulgarity, by stifling imagination, instantly produces in me a deadly -boredom. Charming Countess K----, showing me this evening her lovers' -letters, which to my mind were in bad taste. (Forlì, _March 17th_, -Henri.) - -Imagination was not stifled: it was only deranged, and very soon from -mere repugnance ceased to picture the unpleasantness of these dull -lovers. - - - CXXI - - METAPHYSICAL REVERIE - -Belgirate, _26th October_, 1816. - -Real passion has only to be crossed for it to produce apparently more -unhappiness than happiness. This thought may not be true in the case of -gentle souls, but it is absolutely proved in the case of the majority -of men, and particularly of cold philosophers, who, as regards passion, -live, one might say, only on curiosity and self-love. - -I said all this to the Contessina Fulvia yesterday - -[Pg 307] -evening, as we were walking together near the great pine on the eastern -terrace of Isola Bella. She answered: "Unhappiness makes a much -stronger impression on a man's life than pleasure. - -"The prime virtue in anything which claims to give us pleasure, is that -it strikes hard. - -"Might we not say that life itself being made up only of sensation, -there is a universal taste in all living beings for the consciousness -that the sensations of their life are the keenest that can be? In the -North people are hardly alive--look at the slowness of their movements. -The Italian's _dolce far niente_ is the pleasure of relishing one's -soul and one's emotions, softly reclining on a divan. Such pleasure is -impossible, if you are racing all day on horseback or in a drosky, like -the Englishman or the Russian. Such people would die of boredom on a -divan. There is no reason to look into their souls. - -"Love gives the keenest possible of all sensations--and the proof is -that in these moments of 'inflammation,' as physiologists would say, -the heart is open to those 'complex sensations' which Helvétius, Buffon -and other philosophers think so absurd. The other day, as you know, -Luizina fell into the lake; you see, her eye was following a laurel -leaf that had fallen from a tree on Isola-Madre (one of the Borromean -Islands). The poor woman owned to me that one day her lover, while -talking to her, threw into the lake the leaves of a laurel branch he -was stripping, and said: 'Your cruelty and the calumnies of your friend -are preventing me from turning my life to account and winning a little -glory.' - -"It is a peculiar and incomprehensible fact that, when some -great passion has brought upon the soul moments of torture and -extreme unhappiness, the soul comes to despise the happiness of a -peaceful life, where everything seems framed to our desires. A fine -country-house in a picturesque position, substantial means, a good -wife, three pretty children, and friends charming - -[Pg 308] -and numerous--this is but a mere outline of all our host. General -C----, possesses. And yet he said, as you know, he felt tempted to go -to Naples and take the command of a guerilla band. A soul made for -passion soon finds this happy life monotonous, and feels, perhaps, -that it only offers him commonplace ideas. 'I wish,' C. said to you, -'that I had never known the fever of high passion. I wish I could rest -content with the apparent happiness on which people pay me every day -such stupid compliments, which, to put the finishing touch to, I have -to answer politely.'" - -I, a philosopher, rejoin: "Do you want the thousandth proof that we -are not created by a good Being? It is the fact that pleasure does not -make perhaps half as much impression on human life as pain...."[1] The -Contessina interrupted me. "In life there are few mental pains that -are not rendered sweet by the emotion they themselves excite, and, if -there is a spark of magnanimity in the soul, this pleasure is increased -a hundredfold. The man condemned to death in 1815 and saved by chance -(M. de Lavalette(65), for example), if he was going courageously to -his doom, must recall that moment ten times a month. But the coward, -who was going to die crying and yelling (the exciseman, Morris, thrown -into the lake, _Rob Roy_)--suppose him also saved by chance--can at -most recall that instant with pleasure because he was _saved_, not for -the treasures of magnanimity that he discovered with him, and that take -away for the future all his fears." - -I: "Love, even unhappy love, gives a gentle soul, for whom a thing -imagined is a thing existent, treasures of this kind of enjoyment. He -weaves sublime visions of happiness and beauty about himself and his -beloved. How often has Salviati heard Léonore, with her enchanting - -[Pg 309] -smile, say, like Mademoiselle Mars in _Les Fausses Confidences_: 'Well, -yes, I do love you!' No, these are never the illusions of a prudent -mind." - -Fulvia (raising her eyes to heaven): "Yes, for you and me, love, even -unhappy love, if only our admiration for the beloved knows no limit, is -the supreme happiness." - -(Fulvia is twenty-three,--the most celebrated beauty of ... Her eyes -were heavenly as she talked like this at midnight and raised them -towards the glorious sky above the Borromean Islands. The stars seemed -to answer her. I looked down and could find no more philosophical -arguments to meet her. She continued:) - -"And all that the world calls happiness is not worth the trouble. Only -contempt, I think, can cure this passion; not contempt too violent, for -that is torture. For you men it is enough to see the object of your -adoration love some gross, prosaic creature, or sacrifice you in order -to enjoy pleasures of luxurious comfort with a woman friend." - - -[1] See the analysis of the ascetic principle in Bentham, _Principles -of Morals and Legislation_. - -By giving oneself pain one pleases a _good_ Being. - - - CXXII - -_To will_ means to have the courage to expose oneself to troubles; to -expose oneself is to take risks--to gamble. You find military men who -cannot exist without such gambling--that's what makes them intolerable -in home-life. - - - CXXIII - -General Teulié told me this evening that he had found out why, as -soon as there were affected women in a drawing-room, he became so -horribly dry and floored for ideas. It was because he was sure to be -bitterly ashamed of having exposed his feelings with warmth before such -creatures. General Teulié had to speak from his heart, though the talk -were only of Punch and Judy; otherwise he had nothing to say. Moreover, -I could see he never knew the conventional phrase about - -[Pg 310] -anything nor what was the right thing to say. That is really where he -made himself so monstrously ridiculous in the eyes of affected women. -Heaven had not made him for elegant society. - - - CXXIV - -Irreligion is bad form at Court, because it is calculated to be -contrary to the interests of princes: irreligion is also bad form in -the presence of girls, for it would prevent their finding husbands. -It must be owned that, if God exists, it must be nice for Him to be -honoured from motives like these. - - - CXXV - -For the soul of a great painter or a great poet, love is divine in that -it increases a hundredfold the empire and the delight of his art, and -the beauties of art are his soul's daily bread. How many great artists -are unconscious both of their soul and of their genius! Often they -reckon as mediocre their talent for the thing they adore, because they -cannot agree with the eunuchs of the harem, La Harpe and such-like. For -them even unhappy love is happiness. - - - CXXVI - -The picture of first love is taken generally as the most touching. Why? -Because it is the same in all countries and in all characters. But for -this reason first love is not the most passionate. - - - CXXVII - -Reason! Reason! Reason! That is what the world is always shouting at -poor lovers. In 1760, at the most thrilling moment in the Seven Years' -War, Grimm wrote: "... It is indubitable that the King of Russia, by -yielding Silesia, could have prevented the war from - -[Pg 311] -ever breaking out. In so doing he would have done a very wise thing. -How many evils would he have prevented! And what can there be in common -between the possession of a province and the happiness of a king? Was -not the great Elector a very happy and highly respected prince without -possessing Silesia? It is also quite clear that a king might have taken -this course in obedience to the precepts of the soundest reason, and -yet--I know not how--that king would inevitably have been the object -of universal contempt, while Frederick, sacrificing everything to the -_necessity_ of keeping Silesia, has invested himself with immortal -glory. - -"Without any doubt the action of Cromwell's son was the wisest a man -could take: he preferred obscurity and repose to the bother and danger -of ruling over a people sombre, fiery and proud. This wise man won the -contempt of his own time and of posterity; while his father, to this -day, has been held a great man by the wisdom of nations. - -"The _Fair Penitent_ is a sublime subject on the Spanish[1] stage, -but spoilt by Otway and Colardeau in England and France. Calista has -been dishonoured by a man she adores; he is odious from the violence -of his inborn pride, but talent, wit and a handsome face--everything, -in fact--combine to make him seductive. Indeed, Lothario would have -been too charming could he have moderated these criminal outbursts. -Moreover, an hereditary and bitter feud separates his family from that -of the woman he loves. These families are at the head of two factions -dividing a Spanish town during the horrors of the Middle Age. Sciolto, -Calista's father, is the chief of the faction, which at the moment has -the upper hand; he knows that Lothario has had the insolence to try to -seduce his daughter. The weak Calista is weighed down by the torment of -shame and passion. Her father has - -[Pg 312] -succeeded in getting his enemy appointed to the command of a naval -armament that is setting out on a distant and perilous expedition, -where Lothario will probably meet his death. In Colardeau's tragedy, -he has just told his daughter this news. At his words Calista can no -longer hide her passion: - - O dieux! - Il part!... Vous l'ordonnez!... Il a pu s'y résoudre?[2] - -"Think of the danger she is placed in. Another word, and Sciolto will -learn the secret of his daughter's passion for Lothario. The father is -confounded and cries:-- - - Qu'entends-je? Me trompé-je? Où s'égarent tes voeux?[3] - -"At this Calista recovers herself and answers:-- - - Ce n'est pas son exile, c'est sa mort que je veux, - Qu'il périsse![4] - -"By these words Calista stifles her father's rising suspicions; yet -there is no deceit, for the sentiment she utters is true. The existence -of a man, who has succeeded after winning her love in dishonouring her, -must poison her life, were he even at the ends of the earth. His death -alone could restore her peace of mind, if for unfortunate lovers peace -of mind existed.... Soon after Lothario is killed and, happily for her, -Calista dies. - -"'There's a lot of crying and moaning over nothing!' say the chilly -folk who plume themselves on being philosophers. 'Somebody with an -enterprising and violent nature abuses a woman's weakness for him--that -is nothing to tear our hair over, or at least there is nothing in -Calista's troubles to concern us. She must console herself with having -satisfied her lover, and she will not be the first woman of merit who -has made the best of her misfortune in that way.'"[5] - -[Pg 313] -Richard Cromwell, the King of Prussia and Calista, with the souls given -them by Heaven, could only find peace and happiness by acting as they -did. The conduct of the two last is eminently unreasonable and yet it -is those two that we admire. (Sagan, 1813.) - - -[1] See the Spanish and Danish romances of the thirteenth century. -French taste would find them dull and coarse. - -[2] [ "My God! - He is gone.... You have sent him.... And he had the heart?"--Tr.] - -[3] ["What do I hear? I am deceived? Where now are all your vows?"--Tr.] - -[4] ["It is not his banishment I desire; it is his death. Let him - die!"--Tr.] - -[5] Grimm, Vol. III, p. 107. - - - CXXVIII - -The likelihood of constancy when desire is satisfied can only be -foretold from the constancy displayed, in spite of cruel doubts and -jealousy and ridicule, in the days before intimate intercourse. - - - CXXIX - -A woman is in despair at the death of her lover, who has been killed -in the wars--of course she means to follow him. Now first make quite -sure that it is not the best thing for her to do; then, if you -decide it is not, attack her on the side of a very primitive habit -of the human kind--the desire to survive. If the woman has an enemy, -one may persuade her that her enemy has obtained a warrant for her -imprisonment. Unless that threat only increases her desire of death, -she may think about hiding herself in order to escape imprisonment. For -three weeks she will lie low, escaping from refuge to refuge. She must -be caught, but must get away after three days. - -Then people must arrange for her to withdraw under a false name to -some very remote town, as unlike as possible the one in which she -was so desperately unhappy. But who is going to devote himself to -the consolation of a being so unfortunate and so lost to friendship? -(Warsaw, 1808). - - - CXXX - -Academical wise-heads can see a people's habits in its language. In -Italy, of all the countries in the world, the - -[Pg 314] -word love is least often spoken--always "amicizia" and "avvicinar" -(_amicizia_ or friendship, for love; _avvicinar_, to approach, for -courtship that succeeds). - - - CXXXI - -A dictionary of music has never been achieved, nor even begun. It is -only by chance that you find the phrase for: "I am angry" or "I love -you," and the subtler feelings involved therein. The composer finds -them only when passion, present in his heart or memory, dictates -them to him. Well! that is why people, who spend the fire of youth -studying instead of feeling, cannot be artists--the way _that_ works is -perfectly simple. - - - CXXXII - -In France far too much power is given to Women, far too little to Woman. - - - CXXXIII - -The most flattering thing that the most exalted imagination could -find to say to the generation now arising among us to take possession -of life, of public opinion and of power, happens to be a piece of -truth plainer than the light of day. This generation has nothing to -_continue_, it has everything to _create_. Napoleon's great merit is to -have left the road clear. - - - CXXXIV - -I should like to be able to say something on consolation. Enough is not -done to console. - -The main principle is that you try to form a kind of crystallisation as -remote as possible from the source of present suffering. - -In order to discover an unknown principle, we must bravely face a -little anatomy. - -[Pg 315] -If the reader will consult Chapter II of M. Villermé's work on prisons -(Paris, 1820), he will see that the prisoners "si maritano fra di loro" -(it is the expression in the prisoners' language). The women also "si -maritano fra di loro," and in these unions, generally speaking, much -fidelity is shown. That is an outcome of the principle of modesty, and -is not observed among the men. - -"At Saint-Lazare," says M. Villermé, page 96, "a woman, seeing a -new-comer preferred to her, gave herself several wounds with a knife. -(_October_, 1818.) - -"Usually it is the younger woman who is more fond than the other." - - - CXXXV - -Vivacità, leggerezza, soggettissima a prendere puntiglio, occupazione -di ogni momento delle apparenze della propria esistenza agli occhi -altrui: Ecco i tre gran caratteri di questa pianta che risveglia Europa -nell 1808.[1] - -Of Italians, those are preferable who still preserve a little savagery -and taste for blood--the people of the Romagna, Calabria, and, among -the more civilised, the Brescians, Piedmontese and Corsicans. - -The Florentine bourgeois has more sheepish docility than the Parisian. -Leopold's spies have degraded him. See M. Courier's(12) letter on the -Librarian Furia and the Chamberlain Puccini. - - -[1] ["Vivacity, levity, very subject to pique, and unflagging -preoccupation with other people's view's of its own existence--these -are the three distinguishing points in the stock which is stirring the -life of Europe in 1808."--Tr.] - - - CXXXVI - -I smile when I see earnest people never able to agree, saying quite -unconcernedly the most abusive things of each other--and thinking still -worse. To live is to feel life--to have strong feelings. But strength -must be rated for each individual, and what is painful--that is, too -strong--for - -[Pg 316] -one man is exactly enough to stir another's interest. Take, for -example, the feeling of just being spared by the cannon shot in the -line of fire, the feeling of penetrating into Russia in pursuit -of Parthian hordes.... And it is the same with the tragedies of -Shakespeare and those of Racine, etc., etc.... (Orcha, _August_ 13, -1812.) - - - CXXXVII - -Pleasure does not produce half so strong an impression as pain--that -is the first point. Then, besides this disadvantage in the quantity -of emotion, it is certainly not half as easy to excite sympathy by -the picture of happiness as by that of misfortune. Hence poets cannot -depict unhappiness too forcibly. They have only one shoal to fear, -namely, things that disgust. Here again, the force of feeling must be -rated differently for monarchies and republics. A Lewis XIV increases a -hundredfold the number of disgusting things. (Crabbe's Poems.) - -By the mere fact of its existence a monarchy _à la_ Lewis XIV, with -its circle of nobles, makes everything simple in Art become coarse. -The noble personage for whom the thing is exposed feels insulted; the -feeling is sincere--and in so far worthy. - -See what the gentle Racine has been able to make of the heroic -friendship, so sacred to antiquity, of Orestes and Pylades. Orestes -addresses Pylades with the familiar "thou."[1] Pylades answers him "My -Lord."[1] And then people pretend Racine is our most touching writer! -If they won't give in after this example, we must change the subject. - - -[1] ["_Tu_" and "_Seigneur_."] - - - CXXXVIII - -Directly the hope of revenge is possible, the feeling of hatred -returns. Until the last weeks of my imprisonment it never entered my -head to run away and break the solemn oath I had sworn to my friend. Two - -[Pg 317] -confidences these--made this morning in my presence by a gentleman -cut-throat who favoured us with the history of his life. (Faenza, 1817.) - - - CXXXIX - -All Europe, put together, could never make one French book of the -really good type--the _Lettres Persanes_, for example. - - - CXL - -I call pleasure every impression which the soul would rather receive -than not receive.[1] - -I call pain every impression which the soul would rather not receive -than receive. - -If I want to go to sleep rather than be conscious of my feelings, they -are undoubtedly pain. Hence the desire of love is not pain, for the -lover will leave the most agreeable society in order to day-dream in -peace. - -Time weakens pleasures of the body and aggravates its pains. - -As for spiritual pleasures--they grow weaker or stronger according -to the passion. For example, after six months passed in the study of -astronomy you like astronomy all the more, and after a year of avarice -money is still sweeter. - -Spiritual pains are softened by time--how many widows, really -inconsolable, console themselves with time!--_Vide_ Lady -Waldegrave--Horace Walpole. - -Given a man in a state of indifference--now let him have a pleasure; - -Given another man in a state of poignant suffering--suddenly let the -suffering cease; - -Now is the pleasure this man feels of the same nature as that of the -other? M. Verri(66) says Yes, but, to my mind--No. - -Not all pleasures come from cessation of pain. - -[Pg 318] -A man had lived for a long time on an income of six thousand francs--he -wins five hundred thousand in the lottery. He had got out of the way -of having desires which wealth alone can satisfy.--And that, by the -bye, is one of my objections to Paris--it is so easy to lose this habit -there. - -The latest invention is a machine for cutting quills. I bought one this -morning and it's a great joy to me, as I cannot stand cutting them -myself. But yesterday I was certainly not unhappy for not knowing of -this machine. Or was Petrarch unhappy for not taking coffee? - -What is the use of defining happiness? Everyone knows it--the first -partridge you kill on the wing at twelve, the first battle you come -through safely at seventeen.... - -Pleasure which is only the cessation of pain passes very quickly, and -its memory, after some years, is even distasteful. One of my friends -was wounded in the side by a bursting shell at the battle of Moscow, -and a few days later mortification threatened. After a delay of some -hours they managed to get together M. Béclar, M. Larrey and some -surgeons of repute, and the result of their consultation was that my -friend was informed that mortification had not set up. At the moment I -could see his happiness--it was a great happiness, but not unalloyed. -In the secret depth of his heart he could not believe that it was -really all over, he kept reconsidering the surgeons' words and debating -whether he could rely on them entirely. He never lost sight completely -of the possibility of mortification. Nowadays, after eight years, if -you speak to him of that consultation, it gives him pain--it brings to -mind unexpectedly a passed unhappiness. - -Pleasure caused by the cessation of pain consists in:-- - -1. Defeating the continual succession of one's own misgivings: - -2. Reviewing all the advantages one was on the point of losing. - -Pleasure caused by winning five hundred thousand - -[Pg 319] -francs consists in foreseeing all the new and unusual pleasures one is -going to indulge in. - -There is this peculiar reservation to be made. You have to take into -account whether a man is too used, or not used enough, to wishing for -wealth. If he is not used enough, if his mind is closely circumscribed, -for two or three days together he will feel embarrassed; while if he is -inclined very often to wish for great riches, he will find he has used -up their enjoyments in advance by too frequently foretasting them. - -This misfortune is unknown to passion-love. - -A soul on fire pictures to itself not the last favour, but the -nearest--perhaps just her hand to press, if, for example, your mistress -is unkind to you. Imagination does not pass beyond that of its own -accord; you may force it, but a moment later it is gone--for fear of -profaning its idol. - -When pleasure has run through the length of its career, we fall again, -of course, into indifference, but this is not the same indifference as -we felt before. The second state differs from the first in that we are -no longer in a position to relish with such delight the pleasure that -we have just tasted. The organs we use for plucking pleasures are worn -out. The imagination is no longer so inclined to offer fancies for the -enjoyment of desire--desire is satisfied. - -In the midst of enjoyment to be torn from pleasure produces pain. - - -[1] Maupertius. - - - CXLI - -With regard to physical love and, in fact, physical pleasure, the -disposition of the two sexes is not the same. Unlike men, practically -all women are at least susceptible in secret to one kind of love. Ever -after opening her first novel at fifteen, a woman is silently waiting -for the coming of passion-love, and towards twenty, when she is just -over the irresponsibility of life's first flush, the suspense - -[Pg 320] -redoubles. As for men, they think love impossible or ridiculous, almost -before they are thirty. - - - CXLII - -From the age of six we grow used to run after pleasure in our parents' -footsteps. - -The pride of Contessina Nella's mother was the starting-point of that -charming woman's troubles, and by the same insane pride she now makes -them hopeless. (Venice, 1819.) - - - CXLIII - - ROMANTICISM - -I hear from Paris that there are heaps and heaps of pictures to be seen -there (Exhibition of 1822), representing subjects taken from the Bible, -painted by artists who hardly believe in it, admired and criticised -by people who don't believe, and finally paid for by people who don't -believe. - -After that--you ask why art is decadent. - -The artist who does not believe what he is saying is always afraid of -appearing exaggerated or ridiculous. How is he to touch the sublime? -Nothing uplifts him. (_Lettera di Roma_, Giugno, 1822.) - - - CXLIV - -One of the greatest poets the world has seen in modern times is, to -my mind, Robert Burns, a Scotch peasant, who died of want. He had -a salary of seventy pounds as exciseman--for himself, his wife and -four children. One cannot help saying, by the way, that Napoleon was -more liberal towards his enemy Chénier. Burns had none of the English -prudery about him. His was a Roman genius, without chivalry and without -honour. I have no space here to tell of his love-affairs with Mary -Campbell and their - -[Pg 321] -mournful ending. I shall merely point out that Edinburgh is on the same -latitude as Moscow--a fact which perhaps upsets my system of climates a -little. - -"One of Burns' remarks, when he first came to Edinburgh, was that -between the men of rustic life and those of the polite world he -observed little difference; that in the former, though unpolished by -fashion and unenlightened by science, he had found much observation -and much intelligence; but that a refined and accomplished woman was -a being almost new to him, and of which he had formed but a very -inadequate idea." (London, _November 1st_, 1821, Vol. V, p. 69.) - - - CXLV - -Love is the only passion that mints the coin to pay its own expenses. - - - CXLVI - -The compliments paid to little girls of three furnish exactly the right -sort of education to imbue them with the most pernicious vanity. To -look pretty is the highest virtue, the greatest advantage on earth. To -have a pretty dress is to look pretty. - -These idiotic compliments are not current except in the middle class. -Happily they are bad form outside the suburbs--being too easy to pay. - - - CXLVII - -Loretto, _September 11th_, 1811. - -I have just seen a very fine battalion composed of natives of this -country--the remains, in fact, of four thousand who left for Vienna -in 1809. I passed along the ranks with the Colonel, and asked several -of the soldiers to tell me their story. Theirs is the virtue of the -republics of the Middle Age, though more or less debased by the - -[Pg 322] -Spaniards,[1] the Roman Church,[2] and two centuries of the cruel, -treacherous governments, which, one after another, have spoiled the -country. - -Flashing, chivalrous honour, sublime but senseless, is an exotic plant -introduced here only a very few years back. - -In 1740 there was no trace of it. _Vide_ de Brosses. The officers of -Montenotte(67) and of Rivoli(67) had too many chances of showing their -comrades true virtue to go and _imitate_ a kind of honour unknown to -the cottage homes from which the soldiery of 1796 was drawn--indeed, it -would have seemed to them highly fantastic. - -In 1796 there was no Legion of Honour, no enthusiasm for one man, -but plenty of simple truth and virtue _à la_ Desaix. We may conclude -that honour was imported into Italy by people too reasonable and too -virtuous to cut much of a figure. One is sensible of a large gap -between the soldiers of '96, often shoeless and coatless, the victors -of twenty battles in one year, and the brilliant regiments of Fontenoy, -taking off their hats and saying to the English politely: _Messieurs, -tirez les premiers_--gentlemen, pray begin. - - -[1] The Spaniards abroad, about 1580, were nothing but energetic agents -of despotism or serenaders beneath the windows of Italian beauties. In -those days Spaniards dropped into Italy just in the way people come -nowadays to Paris. For the rest, they prided themselves on nothing -but upholding the honour of the king, _their master_. They ruined -Italy--ruined and degraded it. - -In 1626 the great poet Calderon was an officer at Milan. - -[2] See _Life of S. Carlo Borromeo_, who transformed Milan and debased -it, emptied its drill halls and filled its chapels, Merveilles kills -Castiglione, 1533. - - - CXLVIII - -I am ready to agree that one must judge the soundness of a system of -life by the perfect representative of its supporters. For example, -Richard Cœur-de-Lion is the perfect pattern on the throne of heroism -and chivalrous valour, and as a king was a ludicrous failure. - -[Pg 323] - CXLIX - -Public opinion in 1822: A man of thirty seduces a girl of fifteen--the -girl loses her reputation. - - - CL - -Ten years later I met Countess Ottavia again; on seeing me once -more she wept bitterly. I reminded her of Oginski. "I can no longer -love," she told me. I answered in the poet's words: "How changed, how -saddened, yet how elevated was her character!" - - - CLI - -French morals will be formed between 1815 and 1880, just as English -morals were formed between 1668 and 1730. There will be nothing finer, -juster or happier than moral France about the year 1900. At the -present day it does not exist. What is considered infamous in Rue de -Belle-Chasse is an act of heroism in Rue du Mont-Blanc, and, allowing -for all exaggeration, people really worthy of contempt escape by a -change of residence. One remedy we did have--the freedom of the Press. -In the long run the Press gives each man his due, and when this due -happens to fall in with public opinion, so it remains. This remedy -is now torn from us--and it will somewhat retard the regeneration of -morals. - - - CLII - -The Abbé Rousseau was a poor young man (1784), reduced to running all -over the town, from morn till night, giving lessons in history and -geography. He fell in love with one of his pupils, like Abelard with -Héloïse or Saint-Preux with Julie. Less happy than they, no doubt--yet, -probably, pretty nearly so--as full of passion as Saint-Preux, but with -a heart more virtuous, more refined and also more courageous, he seems -to have sacrificed himself to the object of his passion. After dining -in a - -[Pg 324] -restaurant at the Palais-Royal with no outward sign of distress or -frenzy, this is what he wrote before blowing out his brains. The -text of his note is taken from the enquiry held on the spot by the -commissary and the police, and is remarkable enough to be preserved. - -"The immeasurable contrast that exists between the nobility of -my feelings and the meanness of my birth, my love, as violent -as it is invincible, for this adorable girl[1] and my fear of -causing her dishonour, the necessity of choosing between crime and -death--everything has made me decide to say good-bye to life. Born for -virtue, I was about to become a criminal; I preferred death." (Grimm, -Part III, Vol. II, p. 395.) - -This is an admirable case of suicide, but would be merely silly -according to the morals of 1880. - - -[1] The girl in question appears to have been Mademoiselle Gromaire, -daughter of M. Gromaire, expeditionary at the Court of Rome. - - - CLIII - -Try as they may, the French, in Art, will never get beyond the pretty. - -The comic presupposes "go" in the public, and _brio_ in the actor. -The delicious foolery of Palomba, played at Naples by Casaccia, is an -impossibility at Paris. There we have the pretty--always and only the -pretty--cried up sometimes, it is true, as the sublime. - -I don't waste much thought, you see, on general considerations of -national honour. - - - CLIV - -We are very fond of a beautiful picture, say the French--and quite -truly--but we exact, as the essential condition of beauty, that it -be produced by a painter standing on one leg the whole time he is -working.--Verse in dramatic art. - -[Pg 325] - CLV - -Much less envy in America than in France, and much less intellect. - - - CLVI - -Since 1530 tyranny _à la_ Philip II has so degraded men's intellect, -has so overshadowed the garden of the world, that the poor Italian -writers have not yet plucked up enough courage to _invent_ a national -novel. Yet, thanks to the naturalness which reigns there, nothing could -be simpler. They need only copy faithfully what stares the world in the -face. Think of Cardinal Gonzalvi, for three hours gravely looking for -flaws in the libretto of an opera-bouffe, and saying uneasily to the -composer: "But you're continually repeating this word _Cozzar, cozzar_." - - - CLVII - -Héloïse speaks of love, a coxcomb of _his_ love--don't you see that -these things have really nothing but their name in common? Just so, -there is the love of concerts and the love of music: the love of -successes that tickle your vanity--successes your harp may bring you in -the midst of a brilliant society--or the love of a tender day-dream, -solitary and timid. - - - CLVIII - -When you have just seen the woman you love, the sight of any other -woman spoils your vision, gives your eyes physical pain. I know why. - - - CLIX - -Reply to an objection:-- - -Perfect naturalness in intimate intercourse can find no place but -in passion-love, for in all the other kinds of love a man feels the -possibility of a favoured rival. - -[Pg 326] - CLX - -In a man who, to be released from life, has taken poison, the moral -part of his being is dead. Dazed by what he has done and by what he is -about to experience, he no longer attends to anything. There are some -rare exceptions. - - - CLXI - -An old sea captain, to whom I respectfully offered my manuscript, -thought it the silliest thing in the world to honour with six hundred -pages so trivial a thing as love. But, however trivial, love is still -the only weapon which can strike strong souls, and strike home. - -What was it prevented M. de M----, in 1814, from despatching Napoleon -in the forest of Fontainebleau? The contemptuous glance of a pretty -woman coming into the Bains-Chinois.[1] What a difference in the -destiny of the world if Napoleon and his son had been killed in 1814! - - -[1] Memoirs, p. 88. (London edition.) - - - CLXII - -I quote the following lines from a French letter received from Znaim, -remarking at the same time that there is not a man in the provinces -capable of understanding my brilliant lady correspondent:-- - -"... Chance means a lot in love. When for a whole year I have read no -English, I find the first novel I pick up delicious. One who is used -to the love of a prosaic being--slow, shy of all that is refined, -and passionately responsive to none but material interests, the love -of shekels, the glory of a fine stable and bodily desires, etc.--can -easily feel disgust at the behaviour of impetuous genius, ardent and -uncurbed in fancy, mindful of love, forgetful of all the rest, always -active and always headlong, just where the other let himself be led and -never acted for himself. The shock, which genius causes, may offend -what, last - -[Pg 327] -year at Zithau, we used to call feminine pride, _l'orgueil -féminin_--(is that French?) With the man of genius comes the startling -feeling which with his predecessor was unknown--and, remember, this -predecessor came to an untimely end in the wars and remains a synonym -for perfection. This feeling may easily be mistaken for repulsion by a -soul, lofty but without that assurance which is the fruit of a goodly -number of intrigues." - - - CLXIII - -"Geoffry Rudel, of Blaye, was a very great lord, prince of Blaye, and -he fell in love, without knowing her, with the Princess of Tripoli, -for the great goodness and great graciousness, which he heard tell of -her from the pilgrims, who came from Antioch. And he made for her many -fair songs, with good melodies and suppliant words, and, for the desire -he had to see her, he took the cross and set out upon the sea to go to -her. And it happened that in the ship a grievous malady took him, in -such wise that those that were with him believed him to be dead, but -they contrived to bring him to Tripoli into a hostelry, like one dead. -They sent word to the countess and she came to his bed and took him in -her arms. Then he knew that she was the countess and he recovered his -sight and his hearing and he praised God, giving Him thanks that He -had sustained his life until he had seen her. And thus he died in the -arms of the countess, and she gave him noble burial in the house of -the Temple at Tripoli. And then the same day she took the veil for the -sorrow she had for him and for his death."[1] - - -[1] Translated from a Provençal MS. of the thirteenth century. - - - CLXIV - -Here is a singular proof of the madness called crystallisation, to be -found in Mistress Hutchinson's Memoirs: - -"He told to M. Hutchinson a very true story of a gentleman who not long -before had come for some time - -[Pg 328] -to lodge in Richmond, and found all the people he came in company with -bewailing the death of a gentlewoman that had lived there. Hearing her -so much deplored, he made enquiry after her, and grew so in love with -the description, that no other discourse could at first please him nor -could he at last endure any other; he grew desperately melancholy and -would go to a mount where the print of her foot was cut and lie there -pining and kissing it all the day long, till at length death in some -months' space concluded his languishment. This story was very true." -(Vol. I, p. 83.) - - - CLXV - -Lisio Visconti was anything but a great reader. Not to mention what he -may have seen while knocking about the world, his essay is based on the -Memoirs of some fifteen or twenty persons of note. In case it happens -that the reader thinks such trifling points worthy of a moment's -attention, I give the books from which Lisio drew his reflexions and -conclusions:-- - - The _Autobiography_ of Benvenuto Cellini. - - The novels of Cervantes and Scarron. - - _Manon Lescaut_ and _Le Doyen de Killerine_, by the Abbé Prévôt. - - The Latin Letters of Héloïse to Abelard. - - _Tom Jones._ - - _Letters of a Portuguese Nun._ - - Two or three stories by Auguste La Fontaine. - - Pignotti's _History of Tuscany_. - - Werther. - - Brantôme. - - _Memoirs_ of Carlo Gozzi (Venice, 1760)--only the eighty pages on the - history of his love affairs. - - The _Memoirs_ of Lauzun, Saint-Simon, d'Épinay, de Staël, Marmontel, - Bezenval, Roland, Duclos, Horace Walpole, Evelyn, Hutchinson. - - Letters of Mademoiselle Lespinasse. - -[Pg 329] - CLXVI - -One of the most important persons of our age, one of the most prominent -men in the Church and in the State, related to us this evening -(January, 1822), at Madame de M----'s, the very real dangers he had -gone through under the Terror. - -"I had the misfortune to be one of the most prominent members of the -Constituent Assembly. I stayed in Paris, trying to hide myself as -best I could, so long as there was any hope of success there for the -good cause. At last, as the danger grew greater and greater, while -the foreigner made no energetic move in our favour, I decided to -leave--only I had to leave without a passport. Everyone was going off -to Coblentz, so I determined to make for Calais. But my portrait had -been so widely circulated eighteen months before, that I was recognised -at the last post. However, I was allowed to pass and arrived at an inn -at Calais, where, you can imagine, I did not sleep a wink--and very -lucky it was, since at four o'clock in the morning I heard someone -pronounce my name quite distinctly. While I got up and was dressing -in all haste I could clearly distinguish, in spite of the darkness, -the National Guards with their rifles; the people had opened the -main door for them and they were entering the courtyard of the inn. -Fortunately it was raining in torrents--a winter morning, very dark and -with a high wind. The darkness and the noise of the wind enabled me to -escape by the back courtyard and stables. There I stood in the street -at seven o'clock in the morning, utterly resourceless! i I imagined -they were following me from my inn. Hardly knowing what I was doing, -I went down to the port, on to the jetty. I own I had rather lost my -head--everywhere the vision of the guillotine floated before my eyes. - -A packet-boat was leaving the port in a very rough sea--it was already -a hundred yards from the jetty. Suddenly - -[Pg 330] -I heard a shout from out at sea, as if I were being called. I saw a -small boat approaching. "Hi! sir, come on! We're waiting for you!" -Mechanically I got into the boat. A man was in it. "I saw you walking -on the jetty with a scared look," he whispered, "I thought you might be -some poor fugitive. I've told them you are a friend I was expecting; -pretend to be sea-sick and go and hide below in a dark corner of the -cabin." - -"Oh, what a fine touch!" cried our hostess. She was almost speechless -and had been moved to tears by the Abbé's long and excellently -told story of his perils. "How you must have thanked your unknown -benefactor! What was his name?" - -"I do not know his name," the Abbé answered, a little confused. - -And there was a moment of profound silence in the room. - - - CLXVII - - THE FATHER AND THE SON - - (A dialogue of 1787) - -_The Father_ (Minister of ----): "I congratulate you, my son; it's -a splendid thing for you to be invited to the Duke of ----; it's a -distinction for a man of your age. Don't fail to be at the Palace -punctually at six o'clock." - -_The Son:_ "I believe, sir, you are dining there also." - -_The Father:_ "The Duke of ---- is always more than kind to our family, -and, as he's asking you for the first time, he has been pleased to -invite me as well." - -The son, a young man of high birth and most distinguished intellect, -does not fail to be at the Palace punctually at six o'clock. Dinner was -at seven. The son found himself placed opposite his father. Each guest -had a naked woman next to him. The dinner was served by a score of -lackeys in full livery.[1] - - -[1] From December 27, 1819, till 3 June, 1820, Mil. [This note is -written thus in English by Stendhal.--Tr.] - -[Pg 331] - CLXVIII - -London, _August_, 1817. - -Never in my life have I been so struck or intimidated by the presence -of beauty as to-night, at a concert given by Madame Pasta. - -She was surrounded, as she sang, by three rows of young women, so -beautiful--of a beauty so pure and heavenly--that I felt myself lower -my eyes, out of respect, instead of raising them to admire and enjoy. -This has never happened to me in any other land, not even in my beloved -Italy. - - - CLXIX - -In France one-thing is absolutely impossible in the arts, and that is -"go." A man really carried away would be too much laughed at--he would -look too happy. See a Venetian recite Buratti's satires. - -[Pg 332] - APPENDIX - - ON THE COURTS OF LOVE(68) - - -There were Courts of Love in France from the year 1150 to the year -1200. So much has been proved. The existence of these Courts probably -goes back to a more remote period. - -The ladies, sitting together in the Courts of Love, gave out their -decrees either on questions of law--for example: Can love exist between -married people?-- - -Or on the particular cases which lovers submitted to them.[1] - -So far as I can picture to myself the moral side of this jurisprudence, -it must have resembled the Courts of the Marshals of France established -for questions of honour by Louis XIV--that is, as they would have been, -if only public opinion had upheld that institution. - -André, chaplain to the King of France, who wrote about the year 1170, -mentions the Courts of Love - - of the ladies of Gascony, - of Ermengarde, Viscountess of Narbonne (1144-1194), - of Queen Eléonore, - of the Countess of Flanders, - of the Countess of Champagne (1174). - -André mentions nine judgments pronounced by the Countess of Champagne. - -He quotes two judgments pronounced by the Countess of Flanders. - -Jean de Nostradamus, _Life of the Provençal Poets_, says (p. 15):-- - - "The '_tensons_' were disputes of Love, which took place between - poets, both knights and ladies, arguing together on some fair and - sublime question of love. Where they could not agree, - -[Pg 333] - they sent them, that they might get a decision thereon, to the - illustrious ladies president who held full and open Court of Love at - Signe and Pierrefeu, or at Romanin, or elsewhere, and they gave out - decrees thereon which were called '_Lous Arrests d'Amours_.'" - -These are the names of some of the ladies who presided over the Courts -of Love of Pierrefeu and Signe:-- - - "Stephanette, Lady of Brulx, daughter of the Count of Provence. - Adalarie, Viscountess of Avignon; - Alalète, Lady of Ongle; - Hermissende, Lady of Posquières; - Bertrane, Lady of Urgon; - Mabille, Lady of Yères; - The Countess of Dye; - Rostangue, Lady of Pierrefeu; - Bertrane, Lady of Signe; - Jausserande of Claustral."--(Nostradamus, p. 27.) - -It is probable that the same Court of Love met sometimes at the Castle -of Pierrefeu, sometimes at that of Signe. These two villages are just -next to each other, and situated at an almost equal distance from -Toulon and Brignoles. - -In his _Life of Bertrand d'Alamanon_, Nostradamus says: - - "This troubadour was in love with Phanette or Estephanette of Romanin, - Lady of the said place, of the house of Gantelmes, who held in her - time full and open Court of Love in her castle of Romanin, near the - town of Saint-Remy, in Provence, aunt of Laurette of Avignon, of the - house of Sado, so often celebrated by the poet Petrarch." - -Under the heading Laurette, we read that Laurette de Sade, celebrated -by Petrarch, lived at Avignon about the year 1341; that she was -instructed by Phanette of Gantelmes, her aunt, Lady of Romanin; that -"both of them improvised in either kind of Provençal rhythm, and -according to the account of the monk of the Isles d'Or(69), their works -give ample witness to their learning.... It is true (says the monk) -that Phanette or Estephanette, as being most excellent in poetry, had -a divine fury or inspiration, which fury was esteemed a true gift from -God. They were accompanied by many illustrious and high-born[2] - -[Pg 334] -ladies of Provence, who flourished at that time at Avignon, when the -Roman court resided there, and who gave themselves up to the study of -letters, holding open Court of Love, and therein deciding the questions -of love which had been proposed and sent to them.... - -"Guillen and Pierre Balbz and Loys des Lascaris, Counts of Ventimiglia, -of Tende and of Brigue, persons of great renown, being come at -this time to visit Pope Innocent VI of that name, went to hear the -definitions and sentences of love pronounced by these ladies; and -astonished and ravished with their beauty and learning, they were taken -with love of them." - -At the end of their "_tensons_" the troubadours often named the ladies -who were to pronounce on the questions in dispute between them. - -A decree of the Ladies of Gascony runs:-- - - "The Court of ladies, assembled in Gascony, have laid down, with the - consent of the whole Court, this perpetual constitution, etc., etc." - -The Countess of Champagne in a decree of 1174, says:-- - - "This judgment, that we have carried with extreme caution, is - supported by the advice of a very great number of ladies..." - -In another judgment is found:-- - - "The knight, for the fraud that has been done him, denounced this - whole affair to the Countess of Champagne, and humbly begged that this - crime might be submitted to the judgment of the Countess of Champagne - and the other ladies." - - "The Countess, having summoned around her sixty ladies, gave this - judgment, etc." - -[Pg 335] -André le Chapelain, from whom we derive this information, relates that -the Code of Love had been published by a Court composed of a large -number of ladies and knights. - -André has preserved for us the petition, which was addressed to the -Countess of Champagne, when she decided the following question in the -negative: "Can real love exist between husband and wife?" - -But what was the penalty that was incurred by disobedience to the -decrees of the Courts of Love? - -We find the Court of Gascony ordering that such or such of its -judgments should be observed as a perpetual institution, and that those -ladies who did not obey should incur the enmity of every honourable -lady. - -Up to what point did public opinion sanction the decrees of the Courts -of Love? - -Was there as much disgrace in drawing back from them, as there would be -to-day in an affair dictated by honour? - -I can find nothing in André or Nostradamus that puts me in a position -to solve this question. - -Two troubadours, Simon Boria and Lanfranc Cigalla, disputed the -question: "Who is worthier of being loved, he who gives liberally, or -he who gives in spite of himself in order to pass for liberal?" - -This question was submitted to the ladies of the Court of Pierrefeu and -Signe; but the two troubadours, being discontented with the verdict, -had recourse to the supreme Court of Love of the ladies of Romanin.[3] - -The form of the verdicts is conformable to that of the judicial -tribunals of this period. - -Whatever may be the reader's opinion as to the degree of importance -which the Courts of Love occupied in the attention of their -contemporaries, I beg him to consider what to-day, in 1822, are the -subjects of conversation among the most considerable and richest ladies -of Toulon and Marseilles. - -Were they not more gay, more witty, more happy in 1174 than in 1882? - -Nearly all the decrees of the Courts of Love are based on the -provisions of the Code of Love. - -This Code of Love is found complete in the work of André le Chapelain. - - -[1] André le Chapelain, Nostradamus, Raynouard, Crescimbeni, d'Arétin. - -[2] Jehanne, Lady of Baulx, - Hugnette of Forcarquier, Lady of Trects, - Briande d'Agoult, Countess de la Lune, - Mabille de Villeneufve, Lady of Vence, - Beatrix d'Agoult, Lady of Sault, - Ysoarde de Roquefueilh, Lady of Ansoys, - Anne, Viscountess of Tallard, - Blanche of Flassans, surnamed Blankaflour, - Doulce of Monestiers, Lady of Clumane, - Antonette of Cadenet, Lady of Lambesc, - Magdalene of Sallon, Lady of the said place, - Rixende of Puyvard, Lady of Trans." - (Nostradamus, p. 217.) - -[3] Nostradamus, p. 131. - -[Pg 336] -There are thirty-one articles and here they are:-- - - - CODE OF LOVE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY - - - I. The allegation of marriage is not a valid plea against love. - - II. Who can dissemble cannot love. - - III. No one can bind himself to two loves at once. - - IV. Love grows continually or wanes. - - V. That which a lover takes from another by force has no savour. - - VI. Generally the male does not love except in full puberty. - - VII. A widowhood of two years is prescribed to one lover for the - death of the other. - - VIII. Without over-abundant reason no one ought to be deprived of his - rights in love. - - IX. No one can love, unless urged thereto by the persuasion of love - (by the hope of being loved). - - X. Love will be driven out by avarice. - - XI. It is not right to love her whom you would be ashamed to ask in - marriage. - - XII. True love has no desire for caresses except from the beloved. - - XIII. Love once divulged is rarely lasting. - - XIV. Success too easy takes away the charm of love; obstacles give it - worth. - - XV. Everyone who loves turns pale at the sight of the beloved. - - XVI. At the unexpected sight of the beloved the lover trembles. - - XVII. New love banishes old. - - XVIII. Merit alone makes man worthy of love. - - XIX. Love that wanes is quickly out and rarely rekindled. - - XX. The lover is always timid. - - XXI. Real jealousy always increases love's warmth. - - XXII. Suspicion, and the jealousy it kindles, increases love's warmth. - - XXIII. He sleeps less and he eats less who is beset with thoughts of - love. - - XXIV. Every act of the lover ends in thought of the beloved. - -[Pg 337] - XXV. The true lover thinks nothing good but what he knows will please - the beloved. - - XXVI. Love can deny love nothing. - - XXVII. The lover cannot have satiety of delight in the beloved. - -XXVIII. The slightest presumption causes the lover to suspect the - beloved of sinister things. - - XXIX. The habit of too excessive pleasure hinders the birth of love. - - XXX. The true lover is occupied with the image of the beloved - assiduously and without interruption. - - XXXI. Nothing prevents a woman from being loved by two men, nor a man - by two women.[1] - -[Pg 338] -Here is the preamble of a judgment given by a Court of Love. - -_Question:_ Can true love exist between married people? - -_Judgment_ of the Countess of Champagne: We pronounce and determine by -the tenour of these presents, that love cannot extend its powers over -two married persons; for lovers must grant everything, mutually and -gratuitously, the one to the other without being constrained thereto -by any motive of necessity, while husband and wife are bound by duty -to agree the one with the other and deny each other in nothing.... Let -this judgment, which we have passed with extreme caution and with the -advice of a great number of other ladies, be held by you as the truth, -unquestionable and unalterable. - -In the year 1174, the third day from the Calends of May, the VIIth: -indiction.[2] - - -[1] I. Causa conjugii ab amore non est excusatio recta. - - II. Qui non celat amare non potest. - - III. Nemo duplici potest amore ligari. - - IV. Semper amorem minui vel crescere constat. - - V. Non est sapidum quod amans ab invito sumit amante. - - VI. Masculus non solet nisi in plena pubertate amare. - - VII. Biennalis viduitas pro amante defuncto superstiti praescribitur - amanti. - - VIII. Nemo, sine rationis excessu, suo debet amore privari. - - IX. Amare nemo potest, nisi qui amoris suasione compellitur. - - X. Amor semper ab avaritia consuevit domiciliis exulare. - - XI. Non decet amare quarum pudor est nuptias affectare. - - XII. Verus amans alterius nisi suae coamantis ex affectu non cupit - amplexus. - - XIII. Amor raro consuevit durare vulgatus. - - XIV. Facilis perceptio contemptibilem reddit amorem, difficilis eum - parum facit haberi. - - XV. Omnis consuevit amans in coamantis aspectu pallescere. - - XVI. In repertina coamantis visione, cor tremescit amantis. - - XVII. Novus amor veterem compellit abire. - - XVIII. Probitas sola quemcumque dignum facit amore. - - XIX. Si amor minuatur, cito deficit et raro convalescit. - - XX. Amorosus semper est timorosus. - - XXI. Ex vera zelotypia affectus semper crescit amandi. - - XXII. De coamante suspicione percepta zelus interea et affectus - crescit amandi. - - XXIII. Minus dormit et edit quem amoris cogitatio vexat. - - XXIV. Quilibet amantis actus in coamantis cogitatione finitur. - - XXV. Verus amans nihil beatum credit, nisi quod cogitat amanti - placere. - - XXVI. Amor nihil posset amori denegare. - - XXVII. Amans coamantis solatiis satiari non potest. - -XXVIII. Modica praesumptio cogit amantem de coamante suspicari sinistra. - - XXIX. Non solet amare quem nimia voluptatis abundantia vexat. - - XXX. Verus amans assidua, sine intermissione, coamantis imagine - detinetur. - - XXXI. Unam feminam nihil prohibet a duobus amari, et a duabus - mulieribus unum. (Fol. 103.) - -[2] Utrum inter conjugatos amor possit habere locum? - -Dicimus enim et stabilito tenore firmamus amorem non posse inter duos -jugales suas extendere vires, nam amantes sibi invicem gratis omnia -largiuntur, nullius necessitatis ratione cogente; jugales vero mutuis -tenentur ex debito voluntatibus obedire et in nullo seipsos sibi ad -invicem denegare.... - -Hoc igitur nostrum judicium, cum nimia moderatione prolatum, et aliarum -quamplurium dominarum consilio roboratum, pro indubitabili vobis sit ac -veritate constanti. - -Ab anno M.C.LXXIV, tertio calend. maii, indictione VII. (Fol. 56.) - -This judgment conforms to the first provision of the Code of Love; -"Causa conjugii non est ab amore excusatio recta." - - -[Pg 339] - NOTE ON ANDRÉ LE CHAPELAIN(70) - - -ANDRÉ LE CHAPELAIN appears to have written about the year 1176. - -In the Bibliothèque du Roi may be found a manuscript (No. 8758) of -the work of André, which was formerly in the possession of Baluze. -Its first title is as follows: "Hic incipiunt capitula libri de Arte -amatoria et reprobatione amoris." - -This title is followed by the table of chapters. - -Then we have the second title:-- - -"Incipit liber de Arte amandi et de reprobatione amoris editus et -compillatus a magistro Andrea, Francorum aulae regiæ capellano, ad -Galterium amicum suum, cupientem in amoris exercitu militari: in quo -quidem libro, cujusque gradus et ordinis mulier ab homine cujusque -conditionis et status ad amorem sapientissime invitatur; et ultimo in -fine ipsius libri de amoris reprobatione subjungitur." - -Crescimbeni, _Lives of the Provençal Poets_, sub voce Percivalle Boria, -cites a manuscript in the library of Nicolo Bargiacchi, at Florence, -and quotes various passages from it. This manuscript is a translation -of the treatise of André le Chapelain. The Accademia della Crusca -admitted it among the works which furnished examples for its dictionary. - -There have been various editions of the original Latin. Frid. Otto -Menckenius, in his _Miscellanea Lipsiensia nova, Leipsic_ 1751, Vol. -VIII, part I, pp. 545 and ff., mentions a very old edition without date -or place of printing, which he considers must belong to the first age -of printing: "Tractatus amoris et de amoris remedio Andreae cappellani -Innocentii papae quarti." - -A second edition of 1610 bears the following title:-- - -"_Erotica seu amatoria_ Andreae capellani regii, vetustissimi -scriptoris ad venerandum suum amicum Guualterium scripta, nunquam ante -hac edita, sed saepius a multis desiderata; nunc tandem fide diversorum -MSS. codicum in publicum emissa a Dethmaro Mulhero, Dorpmundae, typis -Westhovianis, anno Una Caste et Vere amanda." - -A third edition reads: "Tremoniae, typis Westhovianis, anno 1614.". - -[Pg 340] -André divides thus methodically the subjects which he proposes to -discuss:-- - -1. Quid sit amor et unde dicatur.[1] - -2. Quis sit effectus amoris. - -3. Inter quos possit esse amor. - -4. Qualiter amor acquiratur, retineatur, augmentetur, minuatur, -finiatur. - -5. De notitia mutui amoris, et quid unus amantium agere debeat, altero -fidem fallente. - -Each of these questions is discussed in several paragraphs. - -Andreas makes the lover and his lady speak alternately. The lady raises -objections, the lover tries to convince her with reasons more or less -subtle. Here is a passage which the author puts into the mouth of the -lover:-- - - "... Sed si forte horum sermonum te perturbet obscuritas," eorum tibi - sententiam indicabo[2] - - Ab antiquo igitur quatuor sunt in amore gradus distincti: - - _Primus_, in spei datione consistit. - - _Secundus_, in osculi exhibitione. - - _Tertius_, in amplexus fruitione. - - _Quartus_, in totius concessione personae finitur." - - -[1] 1. What love is and whence it is so-called. - -2. What are the effects of love? - -3. Between whom love can exist. - -4. In what way love is won, kept, made to increase, to wane or to end. - -5. The way to know if love is returned, and what one of the lovers -should do when the other proves faithless.] - -[2] But lest perchance you are troubled by the obscurity of this -discourse, I shall give you the argument:-- - -From all antiquity there are four different degrees of love: - -The first consists in giving hope. - -The second in the offer of a kiss. - -The third in the enjoyment of the most intimate caresses. - -The fourth in the surrender of body and soul.] - -[Pg 341] - TRANSLATORS' NOTES - - -1. The Portuguese Nun, Marianna Alcaforado, was born of a distinguished -Portuguese family in the second half of the seventeenth century. About -1662, while still a nun, she fell in love with a French officer, the -Chevalier de Chamilly, to whom she addressed her famous letters. The -worthiness of the object of her passion may be judged by the fact that, -on his return to Paris, the Chevalier handed over these letters to -Sublingy, a lawyer, to be translated and published. They appeared in -1669, published by Barbin, under the title _Lettres Portuguaises_, and -have since been often reprinted. Marianna Alcaforado died at the end of -the seventeenth or the beginning of the eighteenth century. - -There are only five original letters, though many editions contain the -seven spurious letters, attributed to a "femme du monde"--they are -already in Barbin's second edition. - -There is an admirable seventeenth-century English translation of her -letters by Sir Roger L'Estrange. - -The passion of Héloïse for Abelard hardly calls for commentary. There -is no clue to the identity of Captain de Vésel and Sergeant de Cento. -A note in Calmann-Lévy's edition tells us that, in reply to enquiries -about these two mysterious people, Stendhal said that he had forgotten -their stories. - -2. _Justine ou les Malheurs de la Vertu_, by the famous Marquis de -Sade, was published in Holland, 1791. - -3. Cf. Coleridge, _Love's Apparition and Evanishment_:-- - - ... Genial Hope, - Love's eldest sister. - -4. Cf. Chapter VIII, p. 35 below. The ideas contained in these two -passages are the germ of a story written by Stendhal with the obvious -intention of illustrating his theories. The story--"Ernestine"--is -included in the Calmann-Lévy edition of _De l'Amour_. - - -[Pg 342] -5. Cf. a letter of Sir John Suckling "_to a Friend to dissuade him from -marrying a widow, which he formerly had been in love with_":-- - -"Love is a natural distemper, a kind of Small Pox: Every one either -hath had it or is to expect it, and the sooner the better." - -6. Léonore: under this name Stendhal refers to Métilde Dembowski -(_née_ Viscontini). His passion for the wife of General Dembowski, -with whom he became intimate during his stay in Milan (1814-1821), -forms one of the most important chapters in Stendhal's life, but it -is a little disappointing to enquire too deeply into the object of -this passion. At any rate, as far as one can see, the great qualities -which Stendhal discovered in Métilde Dembowski had their existence -rather in his expert crystallisation than in reality. It was an unhappy -affair. Métilde's cousin used her influence to injure Stendhal, and -in 1819 she cut off all communication with him. Stendhal was still -bemoaning his fate on his arrival in England, 1821. There is, none -the less, something unconvincing in certain points in the history -of this attachment; in spite of his sorrow, Stendhal seems to have -consoled himself in the Westminster Road with "little Miss Appleby." -It is worth noticing that Métilde Dembowski had been the confidante of -Signora Pietra Grua, his former mistress, and it was from the date of -Stendhal's discovery of the latter's shameless infidelity to himself -and other lovers, that his admiration for Métilde seems to have started. - -7. It is here worth turning to a passage from Baudelaire--which is -given in the Translators' note (11) below. Liberty in love, he says, -consists in avoiding the kind of woman dangerous to oneself. He -points out that a natural instinct prompts one to this spontaneous -self-preservation. Stendhal here gives a more exact explanation of -the operation of this instinctive selection in love. Schopenhauer's -conception of the utilitarian nature of bodily beauty is a more general -application of the same idea. The breasts of a woman _à la_ Titian -are a pledge of fitness for maternity--therefore they are beautiful. -Stendhal would have said a pledge of fitness for giving pleasure. - -8. The well-known Dr. Edwards, in whose house Stendhal was introduced -to one side of English life--and a very bourgeois side. He was -introduced by a brother of Dr. Edwards, a - -[Pg 343] -man given to the peculiarly gloomy kind of debauch of which Stendhal -gives such an exaggerated picture in his account of England. See note -31 below. - -9. This brings to mind Blake's view of imagination and "the rotten -rags" of memory. - -10. _Bianca e Faliero ossia il consiglio di tre_--opera by Rossini -(1819). - -11. Cf. Baudelaire, _Choix de maximes consolantes sur l'amour_ in _Le -Corsaire Satan_ (March 3, 1846) and reprinted in _Œuvres Posthumes_, -Paris, 1908. - -"Sans nier les coups de foudre, ce qui est impossible--voyez -Stendhal...--il faut que la fatalité jouit d'une certaine élasticité -qui s'appelle liberté humaine.... En amour la liberté consiste à éviter -les catégories de femmes dangereuses, c'est-à-dire dangereuses pour -vous." - -["Without denying the possibility of 'thunderbolts,' for that is -impossible (see Stendhal)--one may yet believe that fatality enjoys -a certain elasticity, called human liberty.... In love human liberty -consists in avoiding the categories of dangerous women--that is, women -dangerous for you."] - -12. Paul Louis Courier (1772-1825) served with distinction as an -officer in Napoleon's army. He resigned his commission in 1809, in -order to devote himself to literature, and especially to the study -of Greek. His translation of _Daphnis and Chloe_, from the Greek of -Longus, is well known, and was the cause of his long controversy -with Del Furia, the under-librarian of the Laurentian Library at -Florence, to which Stendhal here refers. Courier had discovered -a complete manuscript of this romance in the famous Florentine -Library. By mistake, he soiled with a blot of ink the page of the -manuscript containing the all-important passage, which was wanting -in all previously known manuscripts. Del Furia, jealous of Courier's -discovery, accused him of having blotted the passage on purpose, in -order to monopolise the discovery. A lively controversy followed, in -which the authorities entered. Courier was guilty of nothing worse than -carelessness, and, needless to say, got the better of his adversaries, -when it came to a trial with the pen. - -[Pg 344] -13. The Viscomte de Valmont and the Présidente de Tourvel are the two -central figures in Choderlos de Laclos' _Liaisons Dangereuses_ (1782). - -14. Modern criticism has made it uncertain who Dante's la Pia really -was. The traditional identification is now given up, but there seems no -reason to doubt the historical fact of the story. - -15. Napoleon crowned himself with the Iron Crown of the old Lombard -kings at Milan in 1805. - -16. The reader is aware by now that Salviati is none other than -Stendhal. The passage refers to the campaign of 1812, in which Stendhal -played a prominent part, being present at the burning of Moscow. - -17. _Don Carlos_, Tragedy of Schiller (1787); Saint-Preux--from -Rousseau's _Nouvelle Héloïse_. - -18. Stendhal's first book. For the history of this work, which is an -admirable example of Stendhal's bold method of plagiarism, see the -introduction to the work in the complete edition of Stendhal now in -course of publication by Messrs. Champion (Paris, 1914) or Lumbroso, -_Vingt jugements inédits sur Henry Beyle_ (1902), pp. 10 and ff. - -19. _Jacques le Fataliste_--by Diderot (1773). - -20. The note, as it stands, in the French text, against the word -"pique," runs as follows:-- - -"I think the word is none too French in this sense, but I can find -no better substitute. In Italian it is 'puntiglio,' and in English -'pique.'" - -21. The _Lettres à Sophie_ were written by Mirabeau (1749-1791) during -his imprisonment at Vincennes (1777-1780). They were addressed to -Sophie de Monnier; it was his relations with her which had brought -him into prison. They were published in 1792, after Mirabeau's death, -under the title: _Lettres originales de Mirabeau écrites du donjon de -Vincennes_. - -[Pg 345] -22. Catherine Marie, Duchesse de Montpensier, was the daughter of -the Duc de Guise, assassinated in 1563. In 1570 she married the Duc -de Montpensier. She was lame, but she had other reasons besides his -scoffing at her infirmity for her undying hatred of Henry III; for she -could lay at his door the death of her brother Henry, the third Duke. -She died in 1596. - -23. Julie d'Étanges--the heroine of Rousseau's _Nouvelle Héloïse_. - -24. Stendhal, we must remember, is writing as a staunch liberal in the -period of reaction which followed the fall of Napoleon and the end of -the revolutionary period. Stendhal had been one of Napoleon's officers, -and the Bourbon restoration put an end to his career. His liberalism -and his pride at having been one of those who followed Napoleon's -glorious campaigns, colour everything he writes about the state of -Europe in his time. In reading Stendhal's criticisms of France, England -and Italy, we must put ourselves back in 1822--remember that in France -we have the Royalist restoration, in England the cry for reform always -growing greater and beginning to penetrate even into the reactionary -government of Lord Liverpool (Peel, Canning, Huskisson), in Italy -the rule of the "Pacha" (see below, note 29) and the beginning of -Carbonarism (of which Stendhal was himself suspected, see below, note -27), and the long struggle for unity and independence. - -25. Charles Ferdinand, Duke de Berri (1778-1820), married a Bourbon -Princess and was assassinated by a fanatic enemy of the Bourbons. - -26. Bayard. Pierre Bayard (1476-1524), the famous French knight -"without fear or reproach." - -27. Of all foreign countries then to which Stendhal went Italy was not -only his favourite, but also the one he knew and understood best. He -was pleased in later years to discover Italian blood in his own family -on the maternal side. The Gagnon family, from which his mother came, -had, according to him, crossed into France about 1650. - -He was in Italy with little interruption from 1814-1821, and again from -1830-1841 as consul at Civita Vecchia, during which time he became -intimately acquainted with the best, indeed every - -[Pg 346] -kind of Italian society. He tells us that fear of being implicated in -the _Carbonari_ troubles drove him from Italy in 1821. - -One can well believe that a plain speaker and daring thinker like -Stendhal would have been looked upon by the Austrian police with -considerable suspicion. - -28. Racine and Shakespeare. Very early in life Stendhal refused to -accept the conventional literary valuations. Racine he put below -Corneille--Racine, like Voltaire, he says, fills his works with -"bavardage éternel." Shakespeare became for Stendhal the master -dramatist, and he is never tired of the comparison between him and -Racine. Cf. _Rome, Naples et Florence_ (1817), and _Histoire de la -Peinture en Italie_ (1817). Finally he published his work on the -subject: _Racine et Shakespeare par M. de Stendhal_ (1823). - -29. Stendhal knew Italy and was writing in Italy in the dark period -that followed the fall of Napoleon. The "Pacha" is, of course, the -repressive and reactionary government, whether that of the Austrians -in Lombardy, of the Pope in Rome, or of the petty princes in the minor -Italian states. See above, note 27. - -30. Count Almaviva--character from Beaumarchais' _Marriage de Figaro_, -first acted April, 1784. The play was censored by Louis XVI and -produced none the less six months later. Its production is an event -in the history of the French Revolution. Almaviva stands for the -aristocracy and cuts a sad figure beside Figaro, a poor barber. - - - STENDHAL'S ACQUAINTANCE WITH ENGLAND - -31. Baretti, Dr. Johnson's friend, has the reputation of having learnt -English better than any other foreigner. Stendhal might well claim a -similar distinction for having acquired in a short stay a grasp so -singularly comprehensive of England--of English people and their ways. -He was four times in England--in 1817, 1821, 1826, and 1838--never -for a whole year in succession, and on the first occasion merely on a -flying trip. But Stendhal had not only a great power of observing and -assimilating ideas; he was also capable of accommodating himself to -association with the most varied types. Stendhal was as appreciative of -Miss Appleby--his - -[Pg 347] -little mistress in the Westminster Road--as of Lord Byron and Shelley: -he was at home in the family circle of the Edwards and the Clarkes. -From the first he was sensible of the immense value of his friendship -with the lawyer, Sutton Sharpe (1797-1843). Sharpe was one of those -Englishmen who seem made for the admiration of foreigners--possessing -all the Englishman's sense and unaffected dignity and none of his -morbid reserve or insularity. Porson, Opie, Flaxman, Stothard were -familiar figures in the house of Sharpe's father, and Sharpe and his -charming sister continued to be the centre of a large and intelligent -circle. In 1826 Sharpe took Stendhal with him on circuit. Stendhal was -often present in court and learnt from his friend, who in 1841 became -Q. C., to admire the real character, so rarely appreciated abroad, of -English justice. He took this opportunity of visiting also Manchester, -York, and the Lake district. Likewise to Sharpe he owed the privilege -of meeting Hook, the famous wit and famous bibber, at the Athenaeum. -He was present even at one of Almack's balls--the most select -entertainment of that time. - -With an acquaintance with England at once so varied, so full and yet -so short, as regards direct intercourse with the country and people, -it is rather natural that Stendhal was wary of subscribing to any -one very settled conception of the English. He felt the incongruity -of their character. At one time he called them "la nation la plus -civilisée et la plus puissante du monde entier"--the most civilised and -powerful people on the face of the earth; at another they were only -"les premiers hommes pour le steam-engine"; and then, he merely felt a -sorrowful affection for them--as for a people who just missed getting -the profit of their good qualities by shutting their eyes to their bad. - -As for Stendhal's knowledge of English literature--of that the -foundations were laid early in life. His enthusiasm for Shakespeare -was a very early passion (cf. Translators' note 28). As years went on, -his acquaintance with English thought and English literature became -steadily wider. Significant is his familiarity with Bentham, whose -views were congenial to Stendhal: Stendhal quotes him more than once. -Hobbes he was ready to class with Condillac, Helvétius, Cabanis and -Destutt de Tracy, as one of the philosophers most congenial and useful -to his mind. For the rest, the notes and quotations in this book leave -no doubt of the extent of his English reading--they - -[Pg 348] -give one a poorer opinion of his purely linguistic capacities; -Stendhal's own English is often most comical. For a very complete -consideration of his connexion with England see _Stendhal et -l'Angleterre_, by Doris Gunnell (Paris, 1909). Cf. also Chuquet's -_Stendhal-Beyle_ (Paris, 1902), Chap. IX, pp. 178 and ff. - -32. Of the three Englishmen referred to here, James Beattie -(1735--1803), the author of _The Minstrel_ (published 1771-1774), and -Richard Watson (1737-1816), Bishop of Llandaff (1782), a distinguished -chemist and a man of liberal political views, will both be familiar to -readers of Boswell. The third, John Chetwode Eustace (1762?-1815) was -a friend of Burke and a Roman Catholic, who seems to have given some -trouble to the Catholic authorities in England and Ireland. His _Tour -through Italy_, to which Stendhal refers, was published in 1813. - -33. The Divorce Bill, introduced in 1820 into the House of Lords by -George IV's ministers, to annul his marriage with Queen Caroline, but -abandoned on account of its unpopularity both in Parliament and in the -country generally. - -34. The Whiteboys were a secret society, which originated in Ireland -about 1760 and continued spasmodically till the end of the century. -In 1821 it reappeared and gave great trouble to the authorities; in -1823 the society adopted another name. The yeomanry was embodied in -Ulster in September 1796, and was mainly composed of Orangemen and -Protestants. The body was instrumental in disarming Ulster and in -suppressing the rebellion of 1798--not, it has been maintained, without -unnecessary cruelty. - -35. Sir Benjamin Bloomfield (1786-1846), a distinguished soldier, -ultimately did get his peerage in 1825. In 1822 he had resigned his -office of receiver of the duchy of Cornwall, having lost the King's -confidence after many years of favour. - - - STENDHAL'S ACQUAINTANCE WITH SPAIN - -36. Stendhal's personal knowledge of Spain was less extensive than that -of Italy, England and Germany. He was early interested in the country -and its literature. In 1808 at Richemont he was reading a _Histoire de -la guerre de la succession d'Espagne_, and the same year speaks of his -plan of going to Spain to study the - -[Pg 349] -language of Cervantes and Calderon. In 1810 he actually took Spanish -lessons and the next year applied from Germany for an official -appointment in Spain. In 1837 he made his way as far as Barcelona. - - - STENDHAL'S ACQUAINTANCE WITH GERMANY - -37. In 1806 Stendhal returned to Paris from Marseilles whither he -had followed the actress Melanie Guilbert and taken up a commercial -employment in order to support himself at her side. He now again put -himself under the protection of Daru, and followed him into Germany, -though at first without any fixed title. He was not at Jena, as he -pretends (being still in Paris the 7th October), but on the 27th of the -month he witnessed Napoleon's triumphal entry into Berlin. Two days -later he was nominated by Daru to the post of assistant _commissaire -des guerres_. - -Stendhal arrived in Brunswick in 1806 to take up his official duties. -Although his time was occupied with a considerable amount of business, -he found leisure also for visiting the country at ease. In 1807 he -went as far as Hamburg. His observations on the country and people are -occurring continually in his works, particularly in his letters and in -his _Voyage à Brunswick_ (in _Napoléon_, ed. de Mitty, Paris, 1897), -pp. 92-125. In 1808 he left Brunswick, but soon returned with Daru to -Germany. This time he was employed at Strasbourg--whence he passed to -Ingolstadt, Landshut, etc., etc. Facts prove that he was not at the -battle of Wagram, as he says in his _Life of Napoleon_. He was at the -time at Vienna, where he managed to remain for the _Te Deum_ sung in -honour of the Emperor Francis II after the evacuation by the French. -He returned in 1810, after the peace of Schonnbrunn, to Paris. It was -during his stay in Brunswick that Stendhal made the acquaintance of -Baron von Strombeck, for whom he always preserved a warm affection. -He was a frequent guest at the house of von Strombeck and a great -admirer of his sister-in-law, Phillippine von Bülow--who died Abbess -of Steterburg--_la celeste Phillippine_. Baron von Strombeck is -referred to in this work as M. de Mermann. See generally Chuquet, -_Stendhal-Beyle_, Chap. V. - -38. Triumph of the Cross. In Arthur Schuig's sprightly, but inaccurate, -German edition of _De l'Amour--Über die Liebe_ (Jena, 1911)--occurs -this note:-- - -"Stendhal names the piece _Le Triomphe de la Croix_, but must - -[Pg 350] -mean either _Das Kruez an der Ostsee_ (1806), or _Martin Luther oder -die Weihe der Kraft_ (1807)--both tragedies by Zacharias Werner." - -39. The Provencal story in this chapter, and the Arabic anecdotes in -the next, were translated for Stendhal by his friend Claude Fauriel -(1772-1806)--"the only savant in Paris who is not a pedant," he calls -him in a letter written in 1829 (_Correspondance de Stendhal_, Paris, -Charles Brosse, 1908, Vol. II, p. 516). A letter of 1822 (Vol. II, p. -247) thanks M. Fauriel for his translations. "If I were not so old," -he writes, "I should learn Arabic, so charmed am I to find something -at last that is not a mere academic copy of the antique.... My little -ideological treatise on Love will now have some variety. The reader -will be carried beyond the circle of European ideas." Saint-Beuve -relates that he was present when Fauriel showed Stendhal, then engaged -on his _De l'Amour_, an Arab story which he had translated. Stendhal -seized on it, and Fauriel was only able to recover his story by -promising two more like it in exchange. M. Fauriel is referred to p. -188, note 3, above. - -40. The reference is to a piece by Scribe (1791-1861). - -41. Stendhal had no first-hand knowledge of America. - -42. Stendhal was writing before Whitman and Whistler; yet he had read -Poe. - -43. The entire material for these three chapters, and to a very great -extent their language too, is taken straight from an article in the -_Edinburgh Review_--January 1810--by Thomas Broadbent. See for a full -comparison of the English and French, Doris Gunnell--_Stendhal et -l'Angleterre_, Appendix B. - -Stendhal has not only adapted the ideas--he has to a great extent -translated the words of Thomas Broadbent. He has changed the order of -ideas here and there--not the ideas themselves--and in some cases he -has enlarged their application. Where he has translated the English -word for word, it has often been possible in this translation to -restore the original English, which Stendhal borrowed and turned into -French. Where we have done this, we have printed the words, which -belong to Thomas Broadbent, in italics. - - -[Pg 351] -However, as Stendhal often introduced slight, but important, changes -of language, we also give below, as an example of his methods, longer -passages chosen from the article in the _Edinburgh Review_, to compare -with the corresponding passages literally translated by us from -Stendhal. - -These are the passages:-- - -P. 225, l. 2: - - "As if women were more quick and men more judicious, as if women were - more remarkable for delicacy of expression and men for stronger powers - of attention." - -P. 228, l. 9: - - "Knowledge, where it produces any bad effects at all, does as much - mischief to one sex as to the other.... Vanity and conceit we shall of - course witness in men and women, as long as the world endures.... The - best way to make it more tolerable is to give it as high and dignified - an object as possible." - -P. 229, l. 21: - - "Women have, of course, all ignorant men for enemies to their - instruction, who being bound (as they think) in point of sex to know - more, are not well pleased in point of fact to know less." - -P. 230, l. 24: - - "The same desire of pleasing, etc.... We are quite astonished in - hearing men converse on such subjects to find them attributing such - beautiful effects to ignorance." - -P. 232, l. 31: - - "We do not wish a lady to write books any more than we wish her to - dance at the opera." - -P. 237, l. 13: - - "A merely accomplished woman cannot infuse her tastes into the minds - of her sons.... - - "By having gained information a mother may inspire her sons with - valuable tastes, which may abide by them through life and carry him up - to all the sublimities of knowledge." - -P. 237, l. 27: - - "Mankind are much happier for the discovery of barometers, - thermometers, steam-engines and all the innumerable inventions in the - arts and the sciences.... The same observation is true of such works - as those of Dryden, Pope, Milton and Shakespeare." - -[Pg 352] -Stendhal's habit of quoting without acknowledgment from all kinds of -writings is so curious, that it demands a word to itself. His wholesale -method of plagiarism has been established in other works beside the -present one; almost the whole of his first work--_La Vie de Haydn_ -(1814)--is stolen property. See above, note 18. Goethe was amused to -find his own experiences transferred to the credit of the author of -_Rome, Naples et Florence!_ - -If there is any commentary necessary on this literary piracy--it is to -be found in a note by Stendhal (_vide_ above, Chapter XXXVII, p. 132) -on a passage where, for once, he actually acknowledges a thought from -La Rochefoucauld:-- - - "The reader will have recognised, without my marking it each time, - several other thoughts of celebrated writers. It is history which I am - attempting to write, and such thoughts are the facts." - -44. The monitorial system (_Enseignement mutuel_) was introduced into -France soon after the Bourbon Restoration; but it was not, like our -monitorial system, designed with a view primarily to the maintenance of -discipline, but rather to supplying the want of schools and masters and -remedying the official indifference to popular education, which then -existed in France. As such, it was warmly espoused by the liberals, and -as warmly opposed by the reactionaries. The monitors, it was thought, -could hand on to the younger pupils the knowledge they had already -received; after the Revolution of 1830, when no longer the object -of political controversy, the system gave way to more practical and -efficient methods of public instruction. - -45. Porlier (Don Juan Diaz), born in 1783, was publicly hanged in -1815 as the result of a conspiracy against Ferdinand VII of Spain. -After having been one of the most active and bravest supporters of -Ferdinand's cause in the effort to re-establish his throne and the -national honour, he now sacrificed his life to an unsuccessful attempt -to set up a constitutional government. - -Antonio Quiroga (born 1784), also after having distinguished himself in -the national struggle against Napoleon, was tried for complicity in the -conspiracy, after the fall of Porlier. After a series of adventures, in -which he was more lucky than Riego, his - -[Pg 353] -subaltern, to whom he owed so much, he again distinguished himself, -after a temporary withdrawal from active service in 1822, by the stout -opposition he offered to the French invasion of 1823. His efforts, -however, were of no avail and he escaped to England, and thence made -his way to South America. Some years later he returned to Spain, was -nominated Captain General of Grenada, and died in 1841. - -Rafael del Riego (born 1785), after serving against the French, -first became prominent in connexion with the effort to restore the -constitution which Ferdinand had abolished in 1812. He was elected by -his troops second in command to Quiroga, whom he himself proposed as -their leader. This rising was a failure and Riego was exiled to Oviedo, -his birthplace. After being repeatedly recalled and re-exiled, he ended -by being one of the first victims of Ferdinand's restoration in 1823, -and was dragged to the place of execution at the back of a donkey, amid -the outrages of the mob. - -46. Father Paolo Sarpi (1552-1623), the famous historian of the -Council of Trent, a Servite monk, and the ecclesiastical adviser of -the Venetian Government, at a time when it seemed not impossible that -Venice would break away, like Northern Europe, from the Roman Catholic -Church. - -47. Destutt de Tracy (1754-1836) was, according to Stendhal, our only -philosopher. It is on Tracy, one of the Ideologists, that Stendhal, -one might say, modelled his philosophic attitude. Tracy's _Idéologie_ -(1801), he says, gave him "milles germes de pensées nouvelles"--gave -him also his worship of logic. He was equally impressed by the _Traité -de la Volonté_ (1815). Cf. Picavet's Sorbonne Thesis (Paris, 1891) -_Les Idéologues_, pp. 489-92, in which he speaks of Stendhal as "a -successor and a defender, _mutatis mutandis_, of the eighteenth-century -'Idéologues.'" - -48. Giovanni Luigi Fiescho (15 23-1547), a great Genoese noble, formed -a conspiracy in 1547 against the all-powerful Admiral of the Republic, -Andrea Doria. The state fleet in the harbour was to be seized, but in -attempting this Fiescho was drowned, and the conspiracy collapsed. - -[Pg 354] -49. Henri Grégoire (1750-1831), one of the most original fearless and -sincere of the Revolutionary leaders, was the constitutional Bishop -of Blois, who refused to lay down his episcopal office under the -Terror, and when the Reign of Terror was over, took an active part in -restoring Religion and the Church. He resigned his bishopric in 1801. -Napoleon made him a count but he was always hostile to the Empire. He -was a staunch Gallican, and never forgave Napoleon his concordat with -the Papacy. He was naturally hated and feared by the Royalists at the -Restoration, but he remained popular with the people, and was elected -a member of the lower chamber in 1819, though he was prevented by the -Government from sitting. - -50. _La Génie du Christianisme_, by Chateaubriand (1802). - -51. See note 47. - -52. See note 37. - -53. See note 37. - -54. Johannes von Müller--the German historian (1752-1809). - -55. La Trappe--the headquarters (near Mortagna) of a monastic body, the -Trappists, a branch of the Cistercian order. The word is used for all -Trappist monasteries. - -56. Samuel Bernard (1651-1739), son of the painter and engraver of -the same name, was a man of immense wealth and the foremost French -financier of his day. He was born a Protestant, not, as has been -thought, a Jew, but became a Catholic after the Revocation of the Edict -of Nantes (1685). He was ennobled and became the Comte de Coubert -(1725). - -57. Joseph Louis Lagrange (1736-1813), a celebrated mathematician and -scientist. - -58. Hazlitt, in a note to his essay on _Self-Love and Benevolence_, -remarked on Stendhal's absurdly exaggerated praise of Helvétius. After -quoting this passage, he adds: "My friend Mr. Beyle here lays too much -stress on a borrowed verbal fallacy." - -[Pg 355] -Hobbes and Mandeville, he says, had long before stated, and Butler -answered, this fallacy, which not unfrequently vitiates Stendhal's -psychological views. - -59. Francois Guillaume Ducray-Duminil (1761-1819), the author of -numerous sentimental and popular novels. - -60. The _Argonautica_ of Apollonius of Rhodes (222-181 B. C.). - -61. Jean Francois de la Harpe (born 1739) is frequently mentioned by -Stendhal in this hostile spirit. After winning considerable notoriety, -without very much merit, La Harpe in 1786 became professor of -literature at the newly founded Lycée. Having started as a Voltairian -philosopher, and still apparently favourable to the Revolution, he -was none the less arrested in 1794 as a suspect and put into prison. -There he was converted from his former Voltairian principles to Roman -Catholicism. He died in 1803. - -62. _Notices sur Mme. de la Fayette, Mme. et Mlle. Deshoulières, lues à -l'Académie française_, Paris, 1822. - -63. Pierre Jean de Béranger (born 1780): The bold patriotic songs, -which had made Béranger's name, brought him in 1828, for the second -time, into prison. He refused office after the revolution (1830), for -the principles of which he had already suffered; he died in 1848. - -64. _La Gazza Ladra_, an opera by Rossini. - -65. Antoine Marie, Comte de Lavalette (1769-1830) was one of Napoleon's -generals. After the Bourbon restoration of 1815 he was condemned to -death, but escaped, chiefly owing to his wife's help. - -66. Alessandro, Conte Verri, the contemporary of Stendhal and a -distinguished _littérateur_ (1741-1816). - -67. Montenotte (April, 1796), and Rivoli (January, 1797), two victories -in Bonaparte's Italian campaign. - -[Pg 356] -68. The existence of these Courts of Love has been denied by many -modern historians. For a brief statement of the arguments against -their historical existence the English reader may be referred to -Chaytor, _The Troubadours_ (in the _Cambridge Manuals of Science and -Literature_, 1912), pp. 19-21. But while the direct evidence for their -existence is very flimsy, the direct evidence against them is no less -so. - -69. The monk of the Isles d'Or, on whose manuscript Nostradamus -professed to rely, is now considered to be a purely fictitious person, -an anagram on a friend's name. - -70. The date of André le Chapelain's treatise is a disputed point. -Stendhal gives its date as 1176; Reynouard and others, 1170. Others -again have placed it as late as the fourteenth century, though this has -been proved impossible, since thirteenth-century writers refer to the -book. The probability is that it was written at the beginning of the -thirteenth or end of the twelfth century--there is no evidence to fix -the date with precision. For a full discussion of the question see the -preface to the best modern edition of the work--_Andreae Capellani ... -De Amore_ (recensuit E. Trojel), 1892. - -71. Cf. Montesquieu, _Lettres Persanes_, passim, and especially Letter -48: ".... Our foreign demeanour no longer gives offence. We even profit -by people's surprise at finding us quite polite. Frenchmen cannot -imagine that Persia produces men. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On Love, by Marie Henri Beyle - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON LOVE *** - -***** This file should be named 53720-0.txt or 53720-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/2/53720/ - -Produced by Madeleine Fournier. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: On Love - -Author: Marie Henri Beyle - -Release Date: December 12, 2016 [EBook #53720] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON LOVE *** - - - - -Produced by Madeleine Fournier. Images provided by The Internet Archive. - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="cover"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="author">STENDHAL<br /> -<span style="font-size: small">(HENRY BEYLE)</span></p> - - - -<h1>ON LOVE</h1> - - -<p class="edition">TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH<br /><br /> -<span style="font-size: smaller">WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES<br /> -BY</span><br /> - -PHILIP SIDNEY WOOLF<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller">AND</span><br /> -CECIL N. SIDNEY WOOLF, M. A.<br /> - -<span style="font-size: x-small">FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE</span></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p> </p> -<p class="quotr">That you should be made a fool of by a young woman, -why, it is many an honest man's case.</p> - -<p class="signature"><i>The Pirate.</i></p> - -<p class="editor">NEW YORK<br /> - -<span style="font-size: larger">BRENTANO'S</span></p> - -<hr class="r35" /> - - - -<p class="center">TO B. K.</p> -<p class="center">FOR WHOM</p> -<p class="center">THE TRANSLATION</p> -<p class="center">WAS BEGUN</p> - - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center"><i>First Published 1915</i><br /> -<i>Reprinted 1920</i></p> - -<p class="center">Printed in Great Britain at<br /> -<i>The Mayflower Press, Plymouth</i>. William Brendon & Son, Ltd.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p><a href="#Page_xxiii">Table of Contents</a></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<h2>INTRODUCTORY PREFACE TO THE -TRANSLATION</h2> - - -<p>Stendhal's three prefaces to this work on Love -are not an encouraging opening. Their main theme -is the utter incomprehensibility of the book to all but -a very select few—"a hundred readers only": they are -rather warnings than introductions. Certainly, the early -life of Stendhal's <i>De l'Amour</i> justifies this somewhat -distant attitude towards the public. The first and -second editions were phenomenal failures—not even -a hundred readers were forthcoming. But Stendhal, -writing in the early part of the nineteenth century, -himself prophesied that the twentieth would find his -ideas at least more comprehensible. The ideas of genius -in one age are the normal spiritual food for superior -intellect in the next. Stendhal is still something of a -mystery to the general public; but the ideas, which he -agitated, are at present regarded as some of the most -important subjects for immediate enquiry by many of -the keenest and most practical minds of Europe.</p> - -<p>A glance at the headings of the chapters gives an idea -of the breadth of Stendhal's treatment of love. He -touches on every side of the social relationship between -man and woman; and while considering the disposition -of individual nations towards love, gives us a brilliant, -if one-sided, general criticism of these nations, conscious -throughout of the intimate connexion in any given age -between its conceptions of love and the status of woman.</p> - -<p>Stendhal's ideal of love has various names: it is -generally "passion-love," but more particularly "love -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span><i>à l'italienne.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The thing in itself is always the same—it -is the love of a man and a woman, not as husband -and wife, not as mistress and lover, but as two human -beings, who find the highest possible pleasure, not in -passing so many hours of the day or night together, but -in living one life. Still more, it is the attachment of -two free fellow-creatures—not of master and slave.</p> - -<p>Stendhal was born in 1783—eight years before Olympe -de Gouges, the French Mary Wollstonecraft, published -her <i>Déclaration des Droits des Femmes</i>. That is to say, -by the time Stendhal had reached mental maturity, -Europe had for some time been acquainted with the cry -for Women's Rights, and heard the earliest statement -of the demands, which have broadened out into what -our age glibly calls the "Woman Question." How, -may we ask, does Stendhal's standpoint correspond -with his chronological position between the French -Revolution and the "Votes for Women" campaign of -the present day?</p> - -<p>Stendhal is emphatically a champion of Women's -Rights. It is true that the freedom, which Stendhal -demands, is designed for other ends than are associated -to-day with women's claims. Perhaps Stendhal, were -he alive now, would cry out against what he would -call a distortion of the movement he championed. Men, -and still more women, must be free, Stendhal holds, in -order to love; his chapters in this book on the education -of women are all an earnest and brilliant plea to prove -that an educated woman is not necessarily a pedant; that -she is, on the contrary, far more <i>lovable</i> than the -uneducated woman, whom our grandfathers brought up -on the piano, needlework and the Catechism; in fine, that -intellectual sympathy is the true basis of happiness in -the relations of the two sexes. Modern exponents of -Women's Rights will say that this is true, but only half -the truth. It would be more correct to say that Stendhal -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span>saw the whole truth, but forbore to follow it out to -its logical conclusion with the blind <i>intransigeance</i> of -the modern propagandist. Be that as it may, Stendhal -certainly deserves more acknowledgment, as one of the -pioneers in the movement, than he generally receives -from its present-day supporters.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Stendhal was continually lamenting his want of ability -to write. According to him, a perusal of the <i>Code -Civil</i>, before composition, was the best way he had -found of grooming his style. This may well have something -to do with the opinion, handed on from one history -of French literature to another, that Stendhal, like -Balzac—it is usually put in these very words—<i>had no -style</i>. It is not, correctly speaking, what the critics -themselves mean: to have no style would be to chop -and change from one method of expression to another, -and nothing could be less truly said of either of these -writers. They mean that he had a bad style, and that -is certainly a matter of taste. Perhaps the critics, while -condemning, condemn themselves. It is the severe -beauty of the <i>Code Civil</i> which, makes them uncomfortable. -An eye for an eye and a spade for a spade is -Stendhal's way. He is suspicious of the slightest adornment: -everything that is thought clearly can be written -simply. Other writers have had as simplified a style—Montesquieu -or Voltaire, for example—but there is -scant merit in telling simply a simple lie, and Voltaire, -as Stendhal himself says, was afraid of things which are -difficult to put into words. This kind of daintiness is -not Stendhal's simplicity: he is merely uncompromising -and blunt. True, his bluntness is excessive. A nice -balance between the severity of the <i>Code Civil</i> and -the "drums and tramplings" of Elizabethan English -comes as naturally to an indifferent pen, whipped into -a state of false enthusiasm, as it is foreign to the warmth -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>of genuine conviction. Had Stendhal been a little less -vehement and a little less hard-headed, there might -have been fewer modifications, a few less repetitions, -contradictions, ellipses—but then so much the less -Stendhal. In that case he might have trusted himself: -as it was he knew his own tendency too well and took -fright. Sometimes in reading Carlyle, one wishes that -he had felt the same kind of modesty: he, certainly, -could never have kept to the thin centre line, and we -should have had another great writer "without a style." -Effect meant little to Stendhal, hard fact and clearness -everything. Perhaps, he would often have made his -meaning clearer, if he had been less suspicious of -studied effect and elaborate writing. Not infrequently -he succeeds in being colloquial and matter-of-fact, without -being definite.</p> - -<p>Stendhal was beset with a horror of being artistic. -Was it not he who said of an artist, whose dress was -particularly elaborate: "Depend upon it, a man who -adorns his person will also adorn his work"? Stendhal -was a soldier first, then a writer—Salviati<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> is a soldier. -Certainly it is his contempt for the type of person—even -commoner, perhaps, in 1914 than in 1814—who carries -his emotions on his sleeve, which accounts for Stendhal's -naive disclaimer of personal responsibility, the invention -of Lisio<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and Salviati, mythical authors of this work on -love—all a thin screen to hide his own obsession, which -manages, none the less, to break through unmasked on -almost every page.</p> - -<p>The translation makes no attempt to hide these -peculiarities or even to make too definite a sense from a -necessarily doubtful passage.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> Its whole aim is to reproduce -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>Stendhal's essay in English, just as it stands in -French. No other English translation of the whole work -exists: only a selection of its maxims translated piece-meal.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> -Had a translation existed, we should certainly -not have undertaken another. As it is, we have relied -upon a great sympathy with the author, and a studied -adhesion to what he said, in order to reconstruct this -essay—encouraged by the conviction that the one is as -necessary as the other in order to obtain a satisfactory -result. Charles Cotton's <i>Montaigne</i> seems to us the -pattern of all good translations.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In spite of the four prefaces of the original, we felt it -advisable to add still another to the English translation. -Stendhal said that no book stood in greater need of a -word of introduction. That was in Paris—here it is a -foreigner, dressed up, we trust, quite <i>à l'anglaise</i>, but -still, perhaps, a little awkward, and certainly in need of -something more than the chilly announcement of the title -page—about as encouraging as the voice of the flunkey, -who bawls out your name at a party over the heads of -the crowd already assembled. True, the old English -treatment of foreigners has sadly degenerated: more bows -than brickbats are their portion, now London knows the -charm of <i>cabarets, revues</i> and cheap French cooking.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>The work in itself is conspicuous, if not unique. Books -on Love are legion: how could it be otherwise? It was -probably the first topic of conversation, and none has -since been found more interesting. But Stendhal -has devised a new treatment of the subject. His -method is analytical and scientific, but, at the same time, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span>there is no attempt at bringing the subject into line -with a science; it is no part of erotology—there is no</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Greek ending with a little passing bell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That signifies some faith about to die.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>His faith is unimpeachable and his curiosity and honesty -unbounded: this is what makes him conspicuous. In -claiming to be scientific, Stendhal meant nothing more -than that his essay was based purely upon unbiassed -observation; that he accepted nothing upon vague -hearsay or from tradition; that even the finer shades of -sentiment could be observed with as much disinterested -precision, if not made to yield as definite results, as any -other natural phenomena. "The man who has known -love finds all else unsatisfying"—is, properly speaking, a -scientific fact.</p> - -<p>Analytical, however, is the best word to characterise -the Stendhalian method. Scientific suggests, perhaps, -more naturally the broader treatment of love, which is -familiar in Greek literature, lives all through the Middle -Ages, is typified in Dante, and survives later in a host of -Renaissance dialogues and treatises on Love. This love—see -it in the <i>Symposium</i> of Plato, in Dante or in the -<i>Dialoghi</i> of Leone Ebreo—is more than a human passion, -it is also the <i>amor che muove il sole e le altre stelle</i>, -the force of attraction which, combined with hate, -the force of repulsion, is the cause of universal movement. -In this way love is not only scientifically treated, -it embraces all other sciences within it. Scientists will -smile, but the day of Science and Art with a contemptuous -smile for each other is over. True, the -feeling underlying this cosmic treatment of love is -very human, very simple—a conviction that love, as a -human passion, is all-important, and a desire to justify -its importance by finding it a place in a larger order of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span>things, in the "mystical mathematics of the kingdom -of Heaven." Weaker heads than Plato are also pleased -to call love divine, without knowing very clearly what -they mean by divinity. Their ignorance is relative; -the allegorical representation of Eros—damned and -deified alternately by the poets—is in motive, perhaps, -not so far from what we have called the scientific, but, -perhaps, might better have named the cosmic, treatment.</p> - -<p>In a rough classification of books on Love one can -imagine a large number collected under the heading—"Academic." -One looks for something to express that -want of plain dealing, of <i>terre-à-terre</i> frankness, which is -so deplorable in the literature of Love, and is yet the -distinctive mark of so much of it. "Academic" comprehends -a wide range of works all based on a more or -less set or conventional theory of the passions. It -includes the average modern novel, in which convention -is supreme and experience negligible—just a traditional, -lifeless affair, in which there is not even a pretence of -curiosity or love of truth. And, at the same time, "academic" -is the label for the kind of book in which convention -is rather on the surface, rather in the form than in -the matter. Tullia of Aragon, for example, was no tyro in -the theory and practice of love, but her <i>Dialogo d'Amore</i> -is still distinctly academic. Of course it is easy to be -misled by a stiff varnish of old-fashioned phrase; the -reader in search of sincerity will look for it in the thought -expressed, not in the manner of expression. There is -more to be learnt about love from Werther, with all -his wordy sorrows, than from the slick tongue of Yorick, -who found it a singular blessing of his life "to be almost -every hour of it miserably in love with someone." But, -then, just because Werther is wordy, all his feelings -come out, expressed one way or another. With -Tullia, and others like her, one feels that so much -is suppressed, because it did not fit the conventional -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>frame. What she says she felt, but she must have -felt so much more or have known that others felt -more.</p> - -<p>This suppression of truth has, of course, nothing to do -with the partial treatment of love necessary often in -purely imaginative literature. No one goes to poetry -for an anatomy of love. Not love, but people in love, -are the business of a playwright or a novelist. The -difference is very great. The purely imaginative writer -is dealing with situations first, and then with the passions -that cause them.</p> - -<p>Here it is interesting to observe that Stendhal, in -gathering his evidence, makes use of works of imagination -as often as works based upon fact or his own -actual experience.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Characters from Scott are called in -as witnesses, side by side with Mademoiselle de Lespinasse -or Mariana Alcaforado.</p> - -<p>The books mentioned by Stendhal are of two distinct -kinds. There are those, from which he draws evidence -and support for his own theories, and in which the connexion -with love is only incidental (Shakespeare's Plays, -for example, <i>Don Juan</i> or the <i>Nouvelle Héloïse</i>), and -others whose authors are really his forerunners, such as -André le Chapelain.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> Stendhal gives some account of -this curious writer, who perhaps comes nearer his own -analytical method than any later writer. In fact, we -have called Stendhal unique perhaps too rashly—there -are others he does not mention, who, in a less sustained -and intentional way, have attempted an analytical, and -still imaginative, study of love. Stendhal makes no -mention of a short essay on Love by Pascal, which certainly -falls in the same category as his own. It is less -illuminating than one might expect, but to read it is to -appreciate still more the restraint, which Stendhal has -consciously forced upon himself. Others also since -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span>Stendhal—Baudelaire, for instance—have made casual -and valuable investigations in the Stendhalian method. -Baudelaire has here and there a maxim which, in brilliance -and exactitude, equals almost anything in this -volume.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> - -<p>And then—though this is no place for a bibliography -of love—there is Hazlitt's <i>Liber Amoris</i>. Stendhal would -have loved that patient, impartial chronicle of love's -ravages: instead of Parisian <i>salons</i> and Duchesses it is -all servant-girls and Bloomsbury lodging-houses; but the -<i>Liber Amoris</i> is no less pitiful and, if possible, more real -than the diary of Salviati.</p> - -<p>There are certain books which, for the frequency of -their mention in this work, demand especial attention of -the reader—they are its commentary and furnish much -of the material for its ideas.</p> - -<p>In number CLXV of "Scattered Fragments" (below, -p. <a href="#Page_328">328</a>) Stendhal gives the list as follows:—</p> - -<ul> -<li>The <i>Autobiography</i> of Benvenuto Cellini.</li> -<li>The novels of Cervantes and Scarron.</li> -<li><i>Manon Lescaut</i> and <i>Le Doyen de Killerine</i>, by the Abbé Prévôt.</li> -<li>The Latin Letters of Héloïse to Abelard.</li> -<li><i>Tom Jones.</i></li> -<li><i>Letters of a Portuguese Nun.</i></li> -<li>Two or three stories by Auguste La Fontaine.</li> -<li>Pignotti's <i>History of Tuscany</i>.</li> -<li>Werther.</li> -<li>Brantôme.</li> -<li><i>Memoirs</i> of Carlo Gozzi (Venice, 1760)—only the eighty pages on -the history of his love affairs.</li> -<li>The <i>Memoirs</i> of Lauzun, Saint-Simon, d'Épinay, de Staël, Marmontel, -Bezenval, Roland, Duclos, Horace Walpole, Evelyn, Hutchinson.</li> -<li>Letters of Mademoiselle Lespinasse.</li> -</ul> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span>All these are more or less famous works, with which, -at least by name, the general reader is familiar. Brantôme's -witty and entertaining writings, the <i>Letters of a -Portuguese Nun</i> and those of Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, -perhaps the sublimest letters that have ever been -written, are far less read than they deserve. The rest—excepting -perhaps Scarron, Carlo Gozzi, Auguste La -Fontaine, and one or two of the less-known Memoirs—are -the common reading of a very large public.</p> - -<p>This list of books is mentioned as the select library of -Lisio Visconti, who "was anything but a great reader." -Lisio Visconti is one of the many imaginary figures, -behind which hides Stendhal himself; we have already -suggested one reason for this curious trait. Besides Lisio -Visconti and Salviati, we meet Del Rosso, Scotti, Delfante, -Pignatelli, Zilietti, Baron de Bottmer, etc. etc. Often -these phantom people are mentioned side by side with a -character from a book or a play or with someone Stendhal -had actually met in life. General Teulié<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> is a real person—Stendhal's -superior officer on his first expedition in -Italy: Schiassetti is a fiction. In the same way the dates, -which the reader will often find appended to a story or a -note, sometimes give the date of a real event in Stendhal's -life, while at other times it can be proved that, at the -particular time given, the event mentioned could not -have taken place. This falsification of names and dates -was a mania with Stendhal. To most of his friends he -gave a name completely different from their real one, -and adopted with each of them a special pseudonym for -himself. The list of Stendhal's pseudonyms is extensive -and amusing.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> But he was not always thorough in his -system of disguise: he is even known to have written -from Italy a letter in cypher, enclosing at the same time -the key to the cypher!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span>We have only to make a few additions to Lisio Visconti's -list of books already mentioned, in order to have a -pretty fair account of the main sources of reference and -suggestion, to which Stendhal turned in writing his -<i>De l'Amour</i>.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> There are Rousseau's <i>Nouvelle Héloïse</i> and -<i>Émile</i>. Stendhal holds that, except for very green youth, -the <i>Nouvelle Héloïse</i> is unreadable. Yet in spite of its -affectation, it remained for him one of the most important -works for the study of genuine passion. Then we must -add the <i>Liaisons Dangereuses</i>—a work which bears certain -resemblances to Stendhal's <i>De l'Amour</i>. Both are the -work of a soldier and both have a soldierly directness; -for perfect balance and strength of construction few -books have come near the <i>Liaisons Dangereuses</i>—none -have ever surpassed it. There is the <i>Princesse de Clèves</i> -of Madame de Lafayette and <i>Corinne</i> by Madame de -Staël, whose typically German and extravagant admiration -for Italy touched a weak spot in Stendhal. After -Chateaubriand's <i>Génie du Christianisme</i>, which Stendhal -also refers to more than once, the works of Madame de -Staël were, perhaps, the greatest working influence in the -rise of Romanticism. What wonder, then, that Stendhal -was interested? To the letters of Mlle. de Lespinasse -and of the Portuguese Nun we must add the letters of -Mirabeau, written during his imprisonment at Vincennes, -to Sophie de Monnier. Further, we must add the writings -of certain moral teachers whose names occur frequently -in the following pages: Helvétius, whom -Clarétie<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> amusingly calls the <i>enfant terrible</i> of the philosophers; -de Tracy<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a>; Volney, author of the once celebrated -<i>Ruines</i>, traveller and philosopher. These names -are only the most important. Stendhal's reading was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span>extensive, and we might swell the list with the names -of Montesquieu, Condillac, Condorcet, Chamfort, -Diderot—to name only the moralists.</p> - -<p>It is noticeable that almost all these books, mentioned -as the favourite authorities of Stendhal, are eighteenth-century -works. The fact will seem suspicious to those -inclined to believe that the eighteenth century was a time -of pretty ways and gallantry <i>à la</i> Watteau, or of windy -mouthings about Cause and Effect, Duties and Principles, -Reason and Nature. But, to begin with, neither -estimate comes near the mark; and, moreover, Stendhal -hated Voltaire almost as much as Blake did. It was not -an indiscriminate cry of Rights and Liberty which -interested Stendhal in the eighteenth century. The old -<i>régime</i> was, of course, politically uncongenial to him, the -liberal and Bonapartist, and he could see the stupidity -and injustice and hollowness of a society built up on -privilege. But even if Stendhal, like the happy optimist -of to-day, had mistaken the hatred of past wrongs for -a proof of present well-being, how could a student of -Love fail to be fascinated by an age such as that of -Lewis XV? It was the leisure for loving, which, as he -was always remarking, court-life and only court-life -makes possible, that reconciled him to an age he really -despised. Moreover, the mass of memoirs and letters -of the distinguished men and women of the eighteenth -century, offering as it does material for the study of -manners unparalleled in any other age, inevitably led -him back to the court-life of the <i>ancien régime</i>. -Besides, as has been already suggested, the contradiction -in Stendhal was strong. In spite of his liberalism, he -was pleased in later life to add the aristocratic "de" to -the name of Beyle. With Lord Byron, divided in heart -between the generous love of liberty which led him to -fight for the freedom of Greece, and disgust at the -vulgarity of the Radical party, which he had left behind -in England, Stendhal found himself closely in sympathy -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span>when they met in Italy. It was the originality<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> of the -men of the sixteenth century which called forth his -genuine praises; even the statesmen-courtiers and -soldiers of the heroic age of Lewis XIV awoke his admiration;<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> -the gallant courtiers and incompetent -statesmen of Lewis XV awoke at least his interest.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Stendhal's <i>De l'Amour</i>, and in less degree his novels, -have had to struggle for recognition, and the cause has -largely been the peculiarity of his attitude—his scepticism, -the exaggerated severity of his treatment of idyllic -subjects, together with an unusual complement of sentiment -and appreciation of the value of sentiment for the -understanding of life. It is his manner of thinking, -much rather than the strangeness of his thoughts themselves, -which made the world hesitate to give Stendhal -the position which it now accords him. But at least -one great discovery the world did find in <i>De l'Amour</i>—a -novelty quite apart from general characteristics, apart -from its strange abruptness and stranger truth of detail. -Stendhal's discovery is "Crystallisation"; it is the central -idea of his book. The word was his invention, though the -thought, which it expresses so decisively, is to be found, -like most so-called advanced ideas, hidden away in a -corner of Montaigne's Essays.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> Crystallisation is the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span>process by which we love an object for qualities, which -primarily exist in our fancy and which we lend to it, -that is to say, imaginary or unreal qualities. While -Montaigne, and others no doubt, had seen in this a -peculiarity of love, Stendhal saw in it love's essential -characteristic—one might say, its explanation, if love -were capable of being explained. Besides, in this book -Stendhal is seeking the <i>how</i> not the <i>why</i> of love. And -he goes beyond love: he recognises the influence of -crystallisation upon other sides of life besides love. -Crystallisation has become an integral part of the world's -equipment for thought and expression.</p> - -<p>The crisis in Stendhal's posthumous history is Sainte-Beuve's -<i>Causeries des Lundis</i> of January 2nd and 9th, -1854, of which Stendhal was the subject. Stendhal died -in 1842. It is sometimes said that his reputation is a -fictitious reputation, intentionally worked up by partisanship -and without regard to merit, that in his lifetime -he was poorly thought of. This is untrue. His artistic -activities, like his military, were appreciated by those -competent to judge them. He was complimented by -Napoleon on his services prior to the retreat from Moscow; -Balzac, who of all men was capable of judging a novel -and, still more, a direct analysis of a passion, was one of -his admirers, and particularly an admirer of <i>De l'Amour</i>. -From the general public he met to a great extent with -mistrust, and for a few years after his death his memory -was honoured with apathetic silence. The few, a -chosen public and some faithful friends—Mérimée and -others—still cherished his reputation. In 1853, owing -in great measure to the efforts of Romain Colomb and -Louis Crozet, a complete edition of his works was published -by Michel-Lévy. And then, very appropriately, -early in the next year was heard the impressive judgment -of Sainte-Beuve. Perhaps the justest remark in that just -appreciation is where he gives Stendhal the merit of -being one of the first Frenchmen to travel <i>littérairement -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span>parlant</i>.<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> Stendhal came back from each of his -many and frequent voyages, like the happy traveller in -Joachim du Bellay's sonnet, <i>plein d'usage et raison</i>—knowing -the ways of men and full of ripe wisdom. -And this is true not only of his travels over land and -sea, but also of those into the thoughtful world of -books.</p> - -<p>An equally true—perhaps still truer—note was struck -by Sainte-Beuve, when he insisted on the important place -in Stendhal's character played by <i>la peur d'être dupe</i>—the -fear of being duped. Stendhal was always and in -all situations beset by this fear; it tainted his happiest -moments and his best qualities. We have already remarked -on the effect on his style of his mistrust of himself—it -is the same characteristic. A sentimental -romantic by nature, he was always on his guard against -the follies of a sentimental outlook; a sceptic by education -and the effect of his age, he was afraid of being -the dupe of his doubts; he was sceptical of scepticism -itself. This tended to make him unreal and affected, -made him often defeat his own ends in the oddest way. -In order to avoid the possibility of being carried away -too far along a course, in which instinct led him, he would -choose a direction approved instead by his intellect, only -to find out too late that he was cutting therein a sorry -figure. Remember, as a boy he made his entrance into -the world "with the fixed intention of being a seducer of -women," and that, late in life, he made the melancholy -confession that his normal role was that of the lover -crossed in love. Here lies the commentary on not a -little in Stendhal's life and works.</p> - -<p>The facts of his life can be told very briefly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Henry Beyle, who wrote under the name of Stendhal, -was born at Grenoble in 1783, and was educated in his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span>native town. In 1799 he came to Paris and was placed -there under the protection of Daru, an important officer -under Napoleon, a relative and patron of his family. -But he showed no fitness for the various kinds of office -work to which he was put. He tried his hand at this -time, unsuccessfully also, at painting.</p> - -<p>In 1800, still under the protection of Daru, he went -to Italy, and, having obtained a commission in the 6th -regiment of Dragoons, had his first experience of active -service. By 1802 he had distinguished himself as a -soldier, and it was to the general surprise of all who -knew him, that he returned to France on leave, handed -in his papers and returned to Grenoble.</p> - -<p>He soon returned to Paris, there to begin serious study. -But in 1806, he was once more with Daru and the army,—present -at the triumphal entry of Napoleon into Berlin. -It was directly after this that he was sent to Brunswick -as assistant <i>commissaire des guerres</i>.</p> - -<p>He left Brunswick in 1809, but after a flying visit to -Paris, he was again given official employment in Germany. -He was with the army at Vienna. After the peace of -Schoenbrunn he returned once more to Paris in 1810.</p> - -<p>In 1812, he saw service once more—taking an active -and distinguished part in the Russian campaign of -that year. He was complimented by Napoleon on the -way he had discharged his duties in the commissariat. -He witnessed the burning of Moscow and shared in the -horrors and hardships of the retreat.</p> - -<p>In 1813 his duties brought him to Segan in Silesia, and -in 1814 to his native town of Grenoble.</p> - -<p>The fall of Napoleon in the same year deprived him -of his position and prospects. He went to Milan and -stayed there with little interruption till 1821; only -leaving after these, the happiest, years of his life, through -fear of being implicated in the Carbonari troubles.</p> - -<p>In 1830, he was appointed to the consulate of Trieste; -but Metternich, who, no doubt, mistrusted his liberal -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span>tendencies, refused to ratify his appointment, and he -was transferred to Civita Vecchia. This unhealthy district -tried his health, and frequent travel did not succeed -in repairing it.</p> - -<p>In 1841, he was on leave in Paris, where he died -suddenly in the following year.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Stendhal's best-known books are his two novels: <i>La -Chartreuse de Parme</i> and <i>Le Rouge et le Noir</i>. Besides -these there are his works of travel—<i>Promenades dans -Rome</i> and <i>Rome, Florence et Naples</i>; <i>Mémoire d'un -Touriste</i>; his history of Italian painting; his lives of -Haydn, Mozart and Rossini; <i>L'Abbesse de Castro</i> and -other minor works of fiction; finally a number of autobiographical -works, of which <i>La Vie de Henri Brulard</i>, -begun in his fiftieth year and left incomplete, is the -most important.</p> - -<p>But <i>De l'Amour</i>, Stendhal himself considered his most -important work; it was written, as he tells us, in his happy -years in Lombardy. It was published on his return to -Paris in 1822, but it had no success, and copies of this -edition are very rare. Recently it has been reprinted -by Messrs. J. M. Dent and Sons (in <i>Chef d'Œuvres de la -Littérature Française</i>, London and Paris, 1912). The -second edition (1833) had no more success than the first -and is equally difficult to find. Stendhal was preparing -a third edition for the press when he died in 1842. In -1853 the work made a new appearance in the edition of -Stendhal's works published by Michel-Lévy, since reprinted -by Calmann-Lévy. It contains certain additions, -some of which Stendhal probably intended for the -new edition, which he was planning at the time of his -death.</p> - -<p>Within the last year have appeared the first volumes -of a new French edition of Stendhal's works, published -by Messrs. Honoré and Edouard Champion of Paris. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span>It will be the most complete edition of Stendhal's works -yet published and is the surest evidence that Stendhal's -position in French literature is now assured. The -volume containing <i>De l'Amour</i> has not yet appeared.</p> - -<p>The basis of this translation is the first edition, to -which we have only added three prefaces, written by -Stendhal at various, subsequent dates and all well worth -perusal. Apart from these, we have preferred to leave -the book just as it appeared in the two editions, which -were published in Stendhal's own lifetime.</p> - -<p>We may, perhaps, add a word with regard to our -notes at the end of the book. We make no claim that -they are exhaustive: we intended only to select some -few points for explanation or illustration, with the -English reader in view. Here and there in this book -are sentences and allusions which we can no more -explain than could Stendhal himself, when in 1822 he -was correcting the proof-sheets: as he did, we have left -them, preferring to believe with him that "the fault -lay with the self who was reading, not with the self who -had written." But, these few enigmas aside—and they -are very few—to make an exhaustive collection of notes -on this book would be to write another volume—one of -those volumes of "Notes and Appendices," under which -scholars bury a Pindar or Catullus. That labour we -will gladly leave to others—to be accomplished, we -hope, a thousand years hence, when French also is a -"dead" language.</p> - -<p>In conclusion we should like to express our thanks to -our friend Mr. W. H. Morant, of the India Office, who -has helped us to see the translation through the Press.</p> - -<p class="signature">P. and C. N. S. W.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See p. <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See below, Chap. <a href="#Page_103">XXXI</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See note at end of Chap. I, p. <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, below; also p. <span class="smcap"><a href="#Page_xiv">xiv</a></span> and p. <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, -n. 3, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Stendhal confesses that he went so far "as to print several passages -which he did not understand himself." (See p. <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, below.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <i>Maxims of Love</i> (Stendhal). (Royal Library, Arthur Humphreys, -London, 1906).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Lady Holland told Lord Broughton in 1815, that she remembered -"when it used to be said on the invitation cards: 'No foreigners -dine with us.'" (<i>Recollections of a Long Life</i>, Vol. I, p. 327).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> He does call it, once or twice, a "Physiology of Love," and elsewhere -a "<i>livre d'idéologie</i>," but apologises for its singular form at the -same time. (See Fourth Preface, p. <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, and Chap. III, p. <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, n. 1).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> See p. <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, n. 1, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> See p. <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> See Translators' note 11, p. <a href="#Page_343">343</a>, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> See p. <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> The list may be found in <i>Les plus belles pages de Stendhal</i> (Mercure -de France, Paris, 1908, pp. 511–14).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> On p. <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, below, Stendhal refers to some of the "best" books -on Love.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> <i>Histoire de la Littérature Française</i> (800-1900), Paris, 1907.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> See Translators' note 47, p. <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> See Chap. XLI, p. <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> See Chap. XLI, p. <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, n. 4, below.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> "Like the passion of Love that lends Beauties and Graces to the -Person it does embrace; and that makes those who are caught with it, -with a depraved and corrupt Judgment, consider the thing they love -other and more perfect than it is."—Montaigne's <i>Essays</i>, Bk. II, Chapter -XVII (Cotton's translation.) This is "crystallisation"—Stendhal could -not explain it better. -</p> -<p> -We cannot here forgo quoting one more passage from Montaigne, -which bears distinctly upon other important views of Stendhal. "I -say that Males and Females are cast in the same Mould and that, Education -and Usage excepted, the Difference is not great.... It is much -more easy to accuse one Sex than to excuse the other. 'Tis according to -the Proverb—'Ill may Vice correct Sin.'" (Bk. Ill, Chap. V).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> "In a literary sense."</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table class="toc"> -<tr><td colspan="2"> </td><td>Page</td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Introductory Preface to the Translation</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_v">v</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Author's Preface I.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Author's Preface II.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Author's Preface III.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Author's Preface IV.</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td class="tdc"><b>BOOK I</b></td><td></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></td><td> </td><td></td></tr> -<tr><td>I.</td><td>Of Love</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>II.</td><td>Of the Birth of Love</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>IV.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>V.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>VI.</td><td>The Crystals of Salzburg</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>VII.</td><td>Differences between the Birth of Love in the Two Sexes</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>VIII.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>IX.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>X.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XI.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XII.</td><td>Further Consideration of Crystallisation</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XIII.</td><td>Of the First Step; Of the Fashionable World; Of Misfortunes</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span> -XIV.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XV.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XVI.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XVII.</td><td>Beauty Dethroned by Love</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XVIII.</td><td>Limitations of Beauty</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XIX.</td><td>Limitations of Beauty (<i>continued</i>)</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XX.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXI.</td><td>Love at First Sight</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXII.</td><td>Of Infatuation</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXIII.</td><td>The Thunderbolt from the Blue</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXIV.</td><td>Voyage in an Unknown Land</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXV.</td><td>The Introduction</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXVI.</td><td>Of Modesty</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXVII.</td><td>The Glance</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXVIII.</td><td>Of Feminine Pride</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXIX.</td><td>Of Women's Courage</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXX.</td><td>A Peculiar and Mournful Spectacle</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXI.</td><td>Extract from the Diary of Salviati</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXII.</td><td>Of Intimate Intercourse</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXIII.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXIV.</td><td>Of Confidences</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXV.</td><td>Of Jealousy</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXVI.</td><td>Of Jealousy (<i>continued</i>)</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXVII.</td><td>Roxana</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXVIII.</td><td>Of Self-Esteem Piqued</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXIX.</td><td>Of Quarrelsome Love</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXIX.</td><td>(Part II) Remedies against Love</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XXXIX.</td><td>(Part III)</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="tdc"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span><b>BOOK II</b></td></tr> -<tr><td>XL.</td><td></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLI.</td><td>Of Nations with regard to Love—France</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLII.</td><td>France (<i>continued</i>)</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLIII.</td><td>Italy</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLIV.</td><td>Rome</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLV.</td><td>England</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLVI.</td><td>England (<i>continued</i>)</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLVII.</td><td>Spain</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLVIII.</td><td>German Love</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>XLIX.</td><td>A Day in Florence</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>L.</td><td>Love in the United States</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LI.</td><td>Love in Provence up to the Conquest of Toulouse, in 1328, by -the Barbarians from the North</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LII.</td><td>Provence in the Twelfth Century</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LIII.</td><td>Arabia—Fragments gathered and translated from an Arab -collection entitled <i>The Divan of Love</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LIV.</td><td>Of the Education of Women</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LV.</td><td>Objections to the Education of Women</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LVI.</td><td>Objections to the Education of Women (<i>continued</i>)</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LVI.</td><td>(Part II) On Marriage</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LVII.</td><td>Of Virtue, so Called</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LVIII.</td><td>State of Europe with regard to Marriage.—<br /> -Switzerland and the Oberland</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>LIX.</td><td>Werther and Don Juan</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="tdc"><b>BOOK III</b></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Scattered Fragments</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td class="tdc"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span><b>APPENDIX</b></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td><td>On the Courts of Love</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Code of Love of the Twelfth Century</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_336">336</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Note on André le Chapelain</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td>Translators' Notes</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class="p2"><i>Note:</i> All the footnotes to the Translation, except those within square -brackets, which are the work of the Translators, are by Stendhal himself. -The Translators' notes at the end of the book are referred to by numerals -enclosed within round brackets.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE<a name="FNanchor_1_20" id="FNanchor_1_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_20" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> - - -<p>It is in vain that an author solicits the indulgence of -his public—the printed page is there to give the -lie to his pretended modesty. He would do better to -trust to the justice, patience and impartiality of his -readers, and it is to this last quality especially that the -author of the present work makes his appeal. He has -often heard people in France speak of writings, opinions -or sentiments as being "truly French"; and so he -may well be afraid that, by presenting facts truly -as they are, and showing respect only for sentiments -and opinions that are universally true, he may have -provoked that jealous exclusiveness, which, in spite of -its very doubtful character, we have seen of late set up -as a virtue. What, I wonder, would become of history, -of ethics, of science itself or of literature, if they had to -be truly German, truly Russian or Italian, truly Spanish -or English, as soon as they had crossed the Rhine, the -Alps or the Channel? What are we to say to this kind -of justice, to this ambulatory truth? When we see -such expressions as "devotion truly Spanish," "virtues -truly English," seriously employed in the speeches of -patriotic foreigners, it is high time to suspect this sentiment, -which expresses itself in very similar terms also -elsewhere. At Constantinople or among savages, this -blind and exclusive partiality for one's own country is a -rabid thirst for blood; among civilised peoples, it is a -morbid, unhappy, restless vanity, that is ready to turn -on you for a pinprick.<a name="FNanchor_2_21" id="FNanchor_2_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_21" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_20" id="Footnote_1_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_20"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> [To the first edition, 1822.—Tr.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_21" id="Footnote_2_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_21"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Extract from the Preface to M. Simond's <i>Voyage en Suisse</i>, pp. 7, 8.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE<a name="FNanchor_1_22" id="FNanchor_1_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_22" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> - - -<p>ThiS work has had no success: it has been found -unintelligible—not without reason. Therefore -in this new edition the author's primary intention has -been to render his ideas with clearness. He has related -how they came to him, and he has made a preface and -an introduction—all in order to be clear. Yet, in spite -of so much care, out of a hundred who have read <i>Corinne</i>, -there are not four readers who will understand this -volume.</p> - -<p>Although it deals with Love, this little book is no novel, -and still less is it diverting like a novel. 'Tis simply and -solely an exact scientific description of a kind of madness -which is very rarely to be found in France. The Empire -of propriety, growing day by day wider, under the -influence of our fear of ridicule much more than through -the purity of our morals, has made of the word, which -serves as title to this work, an expression, of which outspoken -mention is avoided and which at times seems even -to give offence. I have been forced to make use of it, -but the scientific austerity of the language shelters me, -I think, in this respect, from all reproach.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I know one or two Secretaries of Legation who will, -at their return, be able to tender me their services. Till -then what can I say to the people who deny the facts -of my narration? Beg them not to listen to it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>The form I have adopted may be reproached with -egoism. A traveller is allowed to say: "<i>I</i> was at New -York, thence <i>I</i> embarked for South America, <i>I</i> made -my way back as far as Santa-Fé-de-Bogota. The gnats -and mosquitoes made <i>my</i> life a misery during the journey, -and for three days <i>I</i> couldn't use <i>my</i> right eye."</p> - -<p>The traveller is not accused of loving to talk of himself: -all his <i>me's</i> and <i>my's</i> are forgiven; for that is the -clearest and most interesting manner of telling what he -has seen.</p> - -<p>It is in order, if possible, to be clear and picturesque, -that the author of the present voyage into the little-known -regions of the human heart says: "I went with -Mme. Gherardi to the salt mines of Hallein.... -Princess Crescenzi said to me at Rome.... One day at -Berlin I saw handsome Capt. L...." All these little -things really happened to the author, who passed fifteen -years in Germany and Italy. But more observant than -sensitive, he never encountered the least adventure himself, -never experienced a single personal sentiment worthy -of narration. Even supposing that he had the pride to -believe the contrary, a still greater pride would have -prevented him from publishing his heart and selling it -on the market for six francs, like those people who in -their lifetime publish their memoirs.</p> - -<p>Correcting in 1822 the proofs of this kind of moral -voyage in Italy and Germany, the author, who had described -the objects the day that he had seen them, -treated the manuscript, containing the detailed description -of all the phases of this malady of the soul called -Love, with that blind respect, shown by a scholar of -the fourteenth century for a newly unearthed manuscript -of Lactantius or Quintius Curtius. When the -author met some obscure passage (and often, to say the -truth, that happened), he always believed that the fault -lay with the self who was reading, not with the self -who had written. He confesses that his respect for the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>early manuscript carried him so far as to print several -passages, which he did not understand himself. Nothing -more foolish for anyone who had thought of the good -graces of the public; but the author, seeing Paris again -after long travels, came to the conclusion that without -grovelling before the Press a success was not to be had. -Well, let him who brings himself to grovel keep that for -the minister in power! A so-called success being out of -the question, the author was pleased to publish his -thoughts exactly as they had come to him. This was -once upon a time the procedure of those philosophers of -Greece, whose practical wisdom filled him with rapturous -admiration.</p> - -<p>It requires years to gain admittance to the inner circle -of Italian society. Perhaps I shall have been the last -traveller in that country. For since the <i>Carbonari</i> and -the Austrian invasion, no foreigner will ever be received -as a friend in the <i>salons</i>, where such reckless gaiety -reigned. The traveller will see the monuments, streets -and public places of a city, never the society—he will -always be held in fear: the inhabitants will suspect that -he is a spy, or fear that he is laughing at the battle of -Antrodoco and at the degradations, which, in that land, -are the one and only safeguard against the persecution of -the eight or ten ministers or favourites who surround -the Prince. Personally, I really loved the inhabitants -and could see the truth. Sometimes for ten months -together I never spoke a word of French, and but for -political troubles and the <i>Carbonari</i> I would never have -returned to France. Good-nature is what I prize above -all things.</p> - -<p>In spite of great care to be clear and lucid, I cannot -perform miracles: I cannot give ears to the deaf nor -eyes to the blind. So the people of great fortunes and -gross pleasures, who have made a hundred thousand -francs in the year preceding the moment they open this -book, had better quickly shut it, especially if they are -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>bankers, manufacturers, respectable industrial folk—that's -to say, people with eminently positive ideas. This book -would be less unintelligible to anyone who had made a -large sum of money on the Stock Exchange or in a lottery. -Such winnings may be found side by side with the habit -of passing hours together in day-dreams, in the enjoyment -of the emotion evoked by a picture of Prud'hon, a -phrase of Mozart, still more, a certain peculiar look of a -woman who is often in your thoughts. 'Tis not in this -way that these people "waste their time," who pay -ten thousand workmen at the end of each week: their -minds work always towards the useful and the positive. -The dreamer, of whom I speak, is the man they would -hate, if they had time; 'tis him they like to make the -butt of their harmless jokes. The industrial millionaire -feels confusedly that such a man has more <i>estime</i> for -a thought than for a bag of money.</p> - -<p>I invite the studious young man to withdraw, if in -the same year as the industrial gained a hundred thousand -francs, he has acquired the knowledge of modern Greek, -and is so proud of it that already he aspires to Arabic. -I beg not to open this book every man, who has not been -unhappy for imaginary reasons, reasons to which vanity -is stranger, and which he would be very ashamed to see -divulged in the <i>salons</i>.</p> - -<p>I am sure to displease those women who capture the -consideration of these very <i>salons</i> by an affectation that -never lapses for an instant. Some of these for a moment -I have surprised in good earnest, and so astonished, that, -asking themselves the question, they could no longer tell -whether such and such a sentiment, as they had just -expressed, was natural or affected. How could such -women judge of the portraiture of real feelings? In -fact this work has been their <i>bête noire</i>: they say that -the author must be a wretch.</p> - -<p>To blush suddenly at the thought of certain youthful -doings; to have committed follies through sensibility -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>and to suffer for them, not because you cut a silly figure -in the eyes of the <i>salon</i>, but in the eyes of a certain -person in the <i>salon</i>; to be in love at the age of twenty-six -in good earnest with a woman who loves another, or -even (but the case is so rare that I scarcely dare write it, -for fear of sinking again into the unintelligible, as in the -first edition)—or even to enter the <i>salon</i> where the woman -is whom you fancy that you love, and to think only of -reading in her eyes her opinion of you at the moment, -without any idea of putting on a love-lorn expression -yourself—these are the antecedents I shall ask of my -reader. The description of many of these rare and subtle -feelings has appeared obscure to people with positive -ideas. How manage to be clear in their eyes? Tell -them of a rise of fifty centimes or a change in the tariff -of Columbia.<a name="FNanchor_2_23" id="FNanchor_2_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_23" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>The book before you explains simply and mathematically, -so to speak, the curious feelings which succeed -each other and form a whole called the Passion of Love.</p> - -<p>Imagine a fairly complicated geometrical figure, drawn -with white chalk on a large blackboard. Well, I am -going to explain that geometrical figure, but on one -condition—that it exists already on the blackboard, for -I personally cannot draw it. It is this impossibility that -makes it so difficult to write on Love a book which is not -a novel. In order to follow with interest a philosophic -examination of this feeling, something is wanted in the -reader besides understanding: it is absolutely necessary -that Love has been seen by him. But then where can a -passion be seen?</p> - -<p>This is a cause of obscurity that I shall never be able -to eliminate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>Love resembles what we call the Milky Way in heaven, -a gleaming mass formed by thousands of little stars, each -of which may be a nebula. Books have noted four or -five hundred of the little feelings hanging together and -so hard to recognise, which compose this passion. But -even in these, the least refined, they have often blundered -and taken the accessory for the principal. The best of -these books, such as the <i>Nouvelle Héloïse</i>, the novels of -Madame Cottin, the Letters of Mademoiselle de Lespinasse -and <i>Manon Lescaut</i>, have been written in France, -where the plant called Love is always in fear of ridicule, -is overgrown by the demands of vanity, the national -passion, and reaches its full height scarcely ever.</p> - -<p>What is a knowledge of Love got from novels? After -seeing it described—without ever feeling it—in hundreds -of celebrated volumes, what is to be said of seeking in -mine the explanation of this madness? I answer like -an echo: "'Tis madness."</p> - -<p>Poor disillusioned young lady, would you enjoy again -that which busied you so some years ago, which you -dared mention to no one, which almost cost you your -honour? It is for you that I have refashioned this book -and tried to make it clearer. After reading it, never -speak of it without a little scornful turn, and throw it -in your citron bookcase behind the other books—I -should even leave a few pages uncut.</p> - -<p>'Tis not only a few pages that will be left uncut by -the imperfect creature, who thinks himself philosopher, -because he has remained always stranger to those reckless -emotions, which cause all our happiness of a week to -depend upon a glance. Some people, coming to the age -of discretion, use the whole force of their vanity to forget -that there was a day when they were able to stoop so -low as to court a woman and expose themselves to the -humiliation of a refusal: this book will win their hatred. -Among the many clever people, whom I have seen condemn -this work, for different reasons but all angrily, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>those only seemed to me ridiculous, who had the twofold -conceit to pretend always to have been above the weakness -of sensibility, and yet to possess enough penetration -to judge <i>a priori</i> of the degree of exactitude of a philosophic -treatise, which is nothing but an ordered description -of these weaknesses.</p> - -<p>The grave persons, who enjoy in society their reputation -as safe men with no romantic nonsense, are far nearer -to the understanding of a novel, however impassioned, -than of a book of philosophy, wherein the author describes -coldly the various stages of the malady of the -soul called Love. The novel moves them a little; but -before the philosophic treatise these sensible people are -like blind men, who getting a description of the pictures -in a museum read out to them, would say to the author: -"You must agree, sir, that your work is horribly obscure." -What is to happen if these blind men chance to be wits, -established long since in possession of that title and with -sovereign claims to clairvoyance? The poor author will -be treated prettily. In fact, it is what happened to him -at the time of the first edition. Several copies were -actually burnt through the raging vanity of very clever -people. I do not speak of insults all the more flattering -for their fury: the author was proclaimed to be coarse, -immoral, a writer for the people, a suspicious character, -etc. In countries outworn by monarchy, these titles are -the surest reward for whoever thinks good to write on -morals and does not dedicate his book to the Mme. -Dubarry of the day. Blessed literature, if it were not -in fashion, and interested those alone for whom it was -written!</p> - -<p>In the time of the <i>Cid</i>, Corneille was nothing for -M. le Marquis de Danjeau<a name="FNanchor_3_24" id="FNanchor_3_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_24" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> but "a good fellow." Today -the whole world thinks itself made to read M. de -Lamartine: so much the better for his publisher, but -so much the worse, and a hundred times the worse, for -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>that great poet. In our days genius offers accommodation -to people to whom, under penalty of losing caste, -it should never so much as give a thought.</p> - -<p>The laborious and active, very estimable and very -positive life of a counsellor of State, of a manufacturer -of cotton goods or of a banker with a keen eye for loans -finds its reward in millions, not in tender sensation. -Little by little the heart of these gentlemen ossifies: -the positive and the useful are for them everything, and -their soul is closed to that feeling, which of all others has -the greatest need of our leisure and makes us most unfit -for any rational and steady occupation.</p> - -<p>The only object of this preface is to proclaim that -this book has the misfortune of being incomprehensible -to all who have not found time to play the fool. Many -people will feel offended and I trust they will go no -further.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_22" id="Footnote_1_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_22"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> [May, 1826.—Tr.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_23" id="Footnote_2_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_23"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> "Cut this passage out," say my friends. "Nothing could be -truer, but beware of the men of business: they'll cry out on the aristocrat." -In 1812 I was not afraid of the Treasury: so why should I be -afraid of the millionaire in 1820? The ships supplied to the Pasha of -Egypt have opened my eyes in their direction, and I fear nothing but -what I respect.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_24" id="Footnote_3_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_24"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>Vide</i> p. 120 of <i>Mémoires de Danjeau</i> (Édition Genlis).</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> -<h2>PREFACE<a name="FNanchor_1_25" id="FNanchor_1_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_25" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> - - -<p>I write for a hundred readers only and of these -unhappy charming beings, without hypocrisy or -moral cant, whom I would please, I know scarcely a -couple. Of such as lie to gain consideration as writers, I -take little heed. Certain fine ladies should keep to the -accounts of their cook and the fashionable preacher of -the day, be it Massillon or Mme. Necker, to be able to -talk on these topics with the women of importance who -mete out consideration. And to be sure, in France this -noble distinction is always to be won by turning high -priest of any fad.</p> - -<p>To anyone who would read this book I would say: -In all your life have you been unhappy six months for -love?</p> - -<p>Or, was your soul ever touched by sorrow not connected -with the thought of a lawsuit, with failure at the last -election, or with having cut a less brilliant figure than usual -last season at Aix? I will continue my indiscretions and -ask if in the year you have read any of those impudent -works, which compel the reader to think? For example, -<i>Émile</i> of J. J. Rousseau, or the six volumes of Montaigne? -If, I should say, you have never suffered through this infirmity -of noble minds, if you have not, in defiance of -nature, the habit of thinking as you read, this book will -give you a grudge against its author: for it will make -you suspect that there exists a certain happiness, unknown -to you and known to Mlle. de Lespinasse.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_25" id="Footnote_1_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_25"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> [May, 1834.—Tr.]</p> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE<a name="FNanchor_1_26" id="FNanchor_1_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_26" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> - -<p> -I come to beg indulgence of the reader for the -peculiar form of this Physiology of Love. It is -twenty-eight years (in 1842) since the turmoil, which -followed the fall of Napoleon, deprived me of my -position. Two years earlier chance threw me, immediately -after the horrors of the retreat from Russia, into -the midst of a charming town, where I had the enchanting -prospect of passing the rest of my days. In happy -Lombardy, at Milan, at Venice, the great, or rather -only, business of life is pleasure. No attention, there, -to the deeds and movements of your neighbour; hardly -a troubled thought for what is to happen to you. If a -man notice the existence of his neighbour, it does not -enter his head to hate him. Take away from the occupations -of a French provincial town jealousy—and what is -left? The absence, the impossibility of that cruel -jealousy forms the surest part of that happiness, which -draws all the provincials to Paris. -</p> -<p> -Following the masked balls of Carnival, which in -1820 was more brilliant than usual, the noise of five or -six completely reckless proceedings occupied the society -of Milan an entire month; although they are used over -there to things which in France would pass for incredible. -The fear of ridicule would in this country paralyse such -fantastic actions: only to speak of them I need great -courage. -</p> -<p> -One evening people were discussing profoundly the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>effects and the causes of these extravagances, at the house -of the charming Mme. Pietra Grua<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_6">(6)</a></span>, who happened, -extraordinarily enough, not to be mixed up with these -escapades. The thought came to me that perhaps in -less than a year I should have nothing left of all those -strange facts, and of the causes alleged for them, but a -recollection, on which I could not depend. I got hold of -a concert programme, and wrote a few words on it in -pencil. A game of faro was suggested: we were thirty -seated round a card-table, but the conversation was so -animated that people forgot to play. Towards the close -of the evening came in Col. Scotti, one of the most -charming men in the Italian army: he was asked for his -quantum of circumstances relative to the curious facts -with which we were busy, and, indeed, his story of -certain things, which chance had confided to his knowledge, -gave them an entirely new aspect. I took up -my concert programme and added these new circumstances. -</p> -<p> -This collection of particulars on Love was continued in -the same way, with pencil and odd scraps of paper, -snatched up in the <i>salons</i>, where I heard the anecdotes -told. Soon I looked for a common rule by which to -recognise different degrees in them. Two months later -fear of being taken for a <i>Carbonaro</i> made me return to -Paris—only for a few months I hoped, but never again -have I seen Milan, where I had passed seven years. -</p> -<p> -Pining with boredom at Paris, I conceived the idea of -occupying myself again with the charming country from -which fear had driven me. I strung together my scraps -of paper and presented the book to a publisher. But -soon a difficulty was raised: the printer declared that it -was impossible to work from notes written in pencil -and I could see that he found such copy beneath his -dignity. The printer's young apprentice, who brought -me back my notes, seemed quite ashamed of the more -than doubtful compliment, which had been put into -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>his mouth: he knew how to write and I dictated to -him my pencil notes. -</p> -<p> -I understood, too, that discretion required me to -change the proper names, and, above all, abridge the -anecdotes. Although no one reads in Milan, the book, -if ever it reached there, might have seemed a piece of -wicked mischief. -</p> -<p> -So I brought out an ill-fated volume. I have the -courage to own that I despised at that period elegance -in style. I saw the young apprentice wholly taken up -with avoiding sentence-endings that were unmusical and -odd sounds in the arrangement of words. In return, -he made throughout no scruple of changing details of -fact, difficult to express: Voltaire himself is afraid of -things which are difficult to tell. -</p> -<p> -The Essay on Love had no claim to merit except the -number of the fine shades of feeling, which I begged the -reader to verify among his memories, if he were happy -enough to have any. But in all this there was something -much worse: I was then, as ever, very inexperienced in -the department of literature and the publisher, to whom -I had presented the MS., printed it on bad paper and in -an absurd <i>format</i>. In fact a month later, when I asked -him for news of the book—"On peut dire qu'il est -sacré,"<a name="FNanchor_2_27" id="FNanchor_2_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_27" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> he said, "For no one comes near it." -</p> -<p> -It had never even crossed my mind to solicit articles -in the papers: such a thing would have seemed to me -an ignominy. And yet no work was in more pressing -need of recommendation to the patience of the reader. -Under the menace of becoming unintelligible at the very -outset, it was necessary to bring the public to accept the -new word "crystallisation," suggested as a lively expression -for that collection of strange fancies, which we weave -round our idea of the loved one, as true and even indubitable -realities. -</p> -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>At that time wholly absorbed in my love for the -least details, which I had lately observed in the Italy -of my dreams, I avoided with care every concession, -every amenity of style, which might have rendered the -Essay on Love less peculiarly fantastic in the eyes of men -of letters. -</p> -<p> -Further, I was not flattering to the public. Literature -at that time, all defaced by our great and recent misfortunes, -seemed to have no other interest than the -consolation of our unhappy pride: it used to rhyme -"<i>gloire</i>" with "<i>victoire</i>," "<i>guerriers</i>" with "<i>lauriers</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_3_28" id="FNanchor_3_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_28" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -etc. The true circumstances of the situations, which it -pretends to treat, seem never to have any attraction for -the tedious literature of that period: it looks for nothing -but an opportunity of complimenting that people, -enslaved to fashion, whom a great man had called a great -nation, forgetting that they were only great on condition -that their leader was himself. -</p> -<p> -As the result of my ignorance of the exigencies of the -humblest success, I found no more than seventeen readers -between 1822 and 1833: it is doubtful whether the -Essay on Love has been understood after twenty years -of existence by a hundred connoisseurs. A few have had -the patience to observe the various phases of this disease -in the people infected with it in their circle; for we -must speak of it as a disease, in order to understand that -passion which in the last thirty years our fear of ridicule -has taken so much trouble to hide—it is this way which -sometimes leads to its cure. -</p> -<p> -Now and now only, after half a century of revolutions, -engrossing one after another our whole attention, -now and now only after five complete changes in the -form and the tendencies of our government, does the -revolution just begin to show itself in our way of living. -Love, or that which commonly appropriates Love's -name and fills its place, was all-powerful in the France of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>Lewis XV. Colonels were created by the ladies of the -court; and that court was nothing less than the fairest -place in the kingdom. Fifty years after, the court is -no more; and the gift of a licence to sell tobacco in the -meanest provincial town is beyond the power of the -most surely established ladies of the reigning <i>bourgeoisie</i> -or of the pouting nobility. -</p> -<p> -It must be owned, women are out of fashion. In -our brilliant <i>salons</i> the young men of twenty affect -not to address them; they much prefer to stand -round the noisy talker dealing, in a provincial accent, -with the question of the right to vote, and to try and -slip in their own little word. The rich youths, who, -to keep up a show of the good-fellowship of past times, -take a pride in seeming frivolous, prefer to talk horses -and play high in the circles where women are excluded. -The deadly indifference which seems to preside over the -relations of young men and the women of five-and-twenty, -for whose presence society has to thank the boredom -of marriage, will bring, perhaps, a few wise spirits -to accept this scrupulously exact description of the -successive phases of the malady called Love. -</p> -<p> -Seeing the terrible change which has plunged us into -the stagnation of to-day, and makes unintelligible to us -the society of 1778, such as we find it in the letters of -Diderot to Mlle. Voland, his mistress, or in the Memoirs -of Madame d'Épinay, a man might ask the question, -which of our successive governments has killed in us the -faculty of enjoying ourselves, and drawn us nearer to -the gloomiest people on the face of the earth? The only -passable thing which that people have invented—parliament -and the honesty of their parties—we are unable -even to copy. In return, the stupidest of their gloomy -conceptions, the spirit of dignity, has come among us to -take the place of our French gaiety, which is to be found -now only in the five hundred balls in the outskirts of Paris -or in the south of France, beyond Bordeaux. -</p> -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>But which of our successive governments has cost us -the fearful misfortune of anglicisation? Must we accuse -that energetic government of 1793, which prevented -the foreigners from coming to pitch their camp in Montmartre—that -government which in a few years will seem -heroic in our eyes and forms a worthy prelude to that, -which under Napoleon, went forth to carry our name -into all the capitals of Europe? -</p> -<p> -We shall pass over the well-meaning stupidity of the -<i>Directoire</i>, illustrated by the talents of Carnot and the -immortal campaign of 1796–1797 in Italy. -</p> -<p> -The corruption of the court of Barras still recalled -something of the gaiety of the old order; the graces of -Madame Bonaparte proved that we had no aptitude at -that time for the churlishness and charnel-house of the -English. -</p> -<p> -The profound respect, which despite the jealousy of -the faubourg Saint-Germain, we could not but feel for -the First Consul's method of government, and the men -whose superior merit adorned the society of Paris—such -as the Cretets and the Darus—relieves the Empire -of the burden of responsibility for the remarkable change -which has been effected, in the first half of the nineteenth -century, in the character of the French. -</p> -<p> -Unnecessary to carry my investigation further: the -reader will reflect and be quite able to draw his own -conclusions. -</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_26" id="Footnote_1_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_26"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> [1842. As Stendhal died early in that year, this probably is his last -writing.—Tr.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_27" id="Footnote_2_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_27"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> ["One might say it's taboo..." "Taboo" is a poor equivalent -for "sacré," which means "cursed" as well as "blessed."—Tr.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_28" id="Footnote_3_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_28"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> ["Glory with victory, warrior with laurel."—Tr.]</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<h2>BOOK I</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> </p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> - -<p class="title">ON LOVE</p> - -<h3>CHAPTER I<br /> -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF LOVE</span></h3> - -<p> -My aim is to comprehend that passion, of which every -sincere development has a character of beauty. -</p> -<p> -There are four kinds of love. -</p> -<p> -1. Passion-love—that of the Portuguese nun<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_1" id="TNanch_1"></a><a href="#TN_1">(1)</a></span>, of -Héloïse for Abelard, of Captain de Vésel, of Sergeant de -Cento. -</p> -<p> -2. Gallant love—that which ruled in Paris towards -1760, to be found in the memoirs and novels of the -period, in Crébillon, Lauzun, Duclos, Marmontel, Chamfort, -Mme. d'Épinay, etc. etc. -</p> -<p> -'Tis a picture in which everything, to the very shadows, -should be rose-colour, in which may enter nothing disagreeable -under any pretext whatsoever, at the cost of a -lapse of etiquette, of good taste, of refinement, etc. A -man of breeding foresees all the ways of acting, that he is -likely to adopt or meet with in the different phases of -this love. True love is often less refined; for that in -which there is no passion and nothing unforeseen, has -always a store of ready wit: the latter is a cold and -pretty miniature, the former a picture by the Carracci. -Passion-love carries us away in defiance of all our interests, -gallant love manages always to respect them. True, if -we take from this poor love its vanity, there is very little -left: once stripped, it is like a tottering convalescent, -scarcely able to drag himself along. -</p> -<p> -3. Physical love. Out hunting—a fresh, pretty country -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>girl crosses your path and escapes into the wood. Everyone -knows the love founded on this kind of pleasure: -and all begin that way at sixteen, however parched and -unhappy the character. -</p> -<p> -4. Vanity-love. The vast majority of men, especially -in France, desire and have a fashionable woman, in the -same way as a man gets a fine horse, as something which -the luxury of a young man demands. Their vanity more -or less flattered, more or less piqued, gives birth to transports -of feelings. Sometimes there is also physical love, -but by no means always: often there is not so much as -physical pleasure. A duchess is never more than thirty -for a bourgeois, said the Duchesse de Chaulnes, and those -admitted to the Court of that just man, king Lewis of -Holland, recall with amusement a pretty woman from -the Hague, who could not help finding any man charming -who was Duke or Prince. But true to the principle of -monarchy, as soon as a Prince arrived at Court, the Duke -was dismissed: she was, as it were, the decoration of the -diplomatic body. -</p> -<p> -The happiest case of this uninspiring relationship is -that in which to physical pleasure is added habit. In that -case store of memories makes it resemble love a little; -there is the pique of self-esteem and sadness on being -left; then, romance forces upon us its ideas and we -believe that we are in love and melancholy, for vanity -aspires to credit itself with a great passion. This, at -least, is certain that, whatever kind of love be the source -of pleasure, as soon as the soul is stirred, the pleasure is -keen and its memory alluring, and in this passion, contrary -to most of the others, the memory of our losses -seems always to exceed the bounds of what we can hope -for in the future. -</p> -<p> -Sometimes, in vanity-love habit or despair of finding -better produces a kind of friendship, of all kinds the -least pleasant: it prides itself on its security, etc.<a name="FNanchor_1_29" id="FNanchor_1_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_29" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -</p> -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>Physical pleasure, being of our nature, is known to -everybody, but it takes no more than a subordinate -position in the eyes of tender and passionate souls. If -they raise a laugh in the salons, if often they are made -unhappy in the intrigues of society, in return the pleasure -which they feel must remain always inaccessible to those -hearts, whose beat only vanity and gold can quicken. -</p> -<p> -A few virtuous and sensitive women have scarcely a -conception of physical pleasures: they have so rarely -risked them, if one may use the expression, and even then -the transports of passion-love caused bodily pleasure -almost to be forgotten. -</p> -<p> -There are men victims and instruments of diabolical -pride, of a pride in the style of Alfieri. Those people -who, perhaps, are cruel because, like Nero, judging all -men after the pattern of their own heart, they are always -a-tremble—such people, I say, can attain physical -pleasure only in so far as it is accompanied by the greatest -possible exercise of pride, in so far, that is to say, as they -practise cruelties on the companion of their pleasures. -Hence the horrors of <i>Justine</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_2" id="TNanch_2"></a><a href="#TN_2">(2)</a></span>. At any rate such -men have no sense of security. -</p> -<p> -To conclude, instead of distinguishing four different -forms of love, we can easily admit eight or ten shades -of difference. Perhaps mankind has as many ways of -feeling as of seeing; but these differences of nomenclature -alter in no degree the judgments which follow. -Subject to the same laws, all forms of love, which can -be seen here below, have their birth, life and death or -ascend to immortality.<a name="FNanchor_2_30" id="FNanchor_2_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_30" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_29" id="Footnote_1_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_29"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Well-known dialogue of Pont de Veyle with Madame du Deffant, -at the fireside.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_30" id="Footnote_2_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_30"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This book is a free translation of an Italian MS. of M. Lisio Visconti, -a young man of the highest distinction, who died recently at Volterra, -the place of his birth. The day of his sudden death he gave the translator -permission to publish his Essay on Love, if means were found to shape it -to a decorous form. Castel Fiorentino, June 10th, 1819.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER II<br /> -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF THE BIRTH OF LOVE</span></h3> - -<p> -This is what takes place in the soul:— -</p> -<p> -1. Admiration. -</p> -<p> -2. A voice within says: "What pleasure to kiss, to be -kissed." -</p> -<p> -3. Hope<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_3" id="TNanch_3"></a><a href="#TN_3">(3)</a></span>. -</p> -<p> -We study her perfections: this is the moment at -which a woman should yield to realise the greatest -possible physical pleasure. In the case even of the most -reserved women, their eyes redden at the moment when -hope is conceived: the passion is so strong, the pleasure -so keen, that it betrays itself by striking signs. -</p> -<p> -4. Love is born. -</p> -<p> -To love—that is to have pleasure in seeing, touching, -feeling, through all the senses and as near as possible, an -object to be loved and that loves us. -</p> -<p> -5. The first crystallisation begins. -</p> -<p> -The lover delights in decking with a thousand perfections -the woman of whose love he is sure: he dwells -on all the details of his happiness with a satisfaction -that is boundless. He is simply magnifying a superb -bounty just fallen to him from heaven,—he has no -knowledge of it but the assurance of its possession. -</p> -<p> -Leave the mind of a lover to its natural movements -for twenty-four hours, and this is what you will find. -</p> -<p> -At the salt mines of Salzburg a branch stripped of its -leaves by winter is thrown into the abandoned depths -of the mine; taken out two or three months later it is -covered with brilliant crystals; the smallest twigs, those -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>no stouter than the leg of a sparrow, are arrayed with an -infinity of sparkling, dazzling diamonds; it is impossible -to recognise the original branch. -</p> -<p> -I call crystallisation the operation of the mind which, -from everything which is presented to it, draws the conclusion -that there are new perfections in the object of -its love. -</p> -<p> -A traveller speaks of the freshness of the orange groves -at Genoa, on the sea coast, during the scorching days of -summer.—What pleasure to enjoy that freshness with her! -</p> -<p> -One of your friends breaks his arm in the hunting-field.—How -sweet to be nursed by a woman you love! -To be always with her, to see every moment her love for -you, would make pain almost a blessing: and starting -from the broken arm of your friend, you conclude with -the absolute conviction of the angelic goodness of your -mistress. In a word, it is enough to think of a perfection -in order to see it in that which you love. -</p> -<p> -This phenomenon, which I venture to call crystallisation, -is the product of human nature, which commands -us to enjoy and sends warm blood rushing to our brain; -it springs from the conviction that the pleasures of love -increase with the perfections of its object, and from the -idea: "She is mine." The savage has no time to go -beyond the first step. He is delighted, but his mental -activity is employed in following the flying deer in the -forest, and with the flesh with which he must as soon as -possible repair his forces, or fall beneath the axe of his -enemy. -</p> -<p> -At the other pole of civilisation, I have no doubt that -a sensitive woman may come to the point of feeling no -physical pleasure but with the man she loves.<a name="FNanchor_1_31" id="FNanchor_1_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_31" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> It is the -opposite with the savage. But among civilised peoples, -woman has leisure at her disposal, while the savage is so -pressed with necessary occupations that he is forced to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>treat his female as a beast of burden. If the females -of many animals are more fortunate, it is because the -subsistence of the males is more assured. -</p> -<p> -But let us leave the backwoods again for Paris. A man -of passion sees all perfections in that which he loves. -And yet his attention may still be distracted; for the -soul has its surfeit of all that is uniform, even of perfect -bliss.<a name="FNanchor_2_32" id="FNanchor_2_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_32" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -</p> -<p> -This is what happens to distract his attention:— -</p> -<p> -6. Birth of Doubt. -</p> -<p> -After ten or twelve glances, or some other series of -actions, which can last as well several days as one moment, -hopes are first given and later confirmed. The lover, -recovered from his first surprise and, accustomed to his -happiness or guided by theory, which, always based on -the most frequent cases, must only take light women -into account—the lover, I say, demands more positive -proofs and wishes to press his good fortune. -</p> -<p> -He is parried with indifference,<a name="FNanchor_3_33" id="FNanchor_3_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_33" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> coldness, even anger, -if he show too much assurance—in France a shade of -irony, which seems to say: "You are not quite as far -as you think." -</p> -<p> -A woman behaves in this way, either because she wakes -up from a moment of intoxication, and obeys the word -of modesty, which she trembles to have infringed, or -simply through prudence or coquetry. -</p> -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>The lover comes to doubt of the happiness, to which -he looked forward: he scans more narrowly the reasons -that he fancied he had for hope. -</p> -<p> -He would like to fall back upon the other pleasures of -life, and finds them annihilated. He is seized with the -fear of a terrible disaster, and at the same time with a -profound preoccupation. -</p> -<p> -7. Second crystallisation. -</p> -<p> -Here begins the second crystallisation, which forms -diamonds out of the proofs of the idea—"She loves me." -</p> -<p> -The night which follows the birth of doubts, every -quarter of an hour, after a moment of fearful unhappiness, -the lover says to himself—"Yes, she loves me"—and -crystallisation has its turn, discovering new charms. -Then doubt with haggard eye grapples him and brings -him to a standstill, blank. His heart forgets to beat—"But -does she love me?" he says to himself. Between -these alternatives, agonising and rapturous, the poor -lover feels in his very soul: "She would give me -pleasures, which she alone can give me and no one else." -</p> -<p> -It is the palpability of this truth, this path on the -extreme edge of a terrible abyss and within touch, on -the other hand, of perfect happiness, which gives so -great a superiority to the second crystallisation over the -first. -</p> -<p> -The lover wanders from moment to moment between -these three ideas:— -</p> -<ol> -<li>She has every perfection.</li> -<li>She loves me.</li> -<li>What means of obtaining the greatest proof of her love?</li> -</ol> -<p> -The most agonising moment of love, still young, is -when it sees the false reasoning it has made, and must -destroy a whole span of crystallisation. -</p> -<p> -Doubt is the natural outcome of crystallisation. -</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_31" id="Footnote_1_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_31"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> If this peculiarity is not observed in the case of man, the reason is -that on his side there is no modesty to be for a moment sacrificed.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_32" id="Footnote_2_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_32"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> That is to say, that the same tone of existence can give but one -instant of perfect happiness; but with a man of passion, his mood changes -ten times a day.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_33" id="Footnote_3_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_33"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The <i>coup de foudre</i> (thunderbolt from the blue), as it was called in -the novels of the seventeenth century, which disposes of the fate of the -hero and his mistress, is a movement of the soul, which for having been -abused by a host of scribblers, is experienced none the less in real life. -It comes from the impossibility of this defensive manoeuvre. The woman -who loves finds too much happiness in the sentiment, which she feels, to -carry through successful deception: tired of prudence, she neglects all -precaution and yields blindly to the passion of loving. Diffidence makes -the <i>coup de foudre</i> impossible.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER III<br /> -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF HOPE</span></h3> - -<p> -A very small degree of hope is enough to cause the -birth of love. -</p> -<p> -In the course of events hope may fail—love is none -the less born. With a firm, daring and impetuous -character, and in an imagination developed by the troubles -of life, the degree of hope may be smaller: it can come -sooner to an end, without killing love. -</p> -<p> -If a lover has had troubles, if he is of a tender, thoughtful -character, if he despairs of other women, and if his -admiration is intense for her whom he loves, no ordinary -pleasure will succeed in distracting him from the second -crystallisation. He will prefer to dream of the most -doubtful chance of pleasing her one day, than to accept -from an ordinary woman all she could lavish. -</p> -<p> -The woman whom he loves would have to kill his -hope at that period, and (note carefully, not later) in -some inhuman manner, and overwhelm him with those -marks of patent contempt, which make it impossible to -appear again in public. -</p> -<p> -Far longer delays between all these periods are compatible -with the birth of love. -</p> -<p> -It demands much more hope and much more substantial -hope, in the case of the cold, the phlegmatic -and the prudent. The same is true of people no longer -young. -</p> -<p> -It is the second crystallisation which ensures love's -duration, for then every moment makes it clear that the -question is—be loved or die. Long months of love have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>turned into habit this conviction of our every moment—how -find means to support the thought of loving no -more? The stronger the character the less is it subject -to inconstancy. -</p> -<p> -This second crystallisation is almost entirely absent -from the passions inspired by women who yield too soon. -</p> -<p> -After the crystallisations have worked—especially the -second, which is far the stronger—the branch is no longer -to be recognised by indifferent eyes, for:— -</p> -<p> -(1) It is adorned with perfections which they do not -see. -</p> -<p> -(2) It is adorned with perfections which for them are -not perfections at all. -</p> -<p> -The perfection of certain charms, mentioned to him -by an old friend of his love, and a certain hint of liveliness -noticed in her eye, are a diamond in the crystallisation<a name="FNanchor_1_34" id="FNanchor_1_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_34" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>of Del Rosso. These ideas, conceived during the evening, -keep him dreaming all the night. -</p> -<p> -An unexpected answer, which makes me see more -clearly a tender, generous, ardent, or, as it is popularly -called, romantic<a name="FNanchor_2_35" id="FNanchor_2_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_35" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> soul, preferring to the happiness of -kings the simple pleasures of a walk with the loved one -at midnight in a lonely wood, gives me food for dreams<a name="FNanchor_3_36" id="FNanchor_3_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_36" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -for a whole night. -</p> -<p> -Let him call my mistress a prude: I shall call his a -whore. -</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_34" id="Footnote_1_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_34"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I have called this essay a book of Ideology. My object was to -indicate that, though it is called "Love," it is not a novel and still less -diverting like a novel. I apologise to philosophers for having taken the -word Ideology: I certainly did not intend to usurp a title which is the -right of another. If Ideology is a detailed description of ideas and all -the parts which can compose ideas, the present book is a detailed description -of all the feelings which can compose the passion called Love. Proceeding, -I draw certain consequences from this description: for example, -the manner of love's cure. I know no word to say in Greek "discourse -on ideas." I might have had a word invented by one of my learned -friends, but I am already vexed enough at having to adopt the new word -crystallisation, and, if this essay finds readers, it is quite possible that -they will not allow my new word to pass. To avoid it, I own, would have -been the work of literary talent: I tried, but without success. Without -this word, which expresses, according to me, the principal phenomenon -of that madness called Love—madness, however, which procures for man -the greatest pleasures which it is given to the beings of his species to taste -on earth—without the use of this word, which it were necessary to replace -at every step by a paraphrase of considerable length, the description, -which I give of what passes in the head and the heart of a man in love, -would have become obscure, heavy and tedious, even for me who am the -author: what would it have been for the reader? -</p> -<p> -I invite, therefore, the reader, whose feelings the word crystallisation -shocks too much, to close the book. To be read by many forms no part -of my prayers—happily, no doubt, for me. I should love dearly to give -great pleasure to thirty or forty people of Paris, whom I shall never see, -but for whom, without knowing, I have a blind affection. Some young -Madame Roland, for example, reading her book in secret and precious -quickly hiding it, at the least noise, in the drawers of her father's bench—her -father the engraver of watches. A soul like that of Madame Roland -will forgive me, I hope, not only the word crystallisation, used to express -that act of madness which makes us perceive every beauty, every kind -of perfection, in the woman whom we begin to love, but also several -too daring ellipses besides. The reader has only to take a pencil and write -between the lines the five or six words which are missing.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_35" id="Footnote_2_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_35"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> All his actions had at first in my eyes that heavenly air, which makes -of a man a being apart, and differentiates him from all others. I thought -that I could read in his eyes that thirst for a happiness more sublime, -that unavowed melancholy, which yearns for something better than we -find here below, and which in all the trials that fortune and revolution -can bring upon a romantic soul, -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">... still prompts the celestial sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For which we wish to live or dare to die.<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p> -(Last letter of Bianca to her mother. Forlì, 1817.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_36" id="Footnote_3_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_36"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> It is in order to abridge and to be able to paint the interior of the -soul, that the author, using the formula of the first person, alleges several -feelings to which he is a stranger: personally, he never had any which -would be worth quoting.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> - -<p> -In a soul completely detached—a girl living in a -lonely castle in the depth of the country—the -slightest astonishment may bring on a slight admiration, -and, if the faintest hope intervene, cause the birth of -love and crystallisation<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_4" id="TNanch_4"></a><a href="#TN_4">(4)</a></span>. -</p> -<p> -In this case love delights, to begin with, just as a -diversion. -</p> -<p> -Surprise and hope are strongly supported by the need, -felt at the age of sixteen, of love and sadness. It is well -known that the restlessness of that age is a thirst for love, -and a peculiarity of thirst is not to be extremely fastidious -about the kind of draught that fortune offers. -</p> -<p> -Let us recapitulate the seven stages of love. They -are:— -</p> -<ol> -<li>Admiration.</li> - -<li>What pleasure, etc.</li> - -<li>Hope.</li> - -<li>Love is born.</li> - -<li>First crystallisation.</li> - -<li>Doubt appears.</li> - -<li>Second crystallisation.</li> -</ol> -<p> -Between Nos. 1 and 2 may pass one year. One month -between Nos. 2 and 3; but if hope does not make haste -in coming, No. 2 is insensibly resigned as a source of -unhappiness. -</p> -<p> -A twinkling of the eye between Nos. 3 and 4. -</p> -<p> -There is no interval between Nos. 4 and 5. The -sequence can only be broken by intimate intercourse. -</p> -<p> -Some days may pass between Nos. 5 and 6, according -to the degree to which the character is impetuous and used -to risk, but between Nos. 6 and 7 there is no interval. -</p> - -<hr class="r35" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> -<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> -<p> -Man is not free to avoid doing that which gives -him more pleasure to do than all other possible -actions.<a name="FNanchor_1_37" id="FNanchor_1_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_37" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -</p> -<p> -Love is like the fever<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_5" id="TNanch_5"></a><a href="#TN_5">(5)</a></span>, it is born and spends itself -without the slightest intervention of the will. That is -one of the principal differences between gallant-love and -passion-love. And you cannot give yourself credit for -the fair qualities in what you really love, any more than -for a happy chance. -</p> -<p> -Further, love is of all ages: observe the passion of -Madame du Deffant for the graceless Horace Walpole. -A more recent and more pleasing example is perhaps still -remembered in Paris. -</p> -<p> -In proof of great passions I admit only those of their -consequences, which are exposed to ridicule: timidity, -for example, proves love. I am not speaking of the -bashfulness of the enfranchised schoolboy. -</p> -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_37" id="Footnote_1_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_37"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> As regards crime, it belongs to good education to inspire remorse, -which, foreseen, acts as a counterbalance.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER VI<br /> -<span style="font-size: smaller;">THE CRYSTALS OF SALZBURG</span></h3> - -<p> -Crystallisation scarcely ceases at all during -love. This is its history: so long as all is well -between the lover and the loved, there is crystallisation -by imaginary solution; it is only imagination which -make him sure that such and such perfection exists in -the woman he loves. But after intimate intercourse, -fears are continually coming to life, to be allayed only -by more real solutions. Thus his happiness is only uniform -in its source. Each day has a different bloom. -</p> -<p> -If the loved one yields to the passion, which she shares, -and falls into the enormous error of killing fear by the -eagerness of her transports,<a name="FNanchor_1_38" id="FNanchor_1_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_38" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> crystallisation ceases for an -instant; but when love loses some of its eagerness, that -is to say some of its fears, it acquires the charm of entire -abandon, of confidence without limits: a sense of -sweet familiarity comes to take the edge from all the -pains of life, and give to fruition another kind of interest. -</p> -<p> -Are you deserted?—Crystallisation begins again; and -every glance of admiration, the sight of every happiness -which she can give you, and of which you thought no -longer, leads up to this agonising reflexion: "That happiness, -that charm, I shall meet it no more. It is lost and -the fault is mine!" You may look for happiness in sensations -of another kind. Your heart refuses to feel them. -Imagination depicts for you well enough the physical -situation, mounts you well enough on a fast hunter in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>Devonshire woods.<a name="FNanchor_2_39" id="FNanchor_2_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_39" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> But you feel quite certain that there -you would find no pleasure. It is the optical illusion -produced by a pistol shot. -</p> -<p> -Gaming has also its crystallisation, provoked by the -use of the sum of money to be won. -</p> -<p> -The hazards of Court life, so regretted by the nobility, -under the name of Legitimists, attached themselves so -dearly only by the crystallisation they provoked. No -courtier existed who did not dream of the rapid fortune -of a Luynes or a Lauzun, no charming woman who did -not see in prospect the duchy of Madame de Polignac. -No rationalist government can give back that crystallisation. -Nothing is so <i>anti-imagination</i> as the government -of the United States of America. We have noticed that -to their neighbours, the savages, crystallisation is almost -unknown. The Romans scarcely had an idea of it, and -discovered it only for physical love. -</p> -<p> -Hate has its crystallisation: as soon as it is possible to -hope for revenge, hate begins again. -</p> -<p> -If every creed, in which there is absurdity and inconsequence, -tends to place at the head of the party the people -who are most absurd, that is one more of the effects of -crystallisation. Even in mathematics (observe the -Newtonians in 1740) crystallisation goes on in the mind, -which cannot keep before it at every moment every -part of the demonstration of that which it believes. -</p> -<p> -In proof, see the destiny of the great German philosophers, -whose immortality, proclaimed so often, never -manages to last longer than thirty or forty years. -</p> -<p> -It is the impossibility of fathoming the "why?" of -our feelings, which makes the most reasonable man a -fanatic in music. -</p> -<p> -In face of certain contradictions it is not possible to be -convinced at will that we are right. -</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_38" id="Footnote_1_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_38"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Diane de Poitiers, in the <i>Princesse de Clèves</i>, by Mme. de Lafayette.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_39" id="Footnote_2_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_39"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> If you could imagine being happy in that position, crystallisation -would have deferred to your mistress the exclusive privilege of giving -you that happiness.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER VII<br /> -<span style="font-size: smaller;">DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE BIRTH OF LOVE IN -THE TWO SEXES</span></h3> -<p> -Women attach themselves by the favours they dispense. -As nineteen-twentieths of their ordinary -dreams are relative to love, after intimate intercourse -these day-dreams group themselves round a single object; -they have to justify a course so extraordinary, so decisive, -so contrary to all the habits of modesty. Men have no -such task; and, besides, the imagination of women has -time to work in detail upon the sweetness of such -moments. -</p> -<p> -As love casts doubts upon things the best proved, the -woman who, before she gave herself, was perfectly sure -that her lover was a man above the crowd, no sooner -thinks she has nothing left to refuse him, than she is all -fears lest he was only trying to put one more woman on -his list. -</p> -<p> -Then, and then only appears the second crystallisation, -which, being hand in hand with fear, is far the stronger.<a name="FNanchor_1_40" id="FNanchor_1_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_40" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -</p> -<p> -Yesterday a queen, to-day she sees herself a slave. This -state of soul and mind is encouraged in a woman by the -nervous intoxication resulting from pleasures, which are -just so much keener as they are more rare. Besides, a -woman before her embroidery frame—insipid work -which only occupies the hand—is thinking about her -lover; while he is galloping with his squadron over the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>plain, where leading one wrong movement would bring -him under arrest. -</p> -<p> -I should think, therefore, that the second crystallisation -must be far stronger in the case of women, because -theirs are more vivid fears; their vanity and honour are -compromised; distraction at least is more difficult. -</p> -<p> -A woman cannot be guided by the habit of being -reasonable, which I, Man, working at things cold and -reasonable for six hours every day, contract at my office perforce. -Even outside love, women are inclined to abandon -themselves to their imagination and habitual high spirits: -faults, therefore, in the object of their love ought more -rapidly to disappear. -</p> -<p> -Women prefer emotion to reason—that is plain: in -virtue of the futility of our customs, none of the affairs -of the family fall on their shoulders, so that reason is of -no use to them and they never find it of any practical -good. -</p> -<p> -On the contrary, to them it is always harmful; for the -only object of its appearance is to scold them for the -pleasures of yesterday, or forbid them others for tomorrow. -</p> -<p> -Give over to your wife the management of your dealings -with the bailiffs of two of your farms—I wager the -accounts will be kept better than by you, and then, sorry -tyrant, you will have the <i>right</i> at least to complain, since -to make yourself loved you do not possess the talent. -As soon as women enter on general reasonings, they are -unconsciously making love. But in matters of detail -they take pride in being stricter and more exact -than men. Half the small trading is put into the hands -of women, who acquit themselves of it better than their -husbands. It is a well-known maxim that, if you are -speaking business with a woman, you cannot be too serious. -</p> -<p> -This is because they are at all times and in all places -greedy of emotion.—Observe the pleasures of burial -rites in Scotland. -</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_40" id="Footnote_1_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_40"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This second crystallisation is wanting in light women, who are far -away from all these romantic ideas.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> - -<p class="quott">This was her favoured fairy realm, and here she erected her aerial -palaces.—<i>Bride of Lammermoor</i>, Chap. III.</p> - -<p> -A girl of eighteen has not enough crystallisation -in her power, forms desires too limited by her -narrow experiences of the things of life, to be in a position -to love with as much passion as a woman of twenty-eight<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_4">(4)</a></span>. -</p> -<p> -This evening I was exposing this doctrine to a clever -woman, who maintains the contrary. "A girl's imagination -being chilled by no disagreeable experience, and the -prime of youth burning with all its force, any man can -be the motive upon which she creates a ravishing image. -Every time that she meets her lover, she will enjoy, not -what he is in reality, but that image of delight which she -has created for herself. -</p> -<p> -"Later, she is by this lover and by all men disillusioned, -experience of the dark reality has lessened in her -the power of crystallisation, mistrust has clipped the -wings of imagination. At the instance of no man on -earth, were he a very prodigy, could she form so irresistible -an image: she could love no more with the same -fire of her first youth. And as in love it is only the -illusion formed by ourselves which we enjoy, never can -the image, which she may create herself at twenty-eight, -have the brilliance and the loftiness on which first love -was built at sixteen: the second will always seem of a -degenerate species." -</p> -<p> -"No, madam. Evidently it is the presence of mistrust, -absent at sixteen, which must give to this second -love a different colour. In early youth love is like an -immense stream, which sweeps all before it in its course, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>and we feel that we cannot resist it. Now at twenty-eight -a gentle heart knows itself: it knows that, if it is -still to find some happiness in life, from love it must be -claimed; and this poor, torn heart becomes the seat of -a fearful struggle between love and mistrust. Crystallisation -proceeds gradually; but the crystallisation, which -emerges triumphant from this terrible proof, in which -the soul in all its movements never loses sight of the -most awful danger, is a thousand times more brilliant and -more solid than crystallisation at sixteen, in which everything, -by right of age, is gaiety and happiness." -</p> -<p> -"In this way love should be less gay and more passionate."<a name="FNanchor_1_41" id="FNanchor_1_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_41" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -</p> -<p> -This conversation (Bologna, 9 March, 1820), bringing -into doubt a point which seemed to me so clear, makes -me believe more and more, that a man can say practically -nothing with any sense on that which happens in -the inmost heart of a woman of feeling: as to a coquet -it is different—<i>we</i> also have senses and vanity. -</p> -<p> -The disparity between the birth of love in the two -sexes would seem to come from the nature of their hopes, -which are different. One attacks, the other defends; -one asks, the other refuses; one is daring, the other timid. -</p> -<p> -The man reflects: "Can I please her? Will she love -me?" -</p> -<p> -The woman: "When he says he loves me, isn't it for -sport? Is his a solid character? Can he answer to himself -for the length of his attachments?" Thus it is that -many women regard and treat a young man of twenty-three -as a child. If he has gone through six campaigns, -he finds everything different—he is a young hero. -</p> -<p> -On the man's side, hope depends simply on the actions -of that which he loves—nothing easier to interpret. On -the side of woman, hope must rest on moral considerations—very -difficult rightly to appreciate. -</p> -<p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>Most men demand such a proof of love, as to their -mind dissipates all doubts; women are not so fortunate -as to be able to find such a proof. And there is in life -this trouble for lovers—that what makes the security and -happiness of one, makes the danger and almost the -humiliation of the other. -</p> -<p> -In love, men run the risk of the secret torture of the -soul—women expose themselves to the scoffs of the public; -they are more timid, and, besides, for them public opinion -means much more.—"Sois considérée, il le faut."<a name="FNanchor_2_42" id="FNanchor_2_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_42" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -</p> -<p> -They have not that sure means of ours of mastering -public opinion by risking for an instant their life. -</p> -<p> -Women, then, must naturally be far more mistrustful. -In virtue of their habits, all the mental movements, -which form periods in the birth of love, are in their case -more mild, more timid, more gradual and less decided. -There is therefore a greater disposition to constancy; -they will less easily withdraw from a crystallisation once -begun. -</p> -<p> -A woman, seeing her lover, reflects with rapidity, or -yields to the happiness of loving—happiness from which -she is recalled in a disagreeable manner, if he make the -least attack; for at the call to arms all pleasures must be -abandoned. -</p> -<p> -The lover's part is simpler—he looks in the eyes of the -woman he loves; a single smile can raise him to the -zenith of happiness, and he looks continually for it.<a name="FNanchor_3_43" id="FNanchor_3_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_43" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>The length of the siege humiliates a man; on the contrary -it makes a woman's glory. -</p> -<p> -A woman is capable of loving and, for an entire year, -not saying more than ten or twelve words to the man -whom she loves. At the bottom of her heart she keeps -note how often she has seen him—twice she went with -him to the theatre, twice she sat near him at dinner, -three times he bowed to her out walking. -</p> -<p> -One evening during some game he kissed her hand: -it is to be noticed that she allows no one since to kiss it -under any pretext, at the risk even of seeming peculiar. -</p> -<p> -In a man, Léonore<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_6" id="TNanch_6"></a><a href="#TN_6">(6)</a></span> remarked to me, such conduct -would be called a feminine way of love. -</p> -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_41" id="Footnote_1_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_41"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Epicurus said that discrimination is necessary to participation in -pleasure.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_42" id="Footnote_2_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_42"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Remember the maxim of Beaumarchais: "Nature has said to woman: -'Be fair if you can, wise if you wish, but be <i>estimed</i>—you must.' No -admiration in France without <i>estime</i>—equally no love."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_43" id="Footnote_3_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_43"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quando leggemmo il disiato riso<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Esser baciato da cotanto amante,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Costui che mai da me non fia diviso,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">La bocca mi bacciò tutto tremante.<br /></span> -<br /> -<br /> -<span class="i9">Dante, <i>Inf.</i>, Cant. V.<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p> -["When we read how the desired smile was kissed by such a lover, he, -who never from me shall be divided, on my mouth kissed me all trembling."—Tr.]</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> - -<p>I make every possible effort to be dry. I would -impose silence upon my heart, which feels that it, -has much to say. When I think that I have noted a -truth, I always tremble lest I have written only a sigh.</p> - - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> - -<p>In proof of crystallisation I shall content myself with -recalling the following anecdote. A young woman -hears that Edward, her relation, who is to return from -the Army, is a youth of great distinction; she is assured -that he loves her on her reputation; but he will want -probably to see her, before making a proposal and asking -her of her parents. She notices a young stranger at -church, she hears him called Edward, she thinks of nothing -but him—she is in love with him. Eight days later the -real Edward arrives; he is not the Edward of church. -She turns pale and will be unhappy for ever, if she is -forced to marry him.</p> - -<p>That is what the poor of understanding call an example -of the senselessness of love.</p> - -<p>A man of generosity lavishes the most delicate benefits -upon a girl in distress. No one could have more virtues, -and love was about to be born; but he wears a shabby -hat, and she notices that he is awkward in the saddle. -The girl confesses with a sigh that she cannot return the -warm feelings, which he evidently has for her.</p> - -<p>A man pays his attentions to a lady of the greatest -respectability. She hears that this gentleman has had -physical troubles of a comical nature: she finds him -intolerable. And yet she had no intention of giving -herself to him, and these secret troubles in no way -blighted his understanding or amiability. It is simply -that crystallisation was made impossible.</p> - -<p>In order that a human being may delight in deifying -an object to be loved, be it taken from the Ardennes -forest or picked up at a Bal de Coulon, that it seems to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>him perfect is the first necessity—perfect by no means -in every relation, but in every relation in which it is seen -at the time. Perfect in all respects it will seem only after -several days of the second crystallisation. The reason is -simple—then it is enough to have the idea of a perfection -in order to see it in the object of our love.</p> - -<p>Beauty is only thus far necessary to the birth of love—ugliness -must not form an obstacle. The lover soon -comes to find his mistress beautiful, such as she is, without -thinking of ideal beauty.</p> - -<p>The features which make up the ideally beautiful -would promise, if he could see them, a quantity of -happiness, if I may use the expression, which I would -express by the number one; whereas the features of his -mistress, such as they are, promise him one thousand -units of happiness.</p> - -<p>Before the birth of love beauty is necessary as advertisement: -it predisposes us towards that passion by means -of the praises, which we hear given to the object of our -future love. Very eager admiration makes the smallest -hope decisive.</p> - -<p>In gallant-love, and perhaps in passion-love during the -first five minutes, a woman, considering a possible lover, -gives more weight to the way in which he is seen by other -women, than to the way in which she sees him herself.</p> - -<p>Hence the success of princes and officers.<a name="FNanchor_1_44" id="FNanchor_1_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_44" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The pretty -women of the Court of old king Lewis XIV were in love -with that sovereign.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>Great care should be taken not to offer facilities to -hope, before it is certain that admiration is there. It -might give rise to dullness, which makes love for ever -impossible, and which, at any rate, is only to be cured -by the sting of wounded pride.</p> - -<p>No one feels sympathy for the simpleton, nor for a -smile which is always there; hence the necessity in society -of a veneer of rakishness—that is, the privileged manner. -From too debased a plant we scorn to gather even a -smile. In love, our vanity disdains a victory which is too -easy; and in all matters man is not given to magnifying -the value of an offering.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_44" id="Footnote_1_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_44"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Those who remarked in the countenance of this young hero a -dissolute audacity mixed with extreme haughtiness and indifference -to the feelings of others, could not yet deny to his countenance that -sort of comeliness, which belongs to an open set of features well formed -by nature, modelled by art to the usual rules of courtesy, yet so far frank -and honest that they seemed as if they disclaimed to conceal the natural -working of the soul. Such an expression is often mistaken for manly -frankness, when in truth it arises from the reckless indifference of a libertine -disposition, conscious of superiority of birth and wealth, or of some -other adventitious advantage totally unconnected with personal merit. -</p> -<p> -<i>Ivanhoe</i>, Chap. VIII</p></div></div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> - -<p>Crystallisation having once begun, we enjoy -with delight each new beauty discovered in that -which we love.</p> - -<p>But what is beauty? It is the appearance of an aptitude -for giving you pleasure.</p> - -<p>The pleasures of all individuals are different and often -opposed to one another; which explains very well how -that, which is beauty for one individual, is ugliness for -another. (Conclusive example of Del Rosso and Lisio, -1st January, 1820.)</p> - -<p>The right way to discover the nature of beauty is to -look for the nature of the pleasures of each individual. -Del Rosso, for example, needs a woman who allows a -certain boldness of movement, and who by her smiles -authorises considerable licence; a woman who at each -instant holds physical pleasures before his imagination, -and who excites in him the power of pleasing, -while giving him at the same time the means of displaying -it.</p> - -<p>Apparently, by love Del Rosso understands physical -love, and Lisio passion-love. Obviously they are not -likely to agree about the word beauty.<a name="FNanchor_1_45" id="FNanchor_1_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_45" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>The beauty then, discovered by you, being the appearance -of an aptitude for giving you pleasure, and pleasure -being different from pleasure as man from man, the -crystallisation formed in the head of each individual -must bear the colour of that individual's pleasures.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>A man's crystallisation of his mistress, or her <i>beauty</i>, -is no other thing than the collection of all the satisfactions -of all the desires, which he can have felt successively -at her instance.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_45" id="Footnote_1_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_45"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>My Beauty</i>, promise of a character useful to <i>my</i> soul, is above the -attraction of the senses; that attraction is only one particular kind of -attraction<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_7" id="TNanch_7"></a><a href="#TN_7">(7)</a></span>. 1815.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">FURTHER CONSIDERATION OF CRYSTALLISATION</span></h3> - - -<p>Why do we enjoy with delight each new beauty, -discovered in that which we love?</p> - -<p>It is because each new beauty gives the full and entire -satisfaction of a desire. You wish your mistress gentle—she -is gentle; and then you wish her proud like Emilie -in Corneille, and although these qualities are probably -incompatible, instantly she appears with the soul of a -Roman. That is the moral reason which makes love the -strongest of the passions. In all others, desires must -accommodate themselves to cold realities; here it is -realities which model themselves spontaneously upon -desires. Of all the passions, therefore, it is in love that -violent desires find the greatest satisfaction.</p> - -<p>There are certain general conditions of happiness, -whose influence extends over every fulfilment of particular -desires:—</p> - -<p>1. She seems to belong to you, for you only can make -her happy.</p> - -<p>2. She is the judge of your worth. This condition -was very important at the gallant and chivalrous Courts -of Francis I and Henry II, and at the elegant Court of -Lewis XV. Under a constitutional and rationalist -government women lose this range of influence -entirely.</p> - -<p>3. For a romantic heart—The loftier her soul, the more -sublime will be the pleasures that await her in your arms, -and the more purified of the dross of all vulgar considerations.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>The majority of young Frenchmen are, at eighteen, -disciples of Rousseau; for them this condition of happiness -is important.</p> - -<p>In the midst of operations so apt to mislead our desire -of happiness, there is no keeping cool.</p> - -<p>For, the moment he is in love, the steadiest man sees -no object such as it is. His own advantages he minimises, -and magnifies the smallest favours of the loved one. -Fears and hopes take at once a tinge of the romantic. -(Wayward.) He no longer attributes anything to chance; -he loses the perception of probability; in its effect upon -his happiness a thing imagined is a thing existent.<a name="FNanchor_1_46" id="FNanchor_1_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_46" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>A terrible symptom that you are losing your head:—you -think of some little thing which is difficult to make -out; you see it white, and interpret that in favour of -your love; a moment later you notice that actually it -is black, and still you find it conclusively favourable to -your love.</p> - -<p>Then indeed the soul, a prey to mortal uncertainties, -feels keenly the need of a friend. But there is no friend -for the lover. The Court knew that; and it is the -source of the only kind of indiscretion which a woman -of delicacy might forgive.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_46" id="Footnote_1_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_46"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> There is a physical cause—a mad impulse, a rush of blood to the -brain, a disorder in the nerves and in the cerebral centre. Observe the -transitory courage of stags and the spiritual state of a soprano. Physiology, -in 1922, will give us a description of the physical side of this phenomenon. -I recommend this to the attention of Dr. Edwards<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_8" id="TNanch_8"></a><a href="#TN_8">(8)</a></span>.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF THE FIRST STEP; OF THE FASHIONABLE -WORLD; OF MISFORTUNES</span></h3> - - -<p>That which is most surprising in the passion of love -is the first step—the extravagance of the change, -which comes over a man's brain.</p> - -<p>The fashionable world, with its brilliant parties, is of -service to love in favouring this first step.</p> - -<p>It begins by changing simple admiration (i) into tender -admiration (ii)—what pleasure to kiss her, etc.</p> - -<p>In a <i>salon</i> lit by thousands of candles a fast valse throws -a fever upon young hearts, eclipses timidity, swells the -consciousness of power—in fact, gives them the daring -to love. For to see a lovable object is not enough: on -the contrary, the fact that it is extremely lovable discourages -a gentle soul—he must see it, if not in love -with him,<a name="FNanchor_1_47" id="FNanchor_1_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_47" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> at least despoiled of its majesty.</p> - -<p>Who takes it into his head to become the paramour of -a queen unless the advances are from her?<a name="FNanchor_2_48" id="FNanchor_2_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_48" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>Thus nothing is more favourable to the birth of love -than a life of irksome solitude, broken now and again by -a long-desired ball. This is the plan of wise mothers -who have daughters.</p> - -<p>The real fashionable world, such as was found at the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>Court of France,<a name="FNanchor_3_49" id="FNanchor_3_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_49" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and which since 1780,<a name="FNanchor_4_50" id="FNanchor_4_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_50" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> I think, exists -no more, was unfavourable to love, because it made the -solitude and the leisure, indispensable to the work of -crystallisation, almost impossible.</p> - -<p>Court life gives the habit of observing and making a -great number of subtle distinctions, and the subtlest -distinction may be the beginning of an admiration and -of a passion.<a name="FNanchor_5_51" id="FNanchor_5_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_51" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>When the troubles of love are mixed with those of -another kind (the troubles of vanity—if your mistress -offend your proper pride, your sense of honour or personal -dignity—troubles of health, money and political -persecution, etc.), it is only in appearance that love is -increased by these annoyances. Occupying the imagination -otherwise, they prevent crystallisation in love still -hopeful, and in happy love the birth of little doubts. -When these misfortunes have departed, the sweetness -and the folly of love return.</p> - -<p>Observe that misfortunes favour the birth of love in -light and unsensitive characters, and that, after it is -born, misfortunes, which existed before, are favourable to -it; in as much as the imagination, recoiling from the -gloomy impressions offered by all the other circumstances -of life, throws itself wholly into the work of crystallisation.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_47" id="Footnote_1_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_47"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Hence the possibility of passions of artificial origin—those of Benedict -and of Beatrice (Shakespeare).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_48" id="Footnote_2_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_48"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Cf. the fortunes of Struensee in Brown's <i>Northern Courts</i>, 3 vols., -1819.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_49" id="Footnote_3_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_49"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See the letters of Madame du Deffant, Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, -Bezenval, Lauzun, the Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay, the <i>Dictionnaire -des Étiquettes</i> of Madame de Genlis, the Memoirs of Danjeau -and Horace Walpole.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_50" id="Footnote_4_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_50"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Unless, perhaps, at the Court of Petersburg.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_51" id="Footnote_5_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_51"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> See Saint-Simon and Werther. However gentle and delicate are -the solitary, their soul is distracted, and part of their imagination is busy -in foreseeing the world of men. Force of character is one of the charms -which most readily seduces the truly feminine heart. Hence the success -of serious young officers. Women well know how to make the distinction -between force of character and the violence of those movements of -passion, the possibility of which they feel strongly in their own hearts. -The most distinguished women are sometimes duped by a little charlatanism -in this matter. It can be used without fear, as soon as crystallisation -is seen to have begun.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> - - -<p>The following point, which will be disputed, I offer -only to those—shall I say unhappy enough?—to -have loved with passion during long years, and loved in -the face of invincible obstacles:—</p> - -<p>The sight of all that is extremely beautiful in nature -and in art recalls, with the swiftness of lightning, the -memory of that which we love. It is by the process of -the jewelled branch in the mines of Salzburg, that -everything in the world which is beautiful and lofty contributes -to the beauty of that which we love, and that -forthwith a sudden glimpse of delight fills the eyes with -tears. In this way, love and the love of beauty give life -mutually to one another.</p> - -<p>One of life's miseries is that the happiness of seeing -and talking to the object of our love leaves no distinct -memories behind. The soul, it seems, is too troubled by -its emotions for that which causes or accompanies them -to impress it. The soul and its sensations are one and -the same. It is perhaps because these pleasures cannot -be used up by voluntary recollection, that they return -again and again with such force, as soon as ever some -object comes to drag us from day-dreams devoted to -the woman we love, and by some new connexion<a name="FNanchor_1_52" id="FNanchor_1_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_52" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> to -bring her still more vividly to our memory.</p> - -<p>A dry old architect used to meet her in society every -evening. Following a natural impulse, and without -paying attention to what I was saying to her,<a name="FNanchor_2_53" id="FNanchor_2_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_53" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> I one day -sang his praises in a sentimental and pompous strain, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>which made her laugh at me. I had not the strength -to say to her: "He sees you every evening."</p> - -<p>So powerful is this sensation that it extends even to -the person of my enemy, who is always at her side. When -I see her, she reminds me of Léonore so much, that at -the time I cannot hate her, however much I try.</p> - -<p>It looks as if, by a curious whim of the heart, the charm, -which the woman we love can communicate, were greater -than that which she herself possesses. The vision of that -distant city, where we saw her a moment,<a name="FNanchor_3_54" id="FNanchor_3_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_54" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> throws us into -dreams sweeter and more profound than would her -very presence. It is the effect of harsh treatment.</p> - -<p>The day-dreams of love cannot be scrutinised. I -have observed that I can re-read a good novel every three -years with the same pleasure. It gives me feelings akin -to the kind of emotional taste, which dominates me at -the moment, or if my feelings are nil, makes for variety -in my ideas. Also, I can listen with pleasure to the same -music, but, in this, memory must not intrude. The -imagination should be affected and nothing else; if, at -the twentieth representation, an opera gives more pleasure, -it is either because the music is better understood, -or because it also brings back the feeling it gave at the -first.</p> - -<p>As to new lights, which a novel may throw upon our -knowledge of the human heart, I still remember clearly -the old ones, and am pleased even to find them noted in -the margin. But this kind of pleasure pertains to the -novels, in so far as they advance me in the knowledge -of man, and not in the least to day-dreaming—the -veritable pleasure of novels. Such day-dreaming is -inscrutable. To watch it is for the present to kill it, for -you fall into a philosophical analysis of pleasure; and it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>is killing it still more certainly for the future, for nothing -is surer to paralyse the imagination than the appeal to -memory<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_9" id="TNanch_9"></a><a href="#TN_9">(9)</a></span>. If I find in the margin a note, depicting -my feelings on reading <i>Old Mortality</i> three years ago in -Florence, I am plunged immediately into the history of -my life, into an estimate of the degree of happiness at -the two epochs, in short, into the deepest problems of -philosophy—and then good-bye for a long season to the -unchecked play of tender feelings.</p> - -<p>Every great poet with a lively imagination is timid, -he is afraid of men, that is to say, for the interruptions -and troubles with which they can invade the delight of -his dreams. He fears for his concentration. Men come -along with their gross interests to drag him from the -gardens of Armida, and force him into a fetid slough: -only by irritating him can they fix his attention on themselves. -It is this habit of feeding his soul upon touching -dreams and this horror of the vulgar which draws a great -artist so near to love.</p> - -<p>The more of the great artist a man has in him, the -more must he wish for titles and honours as a bulwark.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_52" id="Footnote_1_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_52"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Scents.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_53" id="Footnote_2_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_53"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See note 2, p. <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_54" id="Footnote_3_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_54"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nessun maggior dolore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Che ricordarsi del tempo felice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nella miseria.—Dante, <i>Inf.</i>, V (Francesca).<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p> -[No greater sorrow than to remember happy times in misery.—Tr.]</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> - - -<p>Suddenly in the midst of the most violent and -the most thwarted passion come moments, when a -man believes that he is in love no longer—as it were a -spring of fresh water in the middle of the sea. To think -of his mistress is no longer very much pleasure, and, -although he is worn-out by the severity of her treatment, -the fact that everything in life has lost its interest is a -still greater misery. After a manner of existence which, -fitful though it was, gave to all nature a new aspect, -passionate and absorbing, now follows the dreariest and -most despondent void.</p> - -<p>It may be that your last visit to the woman, whom you -love, left you in a situation, from which, once before, -your imagination had gathered the full harvest of sensation. -For example, after a period of coldness, she has -treated you less badly, letting you conceive exactly the -same degree of hope and by the same external signs as -on a previous occasion—all this perhaps unconsciously. -Imagination picks up memory and its sinister warnings -by the way, and instantly crystallisation<a name="FNanchor_1_55" id="FNanchor_1_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_55" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> ceases.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_55" id="Footnote_1_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_55"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> First, I am advised to cut out this word; next, if I fail in this for -want of literary power, to repeat again and again that I mean by crystallisation -a certain fever in the imagination, which transforms past recognition -what is, as often as not, a quite ordinary object, and makes of it a thing -apart. A man who looks to excite this fever in souls, which know no other -path but vanity to reach their happiness, must tie his necktie well and -constantly give his attention to a thousand details, which preclude all -possibility of unrestraint. Society women own to the effect, denying at -the same time or not seeing the cause.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> - -<p class="quott">In a small port, the name of which I forget, near Perpignan, 25th -February, 1822.<a name="FNanchor_1_56" id="FNanchor_1_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_56" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -</p> - -<p>This evening I have just found out that music, -when it is perfect, puts the heart into the same -state as it enjoys in the presence of the loved one—that -is to say, it gives seemingly the keenest happiness existing -on the face of the earth.</p> - -<p>If this were so for all men, there would be no more -favourable incentive to love.</p> - -<p>But I had already remarked at Naples last year that -perfect music, like perfect pantomime, makes me think -of that which is at the moment the object of my dreams, -and that the ideas, which it suggests to me, are excellent: -at Naples, it was on the means of arming the Greeks.</p> - -<p>Now this evening I cannot deceive myself—I have the -misfortune <i>of being too great an admirer of milady -L</i>.<a name="FNanchor_2_57" id="FNanchor_2_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_57" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>And perhaps the perfect music, which I have had the -luck to hear again, after two or three months of privation, -although going nightly to the Opera, has simply had -the effect, which I recognised long ago—I mean that of -producing lively thoughts on what is already in the -heart.</p> - -<p>March 4th—eight days later.</p> - -<p>I dare neither erase nor approve the preceding -observation. Certain it is that, as I wrote it, I read it -in my heart. If to-day I bring it into question, it is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>because I have lost the memory of what I saw at that -time.</p> - -<p>The habit of hearing music and dreaming its dreams -disposes towards love. A sad and gentle air, provided it -is not too dramatic, so that the imagination is forced to -dwell on the action, is a direct stimulant to dreams of -love and a delight for gentle and unhappy souls: for -example, the drawn-out passage on the clarionet at the -beginning of the quartet in <i>Bianca and Faliero</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_10" id="TNanch_10"></a><a href="#TN_10">(10)</a></span>, -and the recitative of La Camporesi towards the middle -of the quartet.</p> - -<p>A lover at peace with his mistress enjoys to distraction -Rossini's famous duet in <i>Armida and Rinaldo</i>, depicting -so justly the little doubts of happy love and the moments -of delight which follow its reconciliations. It seems to -him that the instrumental part, which comes in the middle -of the duet, at the moment when Rinaldo wishes to fly, -and represents in such an amazing way the conflict of -the passions, has a physical influence upon his heart and -touches it in reality. On this subject I dare not say what -I feel; I should pass for a madman among people of the -north.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_56" id="Footnote_1_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_56"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Copied from the diary of Lisio.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_57" id="Footnote_2_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_57"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> [Written thus in English by Stendhal,—Tr.]</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XVII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">BEAUTY DETHRONED BY LOVE</span></h3> - - -<p>Alberic meets in a box at the theatre a woman -more beautiful than his mistress (I beg to be -allowed here a mathematical valuation)—that is to say, -her features promise three units of happiness instead of -two, supposing the quantity of happiness given by perfect -beauty to be expressed by the number four.</p> - -<p>Is it surprising that he prefers the features of his -mistress, which promise a hundred units of happiness -<i>for him</i>? Even the minor defects of her face, a small-pox -mark, for example, touches the heart of the man -who loves, and, when he observes them even in another -woman, sets him dreaming far away. What, then, when -he sees them in his mistress? Why, he has felt a thousand -sentiments in presence of that small-pox mark, sentiments -for the most part sweet, and all of the greatest -interest; and now, such as they are, they are evoked -afresh with incredible vividness by the sight of this -sign, even in the face of another woman.</p> - -<p>If ugliness thus comes to be preferred and loved, it is -because in this case ugliness is beauty.<a name="FNanchor_1_58" id="FNanchor_1_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_58" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> A man was -passionately in love with a woman, very thin and scarred -with small-pox: death bereft him of her. At Rome, -three years after, he makes friends with two women, one -more lovely than the day, the other thin, scarred with -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>small-pox, and thereby, if you will, quite ugly. There -he is, at the end of a week, in love with the ugly one—and -this week he employs in effacing her ugliness with -his memories; and with a very pardonable coquetry -the lesser beauty did not fail to help him in the operation -with a slight whip-up of the pulse.<a name="FNanchor_2_59" id="FNanchor_2_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_59" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> A man meets a -woman and is offended by her ugliness; soon, if she is -unpretentious, her expression makes him forget the defects -of her features; he finds her amiable—he conceives that -one could love her. A week later he has hopes; another -week and they are taken from him; another and he's -mad.</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_58" id="Footnote_1_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_58"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Beauty is only the promise of happiness. The happiness of a Greek -was different to that of a Frenchman of 1822. See the eyes of the Medici -Venus and compare them with the eyes of the Magdalen of Pordenone -(in the possession of M. de Sommariva.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_59" id="Footnote_2_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_59"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> If one is sure of the love of a woman, one examines to see if she is -more or less beautiful; if one is uncertain of her heart, there is no time -to think of her face.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">LIMITATIONS OF BEAUTY</span></h3> - - -<p>An analogy is to be seen at the theatre in the -reception of the public's favourite actors: the -spectators are no longer conscious of the beauty or ugliness -which the actors have in reality. Lekain, for all his -remarkable ugliness, had a harvest of broken hearts—Garrick -also. There are several reasons for this; the -principal being that it was no longer the actual beauty -of their features or their ways which people saw, but -emphatically that which imagination was long since -used to lend them, as a return for, and in memory -of, all the pleasure they had given it. Why, take a -comedian—his face alone raises a laugh as he first -walks on.</p> - -<p>A girl going for the first time to the Français would -perhaps feel some antipathy to Lekain during the first -scene; but soon he was making her weep or shiver—and -how resist him as Tancrède<a name="FNanchor_1_60" id="FNanchor_1_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_60" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> or Orosmane?</p> - -<p>If his ugliness were still a little visible to her eyes, the -fervour of an entire audience, and the nervous effect -produced upon a young heart,<a name="FNanchor_2_61" id="FNanchor_2_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_61" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> soon managed to eclipse -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>it. If anything was still heard about his ugliness, it was -mere talk; but not a word of it—Lekain's lady enthusiasts -could be heard to exclaim "He's lovely!"</p> - -<p>Remember that beauty is the expression of character, -or, put differently, of moral habits, and that consequently -it is exempt from all passion. Now it is passion that -we want. Beauty can only supply us with probabilities -about a woman, and probabilities, moreover, based on her -capacity for self-possession; while the glances of your -mistress with her small-pox scars are a delightful reality, -which destroys all the probabilities in the world.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_60" id="Footnote_1_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_60"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Madame de Staël in <i>Delphine</i>, I think; there you have the -artifice of plain women.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_61" id="Footnote_2_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_61"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> I should be inclined to attribute to this nervous sympathy the -prodigious and incomprehensible effect of fashionable music. (Sympathy -at Dresden for Rossini, 1821.) As soon as it is out of fashion, it becomes -no worse for that, and yet it ceases to have any effect upon perfectly -ingenuous girls. Perhaps it used to please them, as also stimulating -young men to fervour. -</p> -<p> -Madame de Sévigné says to her daughter (Letter 202, May 6, 1672): -"Lully surpassed himself in his royal music; that beautiful <i>Miserere</i> -was still further enlarged: there was a <i>Libera</i> at which all eyes were -full of tears." -</p> -<p> -It is as impossible to doubt the truth of this effect, as to refuse wit or -refinement to Madame de Sévigné. Lully's music, which charmed her, -would make us run away at present; in her day, his music encouraged -crystallisation—it makes it impossible in ours.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XIX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">LIMITATIONS OF BEAUTY—(<i>continued</i>)</span></h3> - - -<p>A woman of quick fancy and tender heart, but -timid and cautious in her sensibility, who the day -after she appears in society, passes in review a thousand -times nervously and painfully all that she may have said -or given hint of—such a woman, I say, grows easily used -to want of beauty in a man: it is hardly an obstacle in -rousing her affection.</p> - -<p>It is really on the same principle that you care next -to nothing for the degree of beauty in a mistress, whom -you adore and who repays you with harshness. You have -very nearly stopped crystallising her beauty, and when -your <i>friend in need</i> tells you that she isn't pretty, you -are almost ready to agree. Then he thinks he has made -great way.</p> - -<p>My friend, brave Captain Trab, described to me this -evening his feelings on seeing Mirabeau once upon a -time. No one looking upon that great man felt a disagreeable -sensation in the eyes—that is to say, found him -ugly. People were carried away by his thundering words; -they fixed their attention, they delighted in fixing their -attention, only on what was beautiful in his face. As -he had practically no beautiful features (in the sense of -sculpturesque or picturesque beauty) they minded only -what beauty he had of another kind, the beauty of expression.<a name="FNanchor_1_62" id="FNanchor_1_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_62" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>While attention was blind to all traces of ugliness, -picturesquely speaking, it fastened on the smallest passable -details with fervour—for example, the beauty of his -vast head of hair. If he had had horns, people would -have thought them lovely.<a name="FNanchor_2_63" id="FNanchor_2_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_63" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>The appearance every evening of a pretty dancer -forces a little interest from those poor souls, blasé or -bereft of imagination, who adorn the balcony of the -opera. By her graceful movements, daring and strange, -she awakens their physical love and procures them perhaps -the only crystallisation of which they are still capable. -This is the way by which a young scarecrow, who in the -street would not have been honoured with a glance, least -of all from people the worse for wear, has only to appear -frequently on the stage, and she manages to get herself -handsomely supported. Geoffroy used to say that the -theatre is the pedestal of woman. The more notorious -and the more dilapidated a dancer, the more she is -worth; hence the green-room proverb: "Some get -sold at a price who wouldn't be taken as a gift." These -women steal part of their passions from their lovers, -and are very susceptible of love from pique.</p> - -<p>How manage not to connect generous or lovable sentiments -with the face of an actress, in whose features there -is nothing repugnant, whom for two hours every evening -we see expressing the most noble feelings, and whom -otherwise we do not know? When at last you succeed -in being received by her, her features recall such pleasing -feelings, that the entire reality which surrounds her, -however little nobility it may sometimes possess, is -instantly invested with romantic and touching colours.</p> - -<p>"Devotee, in the days of my youth, of that boring -French tragedy,<a name="FNanchor_3_64" id="FNanchor_3_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_64" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> whenever I had the luck of supping -with Mlle. Olivier, I found myself every other moment -overbrimming with respect, in the belief that I was -speaking to a queen; and really I have never been quite -sure whether, in her case, I had fallen in love with a -queen or a pretty tart."</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_62" id="Footnote_1_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_62"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> That is the advantage of being <i>à la mode</i>. Putting aside the defects -of a face which are already familiar, and no longer have any effect upon -the imagination, the public take hold of one of the three following ideas -of beauty:— -</p> -<p> -(1) The people—of the idea of wealth. -</p> -<p> -(2) The upper classes—of the idea of elegance, material or moral. -</p> -<p> -(3) The Court—of the idea: "My object is to please the women." -</p> -<p> -Almost all take hold of a mixture of all three. The happiness attached -to the idea of riches is linked to a refinement in the pleasure which the -idea of elegance suggests, and the whole comes into touch with love. -In one way or another the imagination is led on by novelty. It is possible -in this way to be interested in a very ugly man without thinking of his -ugliness,<sup>[*]</sup> and in good time his ugliness becomes beauty. At Vienna, in -1788, Madame Viganò, a dancer and <i>the</i> woman of the moment, was -with child—very soon the ladies took to wearing little <i>Ventres à la Viganò</i>. -For the same reason reversed, nothing more fearful than a fashion out -of date! Bad taste is a confusion of fashion, which lives only by change, -with the lasting beauty produced by such and such a government, guided -by such and such a climate. A building in fashion to-day, in ten years -will be out of fashion. It will be less displeasing in two hundred years, -when its fashionable day will be forgotten. Lovers are quite mad to -think about their dress; a woman has other things to do, when -seeing the object of her love, than to bother about his get-up; we look -at our lover, we do not examine him, says Rousseau. If this examination -takes place, we are dealing with gallant-love and not passion-love. The -brilliance of beauty is almost offensive in the object of our love; it is -none of our business to see her beautiful, we want her tender and languishing. -Adornment has effect in love only upon girls, who are so rigidly -guarded in their parents' house, that they often lose their hearts through -their eyes. (L.'s words. September 15, 1820.) -</p> -<p> -* Le petit Germain, <i>Mémoires de Grammont</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_63" id="Footnote_2_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_63"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> For their polish or their size or their form! In this way, or by the -combination of sentiments (see above, the small-pox scars) a woman in -love grows used to the faults of her lover. The Russian Princess C. has -actually become used to a man who literally has no nose. The picture -of his courage, of his pistol loaded to kill himself in despair at his misfortune, -and pity for the bitter calamity, enhanced by the idea that he -will recover and is beginning to recover, are the forces which have worked -this miracle. The poor fellow with his wound must appear not to think -of his misfortune. (Berlin, 1807.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_64" id="Footnote_3_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_64"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Improper expression copied from the Memoirs of my friend, the -late Baron de Bottmer. It is by the same trick that Feramorz pleases -Lalla-Rookh. See that charming poem.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XX</h3> - - -<p>Perhaps men who are not susceptible to the feelings -of passion-love are those most keenly sensitive to -the effects of beauty: that at least is the strongest impression -which such men can receive of women.</p> - -<p>He who has felt his heart beating at a distant glimpse -of the white satin hat of the woman he loves, is quite -amazed by the chill left upon him by the approach of -the greatest beauty in the world. He may even have a -qualm of distress, to observe the excitement of others.</p> - -<p>Extremely lovely women cause less surprise the second -day. 'Tis a great misfortune, it discourages crystallisation. -Their merit being obvious to all and public -property, they are bound to reckon more fools in the -list of their lovers than princes, millionaires, etc.<a name="FNanchor_1_65" id="FNanchor_1_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_65" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_65" id="Footnote_1_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_65"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> It is quite clear that the author is neither prince nor millionaire. -I wanted to steal that sally from the reader.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT</span></h3> - -<p>Imaginative souls are sensitive and also mistrustful, -even the most ingenuous,<a name="FNanchor_1_66" id="FNanchor_1_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_66" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>—I maintain. -They may be suspicious without knowing it: they have -had so many disappointments in life. Thus everything -set-out and official, when a man is first introduced, scares -the imagination and drives away the possibility of crystallisation; -the romantic is then, on the contrary, love's -triumph.</p> - -<p>Nothing simpler—for in the supreme astonishment, -which keeps the thoughts busy for long upon something -out of the ordinary, is already half the mental exercise -necessary to crystallisation.</p> - -<p>I will quote the beginning of the Amours of Séraphine -(<i>Gil Blas</i>, Bk. IV, Chap. X). It is Don Fernando who -tells the story of his flight, when pursued by the agents -of the inquisition....</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>After crossing several walks I came to a drawing-room, the -door of which was also left open. I entered, and when I had -observed all its magnificence.... One side of the room a door -stood ajar; I partly opened it and saw a suite of apartments -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>whereof only the furthest was lighted. "What is to be done -now?" I asked myself.... I could not resist my curiosity.... -Advancing boldly, I went through all the rooms and reached one -where there was a light—to wit, a taper upon a marble table in a -silver-gilt candlestick.... But soon afterwards, casting my eyes -upon a bed, the curtains of which were partly drawn on account -of the heat, I perceived an object which at once engrossed my -attention: a young lady, fast asleep in spite of the noise of the -thunder, which had just been bursting forth. I softly drew near -her. My mind was suddenly troubled at the sight. Whilst I -feasted my eyes with the pleasure of beholding her, she awoke.</p> - -<p>Imagine her surprise at seeing in her room at midnight a man -who was an utter stranger to her! She trembled on beholding -me and shrieked aloud.... I took pains to reassure her and -throwing myself on my knees before her, said—"Madam, have -no fear." She called her women.... Grown a little braver by -his (an old servant's) presence, she haughtily asked me who -was, etc. etc."<a name="FNanchor_2_67" id="FNanchor_2_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_67" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p></blockquote> - -<p>There is an introduction not easily to be forgotten! -On the other hand, could there be anything sillier in our -customs of to-day than the official, and at the same time -almost sentimental, introduction of the young wooer to -his future wife: such legal prostitution goes so far as to -be almost offensive to modesty.</p> - -<p>"I have just been present this afternoon, February -17th, 1790," says Chamfort, "at a so-called family -function. That is to say, men of respectable reputation -and a decent company were congratulating on her -good fortune Mlle. de Marille, a young person of -beauty, wit and virtue, who is to be favoured with becoming -the wife of M. R.—an unhealthy dotard, repulsive, -dishonest, and mad, but rich: she has seen him for the -third time to-day, when signing the contract. If anything -characterises an age of infamy, it is the jubilation on -an occasion like this, it is the folly of such joy and—looking -ahead—the sanctimonious cruelty, with which the -same society will heap contempt without reserve upon -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>the pettiest imprudence of a poor young woman in -love."</p> - -<p>Ceremony of all kinds, being in its essence something -affected and set-out beforehand, in which the point is to -act "properly," paralyses the imagination and leaves it -awake only to that which is opposed to the object of the -ceremony, e. g. something comical—whence the magic -effect of the slightest joke. A poor girl, struggling against -nervousness and attacks of modesty during the official -introduction of her <i>fiancé</i>, can think of nothing but -the part she is playing, and this again is a certain means -of stifling the imagination.</p> - -<p>Modesty has far more to say against getting into bed -with a man whom you have seen but twice, after -three Latin words have been spoken in church, than -against giving way despite yourself to the man whom for -two years you have adored. But I am talking double -Dutch.</p> - -<p>The fruitful source of the vices and mishaps, which -follow our marriages nowadays, is the Church of Rome. -It makes liberty for girls impossible before marriage, and -divorce impossible, when once they have made their mistake, -or rather when they find out the mistake of the choice -forced on them. Compare Germany, the land of happy -marriages: a delightful princess (Madame la Duchesse -de Sa——) has just married in all good faith for the -fourth time, and has not failed to ask to the wedding -her three first husbands, with whom she is on the best -terms. That is going too far; but a single divorce, which -punishes a husband for his tyranny, prevents a thousand -cases of unhappy wedded life. What is amusing is that -Rome is one of the places where you see most divorces.</p> - -<p>Love goes out at first sight towards a face, which reveals -in a man at once something to respect and something to -pity.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_66" id="Footnote_1_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_66"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>The Bride of Lammermoor</i>, Miss Ashton. -</p> -<p> -A man who has lived finds in his memory numberless examples of -"affairs," and his only trouble is to make his choice. But if he wishes to -write, he no longer knows where to look for support. The anecdotes of -the particular circles he has lived in are unknown to the public, and it -would require an immense number of pages to recount them with the -necessary circumstantiality. I quote for that reason from generally-known -novels, but the ideas which I submit to the reader I do not ground -upon such empty fictions, calculated for the most part with an eye to -the picturesque rather than the true effect.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_67" id="Footnote_2_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_67"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> [Translation of Henri van Laun.—Tr.]</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF INFATUATION</span></h3> - - -<p>The most fastidious spirits are very given to curiosity -and prepossession: this is to be seen, especially, in -beings in which that sacred fire, the source of the passions, -is extinct—in fact it is one of the most fatal symptoms. -There is also the infatuation of schoolboys just admitted -to society. At the two poles of life, with too much or -too little sensibility, there is little chance of simple -people getting the right effect from things, or feeling the -genuine sensation which they ought to give. These -beings, either too ardent or excessive in their ardour, -amorous on credit, if one may use the expression, throw -themselves at objects instead of awaiting them.</p> - -<p>From afar off and without looking they enfold things -in that imaginary charm, of which they find a perennial -source within themselves, long before sensation, which -is the consequence of the object's nature, has had time -to reach them. Then, on coming to close quarters, they -see these things not such as they are, but as they have -made them; they think they are enjoying such and -such an object, while, under cover of that object, they are -enjoying themselves. But one fine day a man gets tired -of keeping the whole thing going; he discovers that his -idol is <i>not playing the game</i>; infatuation collapses and -the resulting shock to his self-esteem makes him unfair -to that which he appreciated too highly.</p> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">THE THUNDERBOLT FROM THE BLUE<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_11" id="TNanch_11"></a><a href="#TN_11">(11)</a></span></span></h3> - - -<p>So ridiculous an expression ought to be changed, yet -the thing exists. I have seen the amiable and noble -Wilhelmina, the despair of the beaux of Berlin, making -light of love and laughing at its folly. In the brilliance of -youth, wit, beauty and all kinds of good luck—a boundless -fortune, giving her the opportunity of developing all her -qualities, seemed to conspire with nature to give the world -an example, rarely seen, of perfect happiness bestowed -upon an object perfectly worthy. She was twenty-three -years old and, already some time at Court, had won the -homage of the bluest blood. Her virtue, unpretentious -but invulnerable, was quoted as a pattern. Henceforth -the most charming men, despairing of their powers of -fascination, aspired only to make her their friend. One -evening she goes to a ball at Prince Ferdinand's: she -dances for ten minutes with a young Captain.</p> - -<p>"From that moment," she writes subsequently to a -friend,<a name="FNanchor_1_68" id="FNanchor_1_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_68" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> "he was master of my heart and of me, and this -to a degree that would have filled me with terror, if the -happiness of seeing Herman had left me time to think of -the rest of existence. My only thought was to observe -whether he gave me a little notice.</p> - -<p>"To-day the only consolation that I might find for -my fault is to nurse the illusion within me, that it is -through a superior power that I am lost to reason and to -myself. I have no word to describe, in a way that comes -at all near the reality, the degree of disorder and turmoil -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>to which the mere sight of him could bring my whole -being. I blush to think of the rapidity and the violence -with which I was drawn towards him. If his first word, -when at last he spoke to me, had been 'Do you adore -me?'—truly I should not have had the power to have -answered anything but 'yes.' I was far from thinking -that the effect of a feeling could be at once so sudden -and so unforeseen. In fact, for an instant, I believed -that I had been poisoned.</p> - -<p>"Unhappily you and the world, my dear friend, know -how well I have loved Herman. Well, after quarter of an -hour he was so dear to me that he cannot have become -dearer since. I saw then all his faults and I forgave them -all, provided only he would love me.</p> - -<p>"Soon after I had danced with him, the king left: -Herman, who belonged to the suite, had to follow him. -With him, everything in nature disappeared. It is no -good to try to depict the excess of weariness with which -I felt weighed down, as soon as he was out of my sight. -It was equal only to the keenness of my desire to be -alone with myself.</p> - -<p>"At last I got away. No sooner the door of my room -shut and bolted than I wanted to resist my passion. I -thought I should succeed. Ah, dear friend, believe me -I paid dear that evening and the following days for the -pleasure of being able to credit myself with some virtue."</p> - -<p>The preceding lines are the exact story of an event -which was the topic of the day; for after a month or -two poor Wilhelmina was unfortunate enough for people -to take notice of her feelings. Such was the origin of -that long series of troubles by which she perished so -young and so tragically—poisoned by herself or her -lover. All that we could see in this young Captain was -that he was an excellent dancer; he had plenty of gaiety -and still more assurance, a general air of good nature and -spent his time with prostitutes; for the rest, scarcely a -nobleman, quite poor and not seen at Court.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>In these cases it is not enough to have no misgivings—one -must be sick of misgivings—have, so to speak, the -impatience of courage to face life's chances.</p> - -<p>The soul of a woman, grown tired, without noticing -it, of living without loving, convinced in spite of herself -by the example of other women—all the fears of life -surmounted and the sorry happiness of pride found -wanting—ends in creating unconsciously a model, an -ideal. One day she meets this model: crystallisation -recognises its object by the commotion it inspires and -consecrates for ever to the master of its fortunes the fruit -of all its previous dreams.<a name="FNanchor_2_69" id="FNanchor_2_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_69" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>Women, whose hearts are open to this misfortune, have -too much grandeur of soul to love otherwise than with -passion. They would be saved if they could stoop to -gallantry.</p> - -<p>As "thunderbolts" come from a secret lassitude in -what the catechism calls Virtue, and from boredom -brought on by the uniformity of perfection, I should be -inclined to think that it would generally be the privilege -of what is known in the world as "a bad lot" to bring -them down. I doubt very much whether rigidity <i>à la</i> -Cato has ever been the occasion of a "thunderbolt."</p> - -<p>What makes them so rare is that if the heart, thus disposed -to love beforehand, has the slightest inkling of its -situation, there is no thunderbolt.</p> - -<p>The soul of a woman, whom troubles have made mistrustful, -is not susceptible of this revolution.</p> - -<p>Nothing facilitates "a thunderbolt" like praise, given -in advance and by women, to the person who is to occasion -it.</p> - -<p>False "thunderbolts" form one of the most comic -sources of love stories. A weary woman, but one without -much feeling, thinks for a whole evening that she is in -love for life. She is proud of having found at last one -of those great commotions of the soul, which used to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>allure her imagination. The next day she no longer knows -where to hide her face and, still more, how to avoid the -wretched object she was adoring the night before.</p> - -<p>Clever people know how to spot, that is to say, make -capital out of these "thunderbolts."</p> - -<p>Physical love also has its "thunderbolts." Yesterday -in her carriage with the prettiest and most easy-going -woman in Berlin, we saw her suddenly blush. She -became deeply absorbed and preoccupied. Handsome -Lieutenant Findorff had just passed. In the evening at -the play, according to her own confession to me, she was -out of her mind, she was beside herself, she could think -of nothing but Findorff, to whom she had never spoken. -If she had dared, she told me, she would have sent for -him—that pretty face bore all the signs of the most -violent passion. The next day it was still going on. -After three days, Findorff having played the blockhead, -she thought no more about it. A month later she loathed -him.</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_68" id="Footnote_1_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_68"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Translated <i>ad litteram</i> from the Memoirs of Bottmer.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_69" id="Footnote_2_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_69"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Several phrases taken from Crébillon.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">VOYAGE IN AN UNKNOWN LAND</span></h3> - - -<p>I advise the majority of people born in the North -to skip the present chapter. It is an obscure dissertation -upon certain phenomena relative to the orange-tree, -a plant which does not grow or reach its full height -except in Italy and Spain. In order to be intelligible -elsewhere, I should have had to cut down the facts.</p> - -<p>I should have had no hesitation about this, if for a -single moment I had intended to write a book to be -generally appreciated. But Heaven having refused me -the writer's gift, I have thought solely of describing with -all the ill-grace of science, but also with all its exactitude, -certain facts, of which I became involuntarily the witness -through a prolonged sojourn in the land of the orange-tree. -Frederick the Great, or some such other distinguished -man from the North, who never had the -opportunity of seeing the orange-tree growing in the -open, would doubtless have denied the facts which -follow—and denied in good faith. I have an infinite -respect for such good faith and can see its <i>wherefore</i>.</p> - -<p>As this sincere declaration may seem presumption, I -append the following reflexion:—</p> - -<p>We write haphazard, each one of us what we think -true, and each gives the lie to his neighbour. I see in -our books so many tickets in a lottery and in reality -they have no more value. Posterity, forgetting some and -reprinting others, declares the lucky numbers. And in -so far, each one of us having written as best he can, what -he thinks true, has no right to laugh at his neighbour—except -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>where the satire is amusing. In that case he is -always right, especially if he writes like M. Courrier to -Del Furia<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_12" id="TNanch_12"></a><a href="#TN_12">(12)</a></span>.</p> - -<p>After this preamble, I am going bravely to enter into -the examination of facts which, I am convinced, have -rarely been observed at Paris. But after all at Paris, -superior as of course it is to all other towns, orange-trees -are not seen growing out in the open, as at Sorrento, -and it is there that Lisio Visconti observed and noted -the following facts—at Sorrento, the country of Tasso, -on the Bay of Naples in a position half-way down to the -sea, still more picturesque than that of Naples itself, but -where no one reads the <i>Miroir</i>.</p> - -<p>When we are to see in the evening the woman we love, -the suspense, the expectation of so great a happiness makes -every moment, which separates us from it, unbearable.</p> - -<p>A devouring fever makes us take up and lay aside twenty -different occupations. We look every moment at our -watch—overjoyed when we see that we have managed to -pass ten minutes without looking at the time. The hour -so longed-for strikes at last, and when we are at her door -ready to knock—we would be glad not to find her in. It -is only on reflexion that we would be sorry for it. In a -word, the suspense before seeing her produces an unpleasant -effect.</p> - -<p>There you have one of the things which make good -folk say that love drives men silly.</p> - -<p>The reason is that the imagination, violently withdrawn -from dreams of delight in which every step -forward brings happiness, is brought back face to face -with severe reality.</p> - -<p>The gentle soul knows well that in the combat which -is to begin the moment he sees her, the least inadvertency, -the least lack of attention or of courage will be paid for -by a defeat, poisoning, for a long time to come, the -dreams of fancy and of passion, and humiliating to a -man's pride, if he try to find consolation outside the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>sphere of passion. He says to himself: "I hadn't the -wit, I hadn't the pluck"; but the only way to have -pluck before the loved one is by loving her a little less.</p> - -<p>It is a fragment of attention, torn by force with so much -trouble from the dreams of crystallisation, which allows -the crowd of things to escape us during our first words -with the woman we love—things which have no sense or -which have a sense contrary to what we mean—or else, -what is still more heartrending, we exaggerate our feelings -and they become ridiculous in our own eyes. We feel -vaguely that we are not paying enough attention to our -words and mechanically set about polishing and loading -our oratory. And, also, it is impossible to hold one's -tongue—silence would be embarrassing and make it -still less possible to give one's thoughts to her. So we -say in a feeling way a host of things that we do not feel, -and would be quite embarrassed to repeat, obstinately -keeping our distance from the woman before us, in order -more really to be with her. In the early hours of my -acquaintance with love, this oddity which I felt within -me, made me believe that I did not love.</p> - -<p>I understand cowardice and how recruits, to be delivered -of their fear, throw themselves recklessly into the -midst of the fire. The number of silly things I have said -in the last two years, in order not to hold my tongue, -makes me mad when I think of them.</p> - -<p>And that is what should easily mark in a woman's eyes -the difference between passion-love and gallantry, between -the gentle soul and the prosaic.<a name="FNanchor_1_70" id="FNanchor_1_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_70" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>In these decisive moments the one gains as much as the -other loses: the prosaic soul gets just the degree of warmth -which he ordinarily wants, while excess of feeling drives -mad the poor gentle heart, who, to crown his troubles, -really means to hide his madness. Completely taken up -with keeping his own transports in check, he is miles away -from the self-possession necessary in order to seize opportunities, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>and leaves in a muddle after a visit, in which -the prosaic soul would have made a great step forward. -Directly it is a question of advancing his too violent -passion, a gentle being with pride cannot be eloquent -under the eye of the woman whom he loves: the pain -of ill-success is too much for him. The vulgar being, on -the contrary, calculates nicely the chances of success: he -is stopped by no foretastes of the suffering of defeat, and, -proud of that which makes him vulgar, laughs at the gentle -soul, who, with all the cleverness he may have, is never -quite enough at ease to say the simplest things and those -most certain to succeed. The gentle soul, far from being -able to grasp anything by force, must resign himself to obtaining -nothing except through the <i>charity</i> of her whom -he loves. If the woman one loves really has feelings, one -always has reason to regret having wished to put pressure -on oneself in order to make love to her. One looks shame-faced, -looks chilly, would look deceitful, did not passion -betray itself by other and surer signs. To express what we -feel so keenly, and in such detail, at every moment of the -day, is a task we take upon our shoulders because we have -read novels; for if we were natural, we would never -undertake anything so irksome. Instead of wanting to -speak of what we felt a quarter of an hour ago, and of -trying to make of it a general and interesting topic, we -would express simply the passing fragment of our feelings -at the moment. But no! we put the most violent pressure -upon ourselves for a worthless success, and, as there -is no evidence of actual sensation to back our words, and -as our memory cannot be working freely, we approve at -the time of things to say—and say them—comical to a -degree that is more than humiliating.</p> - -<p>When at last, after an hour's trouble, this extremely -painful effort has resulted in getting away from the -enchanted gardens of the imagination, in order to enjoy -quite simply the presence of what you love, it often -happens—that you've got to take your leave.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>All this looks like extravagance, but I have seen better -still. A woman, whom one of my friends loved to -idolatry, pretending to take offence at some or other -want of delicacy, which I was never allowed to learn, -condemned him all of a sudden to see her only twice -a month. These visits, so rare and so intensely desired, -meant an attack of madness, and it wanted all Salviati's -strength of character to keep it from being seen by -outward signs.</p> - -<p>From the very first, the idea of the visit's end is too -insistent for one to be able to take pleasure in the visit. -One speaks a great deal, deaf to one's own thoughts, -saying often the contrary of what one thinks. One -embarks upon discourses which have got suddenly to be -cut short, because of their absurdity—if one manage to -rouse oneself and listen to one's thoughts within. The -effort we make is so violent that we seem chilly. Love -hides itself in its excess.</p> - -<p>Away from her, the imagination was lulled by the most -charming dialogues: there were transports the most -tender and the most touching. And thus for ten days or -so you think you have the courage to speak; but two -days before what should have been our day of happiness, -the fever begins, and, as the terrible instant draws near, -its force redoubles.</p> - -<p>Just as you come into her <i>salon</i>, in order not to do or -say some incredible piece of nonsense, you clutch in -despair at the resolution of keeping your mouth shut and -your eyes on her—in order at least to be able to remember -her face. Scarcely before her, something like a kind -of drunkenness comes over your eyes; you feel driven -like a maniac to do strange actions; it is as if you had -two souls—one to act and the other to blame your actions. -You feel, in a confused way, that to turn your strained -attention to folly would temporarily refresh the blood, -and make you lose from sight the end of the visit and the -misery of parting for a fortnight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>If some bore be there, who tells a pointless story, the -poor lover, in his inexplicable madness, as if he were -nervous of losing moments so rare, becomes all attention. -That hour, of which he drew himself so sweet a picture, -passes like a flash of lightning and yet he feels, with -unspeakable bitterness, all the little circumstances which -show how much a stranger he has become to her whom he -loves. There he is in the midst of indifferent visitors -and sees himself the only one who does not know her life -of these past days, in all its details. At last he goes: and -as he coldly says good-bye, he has the agonising feeling of -two whole weeks before another meeting. Without a -doubt he would suffer less never to see the object of his -love again. It is in the style, only far blacker, of the Duc -de Policastro, who every six months travelled a hundred -leagues to see for a quarter of an hour at Lecce a beloved -mistress guarded by a jealous husband.</p> - -<p>Here you can see clearly Will without influence upon -Love.</p> - -<p>Out of all patience with one's mistress and oneself, how -furious the desire to bury oneself in indifference! The -only good of such visits is to replenish the treasure of -crystallisation.</p> - -<p>Life for Salviati was divided into periods of two weeks, -which took their colour from the last evening he had -been allowed to see Madame ——. For example, he was -in the seventh heaven of delight the 21st of May, and -the 2nd of June he kept away from home, for fear of -yielding to the temptation of blowing out his brains.</p> - -<p>I saw that evening how badly novelists have drawn -the moment of suicide. Salviati simply said to me: -"I'm thirsty, I must take this glass of water." I did not -oppose his resolution, but said good-bye: then he broke -down.</p> - -<p>Seeing the obscurity which envelops the discourse of -lovers, it would not be prudent to push too far conclusions -drawn from an isolated detail of their conversation. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>They give a fair glimpse of their feelings only in -sudden expressions—then it is the cry of the heart. Otherwise -it is from the complexion of the bulk of what is said -that inductions are to be drawn. And we must remember -that quite often a man, who is very moved, has no time -to notice the emotion of the person who is the cause of -his own.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_70" id="Footnote_1_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_70"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The word was one of Léonore's.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXV<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">THE INTRODUCTION</span></h3> - -<p>To see the subtlety and sureness of judgment with -which women grasp certain details, I am lost in -admiration: but a moment later, I see them praise a -blockhead to the skies, let themselves be moved to tears -by a piece of insipidity, or weigh gravely a fatuous -affectation, as if it were a telling characteristic. I cannot -conceive such simplicity. There must be some general -law in all this, unknown to me.</p> - -<p>Attentive to one merit in a man and absorbed by one -detail, women feel it deeply and have no eyes for the -rest. All the nervous fluid is used up in the enjoyment -of this quality: there is none left to see the others.</p> - -<p>I have seen the most remarkable men introduced to -very clever women; it was always a particle of bias -which decided the effect of the first inspection.</p> - -<p>If I may be allowed a familiar detail, I shall tell the -story how charming Colonel L. B—— was to be introduced -to Madame de Struve of Koenigsberg—she a most distinguished -woman. "<i>Farà colpo?</i>"<a name="FNanchor_1_71" id="FNanchor_1_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_71" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>—we asked each -other; and a wager was made as a result. I go up to -Madame de Struve, and tell her the Colonel wears his -ties two days running—the second he turns them—she -could notice on his tie the creases downwards. Nothing -more palpably untrue!</p> - -<p>As I finish, the dear fellow is announced. The silliest -little Parisian would have made more effect. Observe -that Madame de Struve was one who could love. She is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>also a respectable woman and there could have been no -question of gallantry between them.</p> - -<p>Never were two characters more made for each other. -People blamed Madame de Struve for being romantic, -and there was nothing could touch L. B. but virtue carried -to the point of the romantic. Thanks to her, he had a -bullet put through him quite young.</p> - -<p>It has been given to women admirably to feel the fine -shades of affection, the most imperceptible variations of -the human heart, the lightest movements of susceptibility.</p> - -<p>In this regard they have an organ which in us is missing: -watch them nurse the wounded.</p> - -<p>But, perhaps, they are equally unable to see what -mind consists in—as a moral composition. I have seen -the most distinguished women charmed with a clever -man, who was not myself, and, at the same time and -almost with the same word, admire the biggest fools. -I felt caught like a connoisseur, who sees the loveliest -diamonds taken for paste, and paste preferred for being -more massive.</p> - -<p>And so I concluded that with women you have to -risk everything. Where General Lassale came to grief, a -captain with moustaches and heavy oaths succeeded.<a name="FNanchor_2_72" id="FNanchor_2_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_72" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -There is surely a whole side in men's merit which escapes -them. For myself, I always come back to physical laws. -The nervous fluid spends itself in men through the brain -and in women through the heart: that is why they are -more sensitive. Some great and obligatory work, within -the profession we have followed all our life, is our -consolation, but for them nothing can console but -distraction.</p> - -<p>Appiani, who only believes in virtue as a last resort, -and with whom this evening I went routing out ideas -(exposing meanwhile those of this chapter) answered:—</p> - -<p>"The force of soul, which Eponina used with heroic -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>devotion, to keep alive her husband in a cavern underground -and to keep him from sinking into despair, would -have helped her to hide from him a lover, if they had -lived at Rome in peace. Strong souls must have their -nourishment."</p> - - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_71" id="Footnote_1_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_71"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> [Will he impress her?—Tr.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_72" id="Footnote_2_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_72"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Posen, 1807.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF MODESTY</span></h3> - - -<p>In Madagascar, a woman exposes without a thought -what is here most carefully hidden, but would die -of shame sooner than show her arm. Clearly three-quarters -of modesty come from example. It is perhaps -the one law, daughter of civilisation, which produces -only happiness.</p> - -<p>People have noticed that birds of prey hide themselves -to drink; the reason being that, obliged to plunge their -head in the water, they are at that moment defenceless. -After a consideration of what happens at Tahiti,<a name="FNanchor_1_73" id="FNanchor_1_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_73" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I see -no other natural basis for modesty.</p> - -<p>Love is the miracle of civilisation. There is nothing -but a physical love of the coarsest kind among savage or -too barbarian peoples.</p> - -<p>And modesty gives love the help of imagination—that -is, gives it life.</p> - -<p>Modesty is taught little girls very early by their -mothers with such jealous care, that it almost looks like -fellow-feeling; in this way women take measures in good -time for the happiness of the lover to come.</p> - -<p>There can be nothing worse for a timid, sensitive -woman than the torture of having, in the presence of a -man, allowed herself something for which she thinks she -ought to blush; I am convinced that a woman with a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>little pride would sooner face a thousand deaths. A -slight liberty, which touches a soft corner in the lover's -heart, gives her a moment of lively pleasure.<a name="FNanchor_2_74" id="FNanchor_2_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_74" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> If -he seem to blame it, or simply not to enjoy it to the -utmost, it must leave in the soul an agonising doubt. -And so a woman above the common sort has everything -to gain by being very reserved in her manner. -The game is not fair: against the chance of a little -pleasure or the advantage of seeming a little more lovable, -a woman runs the risk of a burning remorse and a -sense of shame, which must make even the lover less dear. -An evening gaily passed, in care-devil thoughtless -fashion, is dearly paid for at the price. If a woman fears -she has made this kind of mistake before her lover, he -must become for days together hateful in her sight. -Can one wonder at the force of a habit, when the -lightest infractions of it are punished by such cruel -shame?</p> - -<p>As for the utility of modesty—she is the mother of -love: impossible, therefore, to doubt her claims. And -for the mechanism of the sentiment—it's simple enough. -The soul is busy feeling shame instead of busy desiring. -You deny yourself desires and your desires lead to -actions.</p> - -<p>Evidently every woman of feeling and pride—and, -these two things being cause and effect, one can hardly -go without the other—must fall into ways of coldness, -which the people whom they disconcert call prudery.</p> - -<p>The accusation is all the more specious because of the -extreme difficulty of steering a middle course: a woman -has only to have little judgment and a lot of pride, -and very soon she will come to believe that in modesty one -cannot go too far. In this way, an Englishwoman takes -it as an insult, if you pronounce before her the name -of certain garments. An Englishwoman must be very -careful, in the country, not to be seen in the evening -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>leaving the drawing-room with her husband; and, what -is still more serious, she thinks it an outrage to modesty, -to show that she is enjoying herself a little in the presence -of anyone <i>but</i> her husband.<a name="FNanchor_3_75" id="FNanchor_3_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_75" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> It is perhaps due to such -studied scrupulousness that the English, a people of -judgment, betray signs of such boredom in their domestic -bliss. Theirs the fault—why so much pride?<a name="FNanchor_4_76" id="FNanchor_4_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_76" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>To make up for this—and to pass straight from Plymouth -to Cadiz and Seville—I found in Spain that the warmth -of climate and passions caused people to overlook a little -the necessary measure of restraint. The very tender -caresses, which I noticed could be given in public, far -from seeming touching, inspired me with feelings quite -the reverse: nothing is more distressing.</p> - -<p>We must expect to find incalculable the force of habits, -which insinuate themselves into women under the pretext -of modesty. A common woman, by carrying modesty -to extremes, feels she is getting on a level with a woman -of distinction.</p> - -<p>Such is the empire of modesty, that a woman of feeling -betrays her sentiments for her lover sooner by deed than -by word.</p> - -<p>The prettiest, richest and most easy-going woman of -Bologna has just told me, how yesterday evening a fool -of a Frenchman, who is here giving people a strange -idea of his nation, thought good to hide under her bed. -Apparently he did not want to waste the long string of -absurd declarations, with which he has been pestering -her for a month. But the great man should have had -more presence of mind. He waited all right till Madame -M—— sent away her maid and had got to bed, but he had -not the patience to give the household time to go to -sleep. She seized hold of the bell and had him thrown -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>out ignominiously, in the midst of the jeers and cuffs of -five or six lackeys. "And if he had waited two hours?" -I asked her. "I should have been very badly off. 'Who -is to doubt,' he would have said, 'that I am here by your -orders?'"<a name="FNanchor_5_77" id="FNanchor_5_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_77" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>After leaving this pretty woman's house, I went to see -a woman more worthy of being loved than any I know. -Her extremely delicate nature is something greater, if -possible, than her touching beauty. I found her alone, -told the story of Madame M—— and we discussed it. -"Listen," was what she said; "if the man, who will go -as far as that, was lovable in the eyes of that woman -beforehand, he'll have her pardon, and, all in good time, -her love." I own I was dumbfounded by this unexpected -light thrown on the recesses of the human heart. After a -short silence I answered her—"But will a man, who -loves, dare go to such violent extremities?"</p> - -<p>There would be far less vagueness in this chapter had -a woman written it. Everything relating to women's -haughtiness or pride, to their habits of modesty and its -excesses, to certain delicacies, for the most part dependent -wholly on associations of feelings,<a name="FNanchor_6_78" id="FNanchor_6_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_78" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> which cannot exist -for men, and often delicacies not founded on Nature—all -these things, I say, can only find their way here so far -as it is permissible to write from hearsay.</p> - -<p>A woman once said to me, in a moment of philosophical -frankness, something which amounts to this:—</p> - -<p>"If ever I sacrificed my liberty, the man whom I -should happen to favour would appreciate still more my -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>affection, by seeing how sparing I had always been of -favours—even of the slightest." It is out of preference -for this lover, whom perhaps she will never meet, that a -lovable woman will offer a cold reception to the man who -is speaking to her at the moment. That is the first -exaggeration of modesty; that one can respect. The -second comes from women's pride. The third source of -exaggeration is the pride of husbands.</p> - -<p>To my idea, this possibility of love presents itself often -to the fancy of even the most virtuous woman—and -why not? Not to love, when given by Heaven a soul -made for love, is to deprive yourself and others of a great -blessing. It is like an orange-tree, which would not -flower for fear of committing a sin. And beyond -doubt a soul made for love can partake fervently of no -other bliss. In the would-be pleasures of the world it -finds, already at the second trial, an intolerable emptiness. -Often it fancies that it loves Art and Nature in its -grander aspects, but all they do for it is to hold out hopes -of love and magnify it, if that is possible; until, very -soon, it finds out that they speak of a happiness which it -is resolved to forego.</p> - -<p>The only thing I see to blame in modesty is that it -leads to untruthfulness, and that is the only point of -vantage, which light women have over women of feeling. -A light woman says to you: "As soon, my friend, as you -attract me, I'll tell you and I'll be more delighted than -you; because I have a great respect for you."</p> - -<p>The lively satisfaction of Constance's cry after her -lover's victory! "How happy I am, not to have given -myself to anyone, all these eight years that I've been on -bad terms with my husband!"</p> - -<p>However comical I find the line of thought, this joy -seems to me full of freshness.</p> - -<p>Here I absolutely must talk about the sort of regrets, -felt by a certain lady of Seville who had been deserted -by her lover. I ought to remind the reader that, in love. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>everything is a sign, and, above all, crave the benefit of -a little indulgence for my style.<a name="FNanchor_7_79" id="FNanchor_7_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_79" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As a man, I think my eye can distinguish nine points -in modesty.</p> - -<p>1. Much is staked against little; hence extreme reserve; -hence often affectation. For example, one doesn't -laugh at what amuses one the most. Hence it needs -a great deal of judgment to have just the right amount -of modesty.<a name="FNanchor_8_80" id="FNanchor_8_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_80" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> That is why many women have not enough -in intimate gatherings, or, to put it more exactly, do not -insist on the stories told them being sufficiently disguised, -and only drop their veils according to the degree of their -intoxication or recklessness.<a name="FNanchor_9_81" id="FNanchor_9_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_81" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p>Could it be an effect of modesty and of the deadly -dullness it must impose on many women, that the majority -of them respect nothing in a man so much as impudence? -Or do they take impudence for character?</p> - -<p>2. Second law: "My lover will think the more of me -for it."</p> - -<p>3. Force of habit has its way, even at the moments -of greatest passion.</p> - -<p>4. To the lover, modesty offers very flattering pleasures; -it makes him feel what laws are broken for his -sake.</p> - -<p>5. And to women it offers more intoxicating pleasures, -which, causing the fall of a strongly established habit, -throw the soul into greater confusion. The Comte de -Valmont finds himself in a pretty woman's bedroom at -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>midnight. The thing happens every week to him; to -her perhaps every other year. Thus continence and -modesty must have pleasures infinitely more lively in -store for women.<a name="FNanchor_10_82" id="FNanchor_10_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_82" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> - -<p>6. The drawback of modesty is that it is always leading -to falsehood.</p> - -<p>7. Excess of modesty, and its severity, discourages -gentle and timid hearts from loving<a name="FNanchor_11_83" id="FNanchor_11_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_83" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>—just those made -for giving and feeling the sweets of love.</p> - -<p>8. In sensitive women, who have not had several lovers, -modesty is a bar to ease of manner, and for this reason they -are rather apt to let themselves be led by those friends, -who need reproach themselves with no such failing.<a name="FNanchor_12_84" id="FNanchor_12_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_84" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> -They go into each particular case, instead of falling back -blindly on habit. Delicacy and modesty give their -actions a touch of restraint; by being natural they make -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>themselves appear unnatural; but this awkwardness is -akin to heavenly grace.</p> - -<p>If familiarity in them sometimes resembles tenderness, -it is because these angelic souls are coquettes without -knowing it. They are disinclined to interrupt their -dreams, and, to save themselves the trouble of speaking -and finding something both pleasant and polite to say to -a friend (which would end in being nothing but polite), -they finish by leaning tenderly on his arm.<a name="FNanchor_13_85" id="FNanchor_13_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_85" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> - -<p>9. Women only dare be frank by halves; which is the -reason why they very rarely reach the highest, when -they become authors, but which also gives a grace to -their shortest note. For them to be frank means going -out without a <i>fichu</i>. For a man nothing more frequent -than to write absolutely at the dictate of his -imagination, without knowing where he is going.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Résumé</i> -</p> - -<p>The usual fault is to treat woman as a kind of man, but -more generous, more changeable and with whom, above -all, no rivalry is possible. It is only too easy to forget -that there are two new and peculiar laws, which tyrannise -over these unstable beings, in conflict with all -the ordinary impulses of human nature—I mean:—</p> - -<p>Feminine pride and modesty, and those often inscrutable -habits born of modesty.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_73" id="Footnote_1_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_73"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the Travels of Bougainville, Cook, etc. In some animals, the -female seems to retract at the moment she gives herself. We must expect -from comparative anatomy some of the most important revelations about -ourselves.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_74" id="Footnote_2_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_74"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Shows one's love in a new way.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_75" id="Footnote_3_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_75"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See the admirable picture of these tedious manners at the end of -<i>Corinne</i>; and Madame de Staël has made a flattering portrait.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_76" id="Footnote_4_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_76"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The Bible and Aristocracy take a cruel revenge upon people who -believe that duty is everything.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_77" id="Footnote_5_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_77"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> I am advised to suppress this detail—"You take me for a very -doubtful woman, to dare tell such stories in my presence."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_78" id="Footnote_6_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_78"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Modesty is one of the sources of taste in dress: by such and such -an arrangement, a woman engages herself in a greater or less degree. -This is what makes dress lose its point in old age. -</p> -<p> -A provincial, who puts up to follow the fashion in Paris, engages -herself in an awkward way, which makes people laugh. A woman coming -to Paris from the provinces ought to begin by dressing as if she were -thirty.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_79" id="Footnote_7_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_79"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> P. <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, note 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_80" id="Footnote_8_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_80"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> See the tone of society at Geneva, above all in the "best" families—use -of a Court to correct the tendency towards prudery by laughing at -it—Duclos telling stories to Madame de Rochefort—"Really, you take -us for too virtuous." Nothing in the world is so nauseous as modesty -not sincere.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_81" id="Footnote_9_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_81"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> "Ah, my dear Fronsac, there are twenty bottles of champagne -between the story, that you're beginning to tell us, and our talk at this -time of day."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_82" id="Footnote_10_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_82"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> It is the story of the melancholy temperament and the sanguine. -Consider a virtuous woman (even the mercenary virtue of certain of the -faithful—virtue to be had for a hundredfold reward in Paradise) and a -blasé debauchee of forty. Although the Valmont<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_13" id="TNanch_13"></a><a href="#TN_13">(13)</a></span> of the <i>Liaisons -Dangereuses</i> is not as far gone as that, the Présidente de Tourvel<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_13">(13)</a></span> is -happier than he all the way through the book: and if the author, with all -his wit, had had still more, that would have been the moral of his ingenious -novel.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_83" id="Footnote_11_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_83"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Melancholy temperament, which may be called the temperament -of love. I have seen women, the most distinguished and the most made -for love, give the preference, for want of sense, to the prosaic, sanguine -temperament. (Story of Alfred, Grande Chartreuse, 1810.) -</p> -<p> -I know no thought which incites me more to keep what is called bad -company. -</p> -<p> -(Here poor Visconti loses himself in the clouds.) -</p> -<p> -Fundamentally all women are the same so far as concerns the movements -of the heart and passion: the forms the passions take are different. -Consider the difference made by greater fortune, a more cultivated mind, -the habit of higher thoughts, and, above all, (and more's the pity) a -more irritable pride. -</p> -<p> -Such and such a word irritates a princess, but would not in the very -least shock an Alpine shepherdess. Only, once their anger is up, the -passion works in princess and shepherdess the same). (The Editor's only -note.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_84" id="Footnote_12_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_84"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> M.'s remark.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_85" id="Footnote_13_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_85"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Vol. <i>Guarna</i>.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">THE GLANCE</span></h3> - - -<p>This is the great weapon of virtuous coquetry. -With a glance, one may say everything, and yet -one can always deny a glance; for it cannot be repeated -textually.</p> - -<p>This reminds me of Count G——, the Mirabeau of Rome. -The delightful little government of that land has taught -him an original way of telling stories by a broken string -of words, which say everything—and nothing. He makes -his whole meaning clear, but repeat who will his sayings -word for word, it is impossible to compromise him. -Cardinal Lante told him he had stolen this talent from -women—yes, and respectable women, I add. This -roguery is a cruel, but just, reprisal on man's tyranny.</p> - -<hr class="r35" /> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF FEMININE PRIDE</span></h3> - - -<p>All their lives women hear mention made by men -of things claiming importance—large profits, success -in war, people killed in duels, fiendish or admirable -revenges, and so on. Those of them, whose heart is -proud, feel that, being unable to reach these things, -they are not in a position to display any pride remarkable -for the importance of what it rests on. They feel a -heart beat in their breast, superior by the force and pride -of its movements to all which surrounds them, and yet -they see the meanest of men esteem himself above them. -They find out, that all their pride can only be for little -things, or at least for things, which are without importance -except for sentiment, and of which a third party -cannot judge. Maddened by this desolating contrast -between the meanness of their fortune and the conscious -worth of their soul, they set about making their pride -worthy of respect by the intensity of its fits or by the -relentless tenacity with which they hold by its dictates. -Before intimate intercourse women of this kind imagine, -when they see their lover, that he has laid siege to them. -Their imagination is absorbed in irritation at his endeavours, -which, after all, cannot do otherwise than witness -to his love—seeing that he does love. Instead of enjoying -the feelings of the man of their preference, their vanity -is up in arms against him; and it comes to this, that, -with a soul of the tenderest, so long as its sensibility is not -centred on a special object, they have only to love, in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>order, like a common flirt, to be reduced to the barest -vanity.</p> - -<p>A woman of generous character will sacrifice her life a -thousand times for her lover, but will break with him -for ever over a question of pride—for the opening or -shutting of a door. Therein lies their point of honour. -Well! Napoleon came to grief rather than yield a -village.</p> - -<p>I have seen a quarrel of this kind last longer than a -year. It was a woman of the greatest distinction who -sacrificed all her happiness, sooner than give her lover -the chance of entertaining the slightest possible doubt of -the magnanimity of her pride. The reconciliation was -the work of chance, and, on my friend's side, due to a -moment of weakness, which, on meeting her lover, she -was unable to overcome. She imagined him forty miles -away, and found him in a place, where certainly he did -not expect to see her. She could not hide the first transports -of delight; her lover was more overcome than -she; they almost fell at each other's feet and never have -I seen tears flow so abundantly—it was the unlooked-for -appearance of happiness. Tears are the supreme smile.</p> - -<p>The Duke of Argyll gave a fine example of presence of -mind, in not drawing Feminine Pride into a combat, in -the interview he had at Richmond with Queen Caroline.<a name="FNanchor_1_86" id="FNanchor_1_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_86" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -The more nobility in a woman's character, the more -terrible are these storms—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">As the blackest sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foretells the heaviest tempest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i32">(<i>Don Juan</i>.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Can it be that the more fervently, in the normal -course of life, a woman delights in the rare qualities of -her lover, the more she tries, in those cruel moments, -when sympathy seems turned to the reverse, to wreak -her vengeance on what usually she sees in him superior -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>to other people? She is afraid of being confounded with -them.</p> - -<p>It is a precious long time since I read that boring -<i>Clarissa</i>; but I think it is through feminine pride that -she lets herself die, and does not accept the hand of -Lovelace.</p> - -<p>Lovelace's fault was great; but as she did love him a -little, she could have found pardon in her heart for a -crime, of which the cause was love.</p> - -<p>Monime, on the contrary, seems to me a touching -model of feminine delicacy. What cheek does not blush -with pleasure to hear from the lips of an actress worthy -of the part:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That fatal love which I had crushed and conquered,<br /></span> -<pre>. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</pre> -<span class="i0">Your wiles detected, and I cannot now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disown what I confess'd; you cannot raze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its memory; the shame of that avowal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which you forced me, will abide for ever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Present before my mind, and I should think<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That you were always of my faith uncertain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grave itself to me were less abhorrent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than marriage bed shared with a spouse, who took<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cruel advantage of my simple trust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, to destroy my peace for ever, fann'd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A flame that fired my cheek for other love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than his.<a name="FNanchor_2_87" id="FNanchor_2_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_87" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>I can picture to myself future generations saying: -"So that's what Monarchy<a name="FNanchor_3_88" id="FNanchor_3_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_88" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> was good for—to produce -that sort of character and their portrayal by great -artists. "</p> - -<p>And yet I find an admirable example of this delicacy -even in the republics of the Middle Ages; which seems -to destroy my system of the influence of governments on -the passions, but which I shall cite in good faith.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>The reference is to those very touching verses of -Dante:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deh! quando tu sarai tomato al mondo<br /></span> -<pre>. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</pre> -<span class="i0">Ricordati di me, che son la Pia;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Siena mi fè; disfecemi Maremma;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Salsi colui, che inanellata pria<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disposando, m'avea con la sua gemma.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i17"><i>Purgatorio</i>, Cant. V.<a name="FNanchor_4_89" id="FNanchor_4_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_89" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>The woman, who speaks with so much restraint, had -suffered in secret the fate of Desdemona, and, by a word, -could make known her husband's crime to the friends, -whom she had left on earth.</p> - -<p>Nello della Pietra won the hand of Madonna Pia<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_14" id="TNanch_14"></a><a href="#TN_14">(14)</a></span>, -sole heiress of the Tolomei, the richest and noblest family -of Sienna. Her beauty, which was the admiration of -Tuscany, sowed in her husband's heart the seed of -jealousy, which, envenomed by false reports and suspicions -ever and anon rekindled, led him to a heinous -project. It is difficult, at this hour, to decide whether -his wife was altogether innocent, but Dante represents -her as such.</p> - -<p>Her husband carried her off into the fens of Volterra, -famous then, as now, for the effects of the <i>aria cattiva</i>. -Never would he tell his unhappy wife the reason of her -exile in so dangerous a place. His pride did not deign -to utter complaint or accusation. He lived alone with -her in a deserted tower, the ruins of which by the edge -of the sea I have been myself to visit. There he never -broke his scornful silence, never answered his young -wife's questions, never listened to her prayers. Coldly -he waited at her side for the pestilential air to have its -effect. The exhalations of these morasses were not long -in withering those features—the loveliest, it is said, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>which, in that century, the world had seen. In a few -months she died. Some chroniclers of those remote -times report that Nello used the dagger to hasten her -end. She died in the fens in some horrible way; but -the kind of death was a mystery even to her contemporaries. -Nello della Pietra survived to pass the rest of his -days in a silence which he never broke.</p> - -<p>Nothing nobler and more delicate than the way in -which young la Pia addresses Dante. She wishes to be -recalled to the memory of the friends, whom she had -left on earth so young; and yet, telling who she is and -giving the name of her husband, she will not allow herself -the slightest complaint against a piece of cruelty unheard -of, but for the future irreparable; she only points out -that he knows the story of her death.</p> - -<p>This constancy in pride's revenge is not met, I think, -except in the countries of the South.</p> - -<p>In Piedmont I happened to be the involuntary witness -of something very nearly parallel; though at the time -I did not know the details. I was sent with twenty-five -dragoons into the woods along the Sesia, to intercept -contraband. Arriving in the evening at this wild and -desolate spot, I caught sight between the trees of the -ruins of an old castle. I went up to it and to my -great surprise—it was inhabited. I found within a -nobleman of the country, of sinister appearance, a man -six foot high and forty years old. He gave me two rooms -with a bad grace. I passed my time playing music with -my quartermaster; after some days, we discovered that -our friend kept a woman in the background, whom we -used to call Camille, laughingly; but we were far from -suspecting the fearful truth. Six weeks later she was -dead. I had the morbid curiosity to see her in the coffin, -paying a monk, who was watching, to introduce me into -the chapel towards midnight, under pretext of going to -sprinkle holy water. There I found one of those superb -faces, which are beautiful even in the arms of death; -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>she had a large aquiline nose—the nobility and delicacy -of its outline I shall never forget. Then I left that -deadly spot. Five years later, a detachment of my -regiment accompanying the Emperor to his coronation -as King of Italy<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_15" id="TNanch_15"></a><a href="#TN_15">(15)</a></span>, I had the whole story told me. I -learnt that the jealous husband, Count ——, had found -one morning fastened to his wife's bed an English watch, -belonging to a young man of the small town in which -they lived. That very day he carried her off to the -ruined castle in the midst of the woods of the Sesia. -Like Nello della Pietra, he never uttered a single word. -If she made him any request, he coldly and silently -presented to her the English watch, which he carried -always with him. Almost three years passed, spent thus -alone with her. At last she died of despair, in the flower -of life. Her husband tried to put a knife into the proprietor -of the watch, missed him, passed on to Genoa, -took ship and no one has heard of him since. His property -has been divided.</p> - -<p>As for these women with feminine pride, if you take -their injuries with a good grace, which the habits of a -military life make easy, you annoy these proud souls; -they take you for a coward, and very soon become outrageous. -Such lofty characters yield with pleasure to -men whom they see overbearing with other men. That -is, I fancy, the only way—you must often pick a quarrel -with your neighbour in order to avoid one with your -mistress.</p> - -<p>One day Miss Cornel, the celebrated London actress, -was surprised by the unexpected appearance of the rich -colonel, whom she found useful. She happened to be with -a little lover, whom she just liked—and nothing more. -"Mr. So-and-so," says she in great confusion to the -colonel, "has come to see the pony I want to sell." -"I am here for something very different," put in -proudly the little lover who was beginning to bore her, -but whom, from the moment of that answer, she started -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>to love again madly.<a name="FNanchor_5_90" id="FNanchor_5_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_90" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Women of that kind sympathise -with their lover's haughtiness, instead of exercising at -his expense their own disposition to pride.</p> - -<p>The character of the Duc de Lauzun (that of 1660<a name="FNanchor_6_91" id="FNanchor_6_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_91" class="fnanchor">[6]</a>), -if they can forgive the first day its want of grace, is very -fascinating for such women, and perhaps for all women -of distinction. Grandeur on a higher plane escapes -them; they take for coldness the calm gaze which -nothing escapes, but which a detail never disturbs. Have -I not heard women at the Court of Saint-Cloud maintain -that Napoleon had a dry and prosaic character?<a name="FNanchor_7_92" id="FNanchor_7_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_92" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> A -great man is like an eagle: the higher he rises the less -he is visible, and he is punished for his greatness by the -solitude of his soul.</p> - -<p>From feminine pride arises what women call want of -refinement. I fancy, it is not at all unlike what kings -call <i>lèse majesté</i>, a crime all the more dangerous, because -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>one slips into it without knowing. The tenderest lover -may be accused of wanting refinement, if he is not very -sharp, or, what is sadder, if he dares give himself up to -the greatest charm of love—the delight of being perfectly -natural with the loved one and of not listening -to what he is told.</p> - -<p>These are the sort of things, of which a well-born -heart could have no inkling; one must have experience, -in order to believe in them; for we are misled by the habit -of dealing justly and frankly with our men friends.</p> - -<p>It is necessary to keep in mind incessantly that we -have to do with beings, who can, however wrongly, -think themselves inferior in vigour of character, or, to -put it better, can think that others believe they are -inferior.</p> - -<p>Should not a woman's true pride reside in the power -of the feeling she inspires? A maid of honour to the -queen and wife of Francis I was chaffed about the fickleness -of her lover, who, it was said, did not really love her. -A little time after, this lover had an illness and reappeared -at Court—dumb. Two years later, people showing surprise -one day that she still loved him, she turned to him, -saying: "Speak." And he spoke.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_86" id="Footnote_1_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_86"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>The Heart of Midlothian</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_87" id="Footnote_2_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_87"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Racine, <i>Mithridates</i>, Act IV, Sc. 4. [From the Metrical English -version of R. B. Boswell. (Bohn's Standard Library.—Tr.)]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_88" id="Footnote_3_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_88"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Monarchy without charter and without chambers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_89" id="Footnote_4_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_89"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Ah! when you are returned to the world of the living, give me a -passing thought. I am la Pia. Sienna gave me life, death took me in our -fens. He who, wedding me, gave me his ring, knows my story.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_90" id="Footnote_5_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_90"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> I always come back from Miss Cornel's full of admiration and profound -views on the passions laid bare. Her very imperious way of giving -orders to her servants has nothing of despotism in it: she merely sees -with precision and rapidity what has to be done. -</p> -<p> -Incensed against me at the beginning of the visit, she thinks no more -about it at the end. She tells me in detail of the economy of her passion -for Mortimer. "I prefer seeing him in company than alone with me." -A woman of the greatest genius could do no better, for she has the -courage to be perfectly natural and is unhampered by any theory. "I'm -happier an actress than the wife of a peer."—A great soul whose friendship -I must keep for my enlightenment.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_91" id="Footnote_6_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_91"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Loftiness and courage in small matters, but a passionate care for -these small matters.—The vehemence of the choleric temperament.—His -behaviour towards Madame de Monaco (Saint-Simon, V. 383) and adventure -under the bed of Madame de Montespan while the king was -there.—Without the care for small matters, this character would remain -invisible to the eye of women.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_92" id="Footnote_7_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_92"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> When Minna Troil heard a tale of woe or of romance, it was then -her blood rushed to her cheeks and showed plainly how warm it beat, -notwithstanding the generally serious, composed and retiring disposition -which her countenance and demeanour seemed to exhibit. (<i>The Pirate</i>, -Chap. III.) -</p> -<p> -Souls like Minna Troil, in whose judgment ordinary circumstances are -not worth emotion, by ordinary people are thought cold.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF WOMEN'S COURAGE</span></h3> - -<p class="quotl">I tell thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles hast thou -displayed more of thy vaunted courage than has been shewn by women, -when called upon to suffer by affection or duty. (<i>Ivanhoe</i>.)</p> - - -<p>I remember meeting the following phrase in a -book of history: "All the men lost their head: -that is the moment when women display an incontestable -superiority."</p> - -<p>Their courage has a reserve which that of their lover -wants; he acts as a spur to their sense of worth. They -find so much pleasure in being able, in the fire of danger, -to dispute the first place for firmness with the man, -who often wounds them by the proudness of his protection -and his strength, that the vehemence of that enjoyment -raises them above any kind of fear, which at the -moment is the man's weak point. A man, too, if the -same help were given him at the same moment, would -show himself superior to everything; for fear never -resides in the danger, but in ourselves.</p> - -<p>Not that I mean to depreciate women's courage—I -have seen them, on occasions, superior to the bravest -men. Only they must have a man to love. Then they -no longer feel except through him; and so the most -obvious and personal danger becomes, as it were, a rose -to gather in his presence.<a name="FNanchor_1_93" id="FNanchor_1_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_93" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>I have found also in women, who did not love, intrepidity, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>the coldest, the most surprising and the most -exempt from nerves.</p> - -<p>It is true, I have always imagined that they are so -brave, only because they do not know the tiresomeness -of wounds!</p> - -<p>As for moral courage, so far superior to the other, the -firmness of a woman who resists her love is simply the -most admirable thing, which can exist on earth. All other -possible marks of courage are as nothing compared to a -thing so strongly opposed to nature and so arduous. -Perhaps they find a source of strength in the habit of -sacrifice, which is bred in them by modesty.</p> - -<p>Hard on women it is that the proofs of this courage -should always remain secret and be almost impossible -to divulge.</p> - -<p>Still harder that it should always be employed against -their own happiness: the Princesse de Clèves would have -done better to say nothing to her husband and give -herself to M. de Nemours.</p> - -<p>Perhaps women are chiefly supported by their pride in -making a fine defence, and imagine that their lover is -staking his vanity on having them—a petty and miserable -idea. A man of passion, who throws himself -with a light heart into so many ridiculous situations, -must have a lot of time to be thinking of vanity! -It is like the monks who mean to catch the devil and -find their reward in the pride of hair-shirts and macerations.</p> - -<p>I should think that Madame de Clèves would have -repented, had she come to old age,—to the period at -which one judges life and when the joys of pride appear -in all their meanness. She would have wished to have -lived like Madame de la Fayette.<a name="FNanchor_2_94" id="FNanchor_2_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_94" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>I have just re-read a hundred pages of this essay: and -a pretty poor idea I have given of true love, of love -which occupies the entire soul, fills it with fancies, now -the happiest, now heart-breaking—but always sublime—and -makes it completely insensible to all the rest of -creation. I am at a loss to express what I see so well; -I have never felt more painfully the want of talent. -How bring into relief the simplicity of action and of -character, the high seriousness, the glance that reflects -so truly and so ingenuously the passing shade of feeling, -and above all, to return to it again, that inexpressible -<i>What care I?</i> for all that is not the woman we love? -A yes or a no spoken by a man in love has an <i>unction</i> -which is not to be found elsewhere, and is not found in -that very man at other times. This morning (August -3rd) I passed on horseback about nine o'clock in front -of the lovely English garden of Marchese Zampieri, -situated on the last crests of those tree-capped hills, on -which Bologna rests, and from which so fine a view is -enjoyed over Lombardy rich and green—the fairest -country in the world. In a copse of laurels, belonging -to the Giardino Zampieri, which dominates the path I -was taking, leading to the cascade of the Reno at Casa -Lecchio, I saw Count Delfante. He was absorbed in -thought and scarcely returned my greeting, though we -had passed the night together till two o'clock in the morning. -I went to the cascade, I crossed the Reno; after -which, passing again, at least three hours later, under the -copse of the Giardino Zampieri, I saw him still there. He -was precisely in the same position, leaning against a great -pine, which rises above the copse of laurels—but this detail -I am afraid will be found too simple and pointless. He -came up to me with tears in his eyes, asking me not -to go telling people of his trance. I was touched, and -suggested retracing my steps and going with him to -spend the day in the country. At the end of two -hours he had told me everything. His is a fine soul, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>but oh! the coldness of these pages, compared to his -story.</p> - -<p>Furthermore, he thinks his love is not returned—which -is not my opinion. In the fair marble face of -the Contessa Ghigi, with whom we spent the evening, -one can read nothing. Only now and then a light and -sudden blush, which she cannot check, just betrays the -emotions of that soul, which the most exalted feminine -pride disputes with deeper emotions. You see the -colour spread over her neck of alabaster and as much as -one catches of those lovely shoulders, worthy of Canova. -She somehow finds a way of diverting her black and sombre -eyes from the observation of those, whose penetration -alarms her woman's delicacy; but last night, at something -which Delfante was saying and of which she disapproved, -I saw a sudden blush spread all over her. Her -lofty soul found him less worthy of her.</p> - -<p>But when all is said, even if I were mistaken in my -conjectures on the happiness of Delfante, vanity apart, -I think him happier than I, in my indifference, although -I am in a thoroughly happy position, in appearance and -in reality.</p> - -<p>Bologna, <i>August 3rd</i>, 1818.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_93" id="Footnote_1_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_93"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Mary Stuart speaking of Leicester, after the interview with Elizabeth, -where she had just met her doom. (Schiller.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_94" id="Footnote_2_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_94"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> It is well known that that celebrated woman was the author, probably -in company with M. de la Rochefoucauld, of the novel, <i>La Princesse -de Clèves</i>, and that the two authors passed together in perfect friendship -the last twenty years of their life. That is exactly love <i>à l'Italienne</i>.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">A PECULIAR AND MOURNFUL SPECTACLE</span></h3> - - -<p>Women with their feminine pride visit the iniquities -of the fools upon the men of sense, -and those of the prosaic, prosperous and brutal upon the -noble-minded. A very pretty result—you'll agree!</p> - -<p>The petty considerations of pride and worldly proprieties -are the cause of many women's unhappiness, for, -through pride, their parents have placed them in their -abominable position. Destiny has reserved for them, -as a consolation far superior to all their misfortunes, the -happiness of loving and being loved with passion, when -suddenly one fine day they borrow from the enemy this -same mad pride, of which they were the first victims—all -to kill the one happiness which is left them, to work -their own misfortune and the misfortune of him, who -loves them. A friend, who has had ten famous intrigues -(and by no means all one after another), gravely -persuades them that if they fall in love, they will be -dishonoured in the eyes of the public, and yet this worthy -public, who never rises above low ideas, gives them -generously a lover a year; because that, it says, "is the -thing." Thus the soul is saddened by this odd spectacle: -a woman of feeling, supremely refined and an angel of -purity, on the advice of a low t——, runs away from the -boundless, the only happiness which is left to her, in -order to appear in a dress of dazzling white, before a -great fat brute of a judge, whom everyone knows has -been blind a hundred years, and who bawls out at the -top of his voice: "She is dressed in black!"</p> - -<hr class="r35" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF SALVIATI</span></h3> - -<p class="quotr">Ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit.<br /> -(<i>Propertius</i>, II, <span class="smcap">i</span>.)</p> - - -<p>Bologna, <i>April 29th</i>, 1818.</p> - -<p>Driven to despair by the misfortune to which -love has reduced me, I curse existence. I have no heart -for anything. The weather is dull; it is raining, and a -late spell of cold has come again to sadden nature, who -after a long winter was hurrying to meet the spring.</p> - -<p>Schiassetti, a half-pay colonel, my cold and reasonable -friend, came to spend a couple of hours with me -"You should renounce your love."</p> - -<p>"How? Give me back my passion for war."</p> - -<p>"It is a great misfortune for you to have known her."</p> - -<p>I agree very nearly—so low-spirited and craven -do I feel—so much has melancholy taken possession -of me to-day. We discuss what interest can have led -her friend to libel me, but find nothing but that old -Neapolitan proverb: "Woman, whom love and youth -desert, a nothing piques." What is certain is that that -cruel woman is <i>enraged</i> with me—it is the expression of -one of her friends. I could revenge myself in a fearful -way, but, against her hatred, I am without the smallest -means of defence. Schiassetti leaves me. I go out into -the rain, not knowing what to do with myself. My -rooms, this drawing-room, which I lived in during the -first days of our acquaintance, and when I saw her every -evening, have become insupportable to me. Each engraving, -each piece of furniture, brings up again the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>happiness I dreamed of in their presence—which now I -have lost for ever.</p> - -<p>I tramped the streets through a cold rain: chance, if -I can call it chance, made me pass under her windows. -Night was falling and I went along, my eyes full of tears -fixed on the window of her room. Suddenly the curtains -were just drawn aside, as if to give a glimpse into the -square, then instantly closed again. I felt within me a -physical movement about the heart. I was unable to -support myself and took refuge under the gateway of -the next house. A thousand feelings crowd upon my -soul. Chance may have produced this movement of the -curtains; but oh! if it was her hand that had drawn -them aside.</p> - -<p>There are two misfortunes in the world: passion -frustrated and the "dead blank."</p> - -<p>In love—I feel that two steps away from me exists -a boundless happiness, something beyond all my prayers, -which depends upon nothing but a word, nothing but a -smile.</p> - -<p>Passionless like Schiassetti, on gloomy days I see -happiness nowhere, I come to doubt if it exists for -me, I fall into depression. One ought to be without -strong passions and have only a little curiosity or vanity.</p> - -<p>It is two o'clock in the morning; I have seen that -little movement of the curtain; at six o'clock I paid some -calls and went to the play, but everywhere, silent and -dreaming, I passed the evening examining this question: -"After so much anger with so little foundation (for -after all did I wish to offend her and is there a thing on -earth which the intention does not excuse?)—has she -felt a moment of love?"</p> - -<p>Poor Salviati, who wrote the preceding lines on his -Petrarch, died a short time after. He was the intimate -friend of Schiassetti and myself; we knew all his thoughts, -and it is from him that I have all the tearful part of -this essay. He was imprudence incarnate; moreover, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>the woman, for whom he went to such wild lengths, is -the most interesting creature that I have met. Schiassetti -said to me: "But do you think that that unfortunate -passion was without advantages for Salviati? To begin -with, the most worrying of money troubles that can be -imagined came upon him. These troubles, which reduced -him to a very middling fortune after his dazzling youth, -and would have driven him mad with anger in any other -circumstances, crossed his mind not once in two weeks.</p> - -<p>"And then—a matter of importance of a quite different -kind for a mind of his range—that passion is the first -true course of logic, which he ever had. That may seem -peculiar in a man who has been at Court; but the fact -is explained by his extreme courage. For example, he -passed without winking the day of ——, the day of his -undoing; he was surprised then, as in Russia<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_16" id="TNanch_16"></a><a href="#TN_16">(16)</a></span>, not to -feel anything extraordinary. It is an actual fact, that his -fear of anything had never gone so far as to make him -think about it for two days together. Instead of this -callousness, the last two years he was trying every minute -to be brave. Before he had never seen danger.</p> - -<p>"When as a result of his imprudence and his faith in -the generosity of critics,<a name="FNanchor_1_95" id="FNanchor_1_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_95" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> he had managed to get condemned -to not seeing the woman he was in love with, -except twice a month, we would see him pass those evenings, -talking to her as if intoxicated with joy, because he -had been received with that noble frankness which he -worshipped. He held that Madame —— and he were -two souls without their like, who should understand each -other with a glance. It was beyond him to grasp that -she should pay the least attention to petty bourgeois -comments, which tried to make a criminal of him. The -result of this fine confidence in a woman, surrounded by his -enemies, was to find her door closed to him.</p> - -<p>"'With M——,' I used to say to him, 'you forget -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>your maxim—that you mustn't believe in greatness of -soul, except in the last extremity.'</p> - -<p>"'Do you think,' he answered, 'that the world contains -another heart which is more suited to hers? True, -I pay for this passionate way of being, which Léonore, -in anger, made me see on the horizon in the line of the -rocks of Poligny, with the ruin of all the practical enterprises -of my life—a disaster which comes from my lack -of patient industry and imprudence due to the force of -momentary impressions.'" One can see the touch of -madness!</p> - -<p>For Salviati life was divided into periods of a fortnight, -which took their hue from the last interview, which he -had been granted. But I noticed often, that the happiness -he owed to a welcome, which he thought less cold, -was far inferior in intensity to the unhappiness with which -a hard reception overwhelmed him.<a name="FNanchor_2_96" id="FNanchor_2_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_96" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> At times Madame ----- failed to be quite honest with him; and these are -the only two criticisms I ever dared offer him. Beyond -the more intimate side of his sorrow, of which he had -the delicacy never to speak even to the friends dearest -to him and most devoid of envy, he saw in a hard reception -from Léonore the triumph of prosaic and scheming -beings over the open-hearted and the generous. At those -times he lost faith in virtue and, above all, in glory. It was -his way to talk to his friends only of sad notions, to -which it is true his passion led up, but notions capable -besides of having some interest in the eyes of philosophy. -I was curious to observe that uncommon soul. Ordinarily -passion-love is found in people, a little simple in the -German way.<a name="FNanchor_3_97" id="FNanchor_3_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_97" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Salviati, on the contrary, was among the -firmest and sharpest men I have known.</p> - -<p>I seemed to notice that, after these cruel visits, he had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>no peace until he had found a justification for Léonore's -severities. So long as he felt that she might have been -wrong in ill-using him, he was unhappy. Love, so devoid -of vanity, I should never have thought possible.</p> - -<p>He was incessantly singing us the praises of love.</p> - -<p>"If a supernatural power said to me: Break the glass -of that watch and Léonore will be for you, what she was -three years ago, an indifferent friend—really I believe I -would never as long as I live have the courage to break -it." I saw in these discourses such signs of madness, that -I never had the courage to offer my former objections.</p> - -<p>He would add: "Just as Luther's Reformation at the -end of the Middle Ages, shaking society to its base, -renewed and reconstructed the world on reasonable -foundations, so is a generous character renewed and retempered -by love.</p> - -<p>"It is only then, that he casts off all the baubles of -life; without this revolution he would always have had -in him a pompous and theatrical <i>something</i>. It is only -since I began to love that I have learnt to put greatness -into my character—such is the absurdity of education at -our military academy.</p> - -<p>"Although I behaved well, I was a child at the Court -of Napoleon and at Moscow. I did my duty, but I -knew nothing of that heroic simplicity, the fruit of entire -and whole-hearted sacrifice. For example, it is only this -last year, that my heart takes in the simplicity of the -Romans in Livy. Once upon a time, I thought them cold -compared to our brilliant colonels. What they did for -their Rome, I find in my heart for Léonore. If I had the -luck to be able to do anything for her, my first desire -would be to hide it. The conduct of a Regulus or a -Decius was something confirmed beforehand, which had -no claim to surprise them. Before I loved, I was small, -precisely because I was tempted sometimes to think -myself great; I felt a certain effort, for which I -applauded myself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>"And, on the side of affection, what do we not owe -to love? After the hazards of early youth, the heart is -closed to sympathy. Death and absence remove our early -companions, and we are reduced to passing our life with -lukewarm partners, measure in hand, for ever calculating -ideas of interest and vanity. Little by little all the sensitive -and generous region of the soul becomes waste, for -want of cultivation, and at less than thirty a man finds -his heart steeled to all sweet and gentle sensations. In -the midst of this arid desert, love causes a well of feelings -to spring up, fresher and more abundant even than that -of earliest youth. In those days it was a vague hope, -irresponsible and incessantly distracted<a name="FNanchor_4_98" id="FNanchor_4_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_98" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>—no devotion -to one thing, no deep and constant desire; the soul, at -all times light, was athirst for novelty and forgot to-day -its adoration of the day before. But, than the crystallisation -of love nothing is more concentrated, more mysterious, -more eternally single in its object. In those days -only agreeable things claimed to please and to please -for an instant: now we are deeply touched by everything -which is connected with the loved one—even by -objects the most indifferent. Arriving at a great town, -a hundred miles from that which Léonore lives in, I -was in a state of fear and trembling; at each street -corner I shuddered to meet Alviza, the intimate friend of -Madame ——, although I did not know her. For me -everything took a mysterious and sacred tint. My heart -beat fast, while talking to an old scholar; for I could not -hear without blushing the name of the city gate, near -which the friend of Léonore lives.</p> - -<p>"Even the severities of the woman we love have an -infinite grace, which the most flattering moments in the -company of other women cannot offer. It is like the great -shadows in Correggio's pictures, which far from being, -as in other painters, passages less pleasant, but necessary -in order to give effect to the lights and relief to the figures, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>have graces of their own which charm and throw us into -a gentle reverie.<a name="FNanchor_5_99" id="FNanchor_5_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_99" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>"Yes, half and the fairest half of life is hidden from -the man, who has not loved with passion."</p> - -<p>Salviati had need of the whole force of his dialectic -powers, to hold his own against the wise Schiassetti, who -was always saying to him: "You want to be happy, -then be content with a life exempt from pains and with -a small quantity of happiness every day. Keep yourself -from the lottery of great passions."</p> - -<p>"Then give me your curiosity," was Salviati's answer.</p> - -<p>I imagine there were not a few days, when he would -have liked to be able to follow the advice of our sensible -colonel; he made a little struggle and thought he was -succeeding; but this line of action was absolutely beyond -his strength. And yet what strength was in that soul!</p> - -<p>A white satin hat, a little like that of Madame ——, -seen in the distance in the street, made his heart stop -beating, and forced him to rest against the wall. Even -in his blackest moments, the happiness of meeting her -gave him always some hours of intoxication, beyond the -reach of all misfortune and all reasoning.<a name="FNanchor_6_100" id="FNanchor_6_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_100" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> For the rest, -at the time of his death<a name="FNanchor_7_101" id="FNanchor_7_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_101" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> his character had certainly contracted -more than one noble habit, after two years of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>this generous and boundless passion; and, in so far at -least, he judged himself correctly. Had he lived, -and circumstances helped him a little, he would -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>have made a name for himself. Maybe also, just -through his simplicity, his merit would have passed -on this earth unseen.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i21">O lasso<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quanti dolci pensier, quanto desio<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Menò costui al doloroso passo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Biondo era, e bello, e di gentile aspetto;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ma l'un de' cigli un colpo avea diviso.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i36">(<i>Dante.</i>)<a name="FNanchor_8_102" id="FNanchor_8_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_102" class="fnanchor">[8]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_95" id="Footnote_1_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_95"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Sotto l'usbergo del sentirsi pura. [Under the shield of conscious -purity.—Tr.] (Dante, <i>Inf.</i>, XXVIII, 117.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_96" id="Footnote_2_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_96"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> That is a thing which I have often seemed to notice in love—that -propensity to reap more unhappiness from what is unhappy than happiness -from what is happy.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_97" id="Footnote_3_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_97"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Don Carlos,<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_17" id="TNanch_17"></a><a href="#TN_17">(17)</a></span> Saint-Preux,<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_17">(17)</a></span> Racine's <i>Hippolyte</i> and <i>Bajazet</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_98" id="Footnote_4_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_98"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Mordaunt Mertoun, <i>Pirate</i>, Vol. I.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_99" id="Footnote_5_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_99"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> As I have mentioned Correggio, I will add that in the sketch of an -angel's head in the gallery of the museum at Florence, is to be seen the -glance of happy love, and at Parma in the Madonna crowned by Jesus -the downcast eyes of love.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_100" id="Footnote_6_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_100"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i5">Come what sorrow can<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It cannot countervail the exchange of joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That one short moment gives me in her sight.—(<i>Romeo and Juliet</i>.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_101" id="Footnote_7_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_101"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Some days before the last he made a little ode, which has the merit -of expressing just the sentiments, which formed the subject of our -conversations:—. -</p> - -<p><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">L'ULTIMO DI.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;">Anacreontica.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;">A ELVIRA.</span><br /> -<br /> -Vedi tu dove il rio<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lambendo un mirto va,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Là del riposo mio</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">La pietra surgerà.</span><br /> -Il passero amoroso,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">E il nobile usignuol</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Entro quel mirto ombroso</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Raccoglieranno il vol.</span><br /> -Vieni, diletta Elvira,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A quella tomba vien,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">E sulla muta lira,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Appoggia il bianco sen.</span><br /> -Su quella bruna pietra,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Le tortore verran,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">E intorno alia mia cetra,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Il nido intrecieran.</span><br /> -E ogni anno, il di che offendere<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">M'osasti tu infedel,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Faro la su discendere</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">La folgore del ciel.</span><br /> -Odi d'un uom che muore<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Odi l'estremo suon</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Questo appassito fiore</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ti lascio, Elvira, in don</span><br /> -Quanto prezioso ei sia<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Saper tu il devi appien</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Il di che fosti mia,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Te l'involai dal sen.</span><br /> -Simbolo allor d'affetto<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or pegno di dolor</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Torno a posarti in petto</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quest' appassito fior.</span><br /> -E avrai nel cuor scolpito<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Se crudo il cor non è,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come ti fu rapito,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come fu reso a te.—(<i>S. Radael.</i>)<sup>*</sup></span><br /> -</p> - -<p> -* [Lo! where the passing stream laps round the myrtle-tree, raise -there the stone of my resting-place. The amorous sparrow and the -noble nightingale within the shade of that myrtle will rest from flight. -Come, beloved Elvira, come to that tomb and press my mute lyre to -your white bosom. Turtles shall perch on that dark stone and will -twine their nest about my harp. And every year on the day when you -did dare cruelly betray me, on this spot will I make the lightning of heaven -descend. Listen, listen to the last utterances of a dying man. This -faded flower, Elvira, is the gift I leave you. How precious it is you -must know full well: from your bosom I stole it the day you became -mine. Then it was a symbol of love; now as a pledge of suffering I -will put it back in your bosom—this faded flower. And you shall have -engraved on your heart, if a woman's heart you have, how it was -snatched from you, how it was returned.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_102" id="Footnote_8_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_102"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> "Poor wretch, how many sweet thoughts, what constancy brought -him to his last hour. He was fair and beautiful and gentle of countenance, -only a noble scar cut through one of his eyebrows."</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF INTIMATE INTERCOURSE</span></h3> - - -<p>The greatest happiness that love can give—'tis first -joining your hand to the hand of a woman you love.</p> - -<p>The happiness of gallantry is quite otherwise—far -more real, and far more subject to ridicule.</p> - -<p>In passion-love intimate intercourse is not so much -perfect delight itself, as the last step towards it.</p> - -<p>But how depict a delight, which leaves no memories -behind?</p> - -<p>Mortimer returned from a long voyage in fear and -trembling; he adored Jenny, but Jenny had not answered -his letters. On his arrival in London, he mounts -his horse and goes off to find her at her country -home. When he gets there, she is walking in the park; -he runs up to her, with beating heart, meets her and she -offers him her hand and greets him with emotion; he -sees that she loves him. Roaming together along the -glades of the park, Jenny's dress became entangled in -an acacia bush. Later on Mortimer won her; but -Jenny was faithless. I maintain to him that Jenny -never loved him and he quotes, as proof of her love, the -way in which she received him at his return from the -Continent; but he could never give me the slightest -details of it. Only he shudders visibly directly he sees -an acacia bush: really, it is the only distinct remembrance -he succeeded in preserving of the happiest moment of -his life.<a name="FNanchor_1_103" id="FNanchor_1_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_103" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>A sensitive and open man, a former <i>chevalier</i>, confided -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>to me this evening (in the depth of our craft buffeted -by a high sea on the Lago di Garda<a name="FNanchor_2_104" id="FNanchor_2_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_104" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>) the history of his -loves, which I in my turn shall not confide to the public. -But I feel myself in a position to conclude from them -that the day of intimate intercourse is like those fine days -in May, a critical period for the fairest flowers, a moment -which can be fatal and wither in an instant the fairest -hopes.</p> - -<p class="tb"><a name="FNanchor_3_105" id="FNanchor_3_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_105" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p><i>Naturalness</i> cannot be praised too highly. It is the -only coquetry permissible in a thing so serious as love -<i>à la</i> Werther; in which a man has no idea where he is -going, and in which at the same time by a lucky chance for -virtue, that is his best policy. A man, really moved, says -charming things unconsciously; he speaks a language -which he does not know himself.</p> - -<p>Woe to the man the least bit affected! Given he were -in love, allow him all the wit in the world, he loses -three-quarters of his advantages. Let him relapse for an -instant into affectation—a minute later comes a moment -of frost.</p> - -<p>The whole art of love, as it seems to me, reduces itself -to saying exactly as much as the degree of intoxication at -the moment allows of, that is to say in other terms, to -listen to one's heart. It must not be thought, that this is -so easy; a man, who truly loves, has no longer strength to -speak, when his mistress says anything to make him happy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>Thus he loses the deeds which his words<a name="FNanchor_4_106" id="FNanchor_4_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_106" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> would have -given birth to. It is better to be silent than say things -too tender at the wrong time, and what was in point -ten seconds ago, is now no longer—in fact at this moment -it makes a mess of things. Every time that I used to -infringe this rule<a name="FNanchor_5_107" id="FNanchor_5_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_107" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> and say something, which had come -into my head three minutes earlier and which I thought -pretty, Léonore never failed to punish me. And later I -would say to myself, as I went away—"She is right." This -is the sort of thing to upset women of delicacy extremely; -it is indecency of sentiment. Like tasteless rhetoricians, -they are readier to admit a certain degree of weakness -and coldness. There being nothing in the world to -alarm them but the falsity of their lover, the least little -insincerity of detail, be it the most innocent in the world, -robs them instantly of all delight and puts mistrust into -their heart.</p> - -<p>Respectable women have a repugnance to what is -vehement and unlooked for—those being none the less -characteristics of passion—and, furthermore, that vehemence -alarms their modesty; they are on the defensive -against it.</p> - -<p>When a touch of jealousy or displeasure has occasioned -some chilliness, it is generally possible to begin subjects, -fit to give birth to the excitement favourable to love, -and, after the first two or three phrases of introduction, -as long as a man does not miss the opportunity of saying -exactly what his heart suggests, the pleasure he will give -to his loved one will be keen. The fault of most men is -that they want to succeed in saying something, which -they think either pretty or witty or touching—instead of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>releasing their soul from the false gravity of the world, -until a degree of intimacy and <i>naturalness</i> brings out in -simple language what they are feeling at the moment. -The man, who is brave enough for this, will have instantly -his reward in a kind of peacemaking.</p> - -<p>It is this reward, as swift as it is involuntary, of the -pleasure one gives to the object of one's love, which puts -this passion so far above the others.</p> - -<p>If there is perfect <i>naturalness</i> between them, the -happiness of two individuals comes to be fused together.<a name="FNanchor_6_108" id="FNanchor_6_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_108" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -This is simply the greatest happiness which can exist, -by reason of sympathy and several other laws of human -nature.</p> - -<p>It is quite easy to determine the meaning of this -word <i>naturalness</i>—essential condition of happiness in -love.</p> - -<p>We call <i>natural</i> that which does not diverge from an -habitual way of acting. It goes without saying that one -must not merely never lie to one's love, but not even -embellish the least bit or tamper with the simple outline -of truth. For if a man is embellishing, his attention is -occupied in doing so and no longer answers simply and -truly, as the keys of a piano, to the feelings mirrored -in his eye. The woman finds it out at once by a certain -chilliness within her, and she, in her turn, falls back on -coquetry. Might not here be found hidden the cause -why it is impossible to love a woman with a mind too -far below one's own—the reason being that, in her case, -one can make pretence with impunity, and, as that -course is more convenient, one abandons oneself to unnaturalness -by force of habit? From that moment love -is no longer love; it sinks to the level of an ordinary -transaction—the only difference being that, instead of -money, you get pleasure or flattery or a mixture of both. -It is hard not to feel a shade of contempt for a woman, -before whom one can with impunity act a part, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>consequently, in order to throw her over, one only needs -to come across something better in her line. Habit or -vow may hold, but I am speaking of the heart's desire, -whose nature it is to fly to the greatest pleasure.</p> - -<p>To return to this word <i>natural</i>—natural and habitual -are two different things. If one takes these words in the -same sense, it is evident that the more sensibility in a -man, the harder it is for him to be natural, since the -influence of <i>habit</i> on his way of being and acting is less -powerful, and he himself is more powerful at each new -event. In the life-story of a cold heart every page is the -same: take him to-day or take him to-morrow, it is always -the same dummy.</p> - -<p>A man of sensibility, so soon as his heart is touched, -loses all traces of habit to guide his action; and how can -he follow a path, which he has forgotten all about?</p> - -<p>He feels the enormous weight attaching to every word -which he says to the object of his love—it seems to him as -if a word is to decide his fate. How is he not to look about -for the right word? At any rate, how is he not to have -the feeling that he is trying to say "the right thing"? -And then, there is an end of candour. And so we must -give up our claim to candour, that quality of our being, -which never reflects upon itself. We are the best we -can be, but we feel what we are.</p> - -<p>I fancy this brings us to the last degree of <i>naturalness</i>, -to which the most delicate heart can pretend in love.</p> - -<p>A man of passion can but cling might and main, as his -only refuge in the storm, to the vow never to change a -jot or tittle of the truth and to read the message of -his heart correctly. If the conversation is lively and -fragmentary, he may hope for some fine moments of -<i>naturalness</i>: otherwise he will only be perfectly natural -in hours when he will be a little less madly in love.</p> - -<p>In the presence of the loved one, we hardly retain -<i>naturalness</i> even in our movements, however deeply -such habits are rooted in the muscles. When I gave my -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>arm to Léonore, I always felt on the point of stumbling, -and I wondered if I was walking properly. The most -one can do is never to be affected willingly: it is enough -to be convinced that want of <i>naturalness</i> is the greatest -possible disadvantage, and can easily be the source of -the greatest misfortunes. For the heart of the woman, -whom you love, no longer understands your own; you -lose that nervous involuntary movement of sincerity, -which answers the call of sincerity. It means the loss of -every way of touching, I almost said of winning her. -Not that I pretend to deny, that a woman worthy of love -may see her fate in that pretty image of the ivy, which -"dies if it does not cling"—that is a law of Nature; -but to make your lover's happiness is none the less a step -that will decide your own. To me it seems that a reasonable -woman ought not to give in completely to her lover, -until she can hold out no longer, and the slightest doubt -thrown on the sincerity of your heart gives her there and -then a little strength—enough at least to delay her defeat -still another day.<a name="FNanchor_7_109" id="FNanchor_7_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_109" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<p>Is it necessary to add that to make all this the last -word in absurdity you have only to apply it to gallant-love?</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_103" id="Footnote_1_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_103"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Life of Haydn</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_18" id="TNanch_18"></a><a href="#TN_18">(18)</a></span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_104" id="Footnote_2_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_104"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> 20 September, 1811.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_105" id="Footnote_3_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_105"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> At the first quarrel Madame Ivernetta gave poor Bariac his <i>congé</i>. -Bariac was truly in love and this <i>congé</i> threw him into despair; but his -friend Guillaume Balaon, whose life we are writing, was of great help -to him and managed, finally, to appease the severe Ivernetta. Peace was -restored, and the reconciliation was accompanied by circumstances so -delicious, that Bariac swore to Balaon that the hour of the first favours -he had received from his mistress had not been as sweet as that of this -voluptuous peacemaking. These words turned Balaon's head; he wanted -to know this pleasure, of which his friend had just given him a description, -etc. etc. (<i>Vie de quelques Troubadours</i>, by Nivernois, Vol. I, p. 32.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_106" id="Footnote_4_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_106"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> It is this kind of timidity which is decisive, and which is proof of -passion-love in a clever man.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_107" id="Footnote_5_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_107"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Remember that, if the author uses sometimes the expression "I," -it is an attempt to give the form of this essay a little variety. He does -not in the least pretend to fill the readers' ears with the story of his own -feelings. His aim is to impart, with as little monotony as possible, what -he has observed in others.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_108" id="Footnote_6_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_108"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Resides in exactly the same actions.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_109" id="Footnote_7_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_109"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Haec autem ad acerbam rei memoriam, amara quadam dulcedine, -scribere visum est—ut cogitem nihil esse debere quod amplius mihi -placeat in hac vita. (<i>Petrarch</i>, Ed. Marsand.) [These things, to be a -painful reminder, yet not without a certain bitter charm, I have seen -good to write—to remind me that nothing any longer can give me -pleasure in this life.—Tr.] -</p> -<p> -15 January, 1819.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII</h3> - - -<p>Always a little doubt to allay—that is what whets -our appetite every moment, that is what makes -the life of happy love. As it is never separated from fear, -so its pleasures can never tire. The characteristic of this -happiness is its high seriousness.</p> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF CONFIDENCES</span></h3> - - -<p>There is no form of insolence so swiftly punished -as that which leads you, in passion-love, to take an -intimate friend into your confidence. He knows that, if -what you say is true, you have pleasures a thousand times -greater than he, and that your own make you despise his.</p> - -<p>It is far worse between women—their lot in life being -to inspire a passion, and the <i>confidante</i> having commonly -also displayed her charms for the advantage of the lover.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, for anyone a prey to this fever, -there is no moral need more imperative than that of a -friend, before whom to dilate on the fearful doubts -which at every instant beset his soul; for in this terrible -passion, always a thing imagined is a thing existent.</p> - -<p>"A great fault in Salviati's character," he writes in -1817, "—in this point how opposed to Napoleon's!—is -that when, in the discussion of interests in which passion -is concerned, something is at last morally proved, he -cannot resolve to take that as a fact once and for all -established and as a point to start from. In spite of -himself and greatly to his hurt, he brings it again and -again under discussion." The reason is that, in the field -of ambition, it is easy to be brave. Crystallisation, not -being subjected to the desire of the thing to be won, -helps to fortify our courage; in love it is wholly in -the service of the object against which our courage is -wanted.</p> - -<p>A woman may find an unfaithful friend, she also may -find one with nothing to do.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>A princess of thirty-five,<a name="FNanchor_1_110" id="FNanchor_1_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_110" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> with nothing to do and dogged -by the need of action, of intrigue, etc. etc., discontented -with a lukewarm lover and yet unable to hope -to sow the seeds of another love, with no use to make -of the energy which is consuming her, with no other -distraction than fits of black humour, can very well -find an occupation, that is to say a pleasure, and a life's -work, in accomplishing the misfortune of a true passion—passion -which someone has the insolence to feel for -another than herself, while her own lover falls to sleep -at her side.</p> - -<p>It is the only case in which hate produces happiness; -the reason being that it procures occupation and work.</p> - -<p>Just at first, the pleasure of doing something, and, as -soon as the design is suspected by society, the prick of -doubtful success add a charm to this occupation. Jealousy -of the friend takes the mask of hatred for the lover; -otherwise how would it be possible to hate so madly a -man one has never set eyes on? You cannot recognise -the existence of envy, or, first, you would have to recognise -the existence of merit; and there are flatterers about -you who only hold their place at Court by poking fun -at your good friend.</p> - -<p>The faithless <i>confidante</i>, all the while she is indulging -in villainies of the deepest dye, may quite well -think herself solely animated by the desire not to lose -a precious friendship. A woman with nothing to do -tells herself that even friendship languishes in a heart -devoured by love and its mortal anxieties. Friendship -can only hold its own, by the side of love, by the exchange -of confidences; but then what is more odious to envy -than such confidences?</p> - -<p>The only kind of confidences well received between -women are those accompanied in all its frankness by a -statement of the case such as this:—"My dear friend, in -this war, as absurd as it is relentless, which the prejudices, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>brought into vogue by our tyrants, wage upon us, you -help me to-day—to-morrow it will be my turn."<a name="FNanchor_2_111" id="FNanchor_2_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_111" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>Beyond this exception there is another—that of true -friendship born in childhood and not marred since by -any jealousy...</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The confidences of passion-love are only well received -between schoolboys in love with love, and girls eaten up -with unemployed curiosity and tenderness or led on -perhaps by the instinct,<a name="FNanchor_3_112" id="FNanchor_3_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_112" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> which whispers to them that -there lies the great business of their life, and that they -cannot look after it too early.</p> - -<p>We have all seen little girls of three perform quite -creditably the duties of gallantry. Gallant-love is inflamed, -passion-love chilled by confidences.</p> - -<p>Apart from the danger, there is the difficulty of -confidences. In passion-love, things one cannot express -(because the tongue is too gross for such subtleties) -exist none the less; only, as these are things of extreme -delicacy, we are more liable in observing them to make -mistakes.</p> - -<p>Also, an observer in a state of emotion is a bad observer; -he won't allow for chance.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the only safe way is to make yourself your -own confidant. Write down this evening, under borrowed -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>names, but with all the characteristic details, the dialogue -you had just now with the woman you care for, and the -difficulty which troubles you. In a week, if it is passion-love, -you will be a different man, and then, rereading -your consultation, you will be able to give a piece of -good advice to yourself.</p> - -<p>In male society, as soon as there are more than two -together, and envy might make its appearance, politeness -allows none but physical love to be spoken of—think of -the end of dinners among men. It is Baffo's sonnets<a name="FNanchor_4_113" id="FNanchor_4_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_113" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> that -are quoted and which give such infinite pleasure; because -each one takes literally the praises and excitement of his -neighbour, who, quite often, merely wants to appear -lively or polite. The sweetly tender words of Petrarch -or French madrigals would be out of place.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_110" id="Footnote_1_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_110"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Venice, 1819.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_111" id="Footnote_2_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_111"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay, Geliotte. -</p> -<p> -Prague, Klagenfurth, all Moravia, etc. etc. Their women are great -wits and their men are great hunters. Friendship is very common -between the women. The country enjoys its fine season in the winter; -among the nobles of the province a succession of hunting parties takes -place, each lasting from fifteen to twenty days. One of the cleverest -of these nobles said to me one day that Charles V had reigned legitimately -over all Italy, and that, consequently, it was all in vain for the -Italians to want to revolt. The wife of this good man read the Letters -of Mlle. de Lespinasse. (Znaym, 1816.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_112" id="Footnote_3_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_112"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Important point. It seems to me that independent of their education, -which begins at eight or ten months, there is a certain amount of -instinct.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_113" id="Footnote_4_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_113"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The Venetian dialect boasts descriptions of physical love which for -vivacity leave Horace, Propertius, La Fontaine and all the poets a hundred -miles behind. M. Buratti of Venice is at the moment the first satirical -poet of our unhappy Europe. He excels above all in the description of -the physical grotesqueness of his heroes; and he finds himself frequently -in prison. (See <i>l'Elefanteide, l'Uomo, la Strefeide.</i>)</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXV<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF JEALOUSY</span></h3> - - -<p>When you are in love, as each new object strikes -your eye or your memory, whether crushed in a -gallery and patiently listening to a parliamentary debate, -or galloping to the relief of an outpost under the enemy's -fire, you never fail to add a new perfection to the idea -you have of your mistress, or discover a new means -(which at first seems excellent) of winning her love still -more.</p> - -<p>Each step the imagination takes is repaid by a moment -of sweet delight. No wonder that existence, such as this, -takes hold of one.</p> - -<p>Directly jealousy comes into existence, this turn of feelings -continues in itself the same, though the effect it is to -produce is contrary. Each perfection that you add to the -crown of your beloved, who now perhaps loves someone -else, far from promising you a heavenly contentment, -thrusts a dagger into your heart. A voice cries out: -"This enchanting pleasure is for my rival to enjoy."<a name="FNanchor_1_114" id="FNanchor_1_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_114" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>Even the objects which strike you, without producing -this effect, instead of showing you, as before, a new way -of winning her love, cause you to see a new advantage -for your rival.</p> - -<p>You meet a pretty woman galloping in the park<a name="FNanchor_2_115" id="FNanchor_2_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_115" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>; -your rival is famous for his fine horses which can do -ten miles in fifty minutes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>In this state, rage is easily fanned into life; you no -longer remember that in love possession is nothing, enjoyment -everything. You exaggerate the happiness of -your rival, exaggerate the insolence happiness produces -in him, and you come at last to the limit of tortures, -that is to say to the extremest unhappiness, poisoned still -further by a lingering hope.</p> - -<p>The only remedy is, perhaps, to observe your rival's -happiness at close quarters. Often you will see him fall -peacefully asleep in the same <i>salon</i> as the woman, for -whom your heart stops beating, at the mere sight of a -hat like hers some way off in the street.</p> - -<p>To wake him up you have only to show your jealousy. -You may have, perhaps, the pleasure of teaching him the -price of the woman who prefers him to you, and he will -owe to you the love he will learn to have for her.</p> - -<p>Face to face with a rival there is no mean—you must -either banter with him in the most off-hand way you can, -or frighten him.</p> - -<p>Jealousy being the greatest of all evils, endangering one's -life will be found an agreeable diversion. For then not -all our fancies are embittered and blackened (by the -mechanism explained above)—sometimes it is possible to -imagine that one kills this rival.</p> - -<p>According to this principle, that it is never right to -add to the enemy's forces, you must hide your love from -your rival, and, under some pretext of vanity as far as -possible removed from love, say to him very quietly, with -all possible politeness, and in the calmest, simplest tone: -"Sir, I cannot think why the public sees good to make -little So-and-so mine; people are even good enough to -believe that I am in love with her. As for you, if you -want her, I would hand her over with all my heart, if -unhappily there were not the risk of placing myself into -a ridiculous position. In six months, take her as much as -ever you like, but at the present moment, honour, such -as people attach (why, I don't know) to these things, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>forces me to tell you, to my great regret, that, if by -chance you have not the justice to wait till your turn -comes round, one of us must die."</p> - -<p>Your rival is very likely a man without much passion, -and perhaps a man of much prudence, who once convinced -of your resolution, will make haste to yield you -the woman in question, provided he can find any decent -pretext. For that reason you must give a gay tone to -your challenge, and keep the whole move hidden with -the greatest secrecy.</p> - -<p>What makes the pain of jealousy so sharp is that vanity -cannot help you to bear it. But, according to the plan -I have spoken of, your vanity has something to feed on; -you can respect yourself for bravery, even if you are -reduced to despising your powers of pleasing.</p> - -<p>If you would rather not carry things to such tragic -lengths, you must pack up and go miles away, and keep a -chorus-girl, whose charms people will think have arrested -you in your flight.</p> - -<p>Your rival has only to be an ordinary person and he -will think you are consoled.</p> - -<p>Very often the best way is to wait without flinching, -while he wears himself out in the eyes of the loved one -through his own stupidity. For, except in a serious -passion formed little by little and in early youth, a clever -woman does not love an undistinguished man for long.<a name="FNanchor_3_116" id="FNanchor_3_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_116" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -In the case of jealousy after intimate intercourse, there -must follow also apparent indifference or real inconstancy. -Plenty of women, offended with a lover whom -they still love, form an attachment with the man, of -whom he has shown himself jealous, and the play becomes -a reality.<a name="FNanchor_4_117" id="FNanchor_4_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_117" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>I have gone into some detail, because in these moments -of jealousy one often loses one's head. Counsels, made -in writing a long time ago, are useful, and, the essential -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>thing being to feign calmness, it is not out of place in a -philosophical piece of writing, to adopt that tone.</p> - -<p>As your adversaries' power over you consists in taking -away from you or making you hope for things, whose -whole worth consists in your passion for them, once -manage to make them think you are indifferent, and suddenly -they are without a weapon.</p> - -<p>If you have no active course to take, but can distract -yourself in looking for consolation, you will find some -pleasure in reading <i>Othello</i>; it will make you doubt the -most conclusive appearances. You will feast your eyes -on these words:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Trifles light as air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem to the jealous confirmations strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As proofs from Holy Writ. (<i>Othello</i>, Act III.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>It is my experience that the sight of a fine sea is consoling.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The morning which had arisen calm and bright gave a pleasant -effect to the waste mountain view, which was seen from the -castle on looking to the landward, and the glorious ocean crisped -with a thousand rippling waves of silver extended on the other -side in awful, yet complacent majesty to the verge of the horizon. -With such scenes of calm sublimity the human heart sympathises -even in its most disturbed moods, and deeds of honour and virtue -are inspired by their majestic influence. (<i>The Bride of Lammermoor</i>, -Chap. VII.)</p></blockquote> - -<p>I find this written by Salviati:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><i>July 20th</i>, 1818.—I often—and I think unreasonably—apply to -life as a whole the feelings of a man of ambition or a good citizen, -if he finds himself set in battle to guard the baggage or in any -other post without danger or action. I should have felt regret -at forty to have passed the age of loving without deep passion. -I should have had that bitter and humiliating displeasure, to -have found out too late that I had been fool enough to let life -pass, without living.</p> - -<p>Yesterday I spent three hours with the woman I love and a -rival, whom she wants to make me think she favours. Certainly, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>there were moments of bitterness, in watching her lovely eyes -fixed on him, and, on my departure, there were wild transports -from utter misery to hope. But what changes, what sudden -lights, what swift thoughts, and, in spite of the apparent happiness -of my rival, with what pride and what delight my love felt itself -superior to his! I went away saying to myself: The most vile fear -would bleach those cheeks at the least of the sacrifices, which my -love would make for the fun of it, nay, with delight—for example, -to put this hand into a hat and draw one of these two lots: "Be -loved by her," the other—"Die on the spot." And this feeling -in me is so much second nature, that it did not prevent me being -amiable and talkative.</p> - -<p>If someone had told me all that two years ago, I should have -laughed.</p></blockquote> - -<p>I find in the <i>Travels to the Source of the Missouri River -... in</i> 1804–6 of Captains Lewis and Clarke (p. 215):—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The Ricaras are poor and generous; we stayed some time in -three of their villages. Their women are more beautiful than -those of the other tribes we came across; they are also not in -the least inclined to let their lover languish. We found a new -example of the truth that you only have to travel to find out -that there is variety everywhere. Among the Ricaras, for a woman -to grant her favours without the consent of her husband or her -brother, gives great offence. But then the brothers and the -husband are only too delighted to have the opportunity of showing -this courtesy to their friends.</p> - -<p>There was a negro in our crew; he created a great sensation -among a people who had never seen a man of his colour before. -He was soon a favourite with the fair sex, and we noticed that the -husbands, instead of being jealous, were overjoyed to see him -come to visit them. The funny part was that the interior of the -huts was so narrow that everything was visible.<a name="FNanchor_5_118" id="FNanchor_5_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_118" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_114" id="Footnote_1_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_114"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Here you see one of love's follies; for this perfection, seen by your -eyes, is not one for him.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_115" id="Footnote_2_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_115"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Montaguola, 13th April, 1819.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_116" id="Footnote_3_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_116"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>La Princesse de Tarente</i>. Story by Scarron.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_117" id="Footnote_4_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_117"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> As in the <i>Curieux-impertinent</i>, story by Cervantes.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_118" id="Footnote_5_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_118"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> There ought to be instituted at Philadelphia an academy, whose sole -occupation would be the collection of materials for the study of man in -the savage state, instead of waiting till these curious peoples have been -exterminated. -</p> -<p> -I know quite well that such academies exist—but apparently regulated -in a way worthy of our academies in Europe. (Memoir and Discussion -on the Zodiac of Denderah at the Académie des Sciences of Paris, 1821.) -I notice that the academy of, I fancy, Massachusetts wisely charges a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>member of the clergy (Mr. Jarvis) to make a report on the religion of the -savage. The priest, of course, refutes energetically an impious Frenchman, -called Volney. According to the priest, the savage has the most -exact and noble ideas of the Divinity, etc. If he lived in England, such -a report would bring the worthy academician a preferment of three or -four hundred pounds and the protection of all the noble lords in the -county. But in America! For the rest, the absurdity of this academy -reminds me of the free Americans, who set the greatest store on seeing -fine coats-of-arms painted on the panels of their carriages; what upsets -them is that, through their carriage-painter's want of instruction, the -blazoning is often wrong.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF JEALOUSY—(continued)</span></h3> - - -<p>Now for the woman suspected of inconstancy!</p> - -<p>She leaves you, because you have discouraged -crystallisation, but it is possible that in her heart you -have habit to plead for you.</p> - -<p>She leaves you, because she is too sure of you. You -have killed fear, and there is nothing left to give birth -to the little doubts of happy love. Just make her uneasy, -and, above all, beware of the absurdity of protestations!</p> - -<p>During all the time you have lived in touch with her, -you will doubtless have discovered what woman, in -society or outside it, she is most jealous or most afraid -of. Pay court to that woman, but so far from blazoning -it about, do your best to keep it secret, and do your best -sincerely; trust to the eyes of anger to see everything -and feel everything. The strong aversion you will have -felt for several months to all women ought to make this -easy.<a name="FNanchor_1_119" id="FNanchor_1_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_119" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Remember that in the position you are in, everything -is spoiled by a show of passion: avoid seeing -much of the woman you love, and drink champagne -with the wits.</p> - -<p>In order to judge of your mistress' love, remember:—</p> - -<p>1. The more physical pleasure counts for in the basis -of her love and in what formerly determined her to -yield, the more prone it is to inconstancy, and, still -more, to infidelity. This applies especially to love in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>which crystallisation has been favoured by the fire of -sweet seventeen.</p> - -<p>2. Two people in love are hardly ever equally in -love:<a name="FNanchor_2_120" id="FNanchor_2_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_120" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> passion-love has its phases, during which now one, -now the other is more impassioned. Often, too, it is -merely gallantry or vain love which responds to passion-love, -and it is generally the woman who is carried away -by passion. But whatever the love may be that either of -them feels, directly one of them is jealous, he insists on -the other fulfilling all the conditions of passion-love; -vanity pretends to all the claims of a heart that feels.</p> - -<p>Furthermore, nothing wearies gallant-love like passion-love -from the other side.</p> - -<p>Often a clever man, paying court to a woman, just sets -her thinking of love in a sentimental frame of mind. -She receives this clever man kindly for giving her this -pleasure—he conceives hopes.</p> - -<p>But one fine day that woman meets the man, who -makes her feel what the other has described.</p> - -<p>I do not know what are the effects of a man's jealousy -on the heart of the woman he loves. Displayed by an -admirer who wearies her, jealousy must inspire a supreme -disgust, and it may even turn to hatred, if the man he is -jealous of is nicer than the jealous one; for we want -jealousy, said Madame de Coulanges, only from those of -whom we could be jealous.</p> - -<p>If the jealous one is liked, but has no real claims, his -jealousy may offend that feminine pride so hard to keep -in humour or even to recognise. Jealousy may please -women of pride, as a new way of showing them their -power.</p> - -<p>Jealousy can please as a new way of giving proof of -love. It can also offend the modesty of a woman who is -over-refined.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>It can please as a sign of the lover's hot blood—<i>ferrum -est quod amant</i>. But note that it is hot blood they love, -and not courage <i>à la</i> Turenne, which is quite compatible -with a cold heart.</p> - -<p>One of the consequences of crystallisation is that a -woman can never say "yes" to the lover, to whom she -has been unfaithful, if she ever means to make anything of -him.</p> - -<p>Such is the pleasure of continuing to enjoy the perfect -image we have formed of the object of our attachment, -that until that fatal "yes"—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">L'on va chercher bien loin, plutot que de mourir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quelque prétexte ami pour vivre et pour souffrir.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i39">(<i>André Chénier</i>.<a name="FNanchor_3_121" id="FNanchor_3_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_121" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Everyone in France knows the anecdote of Mademoiselle -de Sommery, who, caught in flagrant delict by -her lover, flatly denied the fact. On his protesting, she -replied: "Very well, I see you don't love me any -more: you believe what you see before what I tell you."</p> - -<p>To make it up with an idol of a mistress, who has -been unfaithful, is to set yourself to undo with the point -of a dagger a crystallisation incessantly forming afresh. -Love has got to die, and your heart will feel the cruel -pang of every stage in its agony.</p> - -<p>It is one of the saddest dispositions of this passion and -of life. You must be strong enough to make it up only -as friends.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_119" id="Footnote_1_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_119"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> You compare the branch adorned with diamonds to the branch left -bare, and contrast adds sting to your memories.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_120" id="Footnote_2_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_120"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> e. g. the love of Alfieri for that great English lady (Lady Ligonier) -who also philandered with her footman and prettily signed herself -Penelope. (<i>Vita</i>, Epoca III, Chaps. X and XI.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_121" id="Footnote_3_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_121"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> ["Sooner than die, we will go very far in search of some friendly -pretext to live and suffer."—Tr.]</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">ROXANA</span></h3> - - -<p>As for women's jealousy—they are suspicious, they -have infinitely more at stake than we, they have -made a greater sacrifice to love, have far fewer means -of distraction and, above all, far fewer means of keeping -a check on their lover's actions. A woman feels herself -degraded by jealousy; she thinks her lover is laughing -at her, or, still worse, making fun of her tenderest transports. -Cruelty must tempt her—and yet, legally, she cannot -kill her rival!</p> - -<p>For women, jealousy must be a still more abominable -evil than it is for men. It is the last degree of impotent -rage and self-contempt<a name="FNanchor_1_122" id="FNanchor_1_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_122" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> which a heart can bear without -breaking.</p> - -<p>I know no other remedy for so cruel an evil, than the -death of the one who is the cause of it or of the one who -suffers. An example of French jealousy is the story of -Madame de la Pommeraie in <i>Jacques le Fataliste</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_19" id="TNanch_19"></a><a href="#TN_19">(19)</a></span>.</p> - -<p>La Rochefoucauld says: "We are ashamed of owning -we are jealous, but pride ourselves on having been and -of being capable of jealousy."<a name="FNanchor_2_123" id="FNanchor_2_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_123" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Poor woman dares not -own even to having suffered this torture, so much ridicule -does it bring upon her. So painful a wound can never -quite heal up.</p> - -<p>If cold reason could be unfolded before the fire of -imagination with the merest shade of success, I would say -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>to those wretched women, who are unhappy from -jealousy: "There is a great difference between infidelity -in man and in you. In you, the importance of the act is -partly direct, partly symbolic. But, as an effect of the -education of our military schools, it is in man the symbol -of nothing at all. On the contrary, in women, through -the effect of modesty, it is the most decisive of all the -symbols of devotion. Bad habit makes it almost a -necessity to men. During all our early years, the -example set by the so-called 'bloods' makes us set all -our pride on the number of successes of this kind—as -the one and only proof of our worth. For you, your -education acts in exactly the opposite direction."</p> - -<p>As for the value of an action as symbol—in a moment -of anger I upset a table on to the foot of my neighbour; -that gives him the devil of a pain, but can quite easily be -fixed up—or again, I make as if to give him a slap in the -face....</p> - -<p>The difference between infidelity in the two sexes is -so real, that a woman of passion may pardon it, while -for a man that is impossible.</p> - -<p>Here we have a decisive ordeal to show the difference -between passion-love and love from pique: infidelity -in women all but kills the former and doubles the force -of the latter.</p> - -<p>Haughty women disguise their jealousy from pride. -They will spend long and dreary evenings in silence with -the man whom they adore, and whom they tremble to lose, -making themselves consciously disagreeable in his eyes. -This must be one of the greatest possible tortures, and is -certainly one of the most fruitful sources of unhappiness -in love. In order to cure these women, who merit so -well all our respect, it needs on the man's side a strong -and out-of-the-way line of action—but, mind, he -must not seem to notice what is going on—for example, -a long journey with them undertaken at a twenty-four -hours' notice.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_122" id="Footnote_1_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_122"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This contempt is one of the great causes of suicide: people kill -themselves to give their sense of honour satisfaction.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_123" id="Footnote_2_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_123"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>Pensée</i> 495. The reader will have recognised, without my marking -it each time, several other thoughts of celebrated writers. It is history -which I am attempting to write, and such thoughts are the facts.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> -<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF SELF-ESTEEM PIQUED<a name="FNanchor_1_124" id="FNanchor_1_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_124" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></span></h3> - - -<p>Pique is a manifestation of vanity; I do not want -my antagonist to go higher than myself and <i>I take -that antagonist himself as judge of my worth</i>. I want to -produce an effect on his heart. It is this that carries us -so far beyond all reasonable limits.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, to justify our own extravagance, we go -so far as to tell ourselves that this rival has a mind to -dupe us.</p> - -<p>Pique, being an infirmity of honour, is far more common -in monarchies; it must, surely, be exceedingly rare in -countries, where the habit is rampant of valuing things -according to their utility—for example, in the United -States.</p> - -<p>Every man, and a Frenchman sooner than any other, -loathes being taken for a dupe; and yet the lightness of -the French character under the old monarchic <i>régime</i><a name="FNanchor_2_125" id="FNanchor_2_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_125" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>, -prevented pique from working great havoc beyond the -domains of gallantry and gallant-love. Pique has produced -serious tragedies only in monarchies, where, -through the climate, the shade of character is darker -(Portugal, Piedmont).</p> - -<p>The provincial in France forms a ludicrous idea of -what is considered a gentleman in good society—and then -he takes cover behind his model, and waits there all his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>life to see that no one trespasses. And so good-bye -naturalness! He is always in a state of pique, a mania -which gives a laughable character even to his love affairs. -This enviousness is what makes it most unbearable to -live in small towns, and one should remind oneself of -this, when one admires the picturesque situation of any -of them. The most generous and noble emotions are -there paralysed by contact with all that is most low in -the products of civilisation. In order to put the finishing -touch to their awfulness, these bourgeois talk of nothing -but the corruption of great cities.<a name="FNanchor_3_126" id="FNanchor_3_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_126" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>Pique cannot exist in passion-love; it is feminine -pride. "If I let my lover treat me badly, he will despise -me and no longer be able to love me." It may also -be jealousy in all its fury.</p> - -<p>Jealousy desires the death of the object it fears. The -man in a state of pique is miles away from that—he -wants his enemy to live, and, above all, be witness of his -triumph.</p> - -<p>He would be sorry to see his rival renounce the struggle, -for the fellow may have the insolence to say in the depth -of his heart: "If I had persevered in my original object, -I should have outdone him."</p> - -<p>With pique, there is no interest in the apparent purpose—the -point of everything is victory. This is well -brought out in the love affairs of chorus-girls; take away -the rival, and the boasted passion, which threatened -suicide from the fifth-floor window, instantly subsides.</p> - -<p>Love from pique, contrary to passion-love, passes in -a moment; it is enough for the antagonist by an irrevocable -step to own that he renounces the struggle. I -hesitate, however, to advance this maxim, having only -one example, and that leaves doubts in my mind. Here -are the facts—the reader will judge. Dona Diana is a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>young person of twenty-three, daughter of one of the -richest and proudest citizens of Seville. She is beautiful, -without any doubt, but of a peculiar type of beauty, and is -credited with ever so much wit and still more pride. She -was passionately in love, to all appearances at least, with a -young officer, with whom her family would have nothing -to do. The officer left for America with Morillo, and -they corresponded continuously. One day in the midst -of a lot of people, assembled round the mother of Dona -Diana, a fool announced the death of the charming -officer. All eyes are turned upon Dona Diana; Dona -Diana says nothing but these words: "What a pity—so -young."</p> - -<p>Just that day we had been reading a play of old -Massinger, which ends tragically, but in which the -heroine takes the death of her lover with this apparent -tranquillity. I saw the mother shudder in spite of her -pride and dislike; the father went out of the room to -hide his joy. In the midst of this scene and the dismay -of all present, who were making eyes at the fool who -had told the story, Dona Diana, the only one at ease, -proceeded with the conversation, as if nothing had happened. -Her mother, in apprehension, set her maid -to watch her, but nothing seemed to be altered in her -behaviour.</p> - -<p>Two years later, a very fine young man paid his attentions -to her. This time again, and, still for the same -reason, Dona Diana's parents violently opposed the -marriage, because the aspirant was not of noble birth. -She herself declared it should take place. A state of -pique ensues between the daughter's sense of honour -and the father's. The young man is forbidden the house. -Dona Diana is no longer taken to the country and hardly -ever to church. With scrupulous care, every means of -meeting her lover is taken from her. He disguises -himself and sees her secretly at long intervals. She -becomes more and more resolute, and refuses the most -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>brilliant matches, even a title and a great establishment -at the Court of Ferdinand VII. The whole town is -talking of the misfortunes of the two lovers and of their -heroic constancy. At last the majority of Dona Diana -draws near. She gives her father to understand that she -means to make use of her right of disposing of her -own hand. The family, driven back on its last resources, -opens negotiations for the marriage. When it is half -concluded, at an official meeting of the two families, the -young man, after six years' constancy, refuses Dona Diana.<a name="FNanchor_4_127" id="FNanchor_4_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_127" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>A quarter of an hour later no trace of anything—she -was consoled. Did she love from pique? Or are we -face to face with a great soul, that disclaims to parade -its sorrow before the eyes of the world?</p> - -<p>In passion-love satisfaction, if I can call it such, is often -only to be won by piquing the loved one's self-esteem. -Then, in appearance, the lover realises all that can be -desired; complaints would be ridiculous and seem senseless. -He cannot speak of his misfortune, and yet how constantly -he knows and feels its prick! Its traces are inwoven, -so to speak, with circumstances, the most flattering and -the most fit to awaken illusions of enchantment. This -misfortune rears its monstrous head at the tenderest -moments, as if to taunt the lover and make him feel, at one -and the same instant, all the delight of being loved by -the charming and unfeeling creature in his arms, and -the impossibility of this delight being his. Perhaps after -jealousy, this is the cruellest unhappiness.</p> - -<p>The story is still fresh in a certain large town<a name="FNanchor_5_128" id="FNanchor_5_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_128" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> of a -man of soft and gentle nature, who was carried away by -a rage of this kind to spill the blood of his mistress, who -only loved him from pique against her sister. He arranged -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>with her, one evening, to come for a row on the sea by -themselves, in a pretty little boat he had devised himself. -Once well out to sea, he touches a spring, the boat divides -and disappears for ever.</p> - -<p>I have seen a man of sixty set out to keep an actress, -the most capricious, irresponsible, delightful and wonderful -on the London stage—Miss Cornel.</p> - -<p>"And you expect that she'll be faithful?" people -asked him.</p> - -<p>"Not in the least. But she'll be in love with me—perhaps -madly in love."</p> - -<p>And for a whole year she did love him—often to -distraction. For three whole months together she -never even gave him subject for complaint. He had -put a state of pique, disgraceful in many ways, between -his mistress and his daughter.</p> - -<p>Pique wins the day in gallant-love, being its very life -and blood. It is the ordeal best fitted to differentiate -between gallant-love and passion-love. There is an old -maxim of war, given to young fellows new to their regiment, -that if you are billeted on a house, where there -are two sisters, and you want to have one, you must -pay your attentions to the other. To win the majority -of Spanish women, who are still young and ready for -love affairs, it is enough to give out, seriously and modestly, -that you have no feelings whatever for the lady of the -house. I have this useful maxim from dear General -Lassale. This is the most dangerous way of attacking -passion-love.</p> - -<p>Piqued self-esteem is the bond which ties the happiest -marriages, after those formed by love. Many husbands -make sure of their wives' love for many years, by taking -up with some little woman a couple of months after their -marriage.<a name="FNanchor_6_129" id="FNanchor_6_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_129" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> In this way the habit is engendered of thinking -only of one man, and family ties succeed in making -the habit invincible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>If in the past century at the Court of Louis XV a -great lady (Madame de Choiseul) was seen to worship -her husband,<a name="FNanchor_7_130" id="FNanchor_7_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_130" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> the reason is that he seemed to take a -keen interest in her sister, the Duchesse de Grammont.</p> - -<p>The most neglected mistress, once she makes us see -that she prefers another man, robs us of our peace and -afflicts our heart with all the semblance of passion.</p> - -<p>The courage of an Italian is an access of rage; the -courage of a German a moment of intoxication; that of -a Spaniard an outburst of pride. If there were a nation, -in which courage were generally a matter of piqued self-esteem -between the soldiers of each company and the -regiments of each division, in the case of a rout there -would be no support, and consequently there would be -no means of rallying the armies of such a nation. To -foresee the danger and try to remedy it, would be the -greatest of all absurdities with such conceited runaways.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"It is enough to have opened any single description of a voyage -among the savages of North America," says one of the most -delightful philosophers of France,<a name="FNanchor_8_131" id="FNanchor_8_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_131" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> "to know that the ordinary -fate of prisoners of war is not only to be burnt alive and eaten, -but first to be bound to a stake near a flaming bonfire and to be -tortured there for several hours, by all the most ferocious and -refined devices that fury can imagine. Read what travellers, -who have witnessed these fearful scenes, tell of the cannibal joy -of the assistants, above all, of the fury of the women and children, -and of their gruesome delight in this competition of cruelty. -See also what they add about the heroic firmness and immutable -self-possession of the prisoner, who not only gives no sign of pain, -but taunts and defies his torturers, by all that pride can make -most haughty, irony most bitter, and sarcasm most insulting—singing -his own glorious deeds, going through the number of the -relations and friends of the onlookers whom he has killed, detailing -the sufferings he has inflicted on them, and accusing all that -stand around him of cowardice, timidity and ignorance of the -methods of torture; until falling limb from limb, devoured alive -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>under his own eyes by enemies drunk with fury, he gasps out his -last whisper and his last insult together with his life's breath.<a name="FNanchor_9_132" id="FNanchor_9_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_132" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> All -this would be beyond belief in civilised nations, will look like -fable to the most fearless captains of our grenadiers, and will -one day be brought into doubt by posterity."</p></blockquote> - -<p>This physiological phenomenon is closely connected -with a particular moral state in the prisoner, which constitutes, -between him on the one side and all his torturers -on the other, a combat of self-esteem—of vanity against -vanity, as to who can hold out longer.</p> - -<p>Our brave military doctors have often observed that -wounded soldiers, who, in a calm state of mind and senses, -would have shrieked out, during certain operations, display, -on the contrary, only calmness and heroism, if they -are prepared for it in a certain manner. It is a matter -of piquing their sense of honour; you have to pretend, -first in a roundabout way, and then with irritating -persistence, that it is beyond their present power to bear -the operation without shrieking.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_124" id="Footnote_1_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_124"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In Italian <i>puntiglio</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_20" id="TNanch_20"></a><a href="#TN_20">(20)</a></span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_125" id="Footnote_2_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_125"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Three-quarters of the great French noblemen about 1778 would -have been on the high road to prison in a country where the laws were -executed without respect of persons.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_126" id="Footnote_3_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_126"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> As the one keeps strict watch on the other in all that touches love, -there is less love and more immorality in provincial towns. Italy is -luckier.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_127" id="Footnote_4_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_127"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Every year there is more than one example of women abandoned -just as vilely, and so I can pardon suspiciousness in respectable women. -Mirabeau, <i>Lettres à Sophie</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_21" id="TNanch_21"></a><a href="#TN_21">(21)</a></span>. Opinion is powerless in despotic countries: -there is nothing solid but the friendship of the pasha.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_128" id="Footnote_5_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_128"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Leghorn, 1819.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_129" id="Footnote_6_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_129"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> See <i>The Confessions of an Odd-tempered Man</i>. Story by Mrs. Opie.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_130" id="Footnote_7_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_130"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Letters of Madame du Deffant, Memoirs of Lauzun.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_131" id="Footnote_8_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_131"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Volney, <i>Tableau des États-Unis d'Amérique</i>, pp. 491–96.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_132" id="Footnote_9_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_132"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Anyone accustomed to a spectacle like this, who feels the risk of -being the hero of such another, may possibly be interested only in its -heroic aspect, and, in that case, the spectacle must be the foremost and -most intimate of the non-active pleasures.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF QUARRELSOME LOVE</span></h3> - -<p>It is of two kinds:</p> - -<ol> -<li>In which the originator of the quarrel loves.</li> -<li>In which he does not love.</li> -</ol> - -<p>If one of the lovers is too superior in advantages -which both value, the love of the other must die; for -sooner or later comes the fear of contempt, to cut short -crystallisation.</p> - -<p>Nothing is so odious to the mediocre as mental superiority. -There lies the source of hatred in the world of -to-day, and if we do not have to thank this principle for -desperate enmities, it is solely due to the fact that the -people it comes between are not forced to live together. -What then of love? For here, everything being natural, -especially on the part of the superior being, superiority -is not masked by any social precaution.</p> - -<p>For the passion to be able to survive, the inferior -must ill-treat the other party; otherwise the latter could -not shut a window, without the other taking offence.</p> - -<p>As for the superior party, he deludes himself: the -love he feels is beyond the reach of danger, and, besides, -almost all the weaknesses in that which we love, make it -only the dearer to us.</p> - -<p>In point of duration, directly after passion-love reciprocated -between people on the same level, one must -put quarrelsome love, in which the quarreller does not -love. Examples of this are to be found in the anecdotes, -relative to the Duchesse de Berri (Memoirs of Duclos).</p> - -<p>Partaking, as it does, of the nature of set habits, which -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>are rooted in the prosaic and egoistic side of life and -follow man inseparably to the grave, this love can last -longer than passion-love itself. But it is no longer love, -it is a habit engendered by love, which has nothing of -that passion but memories and physical pleasure. This -habit necessarily presupposes a less noble kind of being. -Each day a little scene is got ready—"Will he make a -fuss?"—which occupies the imagination, just as, in -passion-love, every day a new proof of affection had to -be found. See the anecdotes about Madame d'Houdetot -and Saint-Lambert.<a name="FNanchor_1_133" id="FNanchor_1_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_133" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>It is possible that pride refuses to get used to this -kind of occupation; in which case, after some stormy -months, pride kills love. But we see the nobler passion -make a long resistance before giving in. The little -quarrels of happy love foster a long time the illusion of -a heart that still loves and sees itself badly treated. -Some tender reconciliations may make the transition -more bearable. A woman excuses the man she has deeply -loved, on the score of a secret sorrow or a blow to his -prospects. At last she grows used to being scolded. -Where, really, outside passion-love, outside gambling or -the possession of power,<a name="FNanchor_2_134" id="FNanchor_2_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_134" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> can you find any other unfailing -entertainment to be compared with it for liveliness? -If the scolder happens to die, the victim who survives -proves inconsolable. This is the principle which forms -the bond of many middle-class marriages; the scolded -can listen to his own voice all day long talking of his -favourite subject.</p> - -<p>There is a false kind of quarrelsome love. I took from -the letters of a woman of extraordinary brilliance this in -Chapter XXXIII:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>"Always a little doubt to allay—that is what whets our -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>appetite in passion-love every moment.... As it is -never separated from fear, so its pleasures can never tire."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>With rough and ill-mannered people, or those with a -very violent nature, this little doubt to calm, this faint -misgiving shows itself in the form of a quarrel.</p> - -<p>If the loved one has not the extreme susceptibility, -which comes of a careful education, she may find that -love of this kind has more life in it, and consequently is -more enjoyable. Even with all the refinement in the -world, it is hard not to love "your savage" all the more, -if you see him the first to suffer for his transports. What -Lord Mortimer thinks back on, perhaps, with most regret -for his lost mistress, are the candlesticks she threw at his -head. And, really, if pride forgives and permits such -sensations, it must also be allowed that they do wage -implacable warfare upon boredom—that arch-enemy of -the happy!</p> - -<p>Saint-Simon, the one historian France has had, -says:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>After several passing fancies, the Duchesse de Berri had fallen -in love, in real earnest, with Riom, cadet of the house of d'Aydie, -son of a sister of Madame de Biron. He had neither looks nor -sense: a stout, short youth, with a puffy white face, who with -all his spots looked like one big abscess—though, true, he had fine -teeth. He had no idea of having inspired a passion, which in less -than no time went beyond all limits and lasted ever after, without, -indeed, preventing passing fancies and cross-attachments. He -had little property, and many brothers and sisters who had no -more. M. and Madame de Pons, lady-in-waiting to the Duchesse -de Berri, were related to them and of the same province, and they -sent for the young man, who was a lieutenant in the dragoons, -to see what could be made of him. He had scarcely arrived before -the Duchess's weakness for him became public and Riom was master -of the Luxembourg.</p> - -<p>M. de Lauzun, whose grand-nephew he was, laughed in his -sleeve; he was delighted to see in Riom a reincarnation at the -Luxembourg of himself from the time of Mademoiselle. He -gave Riom instructions which were listened to by him, as befitted -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>a mild and naturally polite and respectful young fellow, well -behaved and straightforward. But before long Riom began to feel -the power of his own charms, which could only captivate the incomprehensible -humour of this princess. Without abusing his power -with others, he made himself liked by everyone, but he treated -his duchess as M. de Lauzun had treated Mademoiselle. He was -soon dressed in the richest laces, the richest suits, furnished with -money, buckles, jewels. He made himself an object of admiration -and took a delight in making the princess jealous or pretending to -be jealous himself—bringing her often to tears. Little by little -he reduced her to the state of doing nothing without his permission, -not even in matters of indifference. At one time, ready to go -out to the Opera, he made her stay at home; at another he made -her go against her will. He forced her to do favours to ladies she -disliked, or of whom she was jealous, and to injure people she -liked, or of whom he pretended to be jealous. Even as far as -dress, she was not allowed the smallest liberty. He used to amuse -himself by making her have her hair done all over again, or have -her dress changed when she was completely ready—and this happened -so often and so publicly, that he had accustomed her to -take in the evening his orders for dress and occupation for the -next day. The next day he would change it all and make the -princess cry still more. At last she came to sending him messages -by trusted valets—for he lived in the Luxembourg almost from -the day of his arrival—and the messages had often to be repeated -during her toilet for her to know what ribbons to wear and about -her frock and other details of dress; and nearly always he made -her wear what she disliked. If sometimes she gave herself some -liberty in the smallest matter without leave, he treated her like a -servant, and often her tears lasted several days.</p> - -<p>This haughty princess, who was so fond of display and indulging -her boundless pride, could bring herself so low as to partake of -obscene parties with him and unmentionable people—she with -whom no one could dine unless he were prince of the blood. The -Jesuit Riglet, whom she as a child had known, and who had -brought her up, was admitted to these private meals, without -feeling ashamed himself or the Duchess being embarrassed. -Madame de Mouchy was admitted into the secret of all these -strange events; she and Riom summoned the company and chose -the days. This lady was the peacemaker between the two lovers, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>and the whole of this existence was a matter of general knowledge -at the Luxembourg. Riom was there looked to, as the centre -of everything, while on his side he was careful to live on good -terms with all, honouring them with a show of respect, which he -refused in public only to his princess. Before everybody he would -give her curt answers, which would make the whole company -lower their eyes and bring blushes to the cheeks of the Duchess, -who put no constraint upon her idolatry of him."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Riom was a sovereign remedy, for the Duchess, against -the monotony of life.</p> - -<p>A famous woman said once off-hand to General Bonaparte, -then a young hero covered with glory and with no -crimes against liberty on his conscience: "General, a -woman could only be a wife or a sister to you." The -hero did not understand the compliment, which the -world has made up for with some pretty slanders.</p> - -<p>The women, of whom we are speaking, like to be despised -by their lover, whom they only love in his cruelty.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_133" id="Footnote_1_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_133"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Memoirs of Madame d'Épinay, I think, or of Marmontel.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_134" id="Footnote_2_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_134"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Whatever certain hypocritical ministers may say, power is the foremost -of pleasures. I believe love alone can beat it, and love is a lucky -illness, which cannot be got like a ministry.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">(Part II)<br /> - -REMEDIES AGAINST LOVE</span></h3> - -<p>The leap of Leucas was a fine image of antiquity. It is -true, the remedy of love is almost impossible. A danger -is needed to call man's attention back sharply to look to -his own preservation.<a name="FNanchor_1_135" id="FNanchor_1_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_135" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> But that is not all. What is harder -to realise—a pressing danger must continue, and one that -can only be averted with care, in order that the habit of -thinking of his own preservation may have time to take -root. I can see nothing that will do but a storm of sixteen -days, like that in <i>Don Juan</i><a name="FNanchor_2_136" id="FNanchor_2_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_136" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> or the shipwreck of -M. Cochelet among the Moors. Otherwise, one gets -soon used to the peril, and even drops back into thoughts -of the loved one with still more charm—when reconnoitring -at twenty yards' range from the enemy.</p> - -<p>We have repeated over and over again that the love of -a man, who loves well, delights in and vibrates to every -movement of his imagination, and that there is nothing -in nature which does not speak to him of the object of -his love. Well, this delight and this vibration form a -most interesting occupation, next to which all others -pale.</p> - -<p>A friend who wants to work the cure of the patient, -must, first of all, be always on the side of the woman -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>the patient is in love with—and all friends, with more -zeal than sense, are sure to do exactly the opposite.</p> - -<p>It is attacking with forces too absurdly inferior that -combination of sweet illusions, which earlier we called -crystallisation.<a name="FNanchor_3_137" id="FNanchor_3_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_137" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>The <i>friend in need</i> should not forget this fact, that, if -there is an absurdity to be believed, as the lover has -either to swallow it or renounce everything which -holds him to life, he will swallow it. With all the cleverness -in the world, he will deny in his mistress the most -palpable vices and the most villainous infidelities. This -is how, in passion-love, everything is forgiven after a -little.</p> - -<p>In the case of reasonable and cold characters, for the -lover to swallow the vices of a mistress, he must only -find them out after several months of passion.<a name="FNanchor_4_138" id="FNanchor_4_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_138" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>Far from trying bluntly and openly to distract the -lover, the <i>friend in need</i> ought to tire him with talking -of his love and his mistress, and at the same time manage -that a host of little events force themselves upon his -notice. Even if travel isolates,<a name="FNanchor_5_139" id="FNanchor_5_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_139" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> it is still no remedy, -and in fact nothing recalls so tenderly the object of our -love as change of scene. It was in the midst of the -brilliant Paris <i>salons</i>, next to women with the greatest -reputation for charm, that I was most in love with my -poor mistress, solitary and sad in her little room in the -depth of the Romagna.<a name="FNanchor_6_140" id="FNanchor_6_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_140" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>I looked at the superb clock in the brilliant <i>salon</i>, -where I was exiled, for the hour she goes out on foot, -even in the rain, to call on her friend. Trying to forget -her, I have found that change of scene is the source of -memories of one's love, less vivid but far more heavenly -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>than those one goes in search for in places, where once -upon a time one met her.</p> - -<p>In order that absence may prove useful, the <i>friend in -need</i> must be always at hand, and suggest to the lover's -mind all possible reflections on the history of his love, -trying to make these reflections tiresome through their -length and importunity. In this way he gives them the -appearance of commonplaces. For example, tender sentimental -talk after a dinner enlivened with good wine.</p> - -<p>It is hard to forget a woman, with whom one has been -happy; for, remember, that there are certain moments -the imagination can never be tired of evoking and -beautifying.</p> - -<p>I leave out all mention of pride, cruel but sovereign -remedy, which, however, is not to be applied to sensitive -souls.</p> - -<p>The first scenes of Shakespeare's <i>Romeo</i> form an admirable -picture; there is so vast a gap between the man -who says sorrowfully to himself: "She hath forsworn to -love," and he who cries out in the height of happiness: -"Come what sorrow can!"</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_135" id="Footnote_1_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_135"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Danger of Henry Morton in the Clyde. (<i>Old Mortality</i>, Vol. IV, -Chap. X.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_136" id="Footnote_2_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_136"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Of the over-extolled Lord Byron.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_137" id="Footnote_3_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_137"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Merely in order to abbreviate, and with apologies for the new word.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_138" id="Footnote_4_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_138"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Madame Dornal and Serigny. <i>Confessions of le Comte</i> ... of Duclos. -See the note to p. <a href="#Page_50">50</a>: death of General Abdallah at Bologna.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_139" id="Footnote_5_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_139"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> I cried almost every day. (Precious words of the 10th of June.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_140" id="Footnote_6_140"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_140"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Salviati.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">(Part III)</span></h3> - -<p class="quotl">Her passion will die like a lamp for want of what the flame should -feed upon. (<i>Bride of Lammermoor</i>, II, Chap. VI.)]</p> - -<p>The <i>friend in need</i> must beware of faulty reasoning—for -example, of talking about ingratitude. You -are giving new life to crystallisation, by procuring it a -victory and a new enjoyment.</p> - -<p>In love there is no such thing as ingratitude; the actual -pleasure always repays, and more than repays, sacrifices -that seem the greatest. In love no other crime but want -of honesty seems to me possible: one should be scrupulous -as to the state of one's heart.</p> - -<p>The <i>friend in need</i> has only to attack fair and square, -for the lover to answer:—</p> - -<p>"To be in love, even while enraged with the loved -one, is nothing less, to bring myself down to your £ s. d. -style, than having a ticket in a lottery, in which the prize -is a thousand miles above all that you can offer me, in -your world of indifference and selfish interests. One must -have plenty of vanity—and precious petty vanity—to be -happy, because people receive you well. I do not blame -men for going on like this, in their world, but in the love -of Léonore I found a world where everything was heavenly, -tender and generous. The most lofty and almost incredible -virtue of your world counted, between her and -me, only as any ordinary and everyday virtue. Let me -at all events dream of the happiness of passing my life -close to such a creature. Although I understand that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>slander has ruined me, and that I have nothing to hope -for, at least I shall make her the sacrifice of my vengeance."</p> - -<p>It is quite impossible to put a stop to love except in -its first stages. Besides a prompt departure, and the -forced distractions of society (as in the case of the Comtesse -Kalember), there are several other little ruses, -which the <i>friend in need</i> can bring into play. For example, -he can bring to your notice, as if by chance, the -fact that the woman you love, quite outside the disputed -area, does not even observe towards you the same amount -of politeness and respect, with which she honours your -rival. The smallest details are enough; for in love -everything is a sign. For example, she does not take -your arm to go up to her box. This sort of nonsense, -taken tragically by a passionate heart, couples a pang of -humiliation to every judgment formed by crystallisation, -poisons the source of love and may destroy it.</p> - -<p>One way against the woman, who is behaving badly -to our friend, is to bring her under suspicion of some -absurd physical defect, impossible to verify. If it were -possible for the lover to verify the calumny, and even if -he found it substantiated, it would be disqualified by his -imagination, and soon have no place with him at all. -It is only imagination itself which can resist imagination: -Henry III knew that very well when he scoffed at the -famous Duchesse de Montpensier<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_22" id="TNanch_22"></a><a href="#TN_22">(22)</a></span>.</p> - -<p>Hence it is the imagination you must look to—above -all, in a girl whom you want to keep safe from love. -And the less her spirit has of the common stuff, the -more noble and generous her soul, in a word the worthier -she is of our respect, just so much greater the danger -through which she must pass.</p> - -<p>It is always perilous, for a girl, to suffer her -memories to group themselves too repeatedly and too -agreeably round the same individual. Add gratitude, -admiration or curiosity to strengthen the bonds of -memory, and she is almost certainly on the edge of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>precipice. The greater the monotony of her everyday -life, the more active are those poisons called gratitude, -admiration and curiosity. The only thing, then, is a -swift, prompt and vigorous distraction.</p> - -<p>Just so, a little roughness and "slap-dash" in the -first encounter, is an almost infallible means of winning -the respect of a clever woman, if only the drug be -administered in a natural and simple manner.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<h2>BOOK II</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XL</h3> - -<p>Every kind of love and every kind of imagination, -in the individual, takes its colour from one of -these six temperaments:—</p> - -<ul> -<li>The sanguine, or French,—M. de Francueil (Memoirs -of Madame d'Épinay);</li> - -<li>The choleric, or Spanish,—Lauzun (the Peguilhen of -Saint-Simon's Memoirs);</li> - -<li>The melancholy, or German,—Schiller's Don Carlos;</li> - -<li>The phlegmatic, or Dutch;</li> - -<li>The nervous—Voltaire;</li> - -<li>The athletic—Milo of Croton.<a name="FNanchor_1_141" id="FNanchor_1_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_141" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></li> -</ul> - -<p>If the influence of temperament makes itself felt in -ambition, avarice, friendship, etc. etc., what must it -be in the case of love, in which the physical also is perforce -an ingredient? Let us suppose that all kinds of -love can be referred to the four varieties, which we have -noted:—</p> - -<ul> -<li>Passion-love—Julie d'Étanges;<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_23" id="TNanch_23"></a><a href="#TN_23">(23)</a></span></li> - -<li>Gallant-love or gallantry;</li> - -<li>Physical love;</li> - -<li>Vanity-love—"a duchess is never more than thirty for -a bourgeois."</li> -</ul> - -<p>We must submit these four kinds of love to the -six different characters, with which habits, dependent -upon the six kinds of temperament, stamp the imagination. -Tiberius did not have the wild imagination of -Henry VIII.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>Then let us submit all these combinations, thus obtained, -to the differences of habit which depend upon -government or national character:—</p> - -<ol> -<li>Asiatic despotism, such as may be seen at Constantinople;</li> - -<li>Absolute monarchy <i>à la</i> Louis XIV;</li> - -<li>Aristocracy masked by a charter, or government of -a nation for the profit of the rich, as in England—all -according to the rules of a self-styled biblical morality;</li> - -<li>A federal republic, or government for the profit of -all, as in the United States of America;</li> - -<li>Constitutional monarchy, or—</li> - -<li>A State in revolution, as Spain, Portugal, France<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_24" id="TNanch_24"></a><a href="#TN_24">(24)</a></span>. -This state of things in a country gives lively -passions to everyone, makes manners more natural, -destroys puerilities, the conventional virtues and senseless -proprieties<a name="FNanchor_2_142" id="FNanchor_2_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_142" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>—gives seriousness to youth and causes it to -despise vanity-love and neglect gallantry.<br /> -This state can last a long time and form the habits of -a generation. In France it began in 1788, was interrupted -in 1802, and began again in 1818—to end God knows -when!</li> -</ol> - -<p>After all these general ways of considering love, we -have the differences of age, and come finally to individual -peculiarities.</p> - -<p>For example, we might say:—</p> - -<p>I found at Dresden, in Count Woltstein, vanity-love, -a melancholy temperament, monarchical habits, thirty -years, and ... his individual peculiarities.</p> - -<p>For anyone who is to form a judgment on love, this -way of viewing things is conveniently short and cooling -to the head—an essential, but difficult operation.</p> - -<p>Now, as in physiology man has learnt scarcely anything -about himself, except by means of comparative anatomy, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>so in the case of passions, through vanity and many other -causes of illusion, we can only get enlightenment on -what goes on in ourselves from the foibles we have -observed in others. If by chance this essay has any useful -effect, it will be by bringing the mind to make comparisons -of this sort. To lead the way, I am going to attempt -a sketch of some general traits in the character of love in -different nations.</p> - -<p>I beg for pardon if I often come back to Italy; in the -present state of manners in Europe, it is the only country -where the plant, which I describe, grows in all freedom. -In France, vanity; in Germany, a pretentious and -highly comical philosophy; in England, pride, timid, -painful and rancorous, torture and stifle it, or force it -into a crooked channel.<a name="FNanchor_3_143" id="FNanchor_3_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_143" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_141" id="Footnote_1_141"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_141"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Cabanis, influence of the physical, etc.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_142" id="Footnote_2_142"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_142"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The laces missing from Minister Roland's shoes: "Ah, Monsieur, -all is lost," answers Dumouriez. At the royal sitting, the President of the -Assembly crosses his legs.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_143" id="Footnote_3_143"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_143"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The reader will have perceived only too easily that this treatise is -made up of Lisio's Visconti's fragmentary account of events, written in -the order that they were presented to him on his travels. All these events -may be found related at length in the journal of his life; perhaps I -ought to have inserted them—but they might have been found scarcely -suitable. The oldest notes bear the date, Berlin 1807, and the last are -some days before his death, June 1819. Some dates have been altered -expressly to avoid indiscretion; but the changes, which I have made, go -no further than that. I have not thought myself authorised to recast -the style. This book was written in a hundred different places—so may -it be read!</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF NATIONS WITH REGARD TO LOVE.<br /> - -FRANCE</span></h3> - -<p>I mean to put aside my natural affections and be -only a cold philosopher. French women, fashioned -by their amiable men, themselves creatures only of vanity -and physical desires, are less active, less energetic, less -feared, and, what's more, less loved and less powerful, -than Spanish and Italian women.</p> - -<p>A woman is powerful only according to the degree of -unhappiness, which she can inflict as punishment on her -lover. Where men have nothing but vanity, every -woman is useful, but none is indispensable. It is -success in winning a woman's love, not in keeping it, -which flatters a man. When men have only physical -desires, they go to prostitutes, and that is why the -prostitutes of France are charming and those of Spain -the very reverse. In France, to a great many men -prostitutes can give as much happiness as virtuous women—happiness, -that is to say, without love. There is -always one thing for which a Frenchman has much more -respect than for his mistress—his vanity.</p> - -<p>In Paris a young man sees in his mistress a kind of -slave, whose destiny it is, before everything, to please -his vanity. If she resist the orders of this dominating -passion, he leaves her—and is only the better pleased with -himself, when he can tell his friends in what a piquant -way, with how smart a gesture, he waved her off.</p> - -<p>A Frenchman, who knew his own country well (Meilhan), -said: "In France, great passions are as rare as -great men."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>No language has words to express how impossible -it is for a Frenchman to play the role of a deserted and -desperate lover, in full view of a whole town—yet no -sight is commoner at Venice or Bologna.</p> - -<p>To find love at Paris, we must descend to those classes, -in which the absence of education and of vanity, and the -struggle against real want, have left more energy.</p> - -<p>To let oneself be seen with a great and unsatisfied -desire, is to let oneself be seen in a position of inferiority—and -that is impossible in France, except for people of -no position at all. It means exposing oneself to all kinds -of sneers—hence come the exaggerated praises bestowed -on prostitutes by young men who mistrust their -own hearts. A vulgar susceptibility and dread of -appearing in a position of inferiority forms the -principle of conversation among provincial people. -Think of the man who only lately, when told of the -assassination of H. R. H. the Duke of Berri<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_25" id="TNanch_25"></a><a href="#TN_25">(25)</a></span>, answered: -"I knew it."<a name="FNanchor_1_144" id="FNanchor_1_144"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_144" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>In the Middle Ages hearts were tempered by the -presence of danger, and therein, unless I am mistaken, -lies another cause of the astonishing superiority of the -men of the sixteenth century. Originality, which among -us is rare, comical, dangerous and often affected, was then -of everyday and unadorned. Countries where even -to-day danger often shows its iron hand, such as Corsica,<a name="FNanchor_2_145" id="FNanchor_2_145"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_145" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>Spain or Italy, can still produce great men. In those -climates, where men's gall cooks for three months under -the burning heat, it is activity's direction that is to seek; -at Paris, I fear, it is activity itself.<a name="FNanchor_3_146" id="FNanchor_3_146"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_146" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>Many young men, fine enough to be sure at Montmirail -or the Bois de Boulogne, are afraid of love; and -when you see them, at the age of twenty, fly the sight -of a young girl who has struck them as pretty, you may -know that cowardice is the real cause. When they -remember what they have read in novels is expected of -a lover, their blood runs cold. These chilly spirits cannot -conceive how the storm of passion, which lashes the sea -to waves, also fills the sails of the ship and gives her the -power of riding over them.</p> - -<p>Love is a delicious flower, but one must have the -courage to go and pick it on the edge of a frightful -precipice. Besides ridicule, love has always staring it in -the face the desperate plight of being deserted by the -loved one, and in her place only a <i>dead blank</i> for all the -rest of one's life.</p> - -<p>Civilisation would be perfect, if it could continue the -delicate pleasures of the nineteenth century with a more -frequent presence of danger.<a name="FNanchor_4_147" id="FNanchor_4_147"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_147" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>It ought to be possible to augment a thousandfold the -pleasures of private life by exposing it frequently to danger. -I do not speak only of military danger. I would have -this danger present at every instant, in every shape, and -threatening all the interests of existence, such as formed -the essence of life in the Middle Ages. Such danger as -our civilisation has trained and refined, goes hand in -hand quite naturally with the most insipid feebleness of -character.</p> - -<p>I hear the words of a great man in <i>A Voice from St -Helena</i> by Mr. O'Meara:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Order Murat to attack and destroy four or five thousand men -in such a direction, it was done in a moment; but leave him to -himself, he was an imbecile without judgment. I cannot conceive -how so brave a man could be so "lâche." He was nowhere -brave unless before the enemy. There he was probably the -bravest man in the world.... He was a paladin, in fact a Don -Quixote in the field; but take him into the Cabinet, he was a -poltroon without judgment or decision. Murat and Ney were -the bravest men I ever witnessed. (O'Meara, Vol. II, p. 95.)</p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_144" id="Footnote_1_144"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_144"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This is historical. Many people, though very curious, are annoyed -at being told news; they are frightened of appearing inferior to him -who tells them the news.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_145" id="Footnote_2_145"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_145"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Memoirs of M. Realier-Dumas. Corsica, which, as regards its population -of one hundred and eighty thousand souls, would not form a half -of most French Departments, has produced in modern times Salliceti, -Pozzo di Borgo, General Sebastiani, Cervioni, Abbatucci, Lucien and -Napoleon Bonaparte and Aréna. The Département du Nord, with its -nine hundred thousand inhabitants, is far from being able to show a -similar list. The reason is that in Corsica anyone, on leaving his house, -may be greeted by a bullet; and the Corsican, instead of submitting like a -good Christian, tries to defend himself and still more to be revenged. -That is the way spirits like Napoleon are forged. It's a long cry from -such surroundings to a palace with its lords-in-waiting and chamberlains, -and a Fénelon obliged to find reasons for his respect to His Royal Highness, -when speaking to H. R. H. himself, aged twelve years. See the works of -that great writer.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_146" id="Footnote_3_146"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_146"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> At Paris, to get on, you must pay attention to a million little details. -None the less there is this very powerful objection. Statistics show many -more women who commit suicide from love at Paris than in all the -towns of Italy together. This fact gives me great difficulty; I do not -know what to say to it for the moment, but it doesn't change my opinion. -It may be that our ultra-civilised life is so wearisome, that death seems -a small matter to the Frenchman of to-day—or more likely, overwhelmed -by the wreck of his vanity, he blows out his brains.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_147" id="Footnote_4_147"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_147"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> I admire the manners of the time of Lewis XIV: many a man -might pass in three days from the salons of Marly to the battlefield -of Senet or Ramillies. Wives, mothers, sweethearts, were all in a -continual state of apprehension. See the Letters of Madame de Sévigné. -The presence of danger had kept in the language an energy and a freshness -that we would not dare to hazard nowadays; and yet M. de Lameth -killed his wife's lover. If a Walter Scott were to write a novel of the -times of Lewis XIV, we should be a good deal surprised.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">FRANCE (<i>continued</i>)</span></h3> - - -<p>I beg leave to speak ill of France a little longer. -The reader need have no fear of seeing my satire -remain unpunished; if this essay finds readers, I shall -pay for my insults with interest. Our national honour -is wide awake.</p> - -<p>France fills an important place in the plan of this -book, because Paris, thanks to the superiority of its conversation -and its literature, is, and will always be, the -<i>salon</i> of Europe.</p> - -<p>Three-quarters of the <i>billets</i> in Vienna, as in London, -are written in French or are full of French allusions -and quotations—Lord knows what French!<a name="FNanchor_1_148" id="FNanchor_1_148"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_148" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>As regards great passions, France, in my opinion, is -void of originality from two causes:—</p> - -<p>1. True honour—the desire to resemble Bayard<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_26" id="TNanch_26"></a><a href="#TN_26">(26)</a></span>—in -order to be honoured in the world and there, every -day, to see your vanity satisfied.</p> - -<p>2. The fool's honour, or the desire to resemble the -upper classes, the fashionable world of Paris. The art -of entering a drawing-room, of showing aversion to a -rival, of breaking with your mistress, etc.</p> - -<p>The fool's honour is much more useful than true -honour in ministering to the pleasures of our vanity, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>both in itself, as being intelligible to fools, and also as -being applicable to the actions of every day and every -hour. We see people, with only this fool's honour and -without true honour, very well received in society; -but the contrary is impossible.</p> - -<p>This is the way of the fashionable world:—</p> - -<p>1. To treat all great interests ironically. 'Tis natural -enough. Formerly people, really in society, could not be -profoundly affected by anything; they hadn't the time. -Residence in the country has altered all this. Besides, it -is contrary to a Frenchman's nature to let himself be -seen in a posture of admiration,<a name="FNanchor_2_149" id="FNanchor_2_149"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_149" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> that is to say, in a -position of inferiority, not only in relation to the object -of his admiration—that goes without saying—but also in -relation to his neighbour, if his neighbour choose to -mock at what he admires.</p> - -<p>In Germany, Italy and Spain, on the contrary, admiration -is genuine and happy; there the admirer is proud -of his transports and pities the man who turns up his -nose. I don't say the mocker, for that's an impossible -rôle in countries, where it is not in failing in the imitation -of a particular line of conduct, but in failing to strike -the road to happiness, that the only ridicule exists. In -the South, mistrust and horror at being troubled in the -midst of pleasures vividly felt, plants in men an inborn -admiration of luxury and pomp. See the Courts of -Madrid and Naples; see a <i>funzione</i> at Cadiz—things are -carried to a point of delirium.<a name="FNanchor_3_150" id="FNanchor_3_150"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_150" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>2. A Frenchman thinks himself the most miserable of -men, and almost the most ridiculous, if he is obliged to -spend his time alone. But what is love without solitude?</p> - -<p>3. A passionate man thinks only of himself; a man -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>who wants consideration thinks only of others. Nay -more: before 1789, individual security was only found -in France by becoming one of a body, the Robe, for -example,<a name="FNanchor_4_151" id="FNanchor_4_151"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_151" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> and by being protected by the members of -that body. The thoughts of your neighbour were then -an integral and necessary part of your happiness. This -was still truer at the Court than in Paris. It is easy to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>see how far such manners, which, to say the truth, are -every day losing their force, but which Frenchmen will -retain for another century, are favourable to great -passions.</p> - -<p>Try to imagine a man throwing himself from a -window, and at the same time trying to reach the pavement -in a graceful position.</p> - -<p>In France, the passionate man, merely as such, and in -no other light, is the object of general ridicule. Altogether, -he offends his fellow-men, and that gives wings to ridicule.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_148" id="Footnote_1_148"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_148"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In England, the gravest writers think they give themselves a smart -tone by quoting French words, which, for the most part, have never -been French, except in English grammars. See the writers for the -<i>Edinburgh Review</i>; see the Memoirs of the Comtesse de Lichtnau, mistress -of the last King of Prussia but one.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_149" id="Footnote_2_149"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_149"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The fashionable admiration of Hume in 1775, for example, or of -Franklin in 1784, is no objection to what I say.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_150" id="Footnote_3_150"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_150"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>Voyage en Espagne</i>, by M. Semple; he gives a true picture, and -the reader will find a description of the Battle of Trafalgar, heard in the -distance which sticks in the memory.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_151" id="Footnote_4_151"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_151"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>Correspondance</i> of Grimm, January, 1783. "Comte de N——, -Captain commanding the guards of the Duke of Orleans, being piqued -at finding no place left in the balcony, the day of the opening of the new -hall, was so ill-advised as to dispute his place with an honest Procureur; -the latter, one Maître Pernot, was by no means willing to give it up.—'You've -taken my place.'—'I'm in my own.'—'Who are you?'—'I'm -Mr. Six Francs'... (that is to say, the price of these places). Then, -angrier words, insults, jostling. Comte de N—— pushed his indiscretion -so far as to treat the poor joker as a thief, and finally took it upon -himself to order the sergeant on duty to arrest the person of the Procureur, -and to conduct him to the guard-room. Maître Pernot surrendered with -great dignity, and went out, only to go and depose his complaint before -a Commissary. The redoubtable body, of which he had the honour to -be a member, had no intention of letting the matter drop. The affair -came up before the Parlement. M. de N—— was condemned to pay all -the expenses, to make reparation to the Procureur, to pay him two -thousand crowns damages and interest, which were to be applied, with -the Procureur's consent, to the poor prisoners of the Conciergerie; -further, the said Count was very expressly enjoined never again, under -pretext of the king's orders, to interfere with a performance, etc. This -adventure made a lot of noise, and great interests were mixed up in it: -the whole Robe has considered itself insulted by an outrage done to a -man who wears its livery, etc. M. de N——, that his affair may be forgotten, -has gone to seek his laurels at the Camp of St. Roch. He couldn't -do better, people say, for no one can doubt of his talent for carrying -places by sheer force. Now suppose an obscure philosopher in the place -of Maître Pernot. Use of the Duel. (Grimm, Part III, Vol. II, p. 102.) -</p> -<p> -See further on, p. 496, a most sensible letter of Beaumarchais refusing -a closed box (<i>loge grillée</i>) for Figaro, which one of his friends had asked -of him. So long as people thought that his answer was addressed to a -Duke, there was great excitement, and they talked about severe punishment. -But it turned to laughter when Beaumarchais declared that his -letter was addressed to Monsieur le Président du Paty. It is a far cry -from 1785 to 1822! We no longer understand these feelings. And yet -people pretend that the same tragedies that touched those generations -are still good for us!</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">ITALY<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_27" id="TNanch_27"></a><a href="#TN_27">(27)</a></span></span></h3> - -<p>Italy's good fortune is that it has been left to the -inspiration of the moment, a good fortune which -it shares, up to a certain point, with Germany and -England.</p> - -<p>Furthermore, Italy is a country where Utility, which -was the guiding principle of the mediæval republic,<a name="FNanchor_1_152" id="FNanchor_1_152"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_152" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> has -not been dethroned by Honour or Virtue, disposed to the advantages -of monarchy.<a name="FNanchor_2_153" id="FNanchor_2_153"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_153" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> True honour leads the way to the -fool's honour. It accustoms men to ask themselves: What -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>will my neighbour think of my happiness? But how can -happiness of the heart be an object of vanity, since no -one can see it.?<a name="FNanchor_3_154" id="FNanchor_3_154"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_154" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> In proof of all this, France is the -country, where there are fewer marriages from inclination -than anywhere else in the world.<a name="FNanchor_4_155" id="FNanchor_4_155"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_155" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>And Italy has other advantages. The Italian has undisturbed -leisure and an admirable climate, which makes -men sensible to beauty under every form. He is extremely, -yet reasonably, mistrustful, which increases the -aloofness of intimate love and doubles its charms. He -reads no novels, indeed hardly any books, and this leaves -still more to the inspiration of the moment. He has -a passion for music, which excites in the soul a movement -very similar to that of love.</p> - -<p>In France, towards 1770, there was no mistrust.; on -the contrary, it was good form to live and die before the -public. As the Duchess of Luxemburg was intimate -with a hundred friends, there was no intimacy and no -friendship, properly so-called.</p> - -<p>In Italy, passion, since it is not a very rare distinction, -is not a subject of ridicule,<a name="FNanchor_5_156" id="FNanchor_5_156"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_156" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> and you may hear people -in the <i>salons</i> openly quoting general maxims of love. -The public knows the symptoms and periods of this -illness, and is very much concerned with it. They say -to a man who has been deserted: "You'll be in despair -for six months, but you'll get over it in the end, like -So-and-so, etc."</p> - -<p>In Italy, public opinion is the very humble attendant -on passion. Real pleasure there exercises the power, -which elsewhere is in the hands of society. 'Tis quite -simple—for society can give scarcely any pleasure to -a people, who has no time to be vain, and can have -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>but little authority over those, who are only trying to -escape the notice of their "pacha"<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_29" id="TNanch_29"></a><a href="#TN_29">(29)</a></span>. The <i>blasés</i> -censure the passionate—but who cares for them? South -of the Alps, society is a despot without a prison.</p> - -<p>As in Paris honour challenges, sword in hand, or, -if possible, <i>bon mot</i> in the mouth, every approach -to every recognised great interest, it is much more convenient -to take refuge in irony. Many young men have -taken up a different attitude, and become disciples of -J. J. Rousseau and Madame de Staël. As irony had -become vulgar, one had to fall back on feelings. A. de -Pezai in our days writes like M. Darlincourt. Besides, -since 1789, everything tends to favour utility or individual -sensibility, as opposed to honour or the empire of opinion. -The sight of the two Chambers teaches people to discuss -everything, even mere nonsense. The nation is becoming -serious, and gallantry is losing ground.</p> - -<p>As a Frenchman, I ought to say that it is not a small -number of colossal fortunes, but the multiplicity of -middling ones, that makes up the riches of a country. -In every country passion is rare, and gallantry is more -graceful and refined: in France, as a consequence, it has -better fortune. This great nation, the first in the world,<a name="FNanchor_6_157" id="FNanchor_6_157"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_157" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> -has the same kind of aptitude for love as for intellectual -achievements. In 1822 we have, to be sure, no Moore, -no Walter Scott, no Crabbe, no Byron, no Monti, no -Pellico; but we have among us more men of intellect, -clear-sighted, agreeable and up to the level of the lights -of this century, than England has, or Italy. It is for -this reason that the debates in our Chamber of Deputies -in 1822, are so superior to those in the English Parliament, -and that when a Liberal from England comes to France, -we are quite surprised to find in him several opinions -which are distinctly feudal.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>A Roman artist wrote from Paris:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>I am exceedingly uncomfortable here; I suppose it's because I -have no leisure for falling in love at my ease. Here, sensibility is -spent drop by drop, just as it forms, in such a way, at least so I -find it, as to be a drain on the source. At Rome, owing to the -little interest created by the events of every day and the somnolence -of the outside world, sensibility accumulates to the profit of -passion.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_152" id="Footnote_1_152"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_152"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> G. Pecchio, in his very lively <i>Letters</i> to a beautiful young English -woman, says on the subject of free Spain, where the Middle Ages are -not a revival, but have never ceased to exist (p. 60): "The aim of the -Spaniards was not glory, but independence. If the Spaniards had only -fought for honour, the war had ended with the battle of Tudela. Honour -is a thing of an odd nature—once soiled, it loses all its power of action. -... The Spanish army of the line, having become imbued in its turn -with prejudices in favour of honour (that means having become modern-European) -disbanded, once beaten, with the thought that, with honour, -all was lost, etc."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_153" id="Footnote_2_153"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_153"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> In 1620 a man was honoured by saying unceasingly and as servilely -as he could: "The King my Master" (See the Memoirs of Noailles, -Torcy and all Lewis XIV's ambassadors). Quite simple—by this turn of -phrase, he proclaims the rank he occupies among subjects. This rank, -dependent on the King, takes the place, in the eyes and esteem of these -subjects, of the rank which in ancient Rome depended on the good -opinion of his fellow-citizens, who had seen him fighting at Trasimene -and speaking in the Forum. You can batter down absolute monarchy -by destroying vanity and its advance works, which it calls <i>conventions</i>. -The dispute between Shakespeare and Racine<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_28" id="TNanch_28"></a><a href="#TN_28">(28)</a></span> is only one -form of the dispute between Louis XIV and constitutional government.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_154" id="Footnote_3_154"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_154"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> It can only be estimated in unpremeditated actions.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_155" id="Footnote_4_155"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_155"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Miss O'Neil, Mrs. Couts, and most of the great English actresses, -leave the stage in order to marry rich husbands.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_156" id="Footnote_5_156"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_156"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> One can allow women gallantry, but love makes them laughed at, -wrote the judicious Abbé Girard in Paris in 1740.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_157" id="Footnote_6_157"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_157"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> I want no other proof than the world's envy. See the <i>Edinburgh -Review</i> for 1821. See the German and Italian literary journals, and the -<i>Scimiatigre</i> of Alfieri.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLIV<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">ROME</span></h3> - - -<p>Only at Rome<a name="FNanchor_1_158" id="FNanchor_1_158"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_158" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> can a respectable woman, seated -in her carriage, say effusively to another woman, -a mere acquaintance, what I heard this morning: "Ah, -my dear, beware of love with Fabio Vitteleschi; better -for you to fall in love with a highwayman! For all his -soft and measured air, he is capable of stabbing you to -the heart with a knife, and of saying with the sweetest -smile, while he plunged the knife into your breast: -'Poor child, does it hurt?'" And this conversation -took place in the presence of a pretty young lady of -fifteen, daughter of the woman who received the advice, -and a very wide-awake young lady.</p> - -<p>If a man from the North has the misfortune not to -be shocked at first by the candour of this southern -capacity for love, which is nothing but the simple product -of a magnificent nature, favoured by the twofold -absence of <i>good form</i> and of all interesting novelty, -after a stay of one year the women of all other countries -will become intolerable to him.</p> - -<p>He will find Frenchwomen, perfectly charming, with -their little graces,<a name="FNanchor_2_159" id="FNanchor_2_159"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_159" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> seductive for the first three days, but -boring the fourth—fatal day, when one discovers that -all these graces, studied beforehand, and learned by -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>rote, are eternally the same, every day and for every -lover.</p> - -<p>He will see German women, on the contrary, so very -natural, and giving themselves up with so much ardour -to their imagination, but often with nothing to show in -the end, for all their naturalness, but barrenness, insipidity, -and blue-stocking tenderness. The phrase of -Count Almaviva<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_30" id="TNanch_30"></a><a href="#TN_30">(30)</a></span> seems made for Germany: "And -one is quite astonished, one fine evening, to find satiety, -where one went to look for happiness."</p> - -<p>At Rome, the foreigner must not forget that, if -nothing is tedious in countries where everything is -natural, the bad is there still more bad than elsewhere. -To speak only of the men,<a name="FNanchor_3_160" id="FNanchor_3_160"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_160" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> we can see appearing here in -society a kind of monster, who elsewhere lies low—a man -passionate, clear-sighted and base, all in an equal degree. -Suppose evil chance has set him near a woman in some -capacity or other: madly in love with her, suppose, -he will drink to the very dregs the misery of seeing her -prefer a rival. There he is to oppose her happier lover. -Nothing escapes him, and everyone sees that nothing -escapes him; but he continues none the less, in despite -of every honourable sentiment, to trouble the woman, -her lover and himself. No one blames him—"That's -his way of getting pleasure."—"He is doing what gives -him pleasure." One evening, the lover, at the end of -his patience, gives him a kick. The next day the wretch -is full of excuses, and begins again to torment, constantly -and imperturbably, the woman, the lover and himself. -One shudders, when one thinks of the amount of unhappiness -that these base spirits have every day to swallow—and -doubtless there is but one grain less of cowardice -between them and a poisoner.</p> - -<p>It is also only in Italy that you can see young and -elegant millionaires entertaining with magnificence, in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>full view of a whole town, ballet girls from a big theatre, -at a cost of thirty halfpence a day.<a name="FNanchor_4_161" id="FNanchor_4_161"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_161" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>Two brothers X——, fine young fellows, always hunting -and on horseback, are jealous of a foreigner. Instead -of going and laying their complaint before him, they are -sullen, and spread abroad unfavourable reports of this -poor foreigner. In France, public opinion would force -such men to prove their words or give satisfaction to the -foreigner. Here public opinion and contempt mean -nothing. Riches are always certain of being well received -everywhere. A millionaire, dishonoured and excluded -from every house in Paris, can go quite securely to Rome; -there he will be estimated just according to the value -of his dollars.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_158" id="Footnote_1_158"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_158"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> September 30th, 1819.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_159" id="Footnote_2_159"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_159"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Not only had the author the misfortune not to be born at Paris, -but he had also lived there very little. (Editor's note.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_160" id="Footnote_3_160"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_160"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heu! male nunc artes miseras haec secula tractant;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Jam tener assuevit munera velle puer. (Tibull., I, iv.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_161" id="Footnote_4_161"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_161"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> See in the manners of the age of Lewis XV how Honour and Aristocracy -load with profusion such ladies as Duthé, La Guerre and others. -Eighty or a hundred thousand francs a year was nothing extraordinary; -with less, a man of fashion would have lowered himself.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLV<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">ENGLAND<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_31" id="TNanch_31"></a><a href="#TN_31">(31)</a></span></span></h3> - - -<p>I have lived a good deal of late with the ballet-girls -of the Teatro Del Sol, at Valencia. People -assure me that many of them are very chaste; the reason -being that their profession is too fatiguing. Vigano makes -them rehearse his ballet, the <i>Jewess of Toledo</i>, every -day, from ten in the morning to four, and from midnight -to three in the morning. Besides this, they have -to dance every evening in both ballets.</p> - -<p>This reminds me that Rousseau prescribes a great -deal of walking for Émile. This evening I was strolling -at midnight with these little ballet girls out along the -seashore, and I was thinking especially how unknown to -us, in our sad lands of mist, is this superhuman delight -in the freshness of a sea breeze under this Valencian sky, -under the eyes of these resplendent stars that seem close -above us. This alone repays the journey of four hundred -leagues; this it is that banishes thought, for feeling -is too strong. I thought that the chastity of my little -ballet girls gives the explanation of the course adopted -by English pride, in order, little by little, to bring back -the morals of the harem into the midst of a civilised -nation. One sees how it is that some of these young -English girls, otherwise so beautiful and with so touching -an expression, leave something to be desired as -regards ideas. In spite of liberty, which has only just -been banished from their island, and the admirable -originality of their national character, they lack interesting -ideas and originality. Often there is nothing -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>remarkable in them but the extravagance of their refinements. -It's simple enough—in England the modesty -of the women is the pride of their husbands. But, -however submissive a slave may be, her society becomes -sooner or later a burden. Hence, for the men, the necessity -of getting drunk solemnly every evening,<a name="FNanchor_1_162" id="FNanchor_1_162"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_162" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> instead of -as in Italy, passing the evening with their mistresses. -In England, rich people, bored with their homes and -under the pretext of necessary exercise, walk four or -five leagues a day, as if man were created and put into -the world to trot up and down it. They use up their -nervous fluid by means of their legs, not their hearts; -after which, they may well talk of female refinement -and look down on Spain and Italy.</p> - -<p>No life, on the other hand, could be less busy than -that of young Italians; to them all action is importunate, -if it take away their sensibility. From time to time they -take a walk of half a league for health's sake, as an unpleasant -medicine. As for the women, a Roman woman -in a whole year does not walk as far as a young Miss in -a week.</p> - -<p>It seems to me that the pride of an English husband -exalts very adroitly the vanity of his wretched wife. He -persuades her, first of all, that one must not be vulgar, -and the mothers, who are getting their daughters ready -to find husbands, are quick enough to seize upon this -idea. Hence fashion is far more absurd and despotic -in reasonable England than in the midst of light-hearted -France: in Bond Street was invented the idea of the -"carefully careless." In England fashion is a duty, at -Paris it is a pleasure. In London fashion raises a wall of -bronze between New Bond Street and Fenchurch Street -far different from that between the Chaussée d'Antin -and the rue Saint-Martin at Paris. Husbands are quite -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>willing to allow their wives this aristocratic nonsense, to -make up for the enormous amount of unhappiness, which -they impose on them. I recognise a perfect picture -of women's society in England, such as the taciturn -pride of its men produces, in the once celebrated novels -of Miss Burney. Since it is vulgar to ask for a glass of -water, when one is thirsty, Miss Burney's heroines do -not fail to let themselves die of thirst. While flying from -vulgarity, they fall into the most abominable affectation.</p> - -<p>Compare the prudence of a young Englishman of -twenty-two with the profound mistrust of a young -Italian of the same age. The Italian must be mistrustful -to be safe, but this mistrust he puts aside, or at least -forgets, as soon as he becomes intimate, while it is apparently -just in his most tender relationships that you -see the young Englishman redouble his prudence and -aloofness. I once heard this:—</p> - -<p>"In the last seven months I haven't spoken to her of -the trip to Brighton." This was a question of a necessary -economy of twenty-four pounds, and a lover of twenty-two -years speaking of a mistress, a married woman, whom -he adored. In the transports of his passion prudence -had not left him: far less had he let himself go enough -to say to his mistress: "I shan't go to Brighton, because -I should feel the pinch."</p> - -<p>Note that the fate of Gianone de Pellico, and of a -hundred others, forces the Italian to be mistrustful, -while the young English <i>beau</i> is only forced to be prudent -by the excessive and morbid sensibility of his vanity. A -Frenchman, charming enough with his inspirations of -the minute, tells everything to her he loves. It is habit. -Without it he would lack ease, and he knows that without -ease there is no grace.</p> - -<p>It is with difficulty and with tears in my eyes that I -have plucked up courage to write all this; but, since -I would not, I'm sure, flatter a king, why should I -say of a country anything but what seems to me the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>truth? Of course it may be all very absurd, for the simple -reason that this country gave birth to the most lovable -woman that I have known.</p> - -<p>It would be another form of cringing before a monarch. -I will content myself with adding that in the midst of -all this variety of manners, among so many Englishwomen, -who are the spiritual victims of Englishmen's pride, a -perfect form of originality does exist, and that a family, -brought up aloof from these distressing restrictions (invented -to reproduce the morals of the harem) may be -responsible for charming characters. And how insufficient, -in spite of its etymology,—and how common—is -this word "charming" to render what I would express. -The gentle Imogen, the tender Ophelia might find -plenty of living models in England; but these models -are far from enjoying the high veneration that is unanimously -accorded to the true accomplished Englishwoman, -whose destiny is to show complete obedience to every -convention and to afford a husband full enjoyment of -the most morbid aristocratic pride and a happiness that -makes him die of boredom.<a name="FNanchor_2_163" id="FNanchor_2_163"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_163" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>In the great suites of fifteen or twenty rooms, so -fresh and so dark, in which Italian women pass their -lives softly propped on low divans, they hear people -speak of love and of music for six hours in the day. At -night, at the theatre, hidden in their boxes for four -hours, they hear people speak of music and love.</p> - -<p>Then, besides the climate, the whole way of living is -in Spain or Italy as favourable to music and love, as it -is the contrary in England.</p> - -<p>I neither blame nor approve; I observe.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_162" id="Footnote_1_162"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_162"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This custom begins to give way a little in very good society, which -is becoming French, as everywhere; but I'm speaking of the vast generality.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_163" id="Footnote_2_163"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_163"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See Richardson: the manners of the Harlowe family, translated into -modern manners, are frequent in England. Their servants are worth -more than they.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLVI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">ENGLAND—(<i>continued</i>)</span></h3> - - -<p>I love England too much and I have seen of her too -little to be able to speak on the subject. I shall -make use of the observations of a friend.</p> - -<p>In the actual state of Ireland (1822) is realised, for the -twentieth time in two centuries,<a name="FNanchor_1_164" id="FNanchor_1_164"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_164" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> that curious state of -society which is so fruitful of courageous resolutions, and -so opposed to a monotonous existence, and in which -people, who breakfast gaily together, may meet in two -hours' time on the field of battle. Nothing makes a -more energetic and direct appeal to that disposition of -the spirit, which is most favourable to the tender passions—to -naturalness. Nothing is further removed from -the two great English vices—cant and bashfulness,—moral -hypocrisy and haughty, painful timidity. (See -the Travels of Mr. Eustace<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_32" id="TNanch_32"></a><a href="#TN_32">(32)</a></span> in Italy.) If this traveller -gives a poor picture of the country, in return he gives a -very exact idea of his own character, and this character, as -that of Mr. Beattie<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_32">(32)</a></span>, the poet (see his Life written -by an intimate friend), is unhappily but too common in -England. For the priest, honest in spite of his cloth, -refer to the letters of the Bishop of Landaff.<a name="FNanchor_2_165" id="FNanchor_2_165"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_165" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_32">(32)</a></span>.</p> - -<p>One would have thought Ireland already unfortunate -enough, bled as it has been for two centuries by the -cowardly and cruel tyranny of England; but now there -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>enters into the moral state of Ireland a terrible personage: -the <span class="smcap">Priest</span>....</p> - -<p>For two centuries Ireland has been almost as badly -governed as Sicily. A thorough comparison between these -two islands, in a volume of five hundred pages, would -offend many people and overwhelm many established -theories with ridicule. What is evident is that the happiest -of these two countries—both of them governed by -fools, only for the profit of a minority—is Sicily. Its -governors have at least left it its love of pleasure; they -would willingly have robbed it of this as of the rest, -but, thanks to its climate, Sicily knows little of that moral -evil called Law and Government.<a name="FNanchor_3_166" id="FNanchor_3_166"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_166" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>It is old men and priests who make the laws and have -them executed, and this seems quite in keeping with the -comic jealousy, with which pleasure is hunted down in the -British Isles. The people there might say to its governors -as Diogenes said to Alexander: "Be content with your -sinecures, but please don't step between me and my -daylight."<a name="FNanchor_4_167" id="FNanchor_4_167"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_167" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>By means of laws, rules, counter-rules and punishments, -the Government in Ireland has created the potato, and -the population of Ireland exceeds by far that of Sicily. -This is to say, they have produced several millions of -degenerate and half-witted peasants, broken down by -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>work and misery, dragging out a wretched life of some -forty or fifty years among the marshes of old Erin—and, -you may be sure, paying their taxes! A real miracle! -With the pagan religion these poor wretches would at -least have enjoyed some happiness—but not a bit of it, -they must adore St. Patrick.</p> - -<p>Everywhere in Ireland one sees none but peasants -more miserable than savages. Only, instead of there -being a hundred thousand, as there would be in a state -of nature, there are eight millions,<a name="FNanchor_5_168" id="FNanchor_5_168"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_168" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> who allow five hundred -"absentees" to live in prosperity at London or Paris.</p> - -<p>Society is infinitely more advanced in Scotland,<a name="FNanchor_6_169" id="FNanchor_6_169"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_169" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> where, -in very many respects, government is good (the rarity -of crime, the diffusion of reading, the non-existence of -bishops, etc.). There the tender passions can develop -much more freely, and it is possible to leave these -sombre thoughts and approach the humorous.</p> - -<p>One cannot fail to notice a foundation of melancholy -in Scottish women. This melancholy is particularly -seductive at dances, where it gives a singular piquancy -to the extreme ardour and energy with which they perform -their national dances. Edinburgh has another -advantage, that of being withdrawn from the vile empire -of money. In this, as well as in the singular and savage -beauty of its site, this city forms a complete contrast -with London. Like Rome, fair Edinburgh seems rather -the sojourn of the contemplative life. At London you -have the ceaseless whirlwind and restless interests of -active life, with all its advantages and inconveniences. -Edinburgh seems to me to pay its tribute to the devil by -a slight disposition to pedantry. Those days when Mary -Stuart lived at old Holyrood, and Riccio was assassinated -in her arms, were worth more to Love (and here all -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>women will agree with me) than to-day, when one discusses -at such length, and even in their presence, the -preference to be accorded to the neptunian system over -the vulcanian system of ... I prefer a discussion on -the new uniform given by the king to the Guards, or -on the peerage which Sir B. Bloomfield<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_35" id="TNanch_35"></a><a href="#TN_35">(35)</a></span> failed to -get—the topic of London in my day—to a learned -discussion as to who has best explored the nature of -rocks, de Werner or de....</p> - -<p>I say nothing about the terrible Scottish Sunday, after -which a Sunday in London looks like a beanfeast. That -day, set aside for the honour of Heaven, is the best -image of Hell that I have ever seen on earth. "Don't -let's walk so fast," said a Scotchman returning from church -to a Frenchman, his friend; "people might think we -were going for a walk."<a name="FNanchor_7_170" id="FNanchor_7_170"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_170" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<p>Of the three countries, Ireland is the one in which -there is the least hypocrisy. See the <i>New Monthly Magazine</i> -thundering against Mozart and the <i>Nozze di -Figaro</i>.<a name="FNanchor_8_171" id="FNanchor_8_171"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_171" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> - -<p>In every country it is the aristocrats, who try to judge -a literary magazine and literature; and for the last four -years in England these have been hand in glove with the -bishops. As I say, that of the three countries where, it -seems to me, there is the least hypocrisy, is Ireland: -on the contrary, you find there a reckless, a most -fascinating vivacity. In Scotland there is the strict -observance of Sunday, but on Monday they dance with -a joy and an abandon unknown to London. There is -plenty of love among the peasant class in Scotland. The -omnipotence of imagination gallicised the country in -the sixteenth century.</p> - -<p>The terrible fault of English society, that which in a -single day creates a greater amount of sadness than the -national debt and its consequences, and even than the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>war to the death waged by the rich against the poor, is -this sentence which I heard last autumn at Croydon, -before the beautiful statue of the bishop: "In society -no one wants to put himself forward, for fear of being -deceived in his expectations."</p> - -<p>Judge what laws, under the name of modesty, such -men must impose on their wives and mistresses.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_164" id="Footnote_1_164"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_164"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The young child of Spenser was burnt alive in Ireland.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_165" id="Footnote_2_165"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_165"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> To refute otherwise than by insults the portraiture of a certain -class of Englishmen presented in these three works seems to me an impossible -task. Satanic school.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_166" id="Footnote_3_166"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_166"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> I call moral evil, in 1822, every government which has not got two -chambers; the only exception can be when the head of the government -is great by reason of his probity, a miracle to be seen in Saxony and at -Naples.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_167" id="Footnote_4_167"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_167"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> See in the trial of the late Queen of England<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_33" id="TNanch_33"></a><a href="#TN_33">(33)</a></span>, a curious list of -the peers with the sums which they and their families receive from the -State. For example, Lord Lauderdale and his family, £36,000. The -half-pint of beer that is necessary to the miserable existence of the poorest -Englishman, is taxed a halfpenny for the profit of the noble peer. And, -what is very much to the point, both of them know it. As a result, -neither the lord nor the peasant have leisure enough to think of love; -they are sharpening their arms, the one publicly and haughtily, the other -secretly and enraged. (Yeomanry and Whiteboys.)<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_34" id="TNanch_34"></a><a href="#TN_34">(34)</a></span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_168" id="Footnote_5_168"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_168"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Plunkett Craig, <i>Life of Curran</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_169" id="Footnote_6_169"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_169"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Degree of civilisation to be seen in the peasant Robert Burns and -his family; a peasants' club with a penny subscription each meeting; -the questions discussed there. (See the Letters of Burns.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_170" id="Footnote_7_170"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_170"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The same in America. In Scotland, display of titles.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_171" id="Footnote_8_171"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_171"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> January, 1822, <i>Cant</i>.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLVII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">SPAIN<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_36" id="TNanch_36"></a><a href="#TN_36">(36)</a></span></span></h3> - - -<p>Andalusia is one of the most charming sojourns -that Pleasure has chosen for itself on earth. I -had three or four anecdotes to show how my ideas about -the three or four different acts of madness, which -together constitute Love, hold good for Spain: I have -been advised to sacrifice them to French refinement. -In vain I protested that I wrote in French, but emphatically -not French literature. God preserve me from -having anything in common with the French writers -esteemed to-day!</p> - -<p>The Moors, when they abandoned Andalusia, left it -their architecture and much of their manners. Since it -is impossible for me to speak of the latter in the language -of Madame de Sévigné, I'll at least say this of Moorish -architecture:—its principal trait consists in providing -every house with a little garden surrounded by an elegant -and graceful portico. There, during the unbearable -heat of summer, when for whole weeks together the -Réaumur thermometer never falls below a constant level -of thirty degrees, a delicious obscurity pervades these -porticoes. In the middle of the little garden there is -always a fountain, monotonous and voluptuous, whose -sound is all that stirs this charming retreat. The -marble basin is surrounded by a dozen orange-trees -and laurels. A thick canvas, like a tent, covers in the -whole of the little garden, and, while it protects it from -the rays of the sun and from the light, lets in the gentle -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>breezes which, at midday, come down from the mountains.</p> - -<p>There live and receive their guests the fair ladies of -Andalusia: a simple black silk robe, ornamented with -fringes of the same colour, and giving glimpses of a -charming ankle; a pale complexion and eyes that -mirror all the most fugitive shades of the most tender -and ardent passion—such are the celestial beings, whom -I am forbidden to bring upon the scene.</p> - -<p>I look upon the Spanish people as the living representatives -of the Middle Age.</p> - -<p>It is ignorant of a mass of little truths (the puerile vanity -of its neighbours); but it has a profound knowledge of -great truths and enough character and wit to follow their -consequences down to their most remote effects. The -Spanish character offers a fine contrast to French -intellect—hard, brusque, inelegant, full of savage pride, -and unconcerned with others. It is just the contrast -of the fifteenth with the eighteenth century.</p> - -<p>Spain provides me with a good contrast; the only -people, that was able to withstand Napoleon, seems to -me to be absolutely lacking in the fool's honour and in -all that is foolish in honour.</p> - -<p>Instead of making fine military ordinances, of changing -uniforms every six months and of wearing large spurs, -Spain has general <i>No importa</i>.<a name="FNanchor_1_172" id="FNanchor_1_172"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_172" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_172" id="Footnote_1_172"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_172"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the charming Letters of M. Pecchio. Italy is full of people -of this wonderful type; but, instead of letting themselves be seen, they -try to keep quiet—<i>paese della virtù scunosciuta</i>—"Land of mute, inglorious -virtue.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">GERMAN LOVE<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_37" id="TNanch_37"></a><a href="#TN_37">(37)</a></span></span></h3> - - -<p>If the Italian, always agitated between love and hate, -is a creature of passion, and the Frenchman of -vanity, the good and simple descendants of the ancient -Germans are assuredly creatures of imagination. Scarcely -raised above social interests, the most directly necessary -to their subsistence, one is amazed to see them soar into -what they call their philosophy, which is a sort of gentle, -lovable, quite harmless folly. I am going to cite, not -altogether from memory, but from hurriedly taken -notes, a work whose author, though writing in a tone of -opposition, illustrates clearly, even in his admirations, -the military spirit in all its excesses—I speak of the Travels -in Austria of M. Cadet-Gassicourt, in 1809. What would -the noble and generous Desaix have said, if he had seen -the pure heroism of '95 lead on to this execrable egoism?</p> - -<p>Two friends find themselves side by side with a battery -at the battle of Talavera, one as Captain in command, -the other as lieutenant. A passing bullet lays the -Captain low. "Good," says the lieutenant, quite beside -himself with joy, "that's done for Francis—now I shall -be Captain." "Not so quick," cries Francis, as he gets -up. He had only been stunned by the bullet. The -lieutenant, as well as the Captain, were the best fellows -in the world, not a bit ill-natured, and only a little stupid; -the excitement of the chase and the furious egoism which -the Emperor had succeeded in awakening, by decorating -it with the name of glory, made these enthusiastic worshippers -of him forget their humanity.</p> - -<p>After the harsh spectacle offered by men like this, who -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>dispute on parade at Schoenbrunn for a look from their -master and a barony—see how the Emperor's apothecary -describes German love, page 188:</p> - -<p>"Nothing can be more sweet, more gentle, than an -Austrian woman. With her, love is a cult, and when she -is attached to a Frenchman, she adores him—in the full -force of the word.</p> - -<p>"There are light, capricious women everywhere, but -in general the Viennese are faithful and in no way -coquettes; when I say that they are faithful, I mean to -the lover of their own choice, for husbands are the same -at Vienna as everywhere else" (June 7, 1809).</p> - -<p>The most beautiful woman of Vienna accepts the -homage of one of my friends, M. M——, a captain -attached to the Emperor's headquarters. He's a young -man, gentle and witty, but certainly neither his figure -nor face are in any way remarkable.</p> - -<p>For some days past his young mistress has made a very -great sensation among our brilliant staff officers, who -pass their life ferreting about in every corner of Vienna. -It has become a contest of daring. Every possible -manœuvre has been employed. The fair one's house -has been put in a state of siege by all the best-looking and -richest. Pages, brilliant colonels, generals of the guard, -even princes, have gone to waste their time under her -windows, and their money on the fair lady's servants. -All have been turned away. These princes were little -accustomed to find a deaf ear at Paris or Milan. When I -laughed at their discomfiture before this charming -creature: "But good Heavens," she said, "don't they -know that I'm in love with M. M....?"</p> - -<p>A singular remark and certainly a most improper one!</p> - -<p>Page 290: "While we were at Schoenbrunn I noticed -that two young men, who were attached to the Emperor, -never received anyone in their lodgings at Vienna. -We used to chaff them a lot on their discretion. One -of them said to me one day: 'I'll keep no secrets from -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>you: a young woman of the place has given herself -to me, on condition that she need never leave my apartment, -and that I never receive anyone at all without her -leave.' I was curious," says the traveller, "to know -this voluntary recluse, and my position as doctor giving -me, as in the East, an honourable pretext, I accepted a -breakfast offered me by my friend. The woman I found -was very much in love, took the greatest care of the household, -never wanted to go out, though it was just a -pleasant time of the year for walking—and for the rest, -was quite certain that her lover would take her back -with him to France.</p> - -<p>"The other young man, who was also never to be -found in his rooms, soon after made me a similar confession. -I also saw his mistress. Like the first, she was -fair, very pretty, and an excellent figure.</p> - -<p>"The one, eighteen years of age, was the daughter of -a well-to-do upholsterer; the other, who was about -twenty-four, was the wife of an Austrian officer, on service -with the army of the Archduke John. This latter pushed -her love to the verge of what we, in our land of vanity, -would call heroism. Not only was her lover faithless to -her, he also found himself under the necessity of making -a confession of a most unpleasant nature. She nursed -him with complete devotion; the seriousness of his -illness attached her to her lover; and perhaps she only -cherished him the more for it, when soon after his life -was in danger.</p> - -<p>"It will be understood that I, a stranger and a conqueror, -have had no chance of observing love in the highest -circles, seeing that the whole of the aristocracy of Vienna -had retired at our approach to their estates in Hungary. -But I have seen enough of it to be convinced that it is -not the same love as at Paris.</p> - -<p>"The feeling of love is considered by the Germans -as a virtue, as an emanation of the Divinity, as something -mystical. It is riot quick, impetuous, jealous, tyrannical, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>as it is in the heart of an Italian woman: it is profound -and something like illuminism; in this Germany is a -thousand miles away from England.</p> - -<p>"Some years ago a Leipsic tailor, in a fit of jealousy, -waited for his rival in the public garden and stabbed -him. He was condemned to lose his head. The moralists -of the town, faithful to the German traditions of kindness -and unhampered emotion (which makes for feebleness -of character) discussed the sentence, decided that -it was severe and, making a comparison between the tailor -and Orosmanes, were moved to pity for his fate. Nevertheless -they were unable to have his sentence mitigated. -But the day of the execution, all the young girls of -Leipsic, dressed in white, met together and accompanied -the tailor to the scaffold, throwing flowers in his path.</p> - -<p>"No one thought this ceremony odd; yet, in a country -which considers itself logical, it might be said that it -was honouring a species of murder. But it was a ceremony—and -everything which is a ceremony, is always -safe from ridicule in Germany. See the ceremonies at -the Courts of the small princes, which would make us -Frenchmen die with laughter, but appear quite imposing -at Meiningen or Koethen. In the six gamekeepers who -file past their little prince, adorned with his star, they -see the soldiers of Arminius marching out to meet the -legions of Varus.</p> - -<p>"A point of difference between the Germans and all -other peoples: they are exalted, instead of calming -themselves, by meditation. A second subtle point: -they are all eaten up with the desire to have character.</p> - -<p>"Life at Court, ordinarily so favourable to love, -in Germany deadens it. You have no idea of the mass -of incomprehensible <i>minutiæ</i> and the pettinesses that constitute -what is called a German Court,<a name="FNanchor_1_173" id="FNanchor_1_173"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_173" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>—even the Court -of the best princes. (Munich, 1820).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>"When we used to arrive with the staff in a German -town, at the end of the first fortnight the ladies of the -district had made their choice. But that choice was -constant; and I have heard it said that the French were -a shoal, on which foundered many a virtue till then -irreproachable."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The young Germans whom I have met at Gottingen, -Dresden, Koenigsberg, etc., are brought up -among pseudo-systems of philosophy, which are merely -obscure and badly written poetry, but, as regards their -ethics, of the highest and holiest sublimity. They seem -to me to have inherited from their Middle Age, not like -the Italians, republicanism, mistrust and the dagger, but -a strong disposition to enthusiasm and good faith. Thus -it is that every ten years they have a new great man who's -going to efface all the others. (Kant, Steding, Fichte, etc. -etc.<a name="FNanchor_2_174" id="FNanchor_2_174"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_174" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>)</p> - -<p>Formerly Luther made a powerful appeal to the moral -sense, and the Germans fought thirty years on end, in -order to obey their conscience. It's a fine word and one -quite worthy of respect, however absurd the belief; -I say worthy of respect even from an artist. See the -struggle in the soul of S—— between the third [sixth] -commandment of God—"Thou shalt not kill"—and -what he believed to be the interest of his country.</p> - -<p>Already in Tacitus we find a mystical enthusiasm for -women and love, at least if that writer was not merely -aiming his satire at Rome.<a name="FNanchor_3_175" id="FNanchor_3_175"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_175" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>One has not been five hundred miles in Germany, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>before one can distinguish in this people, disunited and -scattered, a foundation of enthusiasm, soft and tender, -rather than ardent and impetuous.</p> - -<p>If this disposition were not so apparent, it would be -enough to reread three or four of the novels of Auguste -La Fontaine, whom the pretty Louise, Queen of Prussia, -made Canon of Magdeburg, as a reward for having so -well painted the Peaceful Life.<a name="FNanchor_4_176" id="FNanchor_4_176"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_176" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>I see a new proof of this disposition, which is common -to all the Germans, in the Austrian code, which demands -the confession of the guilty for the punishment of almost -all crimes. This code is calculated to fit a people, among -whom crime is a rare phenomenon, and sooner an excess -of madness in a feeble being than the effect of interests, -daring, reasoned and for ever in conflict with society. -It is precisely the contrary of what is wanted in Italy, -where they are trying to introduce it—a mistake of well-meaning -people.</p> - -<p>I have seen German judges in Italy in despair over -sentences of death or, what's the equivalent, the irons, -if they were obliged to pronounce it without the confession -of the guilty.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_173" id="Footnote_1_173"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_173"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the Memoirs of the Margrave de Bayreuth and <i>Vingt ans de -séjour à Berlin</i>, by M. Thiébaut.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_174" id="Footnote_2_174"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_174"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See in 1821 their enthusiasm for the tragedy, the <i>Triumph of the -Cross</i>,<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_38" id="TNanch_38"></a><a href="#TN_38">(38)</a></span> which has caused <i>Wilhelm Tell</i> to be forgotten.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_175" id="Footnote_3_175"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_175"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> I have had the good fortune to meet a man of the liveliest wit, -and at the same time as learned as ten German professors, and one who -discloses his discoveries in terms clear and precise. If ever M. F.<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_39">(39)</a></span> -publishes, we shall see the Middle Age revealed to our eyes in a full light, -and we shall love it.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_176" id="Footnote_4_176"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_176"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The title of one of the novels of Auguste La Fontaine. The peaceful -life, another great trait of German manners—it is the "farniente" -of the Italian, and also the physiological commentary on a Russian -droski and on the English "horseback."</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER XLIX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">A DAY IN FLORENCE</span></h3> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Florence</span>, <i>February</i> 12, 1819.</p> - -<p>This evening, in a box at the theatre, I met a man -who had some favour to ask of a magistrate, aged -fifty. His first question was: "Who is his mistress? -<i>Chi avvicina adesso?</i>" Here everyone's affairs are -absolutely public; they have their own laws; there is -an approved manner of acting, which is based on justice -without any conventionality—if you act otherwise, you -are a <i>porco</i>.</p> - -<p>"What's the news?" one of my friends asked yesterday, -on his arrival from Volterra. After a word of -vehement lamentation about Napoleon and the English, -someone adds, in a tone of the liveliest interest: "La -Vitteleschi has changed her lover: poor Gherardesca is -in despair."—"Whom has she taken?"—"Montegalli, -the good-looking officer with a moustache, who had -Princess Colonna; there he is down in the stalls, nailed -to her box; he's there the whole evening, because her -husband won't have him in the house, and there near the -door you can see poor Gherardesca, walking about so -sadly and counting afar the glances, which his faithless -mistress throws his successor. He's very changed and -in the depths of despair; it's quite useless for his -friends to try to send him to Paris or London. He is -ready to die, he says, at the very idea of leaving Florence."</p> - -<p>Every year there are twenty such cases of despair in -high circles; some of them I have seen last three or four -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>years. These poor devils are without any shame and take -the whole world into their confidence. For the rest, -there's little society here, and besides, when one's in -love, one hardly mixes with it. It must not be thought -that great passions and great hearts are at all common, -even in Italy; only, in Italy, hearts which are more -inflamed and less stunted by the thousand little cares of -our vanity, find delicious pleasures even in the subaltern -species of love. In Italy I have seen love from caprice, -for example, cause transports and moments of madness, -such as the most violent passion has never brought with -it under the meridian of Paris.<a name="FNanchor_1_177" id="FNanchor_1_177"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_177" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>I noticed this evening that there are proper names in -Italian for a million particular circumstances in love, -which, in French, would need endless paraphrases; for -example, the action of turning sharply away, when from -the floor of the house you are quizzing a woman you are -in love with, and the husband or a servant come towards -the front of her box.</p> - -<p>The following are the principal traits in the character -of this people:—</p> - -<p>1. The attention, habitually at the service of deep -passions, cannot move rapidly. This is the most marked -difference between a Frenchman and an Italian. You -have only to see an Italian get into a diligence or make a -payment, to understand "la furia francese." It's for -this reason that the most vulgar Frenchman, provided -that he is not a witty fool, like Démasure, always seems -a superior being to an Italian woman. (The lover of -Princess D—— at Rome.)</p> - -<p>2. Everyone is in love, and not under cover, as in -France; the husband is the best friend of the lover.</p> - -<p>3. No one reads.</p> - -<p>4. There is no society. A man does not reckon, in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>order to fill up and occupy his life, on the happiness -which he derives from two hours' conversation and the -play of vanity in this or that house. The word <i>causerie</i> -cannot be translated into Italian. People speak when -they have something to say, to forward a passion, but -they rarely talk just in order to talk on any given subject.</p> - -<p>5. Ridicule does not exist in Italy.</p> - -<p>In France, both of us are trying to imitate the same -model, and I am a competent judge of the way in which -you copy it.<a name="FNanchor_2_178" id="FNanchor_2_178"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_178" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> In Italy I cannot say whether the peculiar -action, which I see this man perform, does not give -pleasure to the performer and might not, perhaps, give -pleasure to me.</p> - -<p>What is affectation of language or manner at Rome, is -good form or unintelligible at Florence, which is only -fifty leagues away. The same French is spoken at Lyons -as at Nantes. Venetian, Neapolitan Genoese, Piedmontese -are almost entirely different languages, and only spoken -by people who are agreed never to print except in a -common language, namely that spoken at Rome. Nothing -is so absurd as a comedy, with the scene laid at Milan -and the characters speaking Roman. It is only by music -that the Italian language, which is far more fit to be -sung than spoken, will hold its own against the clearness -of French, which threatens it.</p> - -<p>In Italy, fear of the "pacha"<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_29">(29)</a></span> and his spies causes -the useful to be held in esteem; the fool's honour simply -doesn't exist.<a name="FNanchor_3_179" id="FNanchor_3_179"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_179" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Its place is taken by a kind of petty hatred -of society, called "petegolismo." Finally, to make fun -of a person is to make a mortal enemy, a very dangerous -thing in a country where the power and activity of -governments is limited to exacting taxes and punishing -everything above the common level.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>6. The patriotism of the antechamber.</p> - -<p>That pride which leads a man to seek the esteem of -his fellow-citizens and to make himself one of them, but -which in Italy was cut off, about the year 1550, from any -noble enterprise by the jealous despotism of the small -Italian princes, has given birth to a barbarous product, -to a sort of Caliban, to a monster full of fury and sottishness, -the patriotism of the antechamber, as M. Turgot -called it, <i>à propos</i> of the siege of Calais (the <i>Soldat -laboureur</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_40" id="TNanch_40"></a><a href="#TN_40">(40)</a></span> of those times.) I have seen this monster -blunt the sharpest spirits. For example, a stranger will -make himself unpopular, even with pretty women, if -he thinks fit to find anything wrong with the painter or -poet of the town; he will be soon told, and that very -seriously, that he ought not to come among people to -laugh at them, and they will quote to him on this topic -a saying of Lewis XIV about Versailles.</p> - -<p>At Florence people say: "our Benvenuti," as at -Brescia—"our Arrici": they put on the word "our" -a certain emphasis, restrained yet very comical, not -unlike the <i>Miroir</i> talking with unction about national -music and of M. Monsigny, the musician of Europe.</p> - -<p>In order not to laugh in the face of these fine patriots -one must remember that, owing to the dissensions -of the Middle Age, envenomed by the vile policy of the -Popes,<a name="FNanchor_4_180" id="FNanchor_4_180"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_180" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> each city has a mortal hatred for its neighbour, -and the name of the inhabitants in the one always stands -in the other as a synonym for some gross fault. The -Popes have succeeded in making this beautiful land into -the kingdom of hate.</p> - -<p>This patriotism of the antechamber is the greatest -moral sore in Italy, a corrupting germ that will still show -its disastrous effects long after Italy has thrown off the -yoke of its ridiculous little priests.<a name="FNanchor_5_181" id="FNanchor_5_181"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_181" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> The form of this -patriotism is an inexorable hatred for everything foreign. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>Thus they look on the Germans as fools, and get angry -when someone says: "What has Italy in the eighteenth -century produced the equal of Catherine II or Frederick -the Great? Where have you an English garden comparable -to the smallest German garden, you who, with -your climate, have a real need of shade?"</p> - -<p>7. Unlike the English or French, the Italians have no -political prejudices; they all know by heart the line of -La Fontaine:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Notre ennemi c'est notre M.<a name="FNanchor_6_182" id="FNanchor_6_182"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_182" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p></blockquote> - -<p>Aristocracy, supported by the priest and a biblical -state of society, is a worn-out illusion which only -makes them smile. In return, an Italian needs a stay -of three months in France to realise that a draper may be -a conservative.</p> - -<p>8. As a last trait of character I would mention intolerance -in discussion, and anger as soon as they do not find -an argument ready to hand, to throw out against that of -their adversary. At that point they visibly turn pale. -It is one form of their extreme sensibility, but it is not -one of its most amiable forms: consequently it is one -of those that I am most willing to admit as proof of -the existence of sensibility.</p> - -<p>I wanted to see love without end, and, after considerable -difficulty, I succeeded in being introduced this -evening to Chevalier C—— and his mistress, with whom -he has lived for fifty-four years. I left the box of these -charming old people, my heart melted; there I saw the art -of being happy, an art ignored by so many young people.</p> - -<p>Two months ago I saw Monsignor R——, by whom I -was well received, because I brought him some copies of -the <i>Minerve</i>. He was at his country house with Madame -D——, whom he is still pleased, after thirty-four years, -"<i>avvicinare</i>," as they say. She is still beautiful, but there -is a touch of melancholy in this household. People -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>attribute it to the loss of a son, who was poisoned long -ago by her husband.</p> - -<p>Here, to be in love does not mean, as at Paris, to see -one's mistress for a quarter of an hour every week, and -for the rest of the time to obtain a look or a shake of the -hand: the lover, the happy lover, passes four or five -hours every day with the woman he loves. He talks to -her about his actions at law, his English garden, his -hunting parties, his prospects, etc. There is the completest, -the most tender intimacy. He speaks to her with -the familiar "<i>tu</i>," even in the presence of her husband -and everywhere.</p> - -<p>A young man of this country, one very ambitious as -he believed, was called to a high position at Vienna -(nothing less than ambassador). But he could not get -used to his stay abroad. At the end of six months he -said good-bye to his job, and returned to be happy in -his mistress's box at the opera.</p> - -<p>Such continual intercourse would be inconvenient in -France, where one must display a certain degree of -affectation, and where your mistress can quite well say -to you: "Monsieur So-and-so, you're glum this evening; -you don't say a word." In Italy it is only a matter of -telling the woman you love everything that passes -through your head—you must actually think aloud. -There is a certain nervous state which results from intimacy; -freedom provokes freedom, and is only to be -got in this way. But there is one great inconvenience; -you find that love in this way paralyses all your tastes -and renders all the other occupations of your life insipid. -Such love is the best substitute for passion.</p> - -<p>Our friends at Paris, who are still at the stage of -trying to conceive that it's possible to be a Persian<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_71" id="TNanch_71"></a><a href="#TN_71">(71)</a></span>, -not knowing what to say, will cry out that such -manners are indecent. To begin with, I am only an -historian; and secondly, I reserve to myself the right to -show one day, by dint of solid reasoning, that as regards -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>manners and fundamentally, Paris is not superior to -Bologna. Quite unconsciously these poor people are -still repeating their twopence-halfpenny catechism.</p> - -<p>12 <i>July</i>, 1821. There is nothing odious in the society -of Bologna. At Paris the role of a deceived husband is -execrable; here (at Bologna) it is nothing—there are -no deceived husbands. Manners are the same, it is only -hate that is missing; the recognised lover is always the -husband's friend, and this friendship, which has been -cemented by reciprocal services, quite often survives -other interests. Most love-affairs last five or six years, -many for ever. People part at last, when they no longer -find it sweet to tell each other everything, and when the -first month of the rupture is over, there is no bitterness.</p> - -<p><i>January</i>, 1822. The ancient mode of the <i>cavaliere -servente</i>, imported into Italy by Philip II, along with -Spanish pride and manners, has entirely fallen into -disuse in the large towns. I know of only one exception, -and that's Calabria, where the eldest brother always takes -orders, marries his younger brother, sets up in the service -of his sister-in-law and becomes at the same time her -lover.</p> - -<p>Napoleon banished libertinism from upper Italy, and -even from here (Naples).</p> - -<p>The morals of the present generation of pretty women -shame their mothers; they are more favourable to -passion-love, but physical love has lost a great deal.<a name="FNanchor_7_183" id="FNanchor_7_183"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_183" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_177" id="Footnote_1_177"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_177"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Of that Paris which has given the world Voltaire, Molière and so -many men of distinguished wit—but one can't have everything, and it -would show little wit to be annoyed at it.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_178" id="Footnote_2_178"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_178"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This French habit, growing weaker every day, will increase the -distance between us and Molière's heroes.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_179" id="Footnote_3_179"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_179"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Every infraction of this honour is a subject of ridicule in bourgeois -circles in France. (See M. Picard's <i>Petite Ville</i>.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_180" id="Footnote_4_180"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_180"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> See the excellent and curious <i>Histoire de l'Église</i>, by M. de Potter.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_181" id="Footnote_5_181"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_181"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> 1822.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_182" id="Footnote_6_182"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_182"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> [Our enemy is our Master.—<i>Fables</i>, VI, 8.—Tr.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_183" id="Footnote_7_183"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_183"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Towards 1780 the maxim ran: -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Molti averne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Un goderne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">E cambiar spesso<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p> -Travels of Shylock [Sherlock?—Tr.].</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER L<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">LOVE IN THE UNITED STATES<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_41" id="TNanch_41"></a><a href="#TN_41">(41)</a></span></span></h3> - - -<p>A free government is a government which does no -harm to its citizens, but which, on the contrary, -gives them security and tranquillity. But 'tis a long -cry from this to happiness. That a man must find -for himself; for he must be a gross creature who thinks -himself perfectly happy, because he enjoys security and -tranquillity. We mix these things up in Europe, especially -in Italy. Accustomed as we are to governments, -which do us harm, it seems to us that to be delivered -from them would be supreme happiness; in this we are -like invalids, worn out with the pain of our sufferings. -The example of America shows us just the contrary. -There government discharges its office quite well, and -does harm to no one. But we have been far removed, -for very many centuries, thanks to the unhappy state of -Europe, from any actual experience of the kind, and now -destiny, as if to disconcert and give the lie to all our -philosophy, or rather to accuse it of not knowing all the -elements of human nature, shows us, that just when the -unhappiness of bad government is wanting to America, -the Americans are wanting to themselves.</p> - -<p>One is inclined to say that the source of sensibility is -dried up in this people. They are just, they are reasonable, -but they are essentially not happy.</p> - -<p>Is the Bible, that is to say, the ridiculous consequences -and rules of conduct which certain fantastic wits deduce -from that collection of poems and songs, sufficient to -cause all this unhappiness? To me it seems a very -considerable effect for such a cause.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>M. de Volney related that, being at table in the country -at the house of an honest American, a man in easy circumstances, -and surrounded by children already grown -up, there entered into the dining-room a young man. -"Good day, William," said the father of the family; -"sit down." The traveller enquired who this young -man was. "He's my second son." "Where does he -come from?"—"From Canton."</p> - -<p>The arrival of one of his sons from the end of the world -caused no more sensation than that.</p> - -<p>All their attention seems employed on finding a reasonable -arrangement of life, and on avoiding all inconveniences. -When finally they arrive at the moment of reaping -the fruit of so much care and of the spirit of order -so long maintained, there is no life left for enjoyment.</p> - -<p>One might say that the descendants of Penn never -read that line, which looks like their history:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas.</p></blockquote> - -<p>The young people of both sexes, when winter comes, -which in this country, as in Russia, is the gay season, go -sleighing together day and night over the snow, often -going quite gaily distances of fifteen or twenty miles, -and without anyone to look after them. No inconvenience -ever results from it.</p> - -<p>They have the physical gaiety of youth, which soon -passes away with the warmth of their blood, and is over -at twenty-five. But I find no passions which give pleasure. -In America there is such a reasonable habit of -mind that crystallisation has been rendered impossible.</p> - -<p>I admire such happiness, but I do not envy it; it is -like the happiness of human beings of a different and -lower species. I augur much better things from Florida -and Southern America.<a name="FNanchor_1_184" id="FNanchor_1_184"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_184" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>What strengthens my conjecture about the North is -the absolute lack of artists and writers. The United -States have not yet<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_42" id="TNanch_42"></a><a href="#TN_42">(42)</a></span> sent us over one scene of a -tragedy, one picture, or one life of Washington.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_184" id="Footnote_1_184"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_184"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the manners of the Azores: there, love of God and the other -sort of love occupy every moment. The Christian religion, as interpreted -by the Jesuits, is much less of an enemy to man, in this sense, -than English protestantism; it permits him at least to dance on Sunday; -and one day of pleasure in the seven is a great thing for the agricultural -labourer, who works hard for the other six.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">LOVE IN PROVENCE UP TO THE CONQUEST OF -TOULOUSE, IN 1328, BY THE BARBARIANS -FROM THE NORTH</span></h3> - - -<p>Love took a singular form in Provence, from the -year 1100 up to 1328. It had an established -legislation for the relations of the two sexes in love, as -severe and as exactly followed as the laws of Honour -could be to-day. The laws of Love began by putting -completely aside the sacred rights of husbands. They -presuppose no hypocrisy. These laws, taking human -nature such as it is, were of the kind to produce a great -deal of happiness.</p> - -<p>There was an official manner of declaring oneself a -woman's lover, and another of being accepted by her as -lover. After so many months of making one's court in -a certain fashion, one obtained her leave to kiss her hand. -Society, still young, took pleasure in formalities and -ceremonies, which were then a sign of civilisation, but -which to-day would bore us to death. The same trait -is to be found in the language of Provence, in the difficulty -and interlacing of its rhymes, in its masculine and -feminine words to express the same object, and indeed -in the infinite number of its poets. Everything formal -in society, which is so insipid to-day, then had all the -freshness and savour of novelty.</p> - -<p>After having kissed a woman's hand, one was promoted -from grade to grade by force of merit, and without -extraordinary promotion.</p> - -<p>It should be remarked, however, that if the husbands -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>were always left out of the question, on the other hand -the official promotion of the lover stopped at what we -should call the sweetness of a most tender friendship -between persons of a different sex.<a name="FNanchor_1_185" id="FNanchor_1_185"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_185" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> But after several -months or several years of probation, in which a woman -might become perfectly sure of the character and discretion -of a man, and he enjoy at her hand all the -prerogatives and outward signs which the tenderest -friendship can give, her virtue must surely have had -to thank his friendship for many a violent alarm.</p> - -<p>I have spoken of extraordinary promotion, because a -woman could have more than one lover, but one only in -the higher grades. It seems that the rest could not be -promoted much beyond that degree of friendship which -consisted in kissing her hand and seeing her every day. -All that is left to us of this singular civilisation is in verse, -and in a verse that is rhymed in a very fantastic and -difficult way; and it need not surprise us if the notions, -which we draw from the ballads of the troubadours, are -vague and not at all precise. Even a marriage contract -in verse has been found. After the conquest in 1328, -as a result of its heresy, the Pope, on several occasions, -ordered everything written in the vulgar tongue to be -burnt. Italian cunning proclaimed Latin the only -language worthy of such clever people. 'Twere a most -advantageous measure could we renew it in 1822.</p> - -<p>Such publicity and such official ordering of love seem -at first sight to ill-accord with real passion. But if a -lady said to her lover: "Go for your love of me and -visit the tomb of our Lord Jesus Christ at Jerusalem; -there you will pass three years and then return"—the -lover was gone immediately: to hesitate a moment -would have covered him with the same ignominy as -would nowadays a sign of wavering on a point of honour. -The language of this people has an extreme fineness in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>expressing the most fugitive shades of feeling. Another -sign that their manners were well advanced on the road -of real civilisation is that, scarcely out of the horrors -of the Middle Ages and of Feudalism, when force was -everything, we see the feebler sex less tyrannised over -than it is to-day with the approval of the law; we see -the poor and feeble creatures, who have the most to -lose in love and whose charms disappear the quickest, -mistresses over the destiny of the men who approach -them. An exile of three years in Palestine, the passage -from a civilisation full of gaiety to the fanaticism and -boredom of the Crusaders' camp, must have been a -painful duty for any other than an inspired Christian. -What can a woman do to her lover who has basely -deserted her at Paris?</p> - -<p>I can only see one answer to be made here: at Paris no -self-respecting woman has a lover. Certainly prudence -has much more right to counsel the woman of to-day not -to abandon herself to passion-love. But does not another -prudence, which, of course, I am far from approving, -counsel her to make up for it with physical love? Our -hypocrisy and asceticism<a name="FNanchor_2_186" id="FNanchor_2_186"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_186" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> imply no homage to virtue; -for you can never oppose nature with impunity: there -is only less happiness on earth and infinitely less generous -inspiration.</p> - -<p>A lover who, after ten years of intimate intercourse, -deserted his poor mistress, because he began to notice -her two-and-thirty years, was lost to honour in this -lovable Provence; he had no resource left but to bury -himself in the solitude of a cloister. In those days it -was to the interest of a man, not only of generosity but -even of prudence, to make display of no more passion -than he really had. We conjecture all this; for very -few remains are left to give us any exact notions....</p> - -<p>We must judge manners as a whole, by certain particular -facts. You know the anecdote of the poet who -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>had offended his lady: after two years of despair she -deigned at last to answer his many messages and let him -know that if he had one of his nails torn off and had this -nail presented to her by fifty loving and faithful knights, -she might perhaps pardon him. The poet made all haste -to submit to the painful operation. Fifty knights, who -stood in their ladies' good graces, went to present this -nail with all imaginable pomp to the offended beauty. -It was as imposing a ceremony as the entry of a prince -of the blood into one of the royal towns. The lover, -dressed in the garb of a penitent, followed his nail from -afar. The lady, after having watched the ceremony, -which was of great length, right through, deigned to -pardon him; he was restored to all the sweets of his -former happiness. History tells that they spent long -and happy years together. Sure it is that two such years -of unhappiness prove a real passion and would have -given birth to it, had it not existed before in that high -degree.</p> - -<p>I could cite twenty anecdotes which show us everywhere -gallantry, pleasing, polished and conducted between -the two sexes on principles of justice. I say gallantry, -because in all ages passion-love is an exception, rather -curious than frequent, a something we cannot reduce to -rules. In Provence every calculation, everything within -the domain of reason, was founded on justice and the -equality of rights between the two sexes; and I admire -it for this reason especially, that it eliminates unhappiness -as far as possible. The absolute monarchy under Lewis -XV, on the contrary, had come to make baseness and -perfidy the fashion in these relations.<a name="FNanchor_3_187" id="FNanchor_3_187"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_187" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>Although this charming Provencal language, so full of -delicacy and so laboured in its rhymes,<a name="FNanchor_4_188" id="FNanchor_4_188"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_188" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> was probably not -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>the language of the people, the manners of the upper -classes had permeated the lower classes, which in Provence -were at that time far from coarse, for they enjoyed -a great deal of comfort. They were in the first enjoyment -of a very prosperous and very valuable trade. The inhabitants -of the shores of the Mediterranean had just -realised (in the ninth century) that to engage in commerce, -by risking a few ships on this sea, was less troublesome -and almost as amusing as following some little -feudal lord and robbing the passers-by on the neighbouring -high-road. Soon after, the Provencals of the tenth -century learnt from the Arabs that there are sweeter -pleasures than pillage, violence and war.</p> - -<p>One must think of the Mediterranean as the home of -European civilisation. The happy shores of this lovely -sea, so favoured in its climate, were still more favoured -in the prosperous state of their inhabitants and in the -absence of all religion or miserable legislation. The -eminently gay genius of the Provencals had by then -passed through the Christian religion, without being -altered by it.</p> - -<p>We see a lively image of a like effect from a like cause -in the cities of Italy, whose history has come down to us -more distinctly and which have had the good fortune -besides of bequeathing to us Dante, Petrarch and the -art of painting.</p> - -<p>The Provencals have not left us a great poem like -the <i>Divine Comedy</i>, in which are reflected all the -peculiarities of the manners of the time. They had, it -seems to me, less passion and much more gaiety than the -Italians. They learnt this pleasant way of taking life -from their neighbours, the Moors of Spain. Love -reigned with joy, festivity and pleasure in the castles of -happy Provence.</p> - -<p>Have you seen at the opera the finale of one of Rossini's -beautiful operettas? On the stage all is gaiety, beauty, -ideal magnificence. We are miles away from all the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>mean side of human nature. The opera is over, the -curtain falls, the spectators go out, the great chandelier -is drawn up, the lights are extinguished. The house is -filled with the smell of lamps hastily put out; the -curtain is pulled up half-way, and you see dirty, ill-dressed -roughs tumble on to the stage; they bustle about -it in a hideous way, occupying the place of the young -women who filled it with their graces only a moment -ago.</p> - -<p>Such for the kingdom of Provence was the effect of -the conquest of Toulouse by the army of Crusaders. -Instead of love, of grace, of gaiety, we have the Barbarians -from the North and Saint Dominic. I shall not -darken these pages with a blood-curdling account of the -horrors of the Inquisition in all the zeal of its early days. -As for the Barbarians, they were our fathers; they -killed and plundered everywhere; they destroyed, for -the pleasure of destroying, whatever they could not -carry off; a savage madness animated them against -everything that showed the least trace of civilisation; -above all, they understood not a word of that beautiful -southern language; and that redoubled their fury. -Highly superstitious and guided by the terrible S. Dominic, -they thought to gain Heaven by killing the Provencals. -For the latter all was over; no more love, no more gaiety, -no more poetry. Less than twenty years after the conquest -(1335), they were almost as barbarous and as coarse -as the French, as our fathers.<a name="FNanchor_5_189" id="FNanchor_5_189"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_189" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>Whence had lighted on this corner of the world that -charming form of civilisation, which for two centuries -was the happiness of the upper classes of society? -Apparently from the Moors of Spain.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_185" id="Footnote_1_185"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_185"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Memoirs of the life of Chabanon, written by himself. The rapping -of a cane on the ceiling.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_186" id="Footnote_2_186"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_186"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The ascetic principle of Jeremy Bentham.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_187" id="Footnote_3_187"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_187"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The reader should have heard charming General Laclos talk at -Naples in 1802. If he has not had the luck he can open the <i>Vie privée du -maréchal de Richelieu</i>, nine volumes very pleasantly put together.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_188" id="Footnote_4_188"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_188"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> It originated at Narbonne—a mixture of Latin and Arabic.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_189" id="Footnote_5_189"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_189"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> See <i>The State of the Military Power of Russia</i>, a truthful work by -General Sir Robert Wilson.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LII<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_39" id="TNanch_39"></a><a href="#TN_39">(39)</a></span><br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">PROVENCE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY</span></h3> - - -<p>I am going to translate an anecdote from the Provençal -manuscripts. The facts, of which you are -going to read, happened about the year 1180 and the -history was written about 1250.<a name="FNanchor_1_190" id="FNanchor_1_190"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_190" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The anecdote, to be -sure, is very well known: the style especially gives the -colour of the society which produced it.</p> - -<p>I beg that I be allowed to translate it word for word, -and without seeking in any way after the elegance of the -language of to-day.</p> - -<p>"My Lord Raymond of Roussillon was a valiant baron, -as you know, and he took to wife my Lady Marguerite, -the most beautiful woman of all her time and one of -the most endowed with all good qualities, with all worth -and with all courtesy. Now it happened that William -of Cabstaing came to the Court of my Lord Raymond of -Roussillon, presented himself to him and begged, if it -so pleased him, that he might be a page in his Court. -My Lord Raymond, who saw that he was fair and of -good grace, told him that he was welcome and that -he might dwell at his Court. Thus William dwelt with -him, and succeeded in bearing himself so gently that -great and small loved him; and he succeeded in placing -himself in so good a light that my Lord Raymond wished -him to be page to my Lady Marguerite, his wife; and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>so it was. Then William set himself to merit yet more -both in word and deed. But now, as is wont to happen -in love, it happened that Love wished to take hold of my -Lady Marguerite and to inflame her thoughts. So much -did the person of William please her, both his word and -his air, that one day she could not restrain herself from -saying to him: 'Now listen, William, if a woman showed -you likelihood of love, tell me would you dare love her -well?' 'Yes, that I would, madam, provided only -that the likelihood were the truth.'—'By S. John,' said -the lady, 'you have answered well, like a man of valour; -but at present I wish to try you, whether you can understand -and distinguish in matter of likelihood the difference -between what is true and what is not.'</p> - -<p>"When William heard these words he answered: 'My -lady, it is as it shall please you.'</p> - -<p>"He began to be pensive, and at once Love sought -war with him; and the thoughts that love mingled with -his entered into the depth of his heart, and straightway -he was of the servants of Love and began to 'find'<a name="FNanchor_2_191" id="FNanchor_2_191"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_191" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> little -couplets, gracious and gay, and tunes for the dance and -tunes with sweet words,<a name="FNanchor_3_192" id="FNanchor_3_192"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_192" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> by which he was well received, -and the more so by reason of her for whom he sang. -Now Love, that grants to his servants their reward, -when he pleases, wished to grant William the price of -his; and behold, he began to take hold of the lady with -such keen thoughts and meditations on love that neither -night nor day could she rest, thinking of the valour and -prowess that had been so beautifully disposed and set -in William.</p> - -<p>"One day it happened that the lady took William and -said to him: 'William, come now, tell me, have you up -to this hour taken note of our likelihood, whether it truly -is or lies?' William answered: 'My lady, so help me -God, from that moment onward that I have been your -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>servant, no thought has been able to enter my heart -but that you were the best woman that was ever born, -and the truest in the world and the most likely. So I -think, and shall think, all my life.' And the lady answered: -'William, I tell you that, if God help me, you -shall never be deceived by me, and that what you think -shall not prove vain or nothing.' And she opened her -arms and kissed him softly in the room where they two -sat together, and they began their "<i>druerie</i>";<a name="FNanchor_4_193" id="FNanchor_4_193"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_193" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> and -straightway there wanted not those, whom God holds -in wrath, who set themselves to talk and gossip of their -love, by reason of the songs that William made, saying -that he had set his love on my Lady Marguerite, and so -indiscriminately did they talk that the matter came to -the ears of my Lord Raymond. Then he was sorely -pained and grievously sad, first that he must lose his -familiar squire, whom he loved so well, and more still for -his wife's shame.</p> - -<p>"One day it happened that William went out to hunt -with his hawks and a single squire; and my Lord Raymond -made enquiry where he was; and a groom answered -him that he had gone out to hawk, and one who -knew added that it was in such-and-such a spot. Immediately -Raymond took arms, which he hid, and had -his horse brought to him, and all alone took his way -towards the spot whither William had gone: by dint of -hard riding he found him. When William saw him -approach he was greatly astonished, and at once evil -thoughts came to him, and he advanced to meet him -and said: 'My lord, welcome. Why are you thus alone?' -My Lord Raymond answered: 'William, because I have -come to find you to enjoy myself with you. Have you -caught anything?'—'I have caught nothing, my lord, -because I have found nothing; and he who finds little -will not catch much, as the saying goes.'—'Enough of -this talk,' said my Lord Raymond, 'and by the faith -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>you owe me, tell me the truth on all the questions that -I may wish to ask.'—'By God, my lord,' said William, -'if there is ought to say, certainly to you shall I say it.' -Then said my Lord Raymond: 'I wish for no subtleties -here, but you must answer me in all fullness on everything -that I shall ask you.'—'My lord, as it shall please you to -ask,' said William, 'so shall I tell you the truth.' And -my Lord Raymond asked: 'William, as you value God -and the holy faith, have you a mistress for whom you -sing and for whom Love constrains you?' William -answered: 'My lord, and how else should I be singing, if -Love did not urge me on? Know the truth, my lord, -that Love has me wholly in his power.' Raymond -answered: 'I can well believe it, for otherwise you -could not sing so well; but I wish to know, if you please, -who is your lady.'—'Ah, my lord, in God's name,' said -William, 'see what you ask me. You know too well -that a man must not name his lady, and that Bernard of -Ventadour says:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"'In one thing my reason serves me,<a name="FNanchor_5_194" id="FNanchor_5_194"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_194" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br /></span> -<span class="i1">That never man has asked me of my joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">But I have lied to him thereof willingly.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">For this does not seem to me good doctrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">But rather folly or a child's act,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">That whoever is well treated in love<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Should wish to open his heart thereon to another man,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Unless he can serve him or help him.'<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>"My Lord Raymond answered: 'And I give you my -word that I will serve you according to my power.' So -said Raymond, and William answered him: 'My lord, -you must know that I love the sister of my Lady Marguerite, -your wife, and that I believe I have exchange -with her of love. Now that you know it, I beg you to -come to my aid and at least not to prejudice me.'—'Take -my word,' said Raymond, 'for I swear to you and engage -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>myself to you that I will use all my power for you.' -And then he gave his word, and when he had given it -to him Raymond said to him: 'I wish us to go to her -castle, for it is near by.'—'And I beg we may do so, in -God's name,' said William. And so they took their road -towards the castle of Liet. And when they came to -the castle they were well received by <i>En</i><a name="FNanchor_6_195" id="FNanchor_6_195"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_195" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Robert of -Tarascon, who was the husband of my Lady Agnes, the -sister of my Lady Marguerite, and by my Lady Agnes -herself. And my Lord Raymond took my Lady Agnes -by the hand and led her into her chamber, and they sat -down on the bed. And my Lord Raymond said: 'Now -tell me, my sister-in-law, by the faith that you owe me, -are you in love with Love?' And she said: 'Yes, my -lord.'—'And whose?' said he. 'Oh, that I do not -tell you,' answered she; 'what means this parleying?'</p> - -<p>"In the end, so insistently did he demand that she -said that she loved William of Cabstaing; this she said -because she saw William sad and pensive and she knew -well that he loved her sister; and so she feared that -Raymond might have had evil thoughts of William. Such -a reply gave great joy to Raymond. Agnes related it all -to her husband, and her husband answered her that she -had done well and gave her his word that she was at -liberty to do and say anything that could save William. -Agnes was not wanting to him. She called William all -alone into her chamber, and remained so long with him -that Raymond thought he must have had the pleasures -of love with her; and all this pleased him, and he began -to think that what he had been told of William was untrue -and random talk. Agnes and William came out of -her chamber, supper was prepared and they supped with -great gaiety. And after supper Agnes had the bed of -her two neighbours prepared by the door of her chamber, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>and so well did the Lady and William act their parts -that Raymond believed he was with her.</p> - -<p>"And the next day they dined in the castle with great -joy, and after dinner they set out with all the honours -of a noble leave-taking, and came to Roussillon. And as -soon as Raymond could, he separated from William and -went away to his wife, and related to her all that he had -seen of William and her sister, for which his wife was -sorely grieved all night. And the next day she had -William summoned to her and received him ill, and called -him false friend and traitor. And William cried to her -for pity, as a man who had done nought of that with -which she charged him, and related to her all that had -passed, word for word. And the lady sent for her sister -and from her she learnt that William had done no wrong. -And therefore she called him and bade him make a song -by which he should show that he loved no woman but -her, and then he made the song which says:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"The sweet thoughts<br /></span> -<span class="i1">That Love often gives me.<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>"And when Raymond of Roussillon heard the song -that William had made for his wife, he made him come -to speak with him some way from the castle, and cut -off his head, which he put in a bag; he drew out the heart -from the body and put it with the head. He went back -to the castle; he had the heart roasted and brought to -his wife at table and made her eat it without her knowing. -When she had eaten it, Raymond rose up and told his -wife that what she had just eaten was the heart of Lord -William of Cabstaing, and showed her his head and asked -her if the heart had been good to eat. And she heard -what he said, and saw and recognised the head of Lord -William. She answered him and said that the heart -had been so good and savoury, that never other meat or -other drink could take away from her mouth the taste -that the heart of Lord William had left there. And -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>Raymond ran at her with a sword. She took to flight, -threw herself down from a balcony and broke her head.</p> - -<p>"This became known through all Catalonia and through -all the lands of the King of Aragon. King Alphonse and all -the barons of these countries had great grief and sorrow -for the death of Lord William and of the woman whom -Raymond had so basely done to death. They made war -on him with fire and sword. King Alphonse of Aragon -having taken Raymond's castle, had William and his -lady laid in a monument before the door of a church in -a borough named Perpignac. All perfect lovers of either -sex prayed God for their souls. The King of Aragon -took Raymond and let him die in prison, and gave all his -goods to the relatives of William and to the relatives of -the woman who died for him."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_190" id="Footnote_1_190"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_190"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The manuscript is in the Laurentian Library. M. Raynouard gives -it in Vol. V of his <i>Troubadours</i>, p. 187. There are a good many faults in -his text; he has praised the Troubadours too much and understood -them too little.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_191" id="Footnote_2_191"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_191"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> i. e. to compose.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_192" id="Footnote_3_192"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_192"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> He made up both the airs and the words.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_193" id="Footnote_4_193"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_193"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> A far all' amore.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_194" id="Footnote_5_194"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_194"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Word for word translation of the Provençal verses quoted by -William.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_195" id="Footnote_6_195"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_195"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <i>En</i>, a form of speech among the Provençals, which we would translate -by <i>Sir</i>.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">ARABIA</span></h3> - - -<p>'Tis beneath the dusky tent of the Bedouin Arab -that we seek the model and the home of true -love. There, as elsewhere, solitude and a fine climate -have kindled the noblest passion of the human heart—that -passion which must give as much happiness as it -feels, in order to be happy itself.</p> - -<p>In order that love may be seen in all the fullness of its -power over the human heart, equality must be established -as far as possible between the mistress and her lover. It -does not exist, this equality, in our poor West; a woman -deserted is unhappy or dishonoured. Under the Arab's -tent faith once plighted cannot be broken. Contempt -and death immediately follow that crime.</p> - -<p>Generosity is held so sacred by this people, that you -may steal, in order to give. For the rest, every day -danger stares them in the face, and life flows on ever, so -to speak, in a passionate solitude. Even in company the -Arabs speak little.</p> - -<p>Nothing changes for the inhabitant of the desert; -there everything is eternal and motionless. This singular -mode of life, of which, owing to my ignorance, I can give -but a poor sketch, has probably existed since the time of -Homer.<a name="FNanchor_1_196" id="FNanchor_1_196"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_196" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> It is described for the first time about the year -600 of our era, two centuries before Charlemagne.</p> - -<p>Clearly it is we who were the barbarians in the eyes of -the East, when we went to trouble them with our -crusades.<a name="FNanchor_2_197" id="FNanchor_2_197"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_197" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Also we owe all that is in our manner to these -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>crusades and to the Moors of Spain. If we compare -ourselves with the Arabs, the proud, prosaic man will -smile with pity. Our arts are very much superior to -theirs, our systems of law to all appearance still more -superior. But I doubt if we beat them in the art -of domestic happiness—we have always lacked loyalty -and simplicity. In family relations the deceiver is the -first to suffer. For him the feeling of safety is departed; -always unjust, he is always afraid.</p> - -<p>In the earliest of their oldest historical monuments we -can see the Arabs divided from all antiquity into a large -number of independent tribes, wandering about the -desert. As soon as these tribes were able to supply, with -more or less ease, the simplest human wants, their way of -life was already more or less refined. Generosity was -the same on every side; only according to the tribe's -degree of wealth it found expression, now in the quarter -of goat's flesh necessary for the support of life, now in -the gift of a hundred camels, occasioned by some family -connexion or reasons of hospitality.</p> - -<p>The heroic age of the Arabs, that in which these -generous hearts burnt unsullied by any affectation of fine -wit or refined sentiment, was that which preceded -Mohammed; it corresponds to the fifth century of -our era, to the foundations of Venice and to the reign -of Clovis. I beg European pride to compare the Arab -love-songs, which have come down to us, and the noble -system of life revealed in the <i>Thousand and One Nights</i>, -with the disgusting horrors that stain every page of -Gregory of Tours, the historian of Clovis, and of Eginhard, -the historian of Charlemagne.</p> - -<p>Mohammed was a puritan; he wished to prescribe -pleasures which do no one any harm; he has killed love -in those countries which have accepted Islamism.<a name="FNanchor_3_198" id="FNanchor_3_198"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_198" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> It -is for this reason that his religion has always been less -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>observed in Arabia, its cradle, than in all the other -Mohammedan countries.</p> - -<p>The French brought away from Egypt four folio -volumes, entitled <i>The Book of Songs</i>. These volumes -contain:—</p> - -<p>1. Biographies of the poets who composed the songs.</p> - -<p>2. The songs themselves. In them the poet sings of -everything that interests him; when he has spoken of -his mistress he praises his swiftcoursers and his bow. These -songs were often love-letters from their author, giving -the object of his love a faithful picture of all that passed -in his heart. Sometimes they tell of cold nights when he -has been obliged to burn his bow and arrows. The Arabs -are a nation without houses.</p> - -<p>3. Biographies of the musicians who have composed -the music for these songs.</p> - -<p>4. Finally, the notation of the musical setting; for us -these settings are hieroglyphics. The music will be for -ever unknown, and anyhow, it would not please us.</p> - -<p>There is another collection entitled <i>The History of -those Arabs who have died for Love</i>.</p> - -<p>In order to feel at home in the midst of remains which -owe so much of their interest to their antiquity, and to -appreciate the singular beauty of the manners of which -they let us catch a glimpse, we must go to history for -enlightenment on certain points.</p> - -<p>From all time, and especially before Mohammed, the -Arabs betook themselves to Mecca in order to make the -tour of the Caaba or house of Abraham. I have seen at -London a very exact model of the Holy City. There are -seven or eight hundred houses with terraces on the roofs, -set in the midst of a sandy desert devoured by the sun. -At one extremity of the city is found an immense -building, in form almost a square; this building surrounds -the Caaba. It is composed of a long course of colonnades, -necessary under an Arabian sun for the performance -of the sacred procession, This colonnade is very -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>important in the history of the manners and poetry of -the Arabs; it was apparently for centuries the one place -where men and women met together. Pell-mell, with -slow steps, and reciting in chorus their sacred songs, -they walked round the Caaba—it is a walk of three-quarters -of an hour. The procession was repeated many -times in the same day; this was the sacred rite for which -men and women came forth from all parts of the desert. -It is under the colonnade of the Caaba that Arab manners -became polished. A contest between the father and the -lover soon came to be established—in love-lyrics the -lover discovered his passion to the girl, jealously guarded -by brothers and father, as at her side he walked in the -sacred procession. The generous and sentimental habits -of this people existed already in the camp; but Arab -gallantry seems to me to have been born in the shadow -of the Caaba, which is also the home of their literature. -At first, passion was expressed with simplicity and vehemence, -just as the poet felt it; later the poet, instead of -seeking to touch his mistress, aimed at fine writing; -then followed that affectation which the Moors introduced -into Spain and which still to-day spoils the books -of that people.<a name="FNanchor_4_199" id="FNanchor_4_199"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_199" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>I find a touching proof of the Arab's respect for the -weaker sex in his ceremony of divorce. The woman, -during the absence of her husband from whom she -wished to separate, opened the tent and drew it up, -taking care to place the opening on the opposite side to -that which she had formerly occupied. This simple ceremony -separated husband and wife for ever.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> </p> - -<p class="center">FRAGMENTS<br /> - -Gathered and translated from an Arabic Collection entitled: -<i>The Divan of Love</i><span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_39">(39)</a></span><br /> - -Compiled by Ebn-Abi-Hadglat. (Manuscripts -of the King's Library, Nos. 1461 and 1462.)</p> - -<p>Mohammed, son of Djaafar Elahouazadi, relates -that Djamil being sick of the illness of which he -died, Elabas, son of Sohail, visited him and found -him ready to give up the ghost. "O son of Sohail," said -Djamil to him, "what do you think of a man who has -never drunk wine, who has never made illicit gain, who -has never unrighteously given death to any living creature -that God has forbidden us to kill, and who confesses -that there is no other God but Allah and that Mohammed -is his prophet?" "I think," answered Ben Sohail, -"that such a man will be saved and will gain Paradise; -but who is he, this man of whom you talk?" "'Tis I," -answered Djamil. "I did not think that you professed -the faith," returned Ben Sohail, "and moreover, for -twenty years now you have been making love to Bothaina, -and celebrating her in your verses." "Here I am," -answered Djamil, "at my first day in the other world -and at my last in this, and I pray that the mercy of -our Master Mohammed may not be extended to me -at the day of judgment, if ever I have laid hands on -Bothaina for anything reprehensible."</p> - -<p>This Djamil and Bothaina, his mistress, both belonged -to the Benou-Azra, who are a tribe famous in love among -all the tribes of the Arabs. Also their manner of loving -has passed into a proverb, and God has made no other -creatures as tender in love as they.</p> - -<p>Sahid, son of Agba, one day asked an Arab: "Of what -people are you?" "I am of the people that die when -they love," replied the Arab. "Then you are of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>tribe of Azra," added Sahid. "Yes, by the Master of -the Caaba," replied the Arab. "Whence comes it that -you love in this manner?" Sahid asked next. "Our -women are beautiful and our young men are chaste," -answered the Arab.</p> - -<p>One day someone asked Aroua-Ben-Hezam:<a name="FNanchor_5_200" id="FNanchor_5_200"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_200" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> "Is it -really true what people tell of you, that you of all mankind -have the heart most tender in love?" "Yes, by -Allah, it is true," answered Aroua, "and I have known -in my tribe thirty young men whom death has carried -oil and who had no other sickness but love."</p> - -<p>An Arab of the Benou-Fazarat said one day to an Arab -of the Benou-Azra: "You, Benou-Azra, you think it a -sweet and noble death to die of love; but therein is a -manifest weakness and stupidity; and those whom you -take for men of great heart are only madmen and soft -creatures." "You would not talk like that," the Arab -of the tribe of Azra answered him, "if you had seen -the great black eyes of our women darting fire from -beneath the veil of their long lashes, if you had seen them -smile and their teeth gleaming between their brown lips!"</p> - -<p>Abou-el-Hassan, Ali, son of Abdalla, Elzagouni, relates -the following story: A Mussulman loved to distraction -the daughter of a Christian. He was obliged to make a -journey to a foreign country with a friend, to whom he -had confided his love. His business prolonged his stay -in this country, and being attacked there by a mortal -sickness, he said to his friend: "Behold, my time approaches; -no more in the world shall I meet her whom -I love, and I fear, if I die a Mussulman, that I shall not -meet her again in the other life." He turned Christian -and died. His friend betook himself to the young -Christian woman, whom he found sick. She said to him: -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>"I shall not see my friend any more in this world, but -I want to be with him in the other; therefore I confess -that there is no other God but Allah, and that Mohammed -is the prophet of God." Thereupon she died, and may -God's mercy be upon her.*</p> - -<p>Eltemimi relates that there was in the tribe of the -Arabs of Tagleb a Christian girl of great riches who was -in love with a young Mussulman. She offered him her -fortune and all her treasures without succeeding in -making him love her. When she had lost all hope she -gave an artist a hundred dinars, to make her a statue of -the young man she loved. The artist made the statue, -and when the girl got it, she placed it in a certain spot -where she went every day. There she would begin by -kissing this statue, and then sat down beside it and spent -the rest of the day in weeping. When the evening came -she would bow to the statue and retire. This she did -for a long time. The young man chanced to die; she -desired to see him and to embrace him dead, after which -she returned to her statue, bowed to it, kissed it as usual, -and lay down beside it. When day came, they found her -dead, stretching out her hand towards some lines of -writing, which she had written before she died.*</p> - -<p>Oueddah, of the land of Yamen, was renowned among -the Arabs for his beauty. He and Om-el-Bonain, daughter -of Abd-el-Aziz, son of Merouan, while still only children, -were even then so much in love that they could not bear -to be parted from each other for a moment. When -Om-el-Bonain became the wife of Oualid-Ben-Abd-el-Malek, -Oueddah became mad for grief. After remaining -a long time in a state of distraction and suffering, he -betook himself to Syria and began every day to prowl -around the house of Oualid, son of Malek, without at -first finding the means to attain his desire. In the end, -he made the acquaintance of a girl, whom he succeeded -in attaching to himself by dint of his perseverance and -his pains. When he thought he could rely on her, he -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>asked her if she knew Om-el-Bonain. "To be sure I -do," answered the girl, "seeing she is my mistress." -"Listen," continued Oueddah, "your mistress is my -cousin, and if you care to tell her about me, you will -certainly give her pleasure." "I'll tell her willingly," -answered the girl. And thereupon she ran straight to -Om-el-Bonain to tell her about Oueddah. "Take care -what you say," cried Om-el-Bonain. "What? Oueddah -is alive?" "Certainly he is," said the girl. "Go and -tell him," Om-el-Bonain went on, "on no account to -depart until a messenger comes to him from me." Then -she took measures to get Oueddah brought to her, where -she kept him hidden in a coffer. She let him come out -to be with her when she thought it safe; but if someone -arrived who might have seen him, she made him get -inside the coffer again.</p> - -<p>It happened one day that a pearl was brought to Oualid -and he said to one of his attendants: "Take this pearl -and give it to Om-el-Bonain." The attendant took the -pearl and gave it to Om-el-Bonain. As he was not -announced, he entered where she dwelt at a time when -she was with Oueddah, and thus he was able to throw a -glance into Om-el-Bonain's apartment without her -noticing him. Oualid's attendant fulfilled his mission -and asked something of Om-el-Bonain for the jewel he -had brought her. She refused him with severity and -reprimanded him. The attendant went out incensed -against her, and went to tell Oualid what he had seen, -describing the coffer into which he had seen Oueddah -enter. "You lie, bastard slave! You lie," said Oualid. -And he ran in haste to Om-el-Bonain. There were -several coffers in her apartment; he sat down on the -one in which Oueddah was hid and which the slave had -described, saying: "Give me one of these coffers." -"They are all yours, as much as I myself," answered -Om-el-Bonain. "Then," continued Oualid, "I would -like to have the one on which I am seated." "There are -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>some things in it that only a woman needs," said Om-el-Bonain. -"It is not them, it is the coffer I desire," added -Oualid. "It is yours," she answered. Oualid had the -coffer taken away at once, and summoned two slaves, -whom he ordered to dig a pit in the earth down to the -depth where they would find water. Then placing his -mouth against the coffer: "I have heard something of -you," he cried. "If I have heard the truth, may all -trace of you be lost, may all memory of you be buried. -If they have told me false I do no harm by entombing -a coffer: it is only the funeral of a box." Then he had -the coffer pushed into the pit and covered with the -stones and the earth which had been dug up. From that -time Om-el-Bonain never ceased to frequent this spot -and to weep, until one day they found her there lifeless, -her face pressed towards the earth.*<a name="FNanchor_6_201" id="FNanchor_6_201"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_201" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_196" id="Footnote_1_196"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_196"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Nine hundred years before Jesus Christ.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_197" id="Footnote_2_197"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_197"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> 1095.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_198" id="Footnote_3_198"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_198"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Morals of Constantinople. The one way of killing passion-love is to -prevent all crystallisation by facility.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_199" id="Footnote_4_199"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_199"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> There are a large number of Arabic manuscripts at Paris. Those of -a later date show some affectation, but no imitation of the Greeks or -Romans; it is this that makes scholars despise them.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_200" id="Footnote_5_200"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_200"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> This Aroua-Ben-Hezam was of the tribe of Azra, of which mention -has just been made. He is celebrated as a poet, and still more -celebrated as one of the numerous martyrs to love whom the Arabs -enumerate.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_201" id="Footnote_6_201"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_201"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> These fragments are taken from different chapters of the collection -which I have mentioned. The three marked by an * are taken from the -last chapter, which is a very summary biography of a considerable number -of Arab martyrs to love.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LIV<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_43" id="TNanch_43"></a><a href="#TN_43">(43)</a></span><br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN</span></h3> - - -<p>In the actual education of girls, which is the fruit -of chance and the most idiotic pride, we allow their -most shining faculties, and those most fertile in happiness -for themselves and for us, to lie fallow. But what man -is there, who at least once in his life has not exclaimed:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">... a woman always knows enough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If but her range of understanding reaches<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To telling one from t'other, coat and breeches.<br /></span> -<span class="i14">(<i>Les Femmes Savantes</i>, Act II, Scene VII.)<br /></span> -<span class="i18">[Translation of C. H. Page, New York, 1908.]<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>At Paris, this is the highest praise for a young girl of -a marriageable age: "There is so much that's sweet in -her character, and she's as gentle as a lamb." Nothing -has more effect on the idiots looking out for wives. But -see them two years later, lunching <i>tête-à-tête</i> with their -wives some dull day, hats on and surrounded by three -great lackeys!</p> - -<p>We have seen a law carried in the United States, in -1818, which condemns to thirty-four strokes of the cat -anyone teaching a Virginian negro to read.<a name="FNanchor_1_202" id="FNanchor_1_202"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_202" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Nothing -could be more consequent and more reasonable than a -law of this kind.</p> - -<p>Were the United States of America themselves more -useful to the motherland when they were her slaves or -since they have become her equals? If the work of a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>free man is worth two or three times that of a man -reduced to slavery, why should not the same be true of -that man's thought?</p> - -<p>If we dared, we would give girls the education of a -slave; and the proof of this is that if they know anything -useful, it is against our wish we teach it them.</p> - -<p>"But they turn against us the little education which -unhappily they get hold of," some husbands might say. -No doubt; and Napoleon was also quite right not to -give arms to the National Guard; and the reactionaries -are also quite right to proscribe the monitorial system<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_44" id="TNanch_44"></a><a href="#TN_44">(44)</a></span>. -Arm a man, and then continue to oppress him, and you -will see that he can be so perverse as to turn his arms -against you, as soon as he can.</p> - -<p>Even if it were permissible to bring girls up like idiots, -on <i>Ave Marias</i> and lewd songs, as they did in the convents -of 1770, there would still be several little objections:—</p> - -<p>1. In the case of the husband's death, they are called -upon to manage the young family.</p> - -<p>2. As mothers, they give their male children, the young -tyrants of the future, their first education, that education -which forms the character, and accustoms the soul -to seek happiness by this route rather than by that—and -the choice is always an accomplished fact by four or -five.</p> - -<p>3. In spite of all our pride, the advice of the inevitable -partner of our whole life has great influence on those -domestic affairs on which our happiness depends so -particularly; for, in the absence of passion, happiness is -based on the absence of small everyday vexations. Not -that we would willingly accord this advice the least -influence, but she may repeat the same thing to us for -twenty years together. Whose is the spirit of such -Roman fortitude as to resist the same idea repeated -throughout a whole lifetime? The world is full of -husbands who let themselves be led, but it is from weakness -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>and not from a feeling for justice and equality. As -they yield perforce, the wife is always tempted to abuse -her power, and it is sometimes necessary to abuse power -in order to keep it.</p> - -<p>4. Finally, in love, and during a period which, in -southern countries, often comprises twelve or fifteen years, -and those the fairest of our life, our happiness is entirely -in the hands of the woman we love. One moment of -untimely pride can make us for ever miserable, and how -should a slave raised up to a throne not be tempted to -abuse her power? This is the origin of women's false -refinement and pride. Of course, there is nothing more -useless than these pleas: men are despots and we see -what respect other despots show to the wisest counsels. -A man who is all-powerful relishes only one sort of advice, -the advice of those that tell him to increase his power. -Where are poor young girls to find a Quiroga or a Riego<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_45" id="TNanch_45"></a><a href="#TN_45">(45)</a></span> -to give the despots, who oppress them, and degrade -them the better to oppress them, that salutary advice, -whose just recompense are favours and orders instead of -Porlier's<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_45">(45)</a></span> gallows?</p> - -<p>If a revolution of this kind needs several centuries, it -is because, by a most unlucky chance, all our first experiences -must necessarily contradict the truth. Illuminate -a girl's mind, form her character, give her, in short, a -good education in the true sense of the word—remarking -sooner or later her own superiority over other women, she -becomes a pedant, that is to say, the most unpleasant and -the most degraded creature that there is in the world. -There isn't one of us who wouldn't prefer a servant to a -<i>savante</i>, if we had to pass our life with her.</p> - -<p>Plant a young tree in the midst of a dense forest, -deprived of air and sun by the closeness of the neighbouring -trees: its leaves will be blighted, and it will get -an overgrown and ridiculous shape—<i>not</i> its natural -shape. We ought to plant the whole forest at once. What -woman is there who is proud of knowing how to read?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>Pedants have repeated to us for two thousand years -that women were more quick and men more judicious, -women more remarkable for delicacy of expression and -men for stronger powers of concentration. A Parisian -simpleton, who used once upon a time to take his walk -in the gardens of Versailles, similarly concluded from -all he saw that trees grow ready clipped.</p> - -<p>I will allow that little girls have less physical strength -than little boys: this must be conclusive as regards -intellect; for everyone knows that Voltaire and d'Alembert -were the first boxers of their age! Everyone agrees, -that a little girl of ten is twenty times as refined as a -little boy of the same age. Why, at twenty, is she a -great idiot, awkward, timid, and afraid of a spider, -while the little boy is a man of intellect?</p> - -<p>Women only learn the things we do not wish to teach -them, and only read the lessons taught them by experience -of life. Hence the extreme disadvantage it is for -them to be born in a very rich family; instead of coming -into contact with beings who behave naturally to them, -they find themselves surrounded by maidservants and -governesses, who are already corrupted and blighted by -wealth.<a name="FNanchor_2_203" id="FNanchor_2_203"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_203" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> There is nothing so foolish as a prince.</p> - -<p>Young girls soon see that they are slaves and begin to -look about them very early; they see everything, but -they are too ignorant to see properly. A woman of thirty -in France has not the acquired knowledge of a small boy -of fifteen, a woman of fifty has not the reason of a man -of twenty-five. Look at Madame de Sévigné admiring -Louis XIV's most ridiculous actions. Look at the -puerility of Madame d'Épinay's reasonings.<a name="FNanchor_3_204" id="FNanchor_3_204"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_204" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>"Women ought to nurse and look after their children." -I deny the first proposition, I allow the second. "They -ought, moreover, to keep their kitchen accounts."—And -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>so have not time to equal a small boy of fifteen in acquired -knowledge! Men must be judges, bankers, barristers, -merchants, doctors, clergymen, etc., and yet they find -time to read Fox's speeches and the <i>Lusiad</i> of Camoëns.</p> - -<p>The Pekin magistrate, who hastens at an early hour to -the law courts in order to find the means of imprisoning -and ruining, in perfect good faith, a poor journalist who -has incurred the displeasure of an Under-Secretary of -State, with whom he had the honour of dining the day -before, is surely as busy as his wife, who keeps her -kitchen accounts, gets stockings made for her little -daughter, sees her through her dancing and piano -lessons, receives a visit from the vicar of the parish who -brings her the <i>Quotidienne</i>, and then goes to choose a -hat in the Rue de Richelieu and take a turn in the -Tuileries.</p> - -<p>In the midst of his noble occupations this magistrate -still finds time to think of this walk his wife is taking in -the Tuileries, and, if he were in as good odour with the -Power that rules the universe as with that which rules -the State, he would pray Heaven to grant women, for -their own good, eight or ten hours more sleep. In the -present condition of society, leisure, which for man is -the source of all his happiness and all his riches, is for -women so far from being an advantage as to rank among -those baneful liberties, from which the worthy magistrate -would wish to help deliver us.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_202" id="Footnote_1_202"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_202"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I regret to be unable to find in the Italian manuscript the quotation -of an official source for this fact; I hope it may be found possible to -deny it.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_203" id="Footnote_2_203"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_203"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Memoirs of Madame de Staël, Collé, Duclos, the Margrave of -Bayreuth.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_204" id="Footnote_3_204"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_204"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The first volume.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LV<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_43">(43)</a></span><br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OBJECTIONS TO THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN</span></h3> - -<p>"But women are charged with the petty labours -of the household." The Colonel of my regiment, -M. S——, has four daughters, brought up on the -best principles, which means that they work all day. -When I come, they sing the music of Rossini, that I -brought them from Naples. For the rest, they read the -Bible of Royaumont, they learn what's most foolish in -history, that is to say, chronological tables and the verses -of Le Ragois; they know a great deal of geography, -embroider admirably—and I expect that each of these -pretty little girls could earn, by her work, eight sous a -day. Taking three hundred days, that means four -hundred and eighty francs a year, which is less than is -given to one of their masters. It is for four hundred -and eighty francs a year that they lose for ever the time, -during which it is granted to the human machine to -acquire ideas.</p> - -<p>"If women read with pleasure the ten or twelve good -volumes that appear every year in Europe, they will soon -give up the care of their children."—'Tis as if we feared, -by planting the shore of the ocean with trees, to stop the -motion of the waves. It is not in this sense that education -is all-powerful. Besides, for four hundred years the -same objection has been offered to every sort of education. -And yet a Parisian woman has more good -qualities in 1820 than she ever had in 1720, the age of -Law's system and the Regency, and at that time the daughter -of the richest farmer-general had a less good education -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>than the daughter of the pettiest attorney gets to-day. -Are her household duties less well performed as a result? -Certainly not. And why? Because poverty, illness, -shame, instinct, all force her to fulfil them. It is as if -you said of an officer who is becoming too sociable, that -he will forget how to handle his horse; you have to -remember that he'll break his arm the first time he's -slack in the saddle.</p> - -<p><i>Knowledge, where it produces any bad effects at all, does -as much mischief to one sex as to the other</i>. We shall never -lack vanity, even in the completest absence of any reason -for having it—look at the middle class in a small town. -Why not force it at least to repose on real merit, on merit -useful or agreeable to society?</p> - -<p>Demi-fools, carried away by the revolution that is -changing everything in France, began twenty years ago -to allow that women are capable of something. But they -must give themselves up to occupations becoming their -sex: <i>educate flowers, make friendships with birds, and pick -up plants</i>. These are called innocent amusements.</p> - -<p>These innocent pleasures are better than idleness. -Well! let's leave them to stupid women; just as we -leave to stupid men the glory of composing verses for -the birthday of the master of the house. But do men -in good faith really mean to suggest to Madame Roland -or to Mistress Hutchinson<a name="FNanchor_1_205" id="FNanchor_1_205"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_205" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> that they should spend their -time in tending a little Bengal rose-bush?</p> - -<p>All such reasoning can be reduced to this: a man likes -to be able to say of his slave: "She's too big a fool to -be a knave."</p> - -<p>But owing to a certain law called <i>sympathy</i>—a law of -nature which, in truth, vulgar eyes never perceive—the -defects in the companion of your life are not destructive -of your happiness by reason only of the direct ill they -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>can occasion you. I would almost prefer that my wife -should, in a moment of anger, attempt to stab me once -a year, than that she should welcome me every evening -with bad spirits.</p> - -<p>Finally, happiness is contagious among people who live -together.</p> - -<p>Let your mistress have passed the morning, while you -were on parade or at the House of Commons, in painting -a rose after a masterpiece of Redouté, or in reading a -volume of Shakespeare, her pleasure therein will have -been equally innocent. Only, with the ideas that she -has got from her rose she will soon bore you on your -return, and, indeed, she will crave to go out in the -evening among people to seek sensations a little more -lively. Suppose, on the contrary, she has read Shakespeare, -she is as tired as you are, she has had as much -pleasure, and she will be happier to give you her arm for -a solitary walk in the Bois de Vincennes than to appear -at the smartest party. The pleasures of the fashionable -world are not meant for happy women.</p> - -<p>Women have, of course, all ignorant men for enemies to -their instruction. To-day they spend their time with -them, they make love to them and are well received by -them; what would become of them if women began to -get tired of Boston? When we return from America or -the West Indies with a tanned skin and manners that for -six months remain somewhat coarse, how would these -fellows answer our stories, if they had not this phrase: -"As for us, the women are on our side. While you were -at New York the colour of tilburies has changed; it's -grey-black that's fashionable at present." And we listen -attentively, for such knowledge is useful. Such and -such a pretty woman will not look at us if our carriage -is in bad taste.</p> - -<p>These same fools, who think themselves obliged, in -virtue of the pre-eminence of their sex, to have more -knowledge than women, would be ruined past all hope, if -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>women had the audacity to learn something. A fool -of thirty says to himself, as he looks at some little girls -of twelve at the country house of one of his friends: -"It's in their company that I shall spend my life ten -years from now." We can imagine his exclamations and -his terror, if he saw them studying something useful.</p> - -<p>Instead of the society and conversation of effeminate -men, an educated woman, if she has acquired ideas without -losing the graces of her sex, can always be sure of -finding among the most distinguished men of her age a -consideration verging on enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>"Women would become the rivals instead of the companions -of man." Yes, as soon as you have suppressed -love by edict. While we are waiting for this fine law, -love will redouble its charms and its ecstasy. These are -the plain facts: the basis on which crystallisation rests -will be widened; man will be able to take pleasure in all -his ideas in company of the woman he loves; nature in -all its entirety will in their eyes receive new charms; -and as ideas always reflect some of the refinements of -character, they will understand each other better and -will be guilty of fewer imprudent acts—love will be less -blind and will produce less unhappiness.</p> - -<p>The <i>desire of pleasing secures all that delicacy and -reserve which are of such inestimable value to women</i> -from the influence of any scheme of education. 'Tis as -though you feared teaching the nightingales not to sing -in the spring-time.</p> - -<p>The graces of women do not depend on their ignorance; -look at the worthy spouses of our village bourgeois, look -at the wives of the opulent merchants in England. -Affectation is a kind of pedantry; for I call pedantry -the affectation of letting myself talk out of season of a -dress by Leroy or a novel by Romagnesi, just as much as -the affectation of quoting Fra Paolo<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_46" id="TNanch_46"></a><a href="#TN_46">(46)</a></span> and the Council -of Trent <i>à propos</i> of a discussion on our own mild missionaries. -It is the pedantry of dress and good form, it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>is the necessity of saying exactly the conventional phrase -about Rossini, which kills the graces of Parisian women. -Nevertheless, in spite of the terrible effects of this contagious -malady, is it not in Paris that exist the most -delightful women in France? Would not the reason be -that chance filled their heads with the most just and -interesting ideas? Well, it is these very ideas that I -expect from books. I shall not, of course, suggest that -they read Grotius of Puffendorf, now that we have -Tracy's<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_47" id="TNanch_47"></a><a href="#TN_47">(47)</a></span> commentary on Montesquieu.</p> - -<p>Woman's delicacy depends on the hazardous position -in which she finds herself so early placed, on the necessity -of spending her life in the midst of cruel and fascinating -enemies.</p> - -<p><i>There are, perhaps, fifty thousand females in Great -Britain who are exempted by circumstances from all -necessary labour:</i> but without work there is no happiness. -Passion forces itself to work, and to work of an exceedingly -rough kind—work that employs the whole activity -of one's being.</p> - -<p>A woman with four children and ten thousand francs -income works by making stockings or a frock for her -daughter. But it cannot be allowed that a woman -who has her own carriage is working when she does -her embroidery or a piece of tapestry. Apart from -some faint glow of vanity, she cannot possibly have -any interest in what she is doing. She does not -work.</p> - -<p>And thus her happiness runs a grave risk.</p> - -<p>And what is more, so does the happiness of her lord -and master, for a woman whose heart for two months -has been enlivened by no other interest than that of -her needlework, may be so insolent as to imagine that -gallant-love, vanity-love, or, in fine, even physical love, -is a very great happiness in comparison with her habitual -condition.</p> - -<p>"A woman ought not to make people speak about -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>her." To which I answer once more: "Is any woman -specially mentioned as being able to read?"</p> - -<p>And what is to prevent women, while awaiting a -revolution in their destiny, from hiding a study which -forms their habitual occupation and furnishes them -every day with an honourable share of happiness. I will -reveal a secret to them by the way. When you have -given yourself a task—for example, to get a clear idea -about the conspiracy of Fiescho<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_48" id="TNanch_48"></a><a href="#TN_48">(48)</a></span>, at Genoa in 1547—the -most insipid book becomes interesting. The same is -true, in love, of meeting someone quite indifferent, who -has just seen the person whom you love. This interest -is doubled every month, until you give up the conspiracy -of Fiescho.</p> - -<p>"<i>The true theatre for a woman is the sick-chamber.</i>" -But you must be careful to secure that the divine goodness -redoubles the frequency of illnesses, in order to -give occupation to our women. This is arguing from -the exceptional.</p> - -<p>Moreover, I maintain that a woman ought to spend -three or four hours of leisure every day, just as men of -sense spend their hours of leisure.</p> - -<p>A young mother, whose little son has the measles, -could not, even if she would, find pleasure in reading -Volney's Travels in Syria, any more than her husband, a -rich banker, could get pleasure out of meditating on -Malthus in the midst of bankruptcy.</p> - -<p>There is one, and only one, way for rich women to -distinguish themselves from the vulgar: moral superiority. -For in this there is a natural distinction of -feeling.<a name="FNanchor_2_206" id="FNanchor_2_206"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_206" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>"<i>We do not wish a lady to write books.</i>" No, -but does giving your daughter a singing-master engage -you to make her into an opera-singer? If you -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>like, I'll say that a woman ought only to write, like -Madame de Staël (de Launay), posthumous works to be -published after her death. For a woman of less than -fifty to publish is to risk her happiness in the most -terrible lottery: if she has the good fortune to have a -lover, she will begin by losing him.</p> - -<p>I know but one exception: it is that of a woman who -writes books in order to keep or bring up her family. -In that case she ought always to confine herself to their -money-value when talking of her own works, and say, -for example, to a cavalry major: "Your rank gives you -four thousand francs a year, and I, with my two translations -from the English, was able last year to devote an -extra three thousand five hundred francs to the education -of my two boys."</p> - -<p>Otherwise, a woman should publish as Baron d'Holbach -or Madame de la Fayette did; their best friends -knew nothing of it. To print a book can only be without -inconvenience for a courtesan; the vulgar, who can -despise her at their will for her condition, will exalt her -to the heavens for her talent, and even make a cult of it.</p> - -<p>Many men in France, among those who have an income -of six thousand francs, find their habitual source of happiness -in literature, without thinking of publishing anything; -to read a good book is for them one of the greatest -pleasures. At the end of ten years they find that their -mind is enlarged twofold, and no one will deny that, in -general, the larger the mind the fewer will be its passions -incompatible with the happiness of others.<a name="FNanchor_3_207" id="FNanchor_3_207"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_207" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> I don't suppose -anyone will still deny that the sons of a woman who -reads Gibbon and Schiller will have more genius than -the children of one who tells her beads and reads Madame -de Genlis.</p> - -<p>A young barrister, a merchant, an engineer can be -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>launched on life without any education; they pick it -up themselves every day by practising their profession. -But what resources have their wives for acquiring -estimable or necessary qualities? Hidden in the solitude -of their household, for them the great book of life -necessarily remains shut. They spend always in the same -way, after discussing the accounts with their cook, the -three <i>louis</i> they get every Monday from their husbands.</p> - -<p>I say this in the interest of the tyrant: the least of -men, if he is twenty and has nice rosy cheeks, is a danger -to a woman with no knowledge, because she is wholly -a creature of instinct. In the eyes of a woman of intellect -he will produce as much effect as a handsome -lackey.</p> - -<p>The amusing thing in present-day education is that -you teach young girls nothing that they won't have to -forget as soon as they are married. It needs four hours -a day, for six years, to learn to play the harp well; to -paint well in miniature or water-colours needs half that -time. Most young girls do not attain even to a tolerable -mediocrity—hence the very true saying: "Amateur -means smatterer."<a name="FNanchor_4_208" id="FNanchor_4_208"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_208" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>And even supposing a young girl has some talent; -three years after she is married she won't take up her -harp or her brushes once a month. These objects of so -much study now only bore her—unless chance has given -her the soul of an artist, and this is always a rarity and -scarcely helpful in the management of a household.</p> - -<p>And thus under the vain pretext of decency you -teach young girls nothing that can give them guidance in -the circumstances they will encounter in their lives. -You do more—you hide and deny these circumstances -in order to add to their strength, through the effect -(i) of surprise, and (ii) of mistrust; for education, once -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>found deceitful, must bring mistrust on education as a -whole.<a name="FNanchor_5_209" id="FNanchor_5_209"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_209" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> I maintain that one ought to talk of love to -girls who have been well brought up. Who will dare -suggest in good faith that, in the actual state of our -manners, girls of sixteen do not know of the existence of -love? From whom do they get this idea so important -and so difficult to give properly? Think of Julie -d'Étanges deploring the knowledge that she owes to la -Chaillot, one of the maidservants. One must thank -Rousseau for having dared be a true painter in an age of -false decency.</p> - -<p>The present-day education of women being perhaps -the most delightful absurdity in modern Europe, strictly -speaking the less education they have, the better they -are.<a name="FNanchor_6_210" id="FNanchor_6_210"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_210" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> It is for this reason perhaps that in Italy and -Spain they are so superior to the men, and I will even -say so superior to the women of other countries.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_205" id="Footnote_1_205"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_205"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the Memoirs of these admirable women. I could find other -names to quote, but they are unknown to the public, and moreover one -cannot even point to living merit.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_206" id="Footnote_2_206"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_206"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See Mistress Hutchinson refusing to be of use to her family and her -husband, whom she adored, by betraying certain of the regicides to the -ministers of the perjured Charles II. (Vol. II, p. 284.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_207" id="Footnote_3_207"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_207"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> It is this that gives me great hopes for the rising generation among -the privileged classes. I also hope that any husbands who read this -chapter will be milder despots for three days.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_208" id="Footnote_4_208"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_208"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The contrary of this proverb is true in Italy, where the loveliest -voices are heard among amateurs who have no connection with the -theatre.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_209" id="Footnote_5_209"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_209"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> The education given to Madame d'Épinay. (Memoirs, Vol. I.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_210" id="Footnote_6_210"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_210"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> I make an exception as regards education in manners: a woman -enters a drawing-room better in Rue Verte than in Rue St. Martin.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LVI<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_43">(43)</a></span><br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OBJECTIONS TO THE EDUCATION OF WOMEN<br /> - -(<i>continued</i>)</span></h3> - - -<p>In France all our ideas about women are got from a -twopence-halfpenny catechism. The delightful part of -it is that many people, who would not allow the authority -of this book to regulate a matter of fifty francs, foolishly -follow it word for word in that which bears most nearly -on their happiness. Such is the vanity of nineteenth-century -ways!</p> - -<p>There must be no divorce because marriage is a mystery—and -what mystery? The emblem of the union of -Jesus Christ with the Church. And what had become of -this mystery, if the Church had been given a name of -the masculine gender?<a name="FNanchor_1_211" id="FNanchor_1_211"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_211" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> But let us pass over prejudices -already giving way,<a name="FNanchor_2_212" id="FNanchor_2_212"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_212" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and let us merely observe this singular -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>spectacle: the root of the tree sapped by the axe -of ridicule, but the branches continuing to flower.</p> - -<p>Now to return to the observation of facts and their -consequences.</p> - -<p>In both sexes it is on the manner in which youth has -been employed that depends the fate of extreme old -age—this is true for women earlier than for men. How -is a woman of forty-five received in society? Severely, -or more often in a way that is below her dignity. Women -are flattered at twenty and abandoned at forty.</p> - -<p>A woman of forty-five is of importance only by reason -of her children or her lover.</p> - -<p>A mother who excels in the fine arts can communicate -her talent to her son only in the extremely rare case, -where he has received from nature precisely the soul for -this talent. But a mother of intellect and culture will -give her young son a grasp not only of all merely agreeable -talents, but also of all talents that are useful to -man in society; and he will be able to make his own -choice. The barbarism of the Turks depends in great -part on the state of moral degradation among the -beautiful Georgians. Two young men born at Paris -owe to their mothers the incontestable superiority that -they show at sixteen over the young provincials of their -age. It is from sixteen to twenty-five that the luck -turns.</p> - -<p>The men who invented gunpowder, printing, the art -of weaving, contribute every day to our happiness, and -the same is true of the Montesquieus, the Racines and the -La Fontaines. Now the number of geniuses produced -by a nation is in proportion to the number of men -receiving sufficient culture,<a name="FNanchor_3_213" id="FNanchor_3_213"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_213" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and there is nothing to prove -to me that my bootmaker has not the soul to write like -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>Corneille. He wants the education necessary to develop -his feelings and teach him to communicate them to the -public.<a name="FNanchor_4_214" id="FNanchor_4_214"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_214" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>Owing to the present system of girls' education, all -geniuses who are born women are lost to the public good. -So soon as chance gives them the means of displaying -themselves, you see them attain to talents the most difficult -to acquire. In our own days you see a Catherine II, -who had no other education but danger and ...; -a Madame Roland; an Alessandra Mari, who raised a -regiment in Arezzo and sent it against the French; a -Caroline, Queen of Naples, who knew how to put a stop -to the contagion of liberalism better than all our Castlereaghs -and our Pitts. As for what stands in the way of -women's superiority in works of art, see the <a href="#Page_81">chapter on -Modesty</a>, article 9. What might Miss Edgeworth not -have done, if the circumspection necessary to a young -English girl had not forced her at the outset of her -career to carry the pulpit into her novel?</p> - -<p>What man is there, in love or in marriage, who has the -good fortune to be able to communicate his thoughts, -just as they occur to him, to the woman with whom he -passes his life? He may find a good heart that will share -his sorrows, but he is always obliged to turn his thoughts -into small change if he wishes to be understood, and it -would be ridiculous to expect reasonable counsel from -an intellect that has need of such a method in order to -seize the facts. The most perfect woman, according -to the ideas of present-day education, leaves her partner -isolated amid the dangers of life and soon runs the risk of -wearying him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>What an excellent counsellor would a man not find in -a wife, if only she could think—a counsellor, after all, -whose interests, apart from one single object, and one -which does not last beyond the morning of life, are -exactly identical with his own!</p> - -<p>One of the finest prerogatives of the mind is that it -provides old age with consideration. See how the arrival -of Voltaire in Paris makes the Royal majesty pale. But -poor women! so soon as they have no longer the brilliance -of youth, their one sad happiness is to be able to -delude themselves on the part they take in society.</p> - -<p>The ruins of youthful talents become merely ridiculous, -and it were a happiness for our women, such as they -actually are, to die at fifty. As for a higher morality—the -clearer the mind, the surer the conviction that justice -is the only road to happiness. Genius is a power; but -still more is it a torch, to light the way to the great -art of being happy.</p> - -<p>Most men have a moment in their life when they are -capable of great things—that moment when nothing -seems impossible to them. The ignorance of women -causes this magnificent chance to be lost to the human -race. Love, nowadays, at the very most will make a -man a good horseman or teach him to choose his tailor.</p> - -<p>I have no time to defend myself against the advances -of criticism. If my word could set up systems, I should -give girls, as far as possible, exactly the same education -as boys. As I have no intention of writing a book about -everything and nothing, I shall be excused from explaining -in what regards the present education of men is -absurd. But taking it such as it is (they are not taught -the two premier sciences, logic and ethics), it is better, -I say, to give this education to girls than merely to teach -them to play the piano, to paint in water-colours and to -do needlework.</p> - -<p>Teach girls, therefore, reading, writing and arithmetic -by the monitorial<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_44">(44)</a></span> system in the central convent -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>schools, in which the presence of any man, except the -masters, should be severely punished. The great advantage -of bringing children together is that, however -narrow the masters may be, in spite of them the children -learn from their little comrades the art of living in the -world and of managing conflicting interests. A sensible -master would explain their little quarrels and friendships -to the children, and begin his course of ethics in this -way rather than with the story of the Golden Calf.<a name="FNanchor_5_215" id="FNanchor_5_215"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_215" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>No doubt some years hence the monitorial system will -be applied to everything that is learnt; but, taking -things as they actually are, I would have girls learn Latin -like boys. Latin is a good subject because it accustoms -one to be bored; with Latin should go history, mathematics, -a knowledge of the plants useful as nourishment -or medicine; then logic and the moral sciences, etc. -Dancing, music and drawing ought to begin at five.</p> - -<p>At sixteen a girl ought to think about finding a husband, -and get from her mother right ideas on love, marriage, -and the want of honesty that exists among men.<a name="FNanchor_6_216" id="FNanchor_6_216"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_216" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_211" id="Footnote_1_211"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_211"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tu es Petrus, and super hanc petram<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ædificabo Ecclesiam meam.<br /></span> -<span class="i13">(See M. de Potter, <i>Histoire de l'Église</i>.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_212" id="Footnote_2_212"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_212"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Religion is a matter between each man and the Divinity. By what -right do you come and place yourself between my God and me? I -accept a proctor appointed by the social contract only in those matters -which I cannot do myself. -</p> -<p> -Why should not a Frenchman pay his priest like his baker? If we -have good bread in Paris, the reason is that the State has not yet ventured -to declare the provision of bread gratuitous and put all the bakers -at the charge of the Treasury. -</p> -<p> -In the United States every man pays his own priest. These gentry -are compelled to have some merit, and my neighbour does not see good -to make his happiness depend on submitting me to his priest. (Letters -of Birkbeck.) -</p> -<p> -What will happen if I have the conviction, as our fathers did, that -my priest is the intimate ally of my bishop? Without a Luther, there -will be no more Catholicism in France in 1850. That religion could -only be saved in 1820 by M. Grégoire<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_49" id="TNanch_49"></a><a href="#TN_49">(49)</a></span>: see how he is treated.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_213" id="Footnote_3_213"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_213"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See the Generals of 1795.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_214" id="Footnote_4_214"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_214"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> As regards the arts, here we have the great defect of a reasonable -government as well as the sole reasonable eulogy of monarchy <i>à la</i> Louis -XIV. Look at the literary sterility of America. Not a single romance -like those of Robert Burns or the Spaniards of the thirteenth century. -See the admirable romances of the modern Greeks, those of the Spaniards -and Danes of the thirteenth century, and still better, the Arabic poetry -of the seventh century.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_215" id="Footnote_5_215"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_215"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> My dear pupil, your father loves you; this makes him give me -forty francs a month to teach you mathematics, drawing—in a word, -how to earn your living. If you were cold, because your overcoat was -too small, your father would be unhappy. He would be unhappy because -he would sympathise, etc., etc. But when you are eighteen, you yourself -will have to earn the money needed to buy your overcoat. Your father, -I have heard, has an income of twenty-five thousand francs, but there -are four of you children; therefore you will have to accustom yourself -to do without the carriage you enjoy while you live with your father, -etc., etc.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_216" id="Footnote_6_216"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_216"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Yesterday evening I listened to two charming little girls of four -years old singing very gay love-songs in a swing which I was pushing. -The maidservants teach them these songs and their mother tells them -that "love" and "lover" are words without any meaning.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LVI<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">(Part II)<br /> - -ON MARRIAGE</span></h3> - - -<p>The fidelity of married women, where love is absent, -is probably something contrary to nature.<a name="FNanchor_1_217" id="FNanchor_1_217"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_217" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>Men have attempted to obtain this unnatural result -by the fear of hell and sentiments of religion; the example -of Spain and Italy shows how far they have -succeeded.</p> - -<p>In France they have attempted to obtain it by public -opinion—the one dyke capable of resistance, yet it has -been badly built. It is absurd to tell a young girl: "You -must be faithful to the husband of your choice," and -then to marry her by force to a boring old dotard.<a name="FNanchor_2_218" id="FNanchor_2_218"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_218" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>"But girls are pleased to get married." Because, -under the narrow system of present-day education, the -slavery that they undergo in their mother's house is -intolerably tedious; further, they lack enlightenment; -and, lastly, there are the demands of nature. There is -but one way to obtain more fidelity among married -women: it is to give freedom to girls and divorce to -married people.</p> - -<p>A woman always loses the fairest days of her youth in -her first marriage, and by divorce she gives fools the -chance of talking against her.</p> - -<p>Young women who have plenty of lovers have nothing -to get from divorce, and women of a certain age, who -have already had them, hope to repair their reputation—in -France they always succeed in doing so—by showing -themselves extremely severe against the errors which -have left them behind. It is generally some wretched -young woman, virtuous and desperately in love, who -seeks a divorce, and gets her good name blackened at -the hands of women who have had fifty different men.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_217" id="Footnote_1_217"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_217"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Not probably—but certainly. With love there, one has no taste -for any water but that of the beloved fount. So far fidelity is natural. -</p> -<p> -In the case of marriage without love, in less than two years the water of -this fountain becomes bitter. Now the desire for water always exists in -nature. Habits may conquer nature, but only when it can be conquered in -an instant: the Indian wife who burns herself (October 21st, 1821), after -the death of the old husband whom she hated; the European girl who -barbarously murders the innocent child to whom she has just given life. -But for a very high wall the monks would soon leave the monastery.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_218" id="Footnote_2_218"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_218"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Even down to details, with us everything that regards the education -of women is comic. For example, in 1820, under the rule of these very -nobles who have proscribed divorce, the Home Office sends to the town -of Lâon a bust and a statue of Gabrielle d'Estrées. The statue is to be -set up in the public square, apparently to spread love of the Bourbons -among the young girls and to exhort them, in case of need, not to be -cruel to amorous kings and to give scions to this illustrious family. -</p> -<p> -But, in return, the same office refuses the town of Lâon a bust of -Marshal Serrurier, a brave man who was no gallant, and moreover had -been so vulgar as to begin his career by the trade of private soldier. (Speech -of General Foy, <i>Courrier</i> of 17th June, 1820. Dulaure, in his curious -<i>History of Paris</i>, Amours of Henry IV.)</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LVII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">OF VIRTUE, SO CALLED</span></h3> - - -<p>Myself, I honour with the name of virtue the -habit of doing painful actions which are of use -to others.</p> - -<p>St. Simon Stylites, who sits twenty-two years on the -top of a column beating himself with a strap, is in my -eyes, I confess, not at all virtuous; and it is this that -gives this essay a tone only too unprincipled.</p> - -<p>I esteem not a bit more the Chartreux monk who eats -nothing but fish and allows himself to talk only on -Thursday. I own I prefer General Carnot, who, at an -advanced age, puts up with the rigours of exile in a little -northern town rather than do a base action.</p> - -<p>I have some hope that this extremely vulgar declaration -will lead the reader to skip the rest of this chapter.</p> - -<p>This morning, a holiday, at Pesaro (May 7th, 1819), -being obliged to go to Mass, I got hold of a Missal and -fell upon these words:—</p> - -<blockquote> -<p>Joanna, Alphonsi quinti Lusitaniae regis filia, tanta divini -amoris flamma praeventa fuit, ut ab ipsa pueritia rerum caducarum -pertaesa, solo coelestis patriae desiderio flagraret.</p> -</blockquote> - -<p>The virtue so touchingly preached by the very beautiful -words of the <i>Génie du Christianisme</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_50" id="TNanch_50"></a><a href="#TN_50">(50)</a></span> is thus -reduced to not eating truffles for fear of a stomach-ache. -It is quite a reasonable calculation, if you believe in hell; -but it is a self-interested calculation, the most personal -and prosaic possible. That philosophic virtue, which so -well explains the return of Regulus to Carthage, and -which was responsible for some similar incidents in our -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>own Revolution,<a name="FNanchor_1_219" id="FNanchor_1_219"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_219" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> proves, on the contrary, generosity of -soul.</p> - -<p>It is merely in order not to be burned in the next -world, in a great caldron of boiling oil, that Madame -de Tourvel resists Valmont. I cannot imagine how the -idea, with all its ignominy, of being the rival of a caldron -of boiling oil does not drive Valmont away.</p> - -<p>How much more touching is Julie d'Étanges, respecting -her vows and the happiness of M. de Wolmar.</p> - -<p>What I say of Madame de Tourvel, I find applicable -to the lofty virtue of Mistress Hutchinson. What a soul -did Puritanism steal away from love!</p> - -<p>One of the oddest peculiarities of this world is that -men always think they know whatever it is clearly -necessary for them to know. Hear them talk about -politics, that very complicated science; hear them talk of -marriage and morals.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_219" id="Footnote_1_219"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_219"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Memoirs of Madame Roland. M. Grangeneuve, who goes out for -a walk at eight o'clock in a certain street, in order to be killed by the -Capuchin Chabot. A death was thought expedient in the cause of liberty.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LVIII<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">STATE OF EUROPE WITH REGARD TO MARRIAGE</span></h3> - - -<p>So far we have only treated the question of marriage -according to theory;<a name="FNanchor_1_220" id="FNanchor_1_220"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_220" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> we are now to treat it according -to the facts.</p> - -<p>Which of all countries is that in which there are the -most happy marriages? Without dispute, Protestant -Germany<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_52" id="TNanch_52"></a><a href="#TN_52">(52)</a></span>.</p> - -<p>I extract the following fragment from the diary of -Captain Salviati, without changing a single word in it:—</p> - -<p>"Halberstadt, <i>June 23rd</i>, 1807.... Nevertheless, -M. de Bülow is absolutely and openly in love with Mademoiselle -de Feltheim; he follows her about everywhere, -always, talks to her unceasingly, and very often keeps her -yards away from us. Such open marks of affection shock -society, break it up—and on the banks of the Seine would -pass for the height of indecency. The Germans think -much less than we do about what breaks up society; -indecency is little more than a conventional evil. For five -years M. de Bülow has been paying court in this way to -Mina, whom he has been unable to marry owing to the -war. All the young ladies in society have their lover, -and he is known to everyone. Among all the German -acquaintances of my friend M. de Mermann<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_53" id="TNanch_53"></a><a href="#TN_53">(53)</a></span> there -is not a single one who has not married for love.</p> - -<p>"Mermann, his brother George, M. de Voigt, M. de -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>Lazing, etc. He has just given me the names of a dozen -of them.</p> - -<p>"The open and passionate way in which these lovers -pay their court to their mistresses would be the height -of indecency, absurdity and shame in France.</p> - -<p>"Mermann told me this evening, as we were returning -from the <i>Chasseur Vert</i>, that, among all the women of -his very numerous family, he did not suppose there was a -single one who had deceived her husband. Allowing -that he is wrong about half of them, it is still a singular -country.</p> - -<p>"His shady proposal to his sister-in-law, Madame de -Munichow, whose family is about to die out for want of -male heirs and its very considerable possessions revert to -the crown, coldly received, but merely with: 'Let's hear -no more of that.'</p> - -<p>"He tells the divine Philippine (who has just obtained -a divorce from her husband, who only wanted to sell her -to his Sovereign) something about it in very covert terms. -Unfeigned indignation, toned down in its expression -instead of being exaggerated: 'Have you, then, no longer -any respect for our sex? I prefer to think, for the sake -of your honour, that you're joking.'</p> - -<p>"During a journey to the Brocken with this really -beautiful woman, she reclined on his shoulder while -asleep or pretending to sleep; a jolt threw her somewhat -on to the top of him, and he put his arm round her waist; -she threw herself into the other corner of the carriage. -He doesn't think that she is incorruptible, but he believes -that she would kill herself the day after her mistake. -What is certain is that he loved her passionately and that -he was similarly loved by her, that they saw each other -continually and that she is without reproach. But the -sun is very pale at Halberstadt, the Government very -meddling, and these two persons very cold. In their -most passionate interviews Kant and Klopstock were -always of the party.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>"Mermann told me that a married man, convicted of -adultery, could be condemned by the courts of Brunswick -to ten years' imprisonment; the law has fallen into -disuse, but at least ensures that people do not joke about -this sort of affair. The distinction of being a man with -a past is very far from being such an advantage here as it -is in France, where you can scarcely refuse it a married -man in his presence without insulting him.</p> - -<p>"Anyone who told my Colonel or Ch... that they -no longer have women since their marriage would get a -very poor reception.</p> - -<p>"Some years ago a woman of this country, in a fit of -religious fervour, told her husband, a gentleman of the -Court of Brunswick, that she had deceived him for six -years together. The husband, as big a fool as his wife, -went to tell the news to the Duke; the gallant was -obliged to resign all his employments and to leave the -country in twenty-four hours, under a threat from the -Duke to put the laws in motion. "</p> - - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Halberstadt</span>, <i>July 7th</i>, 1807.</p> - -<p>"Husbands are not deceived here, 'tis true—but ye -gods, what women! Statues, masses scarcely organic! -Before marriage they are exceedingly attractive, graceful -as gazelles, with quick tender eyes that always understand -the least hint of love. The reason is that they are -on the look out for a husband. So soon as the husband is -found, they become absolutely nothing but getters of -children, in a state of perpetual adoration before the -begetter. In a family of four or five children there -must always be one of them ill, since half the children -die before seven, and in this country, immediately one -of the babies is ill, the mother goes out no more. I can -see that they find an indescribable pleasure in being -caressed by their children. Little by little they lose all -their ideas. It is the same at Philadelphia. There girls -of the wildest and most innocent gaiety become, in less -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>than a year, the most boring of women. To have done -with the marriages of Protestant Germany—a wife's -dowry is almost nil because of the fiefs. Mademoiselle -de Diesdorff, daughter of a man with an income of -forty thousand francs, will have a dowry of perhaps -two thousand crowns (seven thousand five hundred -francs).</p> - -<p>"M. de Mermann got four thousand crowns with his -wife.</p> - -<p>"The rest of the dowry is payable in vanity at the -Court. 'One could find among the middle class,' Mermann -told me, 'matches with a hundred or a hundred -and fifty thousand crowns (six hundred thousand francs -instead of fifteen). But one could no longer be presented -at Court; one would be barred all society in which a -prince or princess appeared: <i>it's terrible.</i>' These were -his words, and they came from the heart.</p> - -<p>"A German woman with the soul of Phi..., her -intellect, her noble and sensitive face, the fire she must -have had at eighteen (she is now twenty-seven), a woman -such as this country produces, with her virtue, naturalness -and no more than a useful little dose of religion—such a -woman would no doubt make her husband very happy. -But how flatter oneself that one would remain true to -such insipid matrons?</p> - -<p>"'But he was married,' she answered me this morning -when I blamed the four years'silence of Corinne's lover, -Lord Oswald. She sat up till three o'clock to read <i>Corinne</i>. -The novel gave her profound emotion, and now she -answers me with touching candour: 'But he was married.'</p> - -<p>"Phi... is so natural, with so naive a sensibility, -that even in this land of the natural, she seems a prude -to the petty heads that govern petty hearts; their -witticisms make her sick, and she in no way hides it.</p> - -<p>"When she is in good company, she laughs like mad -at the most lively jokes. It was she who told me the story -of the young princess of sixteen, later on so well known. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>who often managed to make the officer on guard at her -door come up into her rooms. "</p> - - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Switzerland</span></p> - -<p>I know few families happier than those of the Oberland, -the part of Switzerland that lies round Berne; and -it is a fact of public notoriety (1816) that the girls there -spend Saturday to Sunday nights with their lovers.</p> - -<p>The fools who know the world, after a voyage from -Paris to Saint Cloud, will cry out; happily I find in a -Swiss writer confirmation of what I myself<a name="FNanchor_2_221" id="FNanchor_2_221"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_221" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> saw during -four months.</p> - -<p>"An honest peasant complained of certain losses he -had sustained in his orchard; I asked him why he didn't -keep a dog: 'My daughters would never get married.' -I did not understand his answer; he told me he had -had such a bad-tempered dog that none of the young -men dared climb up to the windows any longer.</p> - -<p>"Another peasant, mayor of his village, told me in -praise of his wife, that when she was a girl no one had -had more <i>Kilter</i> or <i>Wächterer</i>—that is, had had more -young men come to spend the night with her.</p> - -<p>"A Colonel, widely esteemed, was forced, while crossing -the mountains, to spend the night at the bottom of one -of the most lonely and picturesque valleys in the country. -He lodged with the first magistrate in the valley, a man -rich and of good repute. On entering, the stranger -noticed a young girl of sixteen, a model of gracefulness, -freshness and simplicity: she was the daughter of the -master of the house. That night there was a village -ball; the stranger paid court to the girl, who was really -strikingly beautiful. At last, screwing up courage, he -ventured to ask her whether he couldn't 'keep watch' with -her. 'No,' answered the girl, 'I share a room with my -cousin, but I'll come myself to yours.' You can judge -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>of the confusion this answer gave him. They had supper, -the stranger got up, the girl took a torch and followed -him into his room; he imagined the moment was at -hand. 'Oh no,' she said simply, 'I must first ask Mamma's -permission.' He would have been less staggered by a -thunderbolt! She went out; his courage revived; he -slipped into these good folks' parlour, and listened to -the girl begging her mother in a caressing tone to grant -her the desired permission; in the end she got it. 'Eh, -old man,' said the mother to her husband who was already -in bed, 'd'you allow Trineli to spend the night with -the Colonel?' 'With all my heart,' answers the father, -'I think I'd lend even my wife to such a man.' 'Right -then, go,' says the mother to Trineli; 'but be a good -girl, and don't take off your petticoat...' At day-break, -Trineli, respected by the stranger, rose still virgin. -She arranged the bedclothes, prepared coffee and cream -for her partner and, after she had breakfasted with him, -seated on his bed, cut off a little piece of her <i>broustpletz</i> -(a piece of velvet going over the breast). 'Here,' she -said, 'keep this souvenir of a happy night; I shall never -forget it.—Why are you a Colonel?' And giving him -a last kiss, she ran away; he didn't manage to see her -again.<a name="FNanchor_3_222" id="FNanchor_3_222"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_222" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Here you have the absolute opposite of French -morals, and I am far from approving them."</p> - -<p>Were I a legislator, I would have people adopt in -France, as in Germany, the custom of evening dances. -Three times a week girls would go with their mothers to -a ball, beginning at seven and ending at midnight, and -demanding no other outlay but a violin and a few glasses -of water. In a neighbouring room the mothers, maybe -a little jealous of their daughters' happy education, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>would play boston; in a third, the fathers would find -papers and could talk politics. Between midnight and -one o'clock all the families would collect together and -return to the paternal roof. Girls would get to know -young men; they would soon come to loathe fatuity -and the indiscretions it is responsible for—in fact they -would choose themselves husbands. Some girls would -have unhappy love-affairs, but the number of deceived -husbands and unhappy matches would diminish to an -immense degree. It would then be less absurd to attempt -to punish infidelity with dishonour. The law could say -to young women: "You have chosen your husband—be -faithful to him." In those circumstances I would -allow the indictment and punishment by the courts of -what the English call criminal conversation. The courts -could impose, to the profit of prisons and hospitals, a -fine equal to two-thirds of the seducer's fortune and -imprisonment for several years.</p> - -<p>A woman could be indicted for adultery before a -jury. The jury should first declare that the husband's -conduct had been irreproachable.</p> - -<p>A woman, if convicted, could be condemned to imprisonment -for life. If the husband had been absent -more than two years, the woman could not be condemned -to more than some years' imprisonment. Public morals -would soon model themselves on these laws and would -perfect them.<a name="FNanchor_4_223" id="FNanchor_4_223"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_223" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>And then the nobles and the priests, still regretting -bitterly the proper times of Madame de Montespan or -Madame du Barry, would be forced to allow divorce.<a name="FNanchor_5_224" id="FNanchor_5_224"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_224" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>There would be in a village within sight of Paris an -asylum for unfortunate women, a house of refuge into -which, under pain of the galleys, no man besides the -doctor and the almoner should enter. A woman who -wished to get a divorce would be bound, first of all, to -go and place herself as prisoner in this asylum; there she -would spend two years without going out once. She -could write, but never receive an answer.</p> - -<p>A council composed of peers of France and certain -magistrates of repute would direct, in the woman's name, -the proceedings for a divorce and would regulate the -pension to be paid to the institution by the husband. -A woman who failed in her plea before the courts would -be allowed to spend the rest of her life in the asylum. -The Government would compensate the administration -of the asylum with a sum of two thousand francs for -each woman who sought its refuge. To be received in -the asylum, a woman must have had a dowry of over -twenty thousand francs. The moral <i>régime</i> would be -one of extreme severity.</p> - -<p>After two years of complete seclusion from the world, -a divorced woman could marry again.</p> - -<p>Once arrived at this point, Parliament could consider -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>whether, in order to infuse in girls a spirit of emulation, -it would not be advisable to allow the sons a share of -the paternal heritage double that of their sisters. The -daughters who did not find husbands would have a -share equal to that of the male children. It may be -remarked, by the way, that this system would, little by -little, destroy the only too inconvenient custom of -marriages of convenience. The possibility of divorce -would render useless such outrageous meanness.</p> - -<p>At various points in France, and in certain poor villages, -thirty abbeys for old maids should be established. The -Government should endeavour to surround these establishments -with consideration, in order to console a little -the sorrows of the poor women who were to end their -lives there. They should be given all the toys of dignity.</p> - -<p>But enough of such chimeras!</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_220" id="Footnote_1_220"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_220"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The author had read a chapter called "Dell' amore," in the Italian -translation of the <i>Idéologie</i> of M. de Tracy<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_51" id="TNanch_51"></a><a href="#TN_51">(51)</a></span>. In that chapter the -reader will find ideas incomparable, in philosophical importance, with -anything he can find here.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_221" id="Footnote_2_221"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_221"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>Principes philosophiques du Colonel Weiss</i>, 7 ed.,Vol. II. p. 245.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_222" id="Footnote_3_222"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_222"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> I am fortunate to be able to describe in the words of another -some extraordinary facts that I have had occasion to observe. Certainly, -but for M. de Weiss, I shouldn't have related this glimpse of foreign -customs. I have omitted others equally characteristic of Valencia and -Vienna.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_223" id="Footnote_4_223"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_223"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>The Examiner</i>, an English paper, when giving a report of the Queen's -case (No. 662, September 3rd, 1820), adds:— -</p> -<p> -"We have a system of sexual morality, under which thousands of -women become mercenary prostitutes whom virtuous women are taught -to scorn, while virtuous men retain the privilege of frequenting these -very women, without its being regarded as anything more than a venial -offence." -</p> -<p> -In the land of Cant there is something noble in the courage that dares -speak the truth on this subject, however trivial and obvious it be; it is -all the more meritorious in a poor paper, which can only hope for success -if bought by the rich—and they look on the bishops and the Bible as the -one safeguard of their fine feathers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_224" id="Footnote_5_224"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_224"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Madame de Sévigné wrote to her daughter, December 23rd, 1671: -"I don't know if you have heard that Villarceaux, when talking to the -king of a post for his son, adroitly took the occasion to tell him, that there -were people busy telling his niece (Mademoiselle de Rouxel) that his -Majesty had designs on her; that if it were so, he begged his Majesty to -make use of him; said that the affair would be better in his hands than in -others, and that he would discharge it with success. The King began to -laugh and said: 'Villarceaux, we are too old, you and I, to attack young -ladies of fifteen.' And like a gallant man, he laughed at him and told the -ladies what he had said." See Memoirs of Lauzun, Bezenval, Madame -d'Épinay, etc., etc, I beg my readers not to condemn me altogether -without re-reading these Memoirs.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<h3>CHAPTER LIX<br /> - -<span style="font-size: smaller;">WERTHER AND DON JUAN</span></h3> - - -<p>Among young people, when they have done with -mocking at some poor lover, and he has left the -room, the conversation generally ends by discussing the -question, whether it is better to deal with women like -Mozart's Don Juan or like Werther. The contrast would -be more exact, if I had said Saint-Preux, but he is so -dull a personage, that in making him their representative, -I should be wronging feeling hearts.</p> - -<p>Don Juan's character requires the greater number of -useful and generally esteemed virtues—admirable daring, -resourcefulness, vivacity, a cool head, a witty mind, etc.</p> - -<p>The Don Juans have great moments of bitterness and -a very miserable old age—but then most men do not -reach old age.</p> - -<p>The lover plays a poor rôle in the drawing-room in the -evening, because to be a success and a power among -women a man must show just as much keenness on winning -them as on a game of billiards. As everybody -knows that the lover has a great interest in life, he exposes -himself, for all his cleverness, to mockery. Only, next -morning he wakes, not to be in a bad temper until -something piquant or something nasty turns up to revive -him, but to dream of her he loves and build castles in -the air for love to dwell in.</p> - -<p>Love <i>à la</i> Werther opens the soul to all the arts, to -all sweet and romantic impressions, to the moonlight, to -the beauty of the forest, to the beauty of pictures—in a -word, to the feeling and enjoyment of the beautiful, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>under whatever form it be found, even under the coarsest -cloak. It causes man to find happiness even without -riches.<a name="FNanchor_1_225" id="FNanchor_1_225"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_225" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Such souls, instead of growing weary like -Mielhan, Bezenval, etc., go mad, like Rousseau, from an -excess of sensibility. Women endowed with a certain -elevation of soul, who, after their first youth, know how -to recognise love, both where it is and what it is, generally -escape the Don Juan—he is remarkable in their eyes -rather by the number than the quality of his conquests. -Observe, to the prejudice of tender hearts, that publicity -is as necessary to Don Juan's triumph as secrecy is to -Werther's. Most of the men who make women the -business of their life are born in the lap of luxury; -that is to say, they are, as a result of their education and -the example set by everything that surrounded them in -youth, hardened egoists.<a name="FNanchor_2_226" id="FNanchor_2_226"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_226" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>The real Don Juan even ends by looking on women as -the enemy, and rejoicing in their misfortunes of every -sort.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the charming Duke delle Pignatelle -showed us the proper way to find happiness in pleasures, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>even without passion. "I know that I like a woman," -he told me one evening, "when I find myself completely -confused in her company, and don't know what to say to -her." So far from letting his self-esteem be put to -shame or take its revenge for these embarrassing -moments, he cultivated them lovingly as the source of his -happiness. With this charming young man gallant-love -was quite free from the corroding influence of -vanity; his was a shade of true love, pale, but innocent -and unmixed; and he respected all women, as charming -beings, towards whom we are far from just. (February -20, 1820.)</p> - -<p>As a man does not choose himself a temperament, that -is to say, a soul, he cannot play a part above him. J. J. -Rousseau and the Duc de Richelieu might have tried in -vain; for all their cleverness, they could never have -exchanged their fortunes with respect to women. I -could well believe that the Duke never had moments -such as those that Rousseau experienced in the park de la -Chevrette with Madame d'Houdetot; at Venice, when -listening to the music of the <i>Scuole</i>; and at Turin at -the feet of Madame Bazile. But then he never had to -blush at the ridicule that overwhelmed Rousseau in his -affair with Madame de Larnage, remorse for which -pursued him during the rest of his life.</p> - -<p>A Saint-Preux's part is sweeter and fills up every -moment of existence, but it must be owned that that -of a Don Juan is far more brilliant. Saint-Preux's tastes -may change at middle age: solitary and retired, and of -pensive habits, he takes a back place on the stage of life, -while Don Juan realises the magnificence of his reputation -among men, and could yet perhaps please a woman -of feeling by making sincerely the sacrifice of his libertine's -tastes.</p> - -<p>After all the reasons offered so far, on both sides of -the question, the balance still seems to be even. What -makes me think that the Werthers are the happier, is -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>that Don Juan reduces love to the level of an ordinary -affair. Instead of being able, like Werther, to shape -realities to his desires, he finds, in love, desires which are -imperfectly satisfied by cold reality, just as in ambition, -avarice or other passions. Instead of losing himself in -the enchanting reveries of crystallisation, he thinks, like -a general, of the success of his manoeuvres<a name="FNanchor_3_227" id="FNanchor_3_227"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_227" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and, in a -word, he kills love, instead of enjoying it more keenly -than other men, as ordinary people imagine.</p> - -<p>This seems to me unanswerable. And there is another -reason, which is no less so in my eyes, though, thanks to -the malignity of Providence, we must pardon men for -not recognising it. The habit of justice is, to my thinking, -apart from accidents, the most assured way of arriving -at happiness—and a Werther is no villain.<a name="FNanchor_4_228" id="FNanchor_4_228"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_228" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>To be happy in crime, it is absolutely necessary to have -no remorse. I do not know whether such a creature can -exist;<a name="FNanchor_5_229" id="FNanchor_5_229"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_229" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> I have never seen him. I would bet that the -affair of Madame Michelin disturbed the Duc de Richelieu's -nights.</p> - -<p>One ought either to have absolutely no sympathy or -be able to put the human race to death—which is impossible.<a name="FNanchor_6_230" id="FNanchor_6_230"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_230" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>People who only know love from novels will experience -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>a natural repugnance in reading these words in -favour of virtue in love. The reason is that, by the laws -of the novel, the portraiture of a virtuous love is essentially -tiresome and uninteresting. Thus the sentiment of -virtue seems from a distance to neutralise that of love, -and the words "a virtuous love" seem synonymous with -a feeble love. But all this comes from weakness in the -art of painting, and has nothing to do with passion such -as it exists in nature.<a name="FNanchor_7_231" id="FNanchor_7_231"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_231" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<p>I beg to be allowed to draw a picture of my most -intimate friend.</p> - -<p>Don Juan renounces all the duties which bind him to -the rest of men. In the great market of life he is a -dishonest merchant, who is always buying and never -paying. The idea of equality inspires the same rage in -him as water in a man with hydrophobia; it is for this -reason that pride of birth goes so well with the character -of Don Juan. With the idea of the equality of rights -disappears that of justice, or, rather, if Don Juan is -sprung from an illustrious family, such common ideas -have never come to him. I could easily believe that a -man with an historic name is sooner disposed than -another to set fire to the town in order to get his egg -cooked.<a name="FNanchor_8_232" id="FNanchor_8_232"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_232" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> We must excuse him; he is so possessed with -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>self-love that he comes to the point of losing all idea of -the evil he causes, and of seeing no longer anything in -the universe capable of joy or sorrow except himself. -In the fire of youth, when passion fills our own hearts -with the pulse of life and keeps us from mistrust of -others, Don Juan, all senses and apparent happiness, -applauds himself for thinking only of himself, while he -sees other men pay their sacrifices to duty. He imagines -that he has found out the great art of living. But, in -the midst of his triumph, while still scarcely thirty years -of age, he perceives to his astonishment that life is -wanting, and feels a growing disgust for what were all -his pleasures. Don Juan told me at Thorn, in an access -of melancholy: "There are not twenty different sorts -of women, and once you have had two or three of each -sort, satiety sets in." I answered: "It is only imagination -that can for ever escape satiety. Each woman inspires -a different interest, and, what is more, if chance -throws the same woman in your way two or three years -earlier or later in the course of life, and if chance means -you to love, you can love the same woman in different -manners. But a woman of gentle heart, even when she -loved you, would produce in you, because of her pretensions -to equality, only irritation to your pride. Your -way of having women kills all the other pleasures of life; -Werther's increases them a hundredfold."</p> - -<p>This sad tragedy reaches the last act. You see Don -Juan in old age, turning on this and that, never on himself, -as the cause of his own satiety. You see him, tormented -by a consuming poison, flying from this to that -in a continual change of purpose. But, however brilliant -the appearances may be, in the end he only changes one -misery for another. He tries the boredom of inaction, -he tries the boredom of excitement—there is nothing -else for him to choose.</p> - -<p>At last he discovers the fatal truth and confesses it to -himself; henceforward he is reduced for all his enjoyment -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>to making display of his power, and openly doing -evil for evil's sake. In short, 'tis the last degree of -settled gloom; no poet has dared give us a faithful -picture of it—the picture, if true, would strike horror. -But one may hope that a man, above the ordinary, will -retrace his steps along this fatal path; for at the bottom -of Don Juan's character there is a contradiction. I have -supposed him a man of great intellect, and great intellect -leads us to the discovery of virtue by the road that runs -to the temple of glory.<a name="FNanchor_9_233" id="FNanchor_9_233"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_233" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p>La Rochefoucauld, who, however, was a master of -self-love, and who in real life was nothing but a silly -man of letters,<a name="FNanchor_10_234" id="FNanchor_10_234"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_234" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> says(267): "The pleasure of love consists -in loving, and a man gets more happiness from the -passion he feels than from the passion he inspires."</p> - -<p>Don Juan's happiness consists in vanity, based, it is -true, on circumstances brought about by great intelligence -and activity; but he must feel that the most -inconsiderable general who wins a battle, the most inconsiderable -prefect who keeps his department in order, -realises a more signal enjoyment than his own. The Duc -de Nemours' happiness when Madame de Clèves tells -him that she loves him, is, I imagine, above Napoleon's -happiness at Marengo.</p> - -<p>Love <i>à la</i> Don Juan is a sentiment of the same kind as -a taste for hunting. It is a desire for activity which must -be kept alive by divers objects and by putting a man's -talents continually to the test.</p> - -<p>Love <i>à la</i> Werther is like the feeling of a schoolboy -writing a tragedy—and a thousand times better; it is -a new goal, to which everything in life is referred and -which changes the face of everything. Passion-love casts -all nature in its sublimer aspects before the eyes of a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>man, as a novelty invented but yesterday. He is amazed -that he has never seen the singular spectacle that is now -discovered to his soul. Everything is new, everything is -alive, everything breathes the most passionate interest.<a name="FNanchor_11_235" id="FNanchor_11_235"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_235" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> -A lover sees the woman he loves on the horizon of every -landscape he comes across, and, while he travels a hundred -miles to go and catch a glimpse of her for an instant, -each tree, each rock speaks to him of her in a different -manner and tells him something new about her. Instead -of the tumult of this magic spectacle, Don Juan -finds that external objects have for him no value apart -from their degree of utility, and must be made amusing -by some new intrigue.</p> - -<p>Love <i>à la</i> Werther has strange pleasures; after a year -or two, the lover has now, so to speak, but one heart -with her he loves; and this, strange to say, even independent -of his success in love—even under a cruel -mistress. Whatever he does, whatever he sees, he asks -himself: "What would she say if she were with me? -What would I say to her about this view of Casa-Lecchio?" -He speaks to her, he hears her answer, he -smiles at her fun. A hundred miles from her, and under -the weight of her anger, he surprises himself, reflecting: -"Léonore was very gay that night." Then he wakes up: -"Good God!" he says to himself with a sigh, "there -are madmen in Bedlam less mad than I."</p> - -<p>"You make me quite impatient," said a friend of -mine, to whom I read out this remark: "you are continually -opposing the passionate man to the Don Juan, -and that is not the point in dispute. You would be right, -if a man could provide himself with passion at will. -But what about indifference—what is to be done then?"—Gallant-love -without horrors. Its horrors always come -from a little soul, that needs to be reassured as to -its own merit.</p> - -<p>To continue.—The Don Juans must find great difficulty -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>in agreeing with what I was saying just now of -this state of the soul. Besides the fact that they can -neither see nor feel this state, it gives too great a blow -to their vanity. The error of their life is expecting to -win in a fortnight what a timid lover can scarcely -obtain in six months. They base their reckoning on -experience got at the expense of those poor devils, who -have neither the soul to please a woman of feeling by -revealing its ingenuous workings, nor the necessary wit -for the part of a Don Juan. They refuse to see that the -same prize, though granted by the same woman, is not -the same thing.</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">L'homme prudent sans cesse se méfie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">C'est pour cela que des amants trompeurs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Le nombre est grand. Les dames que l'on prie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Font soupirer longtemps des serviteurs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui n'ont jamais été faux de leur vie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mais du trésor qu'elles donnent enfin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Le prix n'est su que du cœur qui le goûte;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plus on l'achète et plus il est divin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Le los d'amour ne vaut pas ce qu'il coûte.<a name="FNanchor_12_236" id="FNanchor_12_236"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_236" class="fnanchor">[12]</a><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">(Nivernais, <i>Le Troubadour Guillaume de la Tour</i>, III, 342.)<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>Passion-love in the eyes of a Don Juan may be compared -to a strange road, steep and toilsome, that begins, -'tis true, amidst delicious copses, but is soon lost among -sheer rocks, whose aspect is anything but inviting to -the eyes of the vulgar. Little by little the road penetrates -into the mountain-heights, in the midst of a dark -forest, where the huge trees, intercepting the daylight -with their shaggy tops that seem to touch the sky, throw -a kind of horror into souls untempered by dangers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>After wandering with difficulty, as in an endless maze, -whose multiple turnings try the patience of our self-love, -on a sudden we turn a corner and find ourselves in a -new world, in the delicious valley of Cashmire of Lalla -Rookh. How can the Don Juans, who never venture -along this road, or at most take but a few steps along it, -judge of the views that it offers at the end of the -journey?...</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>So you see inconstancy is good:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Il me faut du nouveau, n'en fût-il plus au monde."<a name="FNanchor_13_237" id="FNanchor_13_237"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_237" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p></blockquote> - -<p>Very well, I reply, you make light of oaths and justice, -and what can you look for in inconstancy? Pleasure apparently.</p> - -<p>But the pleasure to be got from a pretty woman, -desired a fortnight and loved three months, is different -from the pleasure to be found in a mistress, desired three -years and loved ten.</p> - -<p>If I do not insert the word "always" the reason is that I -have been told old age, by altering our organs, renders -us incapable of loving; myself, I don't believe it. When -your mistress has become your intimate friend, she can -give you new pleasures, the pleasures of old age. 'Tis a -flower that, after it has been a rose in the morning—the -season of flowers—becomes a delicious fruit in the -evening, when the roses are no longer in season.<a name="FNanchor_14_238" id="FNanchor_14_238"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_238" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<p>A mistress desired three years is really a mistress in -every sense of the word; you cannot approach her -without trembling; and let me tell the Don Juans that -a man who trembles is not bored. The pleasures of love -are always in proportion to our fear.</p> - -<p>The evil of inconstancy is weariness; the evil of -passion is despair and death. The cases of despair are -noted and become legend. No one pays attention to the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>weary old libertines dying of boredom, with whom the -streets of Paris are lined.</p> - -<p>"Love blows out more brains than boredom." I have -no doubt of it: boredom robs a man of everything, even -the courage to kill himself.</p> - -<p>There is a certain type of character which can find -pleasure only in variety. A man who cries up Champagne -at the expense of Bordeaux is only saying, with -more or less eloquence: "I prefer Champagne."</p> - -<p>Each of these wines has its partisans, and they are all -right, so long as they quite understand themselves, and -run after the kind of happiness best suited to their organs<a name="FNanchor_15_239" id="FNanchor_15_239"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_239" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> -and their habits. What ruins the case for inconstancy is -that all fools range themselves on that side from lack of -courage.</p> - -<p>But after all, everyone, if he will take the trouble to -look into himself, has his ideal, and there always seems to -me something a little ridiculous in wanting to convert -your neighbour.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_225" id="Footnote_1_225"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_225"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the first volume of the <i>Nouvelle Héloïse</i>. I should say every -volume, if Saint-Preux had happened to have the ghost of a character, -but he was a real poet, a babbler without resolution, who had no courage -until he had made a peroration—yes, a very dull man. Such men have -an immense advantage, in not upsetting feminine pride, and in never -giving their mistress a fright. Weigh the word well; it contains perhaps -the whole secret of the success of dull men with distinguished women. -Nevertheless love is only a passion in so far as it makes one forget one's -self-love. Thus they do not completely know love, these women, who, -like L., ask of it the pleasures of pride. Unconsciously, they are on the -same level as the prosaic man, the object of their contempt, who in love -seeks love plus vanity. And they too, they want love and pride; but -love goes out with flaming cheeks; he is the proudest of despots; he -will be all, or nothing.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_226" id="Footnote_2_226"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_226"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See a certain page of André Chénier (Works, p. 370); or rather look -at life, though that's much harder. "In general, those whom we call -patricians are much further than other men from loving anything," says -the Emperor Marcus Aurelius. (<i>Meditations</i>.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_227" id="Footnote_3_227"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_227"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Compare Lovelace and Tom Jones.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_228" id="Footnote_4_228"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_228"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> See the <i>Vie privée du duc de Richelieu</i>, nine volumes in 8vo. Why, -at the moment that an assassin kills a man, does he not fall dead at his -victim's feet? Why is there illness? And, if there is illness, why does -not a Troistaillons die of the colic? Why does Henry IV reign twenty-one -years and Lewis XV fifty-nine? Why is not the length of life in -exact proportion to the degree of virtue in each man? These and other -"infamous questions," English philosophers will say there is certainly no -merit in posing; but there would be some merit in answering them -otherwise than with insults and "cant."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_229" id="Footnote_5_229"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_229"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Note Nero after the murder of his mother, in Suetonius, and yet -with what a fine lot of flattery was he surrounded.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_230" id="Footnote_6_230"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_230"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Cruelty is only a morbid kind of sympathy. Power is, after love, -the first source of happiness, only because one believes oneself to be in -a position to command sympathy.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_231" id="Footnote_7_231"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_231"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> If you offer the spectator a picture of the sentiment of virtue side -by side with the sentiment of love, you will find that you have represented -a heart divided between two sentiments. In novels the only good of -virtue is to be sacrificed; <i>vide</i> Julie d'Étanges.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_232" id="Footnote_8_232"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_232"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> <i>Vide</i> Saint-Simon, <i>fausse couche</i> of the Duchesse de Bourgoyne; -and Madame de Motteville, <i>passim</i>: That princess, who was surprised -to find that other women had five fingers on their hands like herself; -that Gaston, Duke of Orleans, brother of Lewis XIII, who found it -quite easy to understand why his favourites went to the scaffold just to -please him. Note, in 1820, these fine gentlemen putting forward an -electoral law that may bring back your Robespierres into France, etc., -etc. And observe Naples in 1799. (I leave this note written in 1820. A -list of the great nobles in 1778, with notes on their morals, compiled by -General Laclos, seen at Naples in the library of the Marchese Berio—a -very scandalous manuscript of more than three hundred pages.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_233" id="Footnote_9_233"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_233"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The character of the young man of the privileged classes in 1820 -is pretty correctly represented by the brave Bothwell of <i>Old Mortality</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_234" id="Footnote_10_234"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_234"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> See Memoirs of de Retz and the unpleasant minute he gave the -coadjutor at the Parliament between two doors.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_235" id="Footnote_11_235"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_235"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Vol. 1819. Honeysuckle on the slopes.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_236" id="Footnote_12_236"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_236"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> [A prudent man continually mistrusts himself. 'Tis the reason why -the number of false lovers is great. The women whom men worship, -make their servants, who have never been false in their life, sigh a -long time. But the value of the prize that they give them in the end, -can only be known to the heart that tastes it; the greater the cost, the -more divine it is. The praises of love are not worth its pains.—Tr.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_237" id="Footnote_13_237"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_237"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> [I must have novelty, even if there were none left in the world.—Tr. ]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14_238" id="Footnote_14_238"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_238"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> See the Memoirs of Collé—his wife.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15_239" id="Footnote_15_239"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_239"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Physiologists, who understand our organs, tell you: "Injustice, in -the relations of social life, produces harshness, diffidence and misery."</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<h2>BOOK III</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> - -<h3>SCATTERED FRAGMENTS</h3> - - -<p>Under this title, which I would willingly have -made still more modest, I have brought together, -without excessive severity, a selection made from three -or four hundred playing cards, on which I found a few -lines scrawled in pencil. That which, I suppose, must -be called the original manuscript, for want of a simpler -name, was in many places made up of pieces of paper of -all sizes, written on in pencil, and joined together by -Lisio with sealing-wax, to save him the trouble of copying -them afresh. He told me once that nothing he ever -noted down seemed to him worth the trouble of recopying -an hour later. I have entered so fully into all this in -the hope that it may serve as an excuse for repetitions.</p> - - -<h5>I</h5> - -<p>Everything can be acquired in solitude, except character.</p> - - -<h5>II</h5> - -<p>1821. Hatred, love and avarice, the three ruling -passions at Rome, and with gambling added, almost -the only ones.</p> - -<p>At first sight the Romans seem ill-natured, but they -are only very much on their guard and blessed with an -imagination which flares up at the least suggestion.</p> - -<p>If they give a gratuitous proof of ill-nature, it is the -case of a man, gnawed by fear, and testing his gun to -reassure himself.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - -<h5>III</h5> - -<p>If I were to say, as I believe, that good-nature is the -keynote of the Parisian's character, I should be very -frightened of having offended him.—"I won't be -good!"</p> - - -<h5>IV</h5> - -<p>A proof of love comes to light, when all the pleasures -and all the pains, which all the other passions and wants -of man can produce, in a moment cease working.</p> - - -<h5>V</h5> - -<p>Prudery is a kind of avarice—the worst of all.</p> - - -<h5>VI</h5> - -<p>To have a solid character is to have a long and tried -experience of life's disillusions and misfortunes. Then -it is a question of desiring constantly or not at all.</p> - - -<h5>VII</h5> - -<p>Love, such as it exists in smart society, is the love of -battle, the love of gambling.</p> - - -<h5>VIII</h5> - -<p>Nothing kills gallant love like gusts of passion-love -from the other side. (Contessina L. Forlì—1819).</p> - - -<h5>IX</h5> - -<p>A great fault in women, and the most offensive of all -to a man a little worthy of that name: The public, in -matters of feeling, never soars above mean ideas, and -women make the public the supreme judge of their -lives—even the most distinguished women, I maintain, -often unconsciously, and even while believing and saying -the contrary. (Brescia, 1819).</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> - -<h5>X</h5> - -<p>Prosaic is a new word, which once I thought absurd, -for nothing could be colder than our poetry. If there -has been any warmth in France for the last fifty years, it -is assuredly to be found in its prose.</p> - -<p>But anyhow, the little Countess L—— used the word -and I like writing it.</p> - -<p>The definition of prosaic is to be got from <i>Don -Quixote</i>, and "the complete contrast of Knight and -Squire." The Knight tall and pale; the Squire fat and -fresh. The former all heroism and courtesy; the latter -all selfishness and servility. The former always full of -romantic and touching fancies; the latter a model of -worldly wisdom, a compendium of wise saws. The one -always feeding his soul on dreams of heroism and daring; -the other ruminating some really sensible scheme in -which, never fear, he will take into strict account all -the shameful, selfish little movements the human heart -is prone to.</p> - -<p>At the very moment when the former should be -brought to his senses by the non-success of yesterday's -dreams, he is already busy on his castles in Spain for -to-day.</p> - -<p>You ought to have a prosaic husband and to choose a -romantic lover.</p> - -<p>Marlborough had a prosaic soul: Henry IV, in love at -fifty-five with a young princess, who could not forget -his age, a romantic heart.<a name="FNanchor_1_240" id="FNanchor_1_240"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_240" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>There are fewer prosaic beings among the nobility -than in the middle-class.</p> - -<p>This is the fault of trade, it makes people prosaic.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_240" id="Footnote_1_240"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_240"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Dulaure, <i>History of Paris</i>. -</p> -<p> -Silent episode in the queen's apartment the evening of the flight of -the Princesse de Condé: the ministers transfixed to the wall and mute, -the King striding up and down.</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<h5>XI</h5> - -<p>Nothing so interesting as passion: for there everything -is unforeseen, and the principal is the victim. -Nothing so flat as gallantry, where everything is a matter -of calculation, as in all the prosaic affairs of life.</p> - - -<h5>XII</h5> - -<p>At the end of a visit you always finish by treating a -lover better than you meant to. (L., <i>November 2nd</i>, 1818).</p> - - -<h5>XIII</h5> - -<p>In spite of genius in an upstart, the influence of rank -always makes itself felt. Think of Rousseau losing his -heart to all the "ladies" he met, and weeping tears of -rapture because the Duke of L——, one of the dullest -courtiers of the period, deigns to take the right side -rather than the left in a walk with a certain M. Coindet, -friend of Rousseau! (L., <i>May 3rd</i>, 1820.)</p> - - -<h5>XIV</h5> - -<p>Women's only educator is the world. A mother in love -does not hesitate to appear in the seventh heaven of -delight, or in the depth of despair, before her daughters -aged fourteen or fifteen. Remember that, under these -happy skies, plenty of women are quite nice-looking till -forty-five, and the majority are married at eighteen.</p> - -<p>Think of La Valchiusa saying yesterday of Lampugnani: -"Ah, that man was made for me, he could love, ... -etc., etc," and so on in this strain to a friend—all before -her daughter, a little thing of fourteen or fifteen, very -much on the alert, and whom she also took with her on -the more than friendly walks with the lover in question.</p> - -<p>Sometimes girls get hold of sound rules of conduct, -For examples take Madame Guarnacci, addressing her -two daughters and two men, who have never called on -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>her before. For an hour and a half she treats them to -profound maxims, based on examples within their own -knowledge (that of La Cercara in Hungary), on the precise -point at which it is right to punish with infidelity a -lover who misbehaves himself. (Ravenna, <i>January 23rd</i>, -1820.)</p> - - -<h5>XV</h5> - -<p>The sanguine man, the true Frenchman (Colonel -M——) instead of being tormented by excess of feeling, -like Rousseau, if he has a rendezvous for the next evening -at seven, sees everything, right up to the blessed moment, -through rosy spectacles. People of this kind are not in -the least susceptible to passion-love; it would upset -their sweet tranquillity. I will go so far as to say that -perhaps they would find its transports a nuisance, or at -all events be humiliated by the timidity it produces.</p> - - -<h5>XVI</h5> - -<p>Most men of the world, through vanity, caution or -disaster, let themselves love a woman freely only after -intimate intercourse.</p> - - -<h5>XVII</h5> - -<p>With very gentle souls a woman needs to be easy-going -in order to encourage crystallisation.</p> - - -<h5>XVIII</h5> - -<p>A woman imagines that the voice of the public is -speaking through the mouth of the first fool or the first -treacherous friend who claims to be its faithful interpreter -to her.</p> - - -<h5>XIX</h5> - -<p>There is a delicious pleasure in clasping in your arms -a woman who has wronged you grievously, who has been -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>your bitter enemy for many a day, and is ready to be so -again. Good fortune of the French officers in Spain, -1812.</p> - - -<h5>XX</h5> - -<p>Solitude is what one wants, to relish one's own heart -and to love; but to succeed one must go amongst men, -here, there and everywhere.</p> - - -<h5>XXI</h5> - -<p>"All the observations of the French on love are well -written, carefully and without exaggeration, but they -bear only on light affections," said that delightful person, -Cardinal Lante.</p> - - -<h5>XXII</h5> - -<p>In Goldoni's comedy, the <i>Innamorati</i>, all the workings -of passion are excellent; it is the very repulsive meanness -of style and thought which revolts one. The contrary is -true of a French comedy.</p> - - -<h5>XXIII</h5> - -<p>The youth of 1822: To say "serious turn of mind, -active disposition" means "sacrifice of the present to -the future." Nothing develops the soul like the power -and the habit of making such sacrifices. I foresee the -probability of more great passions in 1832 than in 1772.</p> - - -<h5>XXIV</h5> - -<p>The choleric temperament, when it does not display -itself in too repulsive a form, is one perhaps most apt of -all to strike and keep alive the imagination of women. -If the choleric temperament does not fall among -propitious surroundings, as Lauzun in Saint-Simon -(Memoirs), the difficulty is to grow used to it. But -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>once grasped by a woman, this character must fascinate -her: yes, even the savage and fanatic Balfour (<i>Old -Mortality</i>). For women it is the antithesis of the -prosaic.</p> - - -<h5>XXV</h5> - -<p>In love one often doubts what one believes most -strongly (La R., 355). In every other passion, what once -we have proved, we no longer doubt.</p> - - -<h5>XXVI</h5> - -<p>Verse was invented to assist the memory. Later it -was kept to increase the pleasure of reading by the sight -of the difficulty overcome. Its survival nowadays in -dramatic art is a relic of barbarity. Example: the -Cavalry Regulations put into verse by M. de Bonnay.</p> - - -<h5>XXVII</h5> - -<p>While this jealous slave feeds his soul on boredom, -avarice, hatred and other such poisonous, cold passions, I -spend a night of happiness dreaming of her—of her who, -through mistrust, treats me badly.</p> - - -<h5>XXVIII</h5> - -<p>It needs a great soul to dare have a simple style. That -is why Rousseau put so much rhetoric into the <i>Nouvelle -Héloïse</i>—which makes it unreadable for anyone over -thirty.</p> - - -<h5>XXIX</h5> - -<p>"The greatest reproach we could possibly make against -ourselves is, certainly, to have let fade, like the shadowy -phantoms produced by sleep, the ideas of honour and -justice, which from time to time well up in our hearts." -(<i>Letter from Jena, March</i>, 1819.)</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<h5>XXX</h5> - -<p>A respectable woman is in the country and passes an -hour in the hot-house with her gardener. Certain people, -whose views she has upset, accuse her of having found a -lover in this gardener. What answer is there?</p> - -<p>Speaking absolutely, the thing is possible. She could -say: "My character speaks for me, look at my behaviour -throughout life"—only all this is equally invisible to the -eyes of the ill-natured who won't see, and the fools who -can't. (Salviati, Rome, <i>July 23rd</i>, 1819.)</p> - - -<h5>XXXI</h5> - -<p>I have known a man find out that his rival's love was -returned, and yet the rival himself remain blinded to -the fact by his passion.</p> - - -<h5>XXXII</h5> - -<p>The more desperately he is in love, the more violent -the pressure a man is forced to put upon himself, in order -to risk annoying the woman he loves by taking her hand.</p> - - -<h5>XXXIII</h5> - -<p>Ludicrous rhetoric but, unlike that of Rousseau, inspired -by true passion. (Memoirs of M. de Mau..., -<i>Letter of S——</i>.)</p> - - -<h5>XXXIV</h5> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Naturalness</span></p> - -<p>I saw, or I thought I saw, this evening the triumph of -naturalness in a young woman, who certainly seems to -me to possess a great character. She adores, obviously, -I think, one of her cousins and must have confessed to -herself the state of her heart. The cousin is in love with -her, but as she is very serious with him, thinks she does -not like him, and lets himself be fascinated by the marks -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>of preference shown him by Clara, a young widow and -friend of Mélanie. I think he will marry her. Mélanie -sees it and suffers all that a proud heart, struggling involuntarily -with a violent passion, is capable of suffering. -She has only to alter her ways a little; but she would -look upon it as a piece of meanness, the consequences of -which would affect her whole life, to depart one instant -from her natural self.</p> - - -<h5>XXXV</h5> - -<p>Sappho saw in love only sensual intoxication or physical -pleasure made sublime by crystallisation. Anacreon -looked for sensual and intellectual amusement. There -was too little security in Antiquity for people to find -leisure for passion-love.</p> - - -<h5>XXXVI</h5> - -<p>The foregoing fact fully justifies me in rather laughing -at people who think Homer superior to Tasso. Passion-love -did exist in the time of Homer, and at no great -distance from Greece.</p> - - -<h5>XXXVII</h5> - -<p>Woman with a heart, if you wish to know whether the -man you adore loves you with passion-love, study your -lover's early youth. Every man of distinction in the -early days of his life is either a ridiculous enthusiast or -an unfortunate. A man easy to please, of gay and cheerful -humour, can never love with the passion your heart -requires.</p> - -<p>Passion I call only that which has gone through long -misfortunes, misfortunes which novels take good care -not to depict—what's more they can't!</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> - -<h5>XXXVIII</h5> - -<p>A bold resolution can change in an instant the most -extreme misfortune into quite a tolerable state of things. -The evening of a defeat, a man is retreating in hot -haste, his charger already spent. He can hear distinctly -the troop of cavalry galloping in pursuit. Suddenly -he stops, dismounts, recharges his carbine and -pistols, and makes up his mind to defend himself. -Straightway, instead of having death, he has a cross of -the Legion of Honour before his eyes.</p> - - -<h5>XXXIX</h5> - -<p>Basis of English habits. About 1730, while we already -had Voltaire and Fontenelle, a machine was invented in -England to separate the grain, after threshing, from the -chaff. It worked by means of a wheel, which gave the -air enough movement to blow away the bits of chaff. -But in that biblical country the peasants pretended that -it was wicked to go against the will of Divine Providence, -and to produce an artificial wind like this, instead of -begging Heaven with an ardent prayer for enough wind -to thresh the corn and waiting for the moment appointed -by the God of Israel. Compare this with -French peasants.<a name="FNanchor_1_241" id="FNanchor_1_241"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_241" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_241" id="Footnote_1_241"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_241"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> For the actual state of English habits, see the Life of Mr. Beattie, -written by an intimate friend. The reader will be edified by the profound -humility of Mr. Beattie, when he receives ten guineas from an old -Marchioness in order to slander Hume. The trembling aristocracy relies -on the bishops with incomes of £200,000, and pays in money and honour -so-called liberal writers to throw mud at Chénier. (<i>Edinburgh Review</i>, -1821.) -</p> -<p> -The most disgusting cant leaks through on all sides. Everything -except the portrayal of primitive and energetic feelings is stifled by it: -impossible to write a joyous page in English.</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>XL</h5> - -<p>No doubt about it—'tis a form of madness to expose -oneself to passion-love. In some cases, however, the cure -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>works too energetically. American girls in the United -States are so saturated and fortified with reasonable ideas, -that in that country love, the flower of life, has deserted -youth. At Boston a girl can be left perfectly safely alone -with a handsome stranger—in all probability she's thinking -of nothing but her marriage settlement.</p> - - -<h5>XLI</h5> - -<p>In France men who have lost their wives are melancholy; -widows, on the contrary, merry and light-hearted. -There is a proverb current among women on -the felicity of this state. So there must be some inequality -in the articles of union.</p> - - -<h5>XLII</h5> - -<p>People who are happy in their love have an air of profound -preoccupation, which, for a Frenchman, is the -same as saying an air of profound gloom. (Dresden, -1818.)</p> - - -<h5>XLIII</h5> - -<p>The more generally a man pleases, the less deeply can -he please.</p> - - -<h5>XLIV</h5> - -<p>As a result of imitation in the early years of life, we -contract the passions of our parents, even when these -very passions poison our life. (L.'s pride.)</p> - - -<h5>XLV</h5> - -<p>The most honourable source of feminine pride is a -woman's fear of degrading herself in her lover's eyes by -some hasty step or some action that he may think unwomanly.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> - -<h5>XLVI</h5> - -<p>Real love renders the thought of death frequent, -agreeable, unterrifying, a mere subject of comparison, -the price we are willing to pay for many a thing.</p> - - -<h5>XLVII</h5> - -<p>How often have I exclaimed for all my bravery: "If -anyone would blow out my brains, I'd thank him before -I expired, if there were time." A man can only be brave, -with the woman he loves, by loving her a little less. -(S., <i>February</i>, 1820.)</p> - - -<h5>XLVIII</h5> - -<p>"I could never love!" a young woman said to me. -"Mirabeau and his letters to Sophie have given me a -disgust for great souls. Those fatal letters impressed -me like a personal experience."</p> - -<p>Try a plan which you never read of in novels; let -two years' constancy assure you, before intimate intercourse, -of your lover's heart.</p> - - -<h5>XLIX</h5> - -<p>Ridicule scares love. Ridicule is impossible in Italy: -what's good form in Venice is odd at Naples—consequently -nothing's odd in Italy. Besides, nothing that -gives pleasure is found fault with. 'Tis this that does -away with the fool's honour and half the farce.</p> - -<h5>L</h5> - -<p>Children command by tears, and if people do not -attend to their wishes, they hurt themselves on purpose. -Young women are piqued from a sense of honour.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> - -<h5>LI</h5> - -<p>'Tis a common reflection, but one for that reason -easily forgotten, that every day sensitive souls become -rarer, cultured minds commoner.</p> - -<h5>LII</h5> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Feminine Pride</span></p> - -<p>I have just witnessed a striking example—but on -mature consideration I should need fifteen pages to give -a proper idea of it. If I dared, I would much rather -note the consequences; my eyes have convinced me -beyond the possibility of doubt. But, no, it is a conviction -I must give up all idea of communicating, there -are too many little details. Such pride is the opposite -of French vanity. So far as I can remember, the only -work, in which I have seen a sketch of it, is that part of -Madame Roland's Memoirs, where she recounts the -petty reasonings she made as a girl. (Bologna, <i>April 18th</i>, -2 a.m.)</p> - -<h5>LIII</h5> - -<p>In France, most women make no account of a young -man until they have turned him into a coxcomb. It is -only then that he can flatter their vanity. (Duclos.)</p> - -<h5>LIV</h5> - -<p>Zilietti said to me at midnight (at the charming -Marchesina R...'s): "I'm not going to dine at San -Michele (an inn). Yesterday I said some smart things—I -was joking with Cl...; it might make me conspicuous."</p> - -<p>Don't go and think that Zilietti is either a fool or a -coward. He is a prudent and very rich man in this -happy land. (Modena, 1820.)</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> - -<h5>LV</h5> - -<p>What is admirable in America is the government, not -society. Elsewhere government does the harm. At -Boston they have changed parts, and government plays -the hypocrite, in order not to shock society.</p> - -<h5>LVI</h5> - -<p>Italian girls, if they love, are entirely given over to -natural inspiration. At the very most all that can -aid them is a handful of excellent maxims, which -they have picked up by listening at the keyhole. As -if fate had decreed that everything here should combine -to preserve naturalness, they read no novels—and -for this reason, that there are none. At Geneva or in -France, on the contrary, a girls falls in love at sixteen in -order to be a heroine, and at each step, almost at each -tear, she asks herself: "Am I not just like Julie d'Étanges? "</p> - -<h5>LVII</h5> - -<p>The husband of a young woman adored by a lover, -whom she treats unkindly and scarcely allows to kiss her -hand, has, at the very most, only the grossest physical -pleasure, where the lover would find the charms and -transports of the keenest happiness that exists on earth.</p> - -<h5>LVIII</h5> - -<p>The laws of the imagination are still so little understood, -that I include the following estimate, though -perhaps it is all quite wrong.</p> - -<p>I seem to distinguish two sorts of imagination:—</p> - -<p>1. Imagination like Fabio's, ardent, impetuous, inconsiderate, -leading straight to action, consuming itself, -and already languishing at a delay of twenty-four hours. -Impatience is its prime characteristic; it becomes enraged -against that which it cannot obtain. It sees all -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>exterior objects, but they only serve to inflame it. It -assimilates them to its own substance, and converts them -straight away to the profit of passion.</p> - -<p>2. Imagination which takes fire slowly and little by -little, but which loses in time the perception of exterior -objects, and comes to find occupation and nourishment -in nothing but its own passion. This last sort of imagination -goes quite easily with slowness, or even scarcity, of -ideas. It is favourable to constancy. It is the imagination -of the greater part of those poor German girls, who -are dying of love and consumption. That sad spectacle, -so frequent beyond the Rhine, is never met with in Italy.</p> - -<h5>LIX</h5> - -<p>Imaginative habits. A Frenchman is really shocked by -eight changes of scenery in one act of a tragedy. Such -a man is incapable of pleasure in seeing Macbeth. He -consoles himself by damning Shakespeare.</p> - -<h5>LX</h5> - -<p>In France the provinces are forty years behind Paris -in all that regards women. A. C., a married woman, -tells me that she only liked to read certain parts of -Lanzi's Memoirs. Such stupidity is too much for me; I -can no longer find a word to say to her. As if that were -a book one <i>could</i> put down!</p> - -<p>Want of naturalness—the great failing in provincial -women.</p> - -<p>Their effusive and gracious gestures; those who play -the first fiddle in the town are worse than the others.</p> - -<h5>LXI</h5> - -<p>Goethe, or any other German genius, esteems money -at what it's worth. Until he has got an income of -six thousand francs, he must think of nothing but his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>banking-account. After that he must never think of it -again. The fool, on his side, does not understand the -advantage there is of feeling and thinking like Goethe. -All his life he feels in terms of money and thinks of sums -of money. It is owing to this support from both sides, -that the prosaic in this world seem to come off so much -better than the high-minded.</p> - -<h5>LXII</h5> - -<p>In Europe, desire is inflamed by constraint; in America -it is dulled by liberty.</p> - -<h5>LXIII</h5> - -<p>A mania for discussion has got hold of the younger -generation and stolen it from love. While they are -considering whether Napoleon was of service to France, -they let the age of love speed past. Even with those -who mean to be young, it is all affectation—a tie, a spur, -their martial swagger, their all-absorbing self—and they -forget to cast a glance at the girl who passes by so -modestly and cannot go out more than once a week -through want of means.</p> - -<h5>LXIV</h5> - -<p>I have suppressed a chapter on Prudery, and others as -well.</p> - -<p>I am happy to find the following passage in Horace -Walpole's Memoirs:</p> - -<p><i>The Two Elizabeths</i>. Let us compare the daughters of -two ferocious men, and see which was sovereign of a -civilised nation, which of a barbarous one. Both were -Elizabeths. The daughter of Peter (of Russia) was -absolute, yet spared a competitor and a rival; and thought -the person of an empress had sufficient allurements for -as many of her subjects as she chose to honour with the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>communication. Elizabeth of England could neither -forgive the claim of Mary Stuart nor her charms, but ungenerously -imprisoned her (as George IV did Napoleon<a name="FNanchor_1_242" id="FNanchor_1_242"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_242" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>) -when imploring protection, and, without the sanction of -either despotism or law, sacrificed many to her great -and little jealousy. Yet this Elizabeth piqued herself on -chastity; and while she practised every ridiculous art -of coquetry to be admired at an unseemly age, kept off -lovers whom she encouraged, and neither gratified her -own desires nor their ambition. Who can help preferring -the honest, open-hearted barbarian empress? (Lord -Orford's Memoirs.)</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_242" id="Footnote_1_242"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_242"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> [Added, of course, by Stendhal.—Tr.]</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>LXV</h5> - -<p>Extreme familiarity may destroy crystallisation. A -charming girl of sixteen fell in love with a handsome -youth of the same age, who never failed one evening to -pass under her window at nightfall. Her mother invites -him to spend a week with them in the country—a desperate -remedy, I agree. But the girl was romantic, and -the youth rather dull: after three days she despised him.</p> - -<h5>LXVI</h5> - -<p>Ave Maria—twilight in Italy, the hour of tenderness, -of the soul's pleasures and of melancholy—sensation -intensified by the sound of those lovely bells.</p> - -<p>Hours of pleasure, which only in memory touch the -senses.... (Bologna, <i>April 17th</i>, 1817.)</p> - -<h5>LXVII</h5> - -<p>A young man's first love-affair on entering society is -ordinarily one of ambition. He rarely declares his love -for a sweet, amiable and innocent young girl. How -tremble before her, adore her, feel oneself in the presence -of a divinity? Youth must love a being whose qualities -lift him up in his own eyes. It is in the decline of life -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>that we sadly come back to love the simple and the -innocent, despairing of the sublime. Between the two -comes true love, which thinks of nothing but itself.</p> - -<h5>LXVIII</h5> - -<p>The existence of great souls is not suspected. They -hide away; all that is seen is a little originality. There -are more great souls than one would think.</p> - -<h5>LXIX</h5> - -<p>The first clasp of the beloved's hand—what a moment -that is! The only joy to be compared to it is the ravishing -joy of power—which statesmen and kings make pretence -of despising. This joy also has its crystallisation, though -it demands a colder and more reasonable imagination. -Think of a man whom, a quarter of an hour ago, Napoleon -has called to be a minister.</p> - -<h5>LXX</h5> - -<p>The celebrated Johannes von Müller<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_54" id="TNanch_54"></a><a href="#TN_54">(54)</a></span> said to me -at Cassel in 1808—Nature has given strength to the -North and wit to the South.</p> - -<h5>LXXI</h5> - -<p>Nothing more untrue than the maxim: No man is -a hero before his valet. Or, rather, nothing truer in the -monarchic sense of the word hero—the affected hero, like -Hippolytus in <i>Phèdre</i>. Desaix, for example, would have -been a hero even before his valet (it's true I don't know -if he had one), and a still greater hero for his valet than -for anyone else. Turenne and Fénelon might each have -been a Desaix, but for "good form" and the necessary -amount of force.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> - -<h5>LXXII</h5> - -<p>Here is blasphemy. I, a Dutchman, dare say this: -the French possess neither the true pleasures of conversation -nor the true pleasures of the theatre; instead of -relaxation and complete unrestraint, they mean hard -labour. Among the sources of fatigue which hastened -on the death of Mme. de Staël I have heard counted the -strain of conversation during her last winter.<a name="FNanchor_1_243" id="FNanchor_1_243"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_243" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_243" id="Footnote_1_243"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_243"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Memoirs of Marmontel, Montesquieu's conversation.</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>LXXIII</h5> - -<p>The degree of tension of the nerves in the ear, necessary -to hear each note, explains well enough the physical -part of one's pleasure in music.</p> - -<h5>LXXIV</h5> - -<p>What degrades rakish women is the opinion, which they -share with the public, that they are guilty of a great sin.</p> - -<h5>LXXV</h5> - -<p>In an army in retreat, warn an Italian soldier of a -danger which it is no use running—he'll almost thank -you and he'll carefully avoid it. If, from kindness, you -point out the same danger to a French soldier, he'll -think you're defying him—his sense of honour is piqued, -and he runs his head straight against it. If he dared, -he'd like to jeer at you. (Gyat, 1812.)</p> - -<h5>LXXVI</h5> - -<p>In France, any idea that can be explained only in the -very simplest terms is sure to be despised, even the most -useful. The Monitorial system<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_43">(43)</a></span>, invented by a -Frenchman, could never catch on. It is exactly the -opposite in Italy.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> - -<h5>LXXVII</h5> - -<p>Suppose you are passionately in love with a woman -and that your imagination has not run dry. One evening -she is tactless enough to say, looking at you tenderly and -abashed: "Er—yes—come to-morrow at midday; I -shall be in to no one but you." You cannot sleep; you -cannot think of anything; the morning is torture. At -last twelve o'clock strikes, and every stroke of the clock -seems to clash and clang on your heart.</p> - -<h5>LXXVIII</h5> - -<p>In love, to share money is to increase love, to give it -is to kill love.</p> - -<p>You are putting off the present difficulty, and the -odious fear of want in the future; or rather you are -sowing the seeds of policy, of the feeling of being two.—You -destroy sympathy.</p> - -<h5>LXXIX</h5> - -<p>Court ceremonies involuntarily call to mind scenes -from Aretine—the way the women display their bare -shoulders, like officers their uniform, and, for all their -charms, make no more sensation!</p> - -<p>There you see what in a mercenary way all will do to -win a man's approval; there you see a whole world acting -without morality and, what's more, without passion. -All this added to the presence of the women with their -very low dresses and their expression of malice, greeting -with a sardonic smile everything but selfish advantage -payable in the hard cash of solid pleasures—why! it -gives the idea of scenes from the Bagno. It drives far -away all doubts suggested by virtue or the conscious -satisfaction of a heart at peace with itself. Yet I have -seen the feeling of isolation amidst all this dispose gentle -hearts to love. (<i>Mars at the Tuileries</i>, 1811.)</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> - -<h5>LXXX</h5> - -<p>A soul taken up with bashfulness and the effort to -suppress it, is incapable of pleasure. Pleasure is a luxury—to -enjoy it, security is essential and must run no risks.</p> - -<h5>LXXXI</h5> - -<p>A test of love in which mercenary women cannot -disguise their feelings.—"Do you feel real delight in -reconciliation or is it only the thought of what you'll -gain by it?"</p> - -<h5>LXXXII</h5> - -<p>The poor things who fill La Trappe<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_55" id="TNanch_55"></a><a href="#TN_55">(55)</a></span> are wretches -who have not had quite enough courage to kill themselves. -I except, of course, the heads, who find pleasure in being -heads.</p> - -<h5>LXXXIII</h5> - -<p>It is a misfortune to have known Italian beauty: you -lose your sensibility. Out of Italy, you prefer the -conversation of men.</p> - -<h5>LXXXIV</h5> - -<p>Italian prudence looks to the preservation of life, and -this allows free play to the imagination. (Cf. a version -of the death of Pertica the famous comic actor, December -24th, 1821.) On the other hand, English prudence, -wholly relative to the gain and safe-keeping of just -enough money to cover expenses, demands detailed and -everyday exactitude, and this habit paralyses the imagination. -Notice also how enormously it strengthens -the conception of duty.</p> - -<h5>LXXXV</h5> - -<p>The immense respect for money, which is the first -and foremost vice of Englishmen and Italians, is less felt -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>in France and reduced to perfectly rational limits in -Germany.</p> - -<h5>LXXXVI</h5> - -<p>French women, having never known the happiness of -true passion, are anything but exacting over internal -domestic happiness and the everyday side of life. -(<i>Compiègne</i>.)</p> - -<h5>LXXXVII</h5> - -<p>"You talk to me of ambition for driving away boredom," -said Kamensky: "but all the time I used to gallop -a couple of leagues every evening, for the pleasure of -seeing the Princess at Kolich, I was on terms of intimacy -with a despot whom I respected, who had my whole good -fortune in his power and the satisfaction of all my possible -desires."</p> -<h5>LXXXVIII</h5> - -<p>Pretty contrast! On the one hand—perfection in the -little niceties of worldly wisdom and of dress, great -kindliness, want of genius, daily cult of a thousand and -one petty observances, and incapacity for three days' -attention to the same event: on the other—puritan -severity, biblical cruelty, strict probity, timid, morbid -self-love and universal cant! And yet these are the two -foremost nations of the world.</p> - -<h5>LXXXIX</h5> - -<p>As among princesses there has been an Empress -Catherine II, why should a female Samuel Bernard<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_56" id="TNanch_56"></a><a href="#TN_56">(56)</a></span>, -or a Lagrange<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_57" id="TNanch_57"></a><a href="#TN_57">(57)</a></span> not appear among the middle-class?</p> - -<h5>XC</h5> - -<p>Alviza calls this an unpardonable want of refinement—to -dare to make love by letter to a woman you adore and -who looks at you tenderly, but declares that she can never -love you.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> - -<h5>XCI</h5> - -<p>It was a mistake of the greatest philosopher that -France has had, not to have stayed in some Alpine -solitude, in some remote abode, thence to launch his -book on Paris without ever coming there himself<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_58" id="TNanch_58"></a><a href="#TN_58">(58)</a></span>. -Seeing Helvétius so simple and straightforward, unnatural, -hot-house people like Suard, Marmontel or -Diderot could never imagine they had a great philosopher -before them. They were perfectly honest in -their contempt for his profound reason. First of all, it -was simple—a fault unpardonable in France; secondly, -the author, not, of course, his book, was lowered in -value by this weakness—the extreme importance he -attached to getting what in France is called glory, to -being, like Balzac, Voiture or Fontenelle, the fashion -among his contemporaries.</p> - -<p>Rousseau had too much feeling and too little logic, -Buffon, in his Botanical Garden, was too hypocritical, and -Voltaire too paltry to be able to judge the principle -of Helvétius.</p> - -<p>Helvétius was guilty of a little slip in calling this -principle <i>interest</i>, instead of giving it a pretty name like -<i>pleasure</i>;<a name="FNanchor_1_244" id="FNanchor_1_244"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_244" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> but what are we to think of a nation's -literature, which shows its sense by letting itself be -led astray by a fault so slight?</p> - -<p>The ordinary clever man, Prince Eugene of Savoy for -example, finding himself in the position of Regulus, -would have stayed quietly at Rome, and even laughed at -the stupidity of the Carthaginian Senate. Regulus goes -back to Carthage. Prince Eugene would have been -prosecuting his own interest, and in exactly the same way -Regulus was prosecuting his.</p> - -<p>All through life a noble spirit is seeing possibilities -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>of action, of which a common spirit can form no -idea. The very second the possibility of that action -becomes visible to the noble spirit, it is its interest -thus to act.</p> - -<p>If this noble spirit did not perform the action, which -it has just perceived, it would despise itself—it would be -unhappy. Man's duties are in the ratio of his moral -range. The principle of Helvétius holds good, even in -the wildest exaltations of love, even in suicide. It is -contrary to his nature, it is an impossibility for a man not -to do, always and at any moment you choose to take, that -which is possible and which gives him most pleasure at -that moment to do.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_244" id="Footnote_1_244"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_244"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Torva leoena lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capellam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Florentem cytisum sequitur lasciva capella.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">.... Trahit sua quemque voluptas. (Virgil, Eclogue II.)<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -</div> - -<h5>XCII</h5> - -<p>To have firmness of character means to have experienced -the influence of others on oneself. Therefore -others are necessary.</p> - -<h5>XCIII</h5> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Ancient Love</span></p> - -<p>No posthumous love-letters of Roman ladies have been -printed. Petronius has written a charming book, but it -is only debauch that he has painted.</p> - -<p>For love at Rome, apart from Virgil's story of Dido<a name="FNanchor_1_245" id="FNanchor_1_245"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_245" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -and his second Eclogue, we have no evidence more -precise than the writings of the three great poets, Ovid, -Tibullus and Propertius.</p> - -<p>Now, Parny's <i>Elegies</i> or Colardeau's <i>Letter of Héloïse to -Abelard</i> are pictures of a very imperfect and vague kind, -if you compare them to some of the letters in the <i>Nouvelle -Héloïse</i>, to those of the Portuguese Nun, of Mademoiselle -de Lespinasse, of Mirabeau's Sophie, of Werther, -etc., etc.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>Poetry, with its obligatory comparisons, its mythology -in which the poet doesn't believe, its dignity of style <i>à la</i> -Louis XIV, and all its superfluous stock of ornaments -called poetical, is very inferior to prose when it comes -to a question of giving a clear and precise idea of the -working of the heart. And, in this class of writing, -clearness alone is effective.</p> - -<p>Tibullus, Ovid and Propertius had better taste than -our poets; they have painted love such as it was to be -found among the proud citizens of Rome: moreover, -they lived under Augustus, who, having shut the -temple of Janus, sought to debase these citizens to the -condition of the loyal subjects of a monarchy.</p> - -<p>The mistresses of these three great poets were coquettes, -faithless and venal women; in their company the poets -only sought physical pleasure, and never, I should think, -caught a glimpse of the sublime sentiments<a name="FNanchor_2_246" id="FNanchor_2_246"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_246" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> which, -thirteen centuries later, stirred the heart of the gentle -Héloïse.</p> - -<p>I borrow the following passage from a distinguished -man of letters,<a name="FNanchor_3_247" id="FNanchor_3_247"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_247" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and one who knows the Latin poets much -better than I do:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The brilliant genius of Ovid, the rich imagination of Propertius, -the impressionable heart of Tibullus, doubtless inspired -them with verses of a different flavour, but all, in the same manner, -they loved women of much the same kind. They desire, -they triumph, they have fortunate rivals, they are jealous, they -quarrel and make it up; they are faithless in their turn, they are -forgiven; and they recover their happiness only to be ruffled by -the return of the same mischances.</p> - -<p>Corinna is married. The first lessons that Ovid gives her are -to teach her the address with which to deceive her husband: -the signs they are to make each other before him and in society, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>so that they can understand each other and be understood only by -themselves. Enjoyment quickly follows; afterwards quarrels, and, -what you wouldn't expect from so gallant a man as Ovid, insults -and blows; then excuses, tears and forgiveness. Sometimes he -addresses himself to subordinates—to the servants, to his mistress' -porter, who is to open to him at night, to a cursed old beldam who -corrupts her and teaches her to sell herself for gold, to an old -eunuch who keeps watch over her, to a slave-girl who is to convey -the tablets in which he begs for a rendezvous. The rendezvous -is refused: he curses his tablets, that have had such sorry fortune. -Fortune shines brighter: he adjures the dawn not to come to -interrupt his happiness.</p> - -<p>Soon he accuses himself of numberless infidelities, of his -indiscriminate taste for women. A moment after, Corinna is -herself faithless; he cannot bear the idea that he has given her -lessons from which she reaps the profit with someone else. Corinna -in her turn is jealous; she abuses him like a fury rather than a -gentle woman; she accuses him of loving a slave-girl. He swears -that there is nothing in it and writes to the slave—yet everything -that made Corinna angry was true. But how did she get -to know of it? What clue had led to their betrayal? He asks -the slave-girl for another rendezvous. If she refuse him, he -threatens to confess everything to Corinna. He jokes with a -friend about his two loves and the trouble and pleasure they give -him. Soon after, it is Corinna alone that fills his thoughts. She -is everything to him. He sings his triumph, as if it were his first -victory. After certain incidents, which for more than one reason -we must leave in Ovid, and others, which it would be too long to -recount, he discovers that Corinna's husband has become too lax. -He is no longer jealous; our lover does not like this, and threatens -to leave the wife, if the husband does not resume his jealousy. The -husband obeys him but too well; he has Corinna watched so -closely, that Ovid can no longer come to her. He complains of -this close watch, which he had himself provoked—but he will find -a way to get round it. Unfortunately, he is not the only one to succeed -therein. Corinna's infidelities begin again and multiply; her -intrigues become so public, that the only boon that Ovid can -crave of her, is that she will take some trouble to deceive him, and -show a little less obviously what she really is. Such were the -morals of Ovid and his mistress, such is the character of their love.</p> - -<p>Cynthia is the first love of Propertius, and she will be his last. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>No sooner is he happy, but he is jealous. Cynthia is too fond of -dress; he begs her to shun luxury and to love simplicity. He -himself is given up to more than one kind of debauch. Cynthia -expects him; he only comes to her at dawn, leaving a banquet in -his cups. He finds her asleep; it is a long time before she wakes, -in spite of the noise he makes and even of his kisses; at last she -opens her eyes and reproaches him as he deserves. A friend tries -to detach him from Cynthia; he gives his friend a eulogy of her -beauty and talents. He is threatened with losing her; she goes -off with a soldier; she means to follow the army; she will expose -herself to every danger in order to follow her soldier. Propertius -does not storm; he weeps and prays heaven for her happiness. -He will never leave the house she has deserted; he will look out -for strangers who have seen her, and will never leave off asking -them for news of Cynthia. She is touched by love so great. She -deserts the soldier and stays with the poet. He gives thanks to -Apollo and the Muses; he is drunk with his happiness. This -happiness is soon troubled by a new access of jealousy, interrupted -by separation and by absence. Far from Cynthia, he can -only think of her. Her past infidelities make him fear for news. -Death does not frighten him, he only fears to lose Cynthia; let -him be but certain that she will be faithful and he will go down -without regret to the grave.</p> - -<p>After more treachery, he fancies he is delivered from his love; -but soon he is again in its bonds. He paints the most ravishing -portrait of his mistress, her beauty, the elegance of her dress, -her talents in singing, poetry and dancing; everything redoubles -and justifies his love. But Cynthia, as perverse as she is captivating, -dishonours herself before the whole town by such scandalous -adventures that Propertius can no longer love her without shame. -He blushes, but he cannot shake her off. He will be her lover, -her husband; he will never love any but Cynthia. They part -and come together again. Cynthia is jealous, he reassures her. -He will never love any other woman. But in fact it is never one -woman he loves—it is all women. He never has enough of them, -he is insatiable of pleasure. To recall him to himself, Cynthia -has to desert him yet again. Then his complaints are as vigorous -as if he had never been faithless himself. He tries to escape. He -seeks distraction in debauch.—Is he drunk as usual? He pretends -that a troupe of loves meets him and brings him back to Cynthia's -feet. Reconciliation is followed by more storms. Cynthia, at one -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>of their supper parties, gets heated with wine like himself, upsets -the table and hits him over the head. Propertius thinks this -charming. More perfidy forces him at last to break his chains; -he tries to go away; he means to travel in Greece; he completes -all his plans for the journey, but he renounces the project—and -all in order to see himself once more the butt of new outrages. -Cynthia does not confine herself to betraying him; she makes -him the laughing-stock of his rivals. But illness seizes her and -she dies. She reproaches him with his faithlessness, his caprices -and his desertion of her in her last moments, and swears that she -herself, in spite of appearances, was always faithful.</p> - -<p>Such are the morals and adventures of Propertius and his -mistress; such in abstract is the history of their love. Such was -the woman that a soul like Propertius was reduced to loving.</p> - -<p>Ovid and Propertius were often faithless, but never inconstant. -Confirmed libertines, they distribute their homage far and wide, -but always return to take up the same chains again. Corinna -and Cynthia have womankind for rivals, but no woman in particular. -The Muse of these two poets is faithful, if their love is -not, and no other names besides those of Corinna and of Cynthia -figure in their verses. Tibullus, a tender lover and tender poet, -less lively and less headlong in his tastes, has not their constancy. -Three beauties are one after the other the objects of his love and -of his verses. Delia is the first, the most celebrated and also the -best beloved. Tibullus has lost his fortune, but he still has the -country and Delia. To enjoy her amid the peaceful fields; to -be able, at his ease, to press Delia's hand in his; to have her -for his only mourner at his funeral—he makes no other prayers. -Delia is kept shut up by a jealous husband; he will penetrate into -her prison, in spite of any Argus and triple bolts. He will forget -all his troubles in her arms. He falls ill and Delia alone fills his -thoughts. He exhorts her to be always chaste, to despise gold, -and to grant none but him the love she has granted him. But -Delia does not follow his advice. He thought he could put up -with her infidelity; but it is too much for him and he begs Delia -and Venus for pity. He seeks in wine a remedy and does not -find it; he can neither soften his regret nor cure himself of his -love. He turns to Delia's husband, deceived like himself, and -reveals to him all the tricks she uses to attract and see her lovers. -If the husband does not know how to keep watch over her, let -her be trusted to himself; he will manage right enough to ward -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>the lovers off and to keep from their toils the author of their -common wrongs. He is appeased and returns to her; he remembers -Delia's mother who favoured their love; the memory of -this good woman opens his heart once more to tender thoughts, -and all Delia's wrongs are forgotten. But she is soon guilty of -others more serious. She lets herself be corrupted by gold and -presents; she gives herself to another, to others. At length -Tibullus breaks his shameful chains and says good-bye to her for -ever.</p> - -<p>He passes under the sway of Nemesis and is no happier; she -loves only gold and cares little for poetry and the gifts of genius. -Nemesis is a greedy woman who sells herself to the highest bidder; -he curses her avarice, but he loves her and cannot live unless she -loves him. He tries to move her with touching images. She has -lost her young sister; he will go and weep on her tomb and -confide his grief to her dumb ashes. The shade of her sister will -take offence at the tears that Nemesis causes to flow. She must -not despise her anger. The sad image of her sister might come -at night to trouble her sleep.... But these sad memories force -tears from Nemesis—and at that price he could not buy even -happiness. Neaera is his third mistress. He has long enjoyed her -love; he only prays the gods that he may live and die with her; -but she leaves him, she is gone; he can only think of her, she -is his only prayer; he has seen in a dream Apollo, who announces -to him that Neaera is unfaithful. He refuses to believe this dream; -he could not survive his misfortune, and none the less the misfortune -is there. Neaera is faithless; once more Tibullus is -deserted. Such was his character and fortune, such is the triple -and all unhappy story of his loves.</p> - -<p>In him particularly there is a sweet, all-pervading melancholy, -that gives even to his pleasures the tone of dreaminess and sadness -which constitutes his charm. If any poet of antiquity introduced -moral sensibility into love, it was Tibullus; but these fine shades -of feeling which he expresses so well, are in himself; he expects -no more than the other two to find them or engender them in his -mistresses. Their grace, their beauty is all that inflames him; -their favours all he desires or regrets; their perfidy, their venality, -their loss, all that torments him. Of all these women, celebrated -in the verses of three great poets, Cynthia seems the most lovable. -The attraction of talent is joined to all the others; she cultivates -singing and poetry; and yet all these talents, which were found -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>not infrequently in courtesans of a certain standing, were of no -avail—it was none the less pleasure, gold and wine which ruled -her. And Propertius, who boasts only once or twice of her -artistic tastes, in his passion for her is none the less seduced by -a very different power!</p></blockquote> - -<p>These great poets are apparently to be numbered among -the most tender and refined souls of their century—well! -this is how they loved and whom. We must here put -literary considerations on one side. I only ask of them -evidence concerning their century; and in two thousand -years a novel by Ducray-Duminil<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_59" id="TNanch_59"></a><a href="#TN_59">(59)</a></span> will be evidence -concerning the annals of ours.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_245" id="Footnote_1_245"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_245"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Mark Dido's look in the superb sketch by M. Guerin at the Luxembourg.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_246" id="Footnote_2_246"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_246"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Everything that is beautiful in the world having become a part of -the beauty of the woman you love, you find yourself inclined to do everything -in the world that is beautiful.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_247" id="Footnote_3_247"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_247"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Guinguené's <i>Histoire littéraire de l'Italie</i> (Vol. II, p. 490.)</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>XCIII(b)</h5> - -<p>One of my great regrets is not to have been able to -see Venice in 1760.<a name="FNanchor_1_248" id="FNanchor_1_248"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_248" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> A run of happy chances had apparently -united, in so small a space, both the political -institutions and the public opinion that are most favourable -to the happiness of mankind. A soft spirit of luxury -gave everyone an easy access to happiness. There were -no domestic struggles and no crimes. Serenity was seen -on every face; no one thought about seeming richer -than he was; hypocrisy had no point. I imagine it -must have been the direct contrary to London in 1822.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_248" id="Footnote_1_248"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_248"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Travels in Italy</i> of the President de Brosses, <i>Travels</i> of Eustace, Sharp, -Smollett.</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>XCIV</h5> - -<p>If in the place of the want of personal security you -put the natural fear of economic want, you will see that -the United States of America bears a considerable -resemblance to the ancient world as regards that passion, -on which we are attempting to write a monograph.</p> - -<p>In speaking of the more or less imperfect sketches of -passion-love which the ancients have left us, I see that I -have forgotten the Loves of Medea in the <i>Argonautica</i><span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_60" id="TNanch_60"></a><a href="#TN_60">(60)</a></span>. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>Virgil copied them in his picture of Dido. Compare -that with love as seen in a modern novel—<i>Le Doyen -de Killerine</i>, for example.</p> - -<h5>XCV</h5> - -<p>The Roman feels the beauties of Nature and Art with -amazing strength, depth and justice; but if he sets -out to try and reason on what he feels so forcibly, it is -pitiful.</p> - -<p>The reason may be that his feelings come to him from -Nature, but his logic from government.</p> - -<p>You can see at once why the fine arts, outside Italy, -are only a farce; men reason better, but the public has -no feeling.</p> - -<h5>XCVI</h5> - -<p>London, <i>November 20th</i>, 1821.</p> - -<p>A very sensible man, who arrived yesterday from -Madras, told me in a two hours' conversation what I -reduce to the following few lines:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This gloom, which from an unknown cause depresses the English -character, penetrates so deeply into their hearts, that at the end -of the world, at Madras, no sooner does an Englishman get a few -days' holiday, than he quickly leaves rich and flourishing Madras and -comes to revive his spirits in the little French town of Pondicherry, -which, without wealth and almost without commerce, flourishes -under the paternal administration of M. Dupuy. At Madras -you drink Burgundy that costs thirty-six francs a bottle; the -poverty of the French in Pondicherry is such that, in the most -distinguished circles, the refreshments consist of large glasses -of water. But in Pondicherry they laugh.</p></blockquote> - -<p>At present there is more liberty in England than in -Prussia. The climate is the same as that of Koenigsberg, -Berlin or Warsaw, cities which are far from being -famous for their gloom. The working classes in these -towns have less security and drink quite as little wine as -in England; and they are much worse clothed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>The aristocracies of Venice and Vienna are not -gloomy.</p> - -<p>I can see only one point of difference: in gay countries -the Bible is little read, and there is gallantry. I am sorry -to have to come back so often to a demonstration with -which I am unsatisfied. I suppress a score of facts -pointing in the same direction.</p> - -<h5>XCVII</h5> - -<p>I have just seen, in a fine country-house near Paris, a -very good-looking, very clever, and very rich young man -of less than twenty; he has been left there by chance -almost alone, for a long time too, with a most beautiful -girl of eighteen, full of talent, of a most distinguished -mind, and also very rich. Who wouldn't have expected a -passionate love-affair? Not a bit of it—such was the -affectation of these two charming creatures that both -were occupied solely with themselves and the effect they -were to produce.</p> - -<h5>XCVIII</h5> - -<p>I am ready to agree that on the morrow of a great -action a savage pride has made this people fall into all -the faults and follies that lay open to it. But you will -see what prevents me from effacing my previous praises -of this representative of the Middle Ages.</p> - -<p>The prettiest woman in Narbonne is a young Spaniard, -scarcely twenty years old, who lives there very retired -with her husband, a Spaniard also, and an officer on half-pay. -Some time ago there was a fool whom this officer -was obliged to insult. The next day, on the field of -combat, the fool sees the young Spanish woman arrive. -He begins a renewed flow of affected nothings:—</p> - -<p>"No, indeed, it's shocking! How could you tell your -wife about it? You see, she has come to prevent us -fighting!" "I have come to bury you," she answered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>Happy the husband who can tell his wife everything! -The result did not belie this woman's haughty words. -Her action would have been considered hardly the thing -in England. Thus does false decency diminish the -little happiness that exists here below.</p> - -<h5>XCIX</h5> - -<p>The delightful Donézan said yesterday: "In my -youth, and well on in my career—for I was fifty in '89—women -wore powder in their hair.</p> - -<p>"I own that a woman without powder gives me a -feeling of repugnance; the first impression is always that -of a chamber-maid who hasn't had time to get dressed."</p> - -<p>Here we have the one argument against Shakespeare -and in favour of the dramatic unities.</p> - -<p>While young men read nothing but La Harpe<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_61" id="TNanch_61"></a><a href="#TN_61">(61)</a></span>, -the taste for great powdered <i>toupées</i>, such as the late -Queen Marie Antoinette used to wear, can still last some -years. I know people too, who despise Correggio and -Michael Angelo, and, to be sure, M. Donézan was extremely -clever.</p> - -<h5>C</h5> - -<p>Cold, brave, calculating, suspicious, contentious, for -ever afraid of being attracted by anyone who might -possibly be laughing at them in secret, absolutely devoid -of enthusiasm, and a little jealous of people who saw -great events with Napoleon, such was the youth of that -age, estimable rather than lovable. They forced on the -country that Right-Centre form of government-to-the-lowest-bidder. -This temper in the younger generation -was to be found even among the conscripts, each of -whom only longed to finish his time.</p> - -<p>All systems of education, whether given expressly or -by chance, form men for a certain period in their life. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>The education of the age of Louis XV made twenty-five -the finest moment in the lives of its pupils.<a name="FNanchor_1_249" id="FNanchor_1_249"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_249" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>It is at forty that the young men of this period will -be at their best; they will have lost their suspiciousness -and pretensions, and have gained ease and gaiety.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_249" id="Footnote_1_249"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_249"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> M. de Francueil with too much powder: Memoirs of Madame -d'Épinay.</p></div> - -<h5>CI</h5> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Discussion between an Honest Man -and an Academic</span></p> - -<p>"In this discussion, the academic always saved himself -by fixing on little dates and other similar errors of small -importance; but the consequences and natural qualifications -of things, these he always denied, or seemed not to -understand: for example, that Nero was a cruel Emperor -or Charles II a perjurer. Now, how are you to prove -things of this kind, or, even if you do, manage not to -put a stop to the general discussion or lose the thread of -it?</p> - -<p>"This, I have always remarked, is the method of -discussion between such folk, one of whom seeks only -the truth and advancement thereto, the other the favour -of his master or his party and the glory of talking well. -And I always consider it great folly and waste of time -for an honest man to stop and talk with the said academics." -(<i>Œuvres badines</i> of Guy Allard de Voiron.)</p> - -<h5>CII</h5> - -<p>Only a small part of the art of being happy is an exact -science, a sort of ladder up which one can be sure of -climbing a rung per century—and that is the part which -depends on government. (Still, this is only theory. I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>find the Venetians of 1770 happier than the people of -Philadelphia to-day.)</p> - -<p>For the rest, the art of being happy is like poetry; in -spite of the perfecting of all things, Homer, two thousand -seven hundred years ago, had more talent than -Lord Byron.</p> - -<p>Reading Plutarch with attention, I think I can see that -men were happier in Sicily in the time of Dion than we -manage to be to-day, although they had no printing and -no iced punch!</p> - -<p>I would rather be an Arab of the fifth century than a -Frenchman of the nineteenth.</p> - -<h5>CIII</h5> - -<p>People go to the theatre, never for that kind of illusion -which is lost one minute and found again the next, but -for an opportunity of convincing their neighbour, or at -least themselves, that they have read their La Harpe and -are people who know what's good. It is an old pedant's -pleasure that the younger generation indulges in.</p> - -<h5>CIV</h5> - -<p>A woman belongs by right to the man who loves her -and is dearer to her than life.</p> - -<h5>CV</h5> - -<p>Crystallisation cannot be excited by an understudy, -and your most dangerous rivals are those most unlike -you.</p> - -<h5>CVI</h5> - -<p>In a very advanced state of society passion-love is as -natural as physical love among savages. (M.)</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> - -<h5>CVII</h5> - -<p>But for an infinite number of shades of feeling, to have -a woman you adore would be no happiness and scarcely -a possibility. (L., <i>October 7th.</i>)</p> - -<h5>CVIII</h5> - -<p>Whence comes the intolerance of Stoic philosophers? -From the same source as that of religious fanatics. They -are put out because they are struggling against nature, -because they deny themselves, and because it hurts them. -If they would question themselves honestly on the hatred -they bear towards those who profess a code of morals -less severe, they would have to own that it springs from -a secret jealousy of a bliss which they envy and have -renounced, without believing in the rewards which would -make up for this sacrifice. (Diderot.)</p> - -<h5>CIX</h5> - -<p>Women who are always taking offence might well -ask themselves whether they are following a line of conduct, -which they think really and truly is the road to -happiness. Is there not a little lack of courage, mixed -with a little mean revenge, at the bottom of a prude's -heart? Consider the ill-humour of Madame de Deshoulières -in her last days. (<i>Note by M. Lemontey.</i>)<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_62" id="TNanch_62"></a><a href="#TN_62">(62)</a></span>.</p> - -<h5>CX</h5> - -<p>Nothing more indulgent than virtue without hypocrisy—because -nothing happier; yet even Mistress -Hutchinson might well be more indulgent.</p> - -<h5>CXI</h5> - -<p>Immediately below this kind of happiness comes that -of a young, pretty and easy-going woman, with a conscience -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>that does not reproach her. At Messina people -used to talk scandal about the Contessina Vicenzella. -"Well, well!" she would say, "I'm young, free, rich -and perhaps not ugly. I wish the same to all the ladies -of Messina!" It was this charming woman, who would -never be more than a friend to me, who introduced me -to the Abbé Melli's sweet poems in Sicilian dialect. His -poetry is delicious, though still disfigured by mythology.</p> - -<p>(Delfante.)</p> - -<h5>CXII</h5> - -<p>The public of Paris has a fixed capacity for attention—three -days: after which, bring to its notice the death -of Napoleon or M. Béranger<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_63" id="TNanch_63"></a><a href="#TN_63">(63)</a></span> sent to prison for two -months—the news is just as sensational, and to bring it -up on the fourth day just as tactless. Must every great -capital be like this, or has it to do with the good nature -and light heart of the Parisian? Thanks to aristocratic -pride and morbid reserve, London is nothing but a -numerous collection of hermits; it is not a capital. -Vienna is nothing but an oligarchy of two hundred -families surrounded by a hundred and fifty thousand -workpeople and servants who wait on them. No more -is that a capital.—Naples and Paris, the only two capitals. -(Extract from Birkbeck's <i>Travels</i>, p. 371.)</p> - -<h5>CXIII</h5> - -<p>According to common ideas, or reasonable-ideas, as -they are called by ordinary people, if any period of -imprisonment could possibly be tolerable, it would be -after several years' confinement, when at last the poor -prisoner is only separated by a month or two from the -moment of his release. But the ways of crystallisation -are otherwise. The last month is more painful than the -last three years. In the gaol at Melun, M. d'Hotelans -has seen several prisoners die of impatience within a few -months of the day of release.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> - -<h5>CXIV</h5> - -<p>I cannot resist the pleasure of copying out a letter -written in bad English by a young German woman. It -proves that, after all, constant love exists, and that not every -man of genius is a Mirabeau. Klopstock, the great poet, -passes at Hamburg for having been an attractive person. -Read what his young wife wrote to an intimate friend:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"After having seen him two hours, I was obliged to -pass the evening in a company, which never had been so -wearisome to me. I could not speak, I could not play; -I thought I saw nothing but Klopstock; I saw him the -next day and the following and we were very seriously -friends. But the fourth day he departed. It was a -strong hour the hour of his departure! He wrote soon -after; from that time our correspondence began to be -a very diligent one. I sincerely believed my love to be -friendship. I spoke with my friends of nothing but -Klopstock, and showed his letters. They raillied at me -and said I was in love. I raillied then again, and said -that they must have a very friendshipless heart, if they -had no idea of friendship to a man as well as to a woman. -Thus it continued eight months, in which time my friends -found as much love in Klopstock's letters as in me. I -perceived it likewise, but I would not believe it. At the -last Klopstock said plainly that he loved; and I startled -as for a wrong thing; I answered that it was no love, -but friendship, as it was what I felt for him; we had -not seen one another enough to love (as if love must have -more time than friendship). This was sincerely my -meaning, and I had this meaning till Klopstock came -again to Hamburg. This he did a year after we had seen -one another the first time. We saw, we were friends, we -loved; and a short time after, I could even tell Klopstock -that I loved. But we were obliged to part again, -and wait two years for our wedding. My mother would -not let me marry a stranger. I could marry then without -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>her consent, as by the death of my father my fortune -depended not on her; but this was a horrible idea for -me; and thank heaven that I have prevailed by prayers! -At this time knowing Klopstock, she loves him as her -lifely son, and thanks God that she has not persisted. -We married and I am the happiest wife in the world. -In some few months it will be four years that I am so -happy...." (<i>Correspondence of Richardson</i>, Vol. III, -p. 147.)</p></blockquote> - -<h5>CXV</h5> - -<p>The only unions legitimate for all time are those that -answer to a real passion.</p> - -<h5>CXVI</h5> - -<p>To be happy with laxity of morals, one wants the -simplicity of character that is found in Germany and -Italy, but never in France. (The Duchess de C——)</p> - -<h5>CXVII</h5> - -<p>It is their pride that makes the Turks deprive their -women of everything that can nourish crystallisation. -I have been living for the last three months in a country -where the titled folk will soon be carried just as far by -theirs.</p> - -<p>Modesty is the name given here by men to the exactions -of aristocratic pride run mad. Who would risk a lapse of -modesty? Here also, as at Athens, the intellectuals -show a marked tendency to take refuge with courtesans—that -is to say, with the women whom a scandal shelters -from the need to affect modesty. (<i>Life of Fox.</i>)</p> - -<h5>CXVIII</h5> - -<p>In the case of love blighted by too prompt a victory, I -have seen in very tender characters crystallisation trying -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>to form later. "I don't love you a bit," she says, but -laughing.</p> - -<h5>CXIX</h5> - -<p>The present-day education of women—that odd mixture -of works of charity and risky songs ("Di piacer mi -balza il cor," in <i>La Gazza Ladra</i>)<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_64" id="TNanch_64"></a><a href="#TN_64">(64)</a></span>—is the one thing -in the world best calculated to keep off happiness. This -form of education produces minds completely inconsequent. -Madame de R——, who was afraid of dying, -has just met her death through thinking it funny to -throw her medicines out of the window. Poor little -women like her take inconsequence for gaiety, because, -in appearance, gaiety is often inconsequent. 'Tis like -the German, who threw himself out of the window in -order to be sprightly.</p> - -<h5>CXX</h5> - -<p>Vulgarity, by stifling imagination, instantly produces -in me a deadly boredom. Charming Countess K——, -showing me this evening her lovers' letters, which to -my mind were in bad taste. (Forlì, <i>March 17th</i>, Henri.)</p> - -<p>Imagination was not stifled: it was only deranged, -and very soon from mere repugnance ceased to picture -the unpleasantness of these dull lovers.</p> - -<h5>CXXI</h5> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Metaphysical Reverie</span></p> - -<p class="date">Belgirate, <i>26th October</i>, 1816.</p> - -<p>Real passion has only to be crossed for it to produce apparently -more unhappiness than happiness. This thought -may not be true in the case of gentle souls, but it is -absolutely proved in the case of the majority of men, and -particularly of cold philosophers, who, as regards passion, -live, one might say, only on curiosity and self-love.</p> - -<p>I said all this to the Contessina Fulvia yesterday -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>evening, as we were walking together near the great -pine on the eastern terrace of Isola Bella. She answered: -"Unhappiness makes a much stronger impression on a -man's life than pleasure.</p> - -<p>"The prime virtue in anything which claims to give us -pleasure, is that it strikes hard.</p> - -<p>"Might we not say that life itself being made up only -of sensation, there is a universal taste in all living beings -for the consciousness that the sensations of their life are -the keenest that can be? In the North people are hardly -alive—look at the slowness of their movements. The -Italian's <i>dolce far niente</i> is the pleasure of relishing one's -soul and one's emotions, softly reclining on a divan. Such -pleasure is impossible, if you are racing all day on horseback -or in a drosky, like the Englishman or the Russian. -Such people would die of boredom on a divan. There -is no reason to look into their souls.</p> - -<p>"Love gives the keenest possible of all sensations—and -the proof is that in these moments of 'inflammation,' -as physiologists would say, the heart is open to -those 'complex sensations' which Helvétius, Buffon and -other philosophers think so absurd. The other day, as -you know, Luizina fell into the lake; you see, her eye -was following a laurel leaf that had fallen from a tree -on Isola-Madre (one of the Borromean Islands). The -poor woman owned to me that one day her lover, while -talking to her, threw into the lake the leaves of a laurel -branch he was stripping, and said: 'Your cruelty and -the calumnies of your friend are preventing me from -turning my life to account and winning a little glory.'</p> - -<p>"It is a peculiar and incomprehensible fact that, -when some great passion has brought upon the soul -moments of torture and extreme unhappiness, the soul -comes to despise the happiness of a peaceful life, where -everything seems framed to our desires. A fine country-house -in a picturesque position, substantial means, a -good wife, three pretty children, and friends charming -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>and numerous—this is but a mere outline of all our host. -General C——, possesses. And yet he said, as you know, -he felt tempted to go to Naples and take the command -of a guerilla band. A soul made for passion soon finds -this happy life monotonous, and feels, perhaps, that it -only offers him commonplace ideas. 'I wish,' C. said to -you, 'that I had never known the fever of high passion. -I wish I could rest content with the apparent happiness -on which people pay me every day such stupid compliments, -which, to put the finishing touch to, I have to -answer politely.'"</p> - -<p>I, a philosopher, rejoin: "Do you want the thousandth -proof that we are not created by a good Being? -It is the fact that pleasure does not make perhaps half -as much impression on human life as pain...."<a name="FNanchor_1_250" id="FNanchor_1_250"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_250" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The -Contessina interrupted me. "In life there are few -mental pains that are not rendered sweet by the emotion -they themselves excite, and, if there is a spark of magnanimity -in the soul, this pleasure is increased a hundredfold. -The man condemned to death in 1815 and saved -by chance (M. de Lavalette<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_65" id="TNanch_65"></a><a href="#TN_65">(65)</a></span>, for example), if he was -going courageously to his doom, must recall that moment -ten times a month. But the coward, who was going to -die crying and yelling (the exciseman, Morris, thrown -into the lake, <i>Rob Roy</i>)—suppose him also saved by -chance—can at most recall that instant with pleasure -because he was <i>saved</i>, not for the treasures of magnanimity -that he discovered with him, and that take away -for the future all his fears."</p> - -<p>I: "Love, even unhappy love, gives a gentle soul, for -whom a thing imagined is a thing existent, treasures of -this kind of enjoyment. He weaves sublime visions of -happiness and beauty about himself and his beloved. -How often has Salviati heard Léonore, with her enchanting -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>smile, say, like Mademoiselle Mars in <i>Les Fausses -Confidences</i>: 'Well, yes, I do love you!' No, these -are never the illusions of a prudent mind."</p> - -<p>Fulvia (raising her eyes to heaven): "Yes, for you -and me, love, even unhappy love, if only our admiration -for the beloved knows no limit, is the supreme happiness."</p> - -<p>(Fulvia is twenty-three,—the most celebrated beauty of -... Her eyes were heavenly as she talked like this at midnight -and raised them towards the glorious sky above -the Borromean Islands. The stars seemed to answer her. -I looked down and could find no more philosophical -arguments to meet her. She continued:)</p> - -<p>"And all that the world calls happiness is not worth -the trouble. Only contempt, I think, can cure this -passion; not contempt too violent, for that is torture. -For you men it is enough to see the object of your -adoration love some gross, prosaic creature, or sacrifice -you in order to enjoy pleasures of luxurious comfort with -a woman friend."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_250" id="Footnote_1_250"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_250"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the analysis of the ascetic principle in Bentham, <i>Principles of -Morals and Legislation</i>. -</p> -<p> -By giving oneself pain one pleases a <i>good</i> Being.</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>CXXII</h5> - -<p><i>To will</i> means to have the courage to expose oneself -to troubles; to expose oneself is to take risks—to gamble. -You find military men who cannot exist without such -gambling—that's what makes them intolerable in home-life.</p> - -<h5>CXXIII</h5> - -<p>General Teulié told me this evening that he had -found out why, as soon as there were affected women in -a drawing-room, he became so horribly dry and floored -for ideas. It was because he was sure to be bitterly -ashamed of having exposed his feelings with warmth -before such creatures. General Teulié had to speak -from his heart, though the talk were only of Punch and -Judy; otherwise he had nothing to say. Moreover, I -could see he never knew the conventional phrase about -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>anything nor what was the right thing to say. That is -really where he made himself so monstrously ridiculous -in the eyes of affected women. Heaven had not made -him for elegant society.</p> - -<h5>CXXIV</h5> - -<p>Irreligion is bad form at Court, because it is calculated -to be contrary to the interests of princes: irreligion is -also bad form in the presence of girls, for it would -prevent their finding husbands. It must be owned that, -if God exists, it must be nice for Him to be honoured -from motives like these.</p> - -<h5>CXXV</h5> - -<p>For the soul of a great painter or a great poet, love is -divine in that it increases a hundredfold the empire -and the delight of his art, and the beauties of art are his -soul's daily bread. How many great artists are unconscious -both of their soul and of their genius! Often -they reckon as mediocre their talent for the thing they -adore, because they cannot agree with the eunuchs of the -harem, La Harpe and such-like. For them even unhappy -love is happiness.</p> - -<h5>CXXVI</h5> - -<p>The picture of first love is taken generally as the most -touching. Why? Because it is the same in all countries -and in all characters. But for this reason first love -is not the most passionate.</p> - -<h5>CXXVII</h5> - -<p>Reason! Reason! Reason! That is what the world -is always shouting at poor lovers. In 1760, at the most -thrilling moment in the Seven Years' War, Grimm -wrote: "... It is indubitable that the King of Russia, -by yielding Silesia, could have prevented the war from -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>ever breaking out. In so doing he would have done a -very wise thing. How many evils would he have prevented! -And what can there be in common between -the possession of a province and the happiness of a king? -Was not the great Elector a very happy and highly -respected prince without possessing Silesia? It is also -quite clear that a king might have taken this course in -obedience to the precepts of the soundest reason, and -yet—I know not how—that king would inevitably have -been the object of universal contempt, while Frederick, -sacrificing everything to the <i>necessity</i> of keeping Silesia, -has invested himself with immortal glory.</p> - -<p>"Without any doubt the action of Cromwell's son was -the wisest a man could take: he preferred obscurity and -repose to the bother and danger of ruling over a people -sombre, fiery and proud. This wise man won the contempt -of his own time and of posterity; while his father, -to this day, has been held a great man by the wisdom of -nations.</p> - -<p>"The <i>Fair Penitent</i> is a sublime subject on the Spanish<a name="FNanchor_1_251" id="FNanchor_1_251"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_251" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -stage, but spoilt by Otway and Colardeau in England and -France. Calista has been dishonoured by a man she -adores; he is odious from the violence of his inborn -pride, but talent, wit and a handsome face—everything, -in fact—combine to make him seductive. Indeed, -Lothario would have been too charming could he have -moderated these criminal outbursts. Moreover, an -hereditary and bitter feud separates his family from that -of the woman he loves. These families are at the head -of two factions dividing a Spanish town during the horrors -of the Middle Age. Sciolto, Calista's father, is the chief -of the faction, which at the moment has the upper hand; -he knows that Lothario has had the insolence to try to -seduce his daughter. The weak Calista is weighed down -by the torment of shame and passion. Her father has -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>succeeded in getting his enemy appointed to the command -of a naval armament that is setting out on a distant -and perilous expedition, where Lothario will probably -meet his death. In Colardeau's tragedy, he has just -told his daughter this news. At his words Calista can no -longer hide her passion:</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i34">O dieux!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Il part!... Vous l'ordonnez!... Il a pu s'y résoudre?<a name="FNanchor_2_252" id="FNanchor_2_252"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_252" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>"Think of the danger she is placed in. Another word, -and Sciolto will learn the secret of his daughter's passion -for Lothario. The father is confounded and cries:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Qu'entends-je? Me trompé-je? Où s'égarent tes voeux?<a name="FNanchor_3_253" id="FNanchor_3_253"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_253" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>"At this Calista recovers herself and answers:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ce n'est pas son exile, c'est sa mort que je veux,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qu'il périsse!<a name="FNanchor_4_254" id="FNanchor_4_254"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_254" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p>"By these words Calista stifles her father's rising suspicions; -yet there is no deceit, for the sentiment she -utters is true. The existence of a man, who has succeeded -after winning her love in dishonouring her, must poison -her life, were he even at the ends of the earth. His -death alone could restore her peace of mind, if for unfortunate -lovers peace of mind existed.... Soon after -Lothario is killed and, happily for her, Calista dies.</p> - -<p>"'There's a lot of crying and moaning over nothing!' -say the chilly folk who plume themselves on being philosophers. -'Somebody with an enterprising and violent -nature abuses a woman's weakness for him—that is -nothing to tear our hair over, or at least there is nothing -in Calista's troubles to concern us. She must console -herself with having satisfied her lover, and she will not -be the first woman of merit who has made the best of -her misfortune in that way.'"<a name="FNanchor_5_255" id="FNanchor_5_255"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_255" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>Richard Cromwell, the King of Prussia and Calista, -with the souls given them by Heaven, could only find -peace and happiness by acting as they did. The conduct -of the two last is eminently unreasonable and yet it is -those two that we admire. (Sagan, 1813.)</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_251" id="Footnote_1_251"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_251"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See the Spanish and Danish romances of the thirteenth century. -French taste would find them dull and coarse.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_252" id="Footnote_2_252"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_252"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -[ "My God!<br /> -<span class="i1">He is gone.... You have sent him.... And he had the heart?"—Tr.]<br /></span> -</div></div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_253" id="Footnote_3_253"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_253"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -["What do I hear? I am deceived? Where now are all your vows?"—Tr. ] -</div></div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_254" id="Footnote_4_254"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_254"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> -</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -["It is not his banishment I desire; it is his death. Let him die!"—Tr.] -</div></div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_255" id="Footnote_5_255"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_255"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Grimm, Vol. III, p. 107.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h5>CXXVIII</h5> - -<p>The likelihood of constancy when desire is satisfied -can only be foretold from the constancy displayed, in -spite of cruel doubts and jealousy and ridicule, in the -days before intimate intercourse.</p> - -<h5>CXXIX</h5> - -<p>A woman is in despair at the death of her lover, who -has been killed in the wars—of course she means to -follow him. Now first make quite sure that it is not the -best thing for her to do; then, if you decide it is not, -attack her on the side of a very primitive habit of the -human kind—the desire to survive. If the woman has -an enemy, one may persuade her that her enemy has -obtained a warrant for her imprisonment. Unless that -threat only increases her desire of death, she may think -about hiding herself in order to escape imprisonment. -For three weeks she will lie low, escaping from refuge -to refuge. She must be caught, but must get away after -three days.</p> - -<p>Then people must arrange for her to withdraw under -a false name to some very remote town, as unlike as possible -the one in which she was so desperately unhappy. -But who is going to devote himself to the consolation -of a being so unfortunate and so lost to friendship? -(Warsaw, 1808).</p> - -<h5>CXXX</h5> - -<p>Academical wise-heads can see a people's habits in its -language. In Italy, of all the countries in the world, the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>word love is least often spoken—always "amicizia" and -"avvicinar" (<i>amicizia</i> or friendship, for love; <i>avvicinar</i>, -to approach, for courtship that succeeds).</p> - -<h5>CXXXI</h5> - -<p>A dictionary of music has never been achieved, nor -even begun. It is only by chance that you find the phrase -for: "I am angry" or "I love you," and the subtler -feelings involved therein. The composer finds them only -when passion, present in his heart or memory, dictates -them to him. Well! that is why people, who spend the -fire of youth studying instead of feeling, cannot be -artists—the way <i>that</i> works is perfectly simple.</p> - -<h5>CXXXII</h5> - -<p>In France far too much power is given to Women, far -too little to Woman.</p> - -<h5>CXXXIII</h5> - -<p>The most flattering thing that the most exalted imagination -could find to say to the generation now arising -among us to take possession of life, of public opinion and -of power, happens to be a piece of truth plainer than the -light of day. This generation has nothing to <i>continue</i>, it -has everything to <i>create</i>. Napoleon's great merit is to -have left the road clear.</p> - -<h5>CXXXIV</h5> - -<p>I should like to be able to say something on consolation. -Enough is not done to console.</p> - -<p>The main principle is that you try to form a kind of -crystallisation as remote as possible from the source of -present suffering.</p> - -<p>In order to discover an unknown principle, we must -bravely face a little anatomy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>If the reader will consult Chapter II of M. Villermé's -work on prisons (Paris, 1820), he will see that the prisoners -"si maritano fra di loro" (it is the expression in the -prisoners' language). The women also "si maritano fra -di loro," and in these unions, generally speaking, much -fidelity is shown. That is an outcome of the principle of -modesty, and is not observed among the men.</p> - -<p>"At Saint-Lazare," says M. Villermé, page 96, "a -woman, seeing a new-comer preferred to her, gave herself -several wounds with a knife. (<i>October</i>, 1818.)</p> - -<p>"Usually it is the younger woman who is more fond -than the other."</p> - -<h5>CXXXV</h5> - -<p>Vivacità, leggerezza, soggettissima a prendere puntiglio, -occupazione di ogni momento delle apparenze della -propria esistenza agli occhi altrui: Ecco i tre gran -caratteri di questa pianta che risveglia Europa nell 1808.<a name="FNanchor_1_256" id="FNanchor_1_256"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_256" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>Of Italians, those are preferable who still preserve a -little savagery and taste for blood—the people of the -Romagna, Calabria, and, among the more civilised, the -Brescians, Piedmontese and Corsicans.</p> - -<p>The Florentine bourgeois has more sheepish docility -than the Parisian. Leopold's spies have degraded him. -See M. Courier's<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_12">(12)</a></span> letter on the Librarian Furia and -the Chamberlain Puccini.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_256" id="Footnote_1_256"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_256"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> ["Vivacity, levity, very subject to pique, and unflagging preoccupation -with other people's view's of its own existence—these are the three -distinguishing points in the stock which is stirring the life of Europe in -1808."—Tr.]</p></div> - -</div> - -<h5>CXXXVI</h5> - -<p>I smile when I see earnest people never able to agree, saying -quite unconcernedly the most abusive things of each -other—and thinking still worse. To live is to feel life—to -have strong feelings. But strength must be rated for -each individual, and what is painful—that is, too strong—for -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>one man is exactly enough to stir another's interest. -Take, for example, the feeling of just being spared by the -cannon shot in the line of fire, the feeling of penetrating -into Russia in pursuit of Parthian hordes.... And it is -the same with the tragedies of Shakespeare and those of -Racine, etc., etc.... (Orcha, <i>August</i> 13, 1812.)</p> - -<h5>CXXXVII</h5> - -<p>Pleasure does not produce half so strong an impression -as pain—that is the first point. Then, besides this disadvantage -in the quantity of emotion, it is certainly not -half as easy to excite sympathy by the picture of happiness -as by that of misfortune. Hence poets cannot depict -unhappiness too forcibly. They have only one shoal to -fear, namely, things that disgust. Here again, the force -of feeling must be rated differently for monarchies and -republics. A Lewis XIV increases a hundredfold the -number of disgusting things. (Crabbe's Poems.)</p> - -<p>By the mere fact of its existence a monarchy <i>à la</i> -Lewis XIV, with its circle of nobles, makes everything -simple in Art become coarse. The noble personage for -whom the thing is exposed feels insulted; the feeling is -sincere—and in so far worthy.</p> - -<p>See what the gentle Racine has been able to make of the -heroic friendship, so sacred to antiquity, of Orestes and -Pylades. Orestes addresses Pylades with the familiar -"thou."[1] Pylades answers him "My Lord."<a name="FNanchor_1_257" id="FNanchor_1_257"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_257" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> And then -people pretend Racine is our most touching writer! If -they won't give in after this example, we must change -the subject.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_257" id="Footnote_1_257"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_257"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> ["<i>Tu</i>" and "<i>Seigneur</i>."]</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>CXXXVIII</h5> - -<p>Directly the hope of revenge is possible, the feeling of -hatred returns. Until the last weeks of my imprisonment -it never entered my head to run away and -break the solemn oath I had sworn to my friend. Two -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>confidences these—made this morning in my presence by -a gentleman cut-throat who favoured us with the history -of his life. (Faenza, 1817.)</p> - -<h5>CXXXIX</h5> - -<p>All Europe, put together, could never make one -French book of the really good type—the <i>Lettres -Persanes</i>, for example.</p> - -<h5>CXL</h5> - -<p>I call pleasure every impression which the soul would -rather receive than not receive.<a name="FNanchor_1_258" id="FNanchor_1_258"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_258" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>I call pain every impression which the soul would -rather not receive than receive.</p> - -<p>If I want to go to sleep rather than be conscious of my -feelings, they are undoubtedly pain. Hence the desire -of love is not pain, for the lover will leave the most agreeable -society in order to day-dream in peace.</p> - -<p>Time weakens pleasures of the body and aggravates its -pains.</p> - -<p>As for spiritual pleasures—they grow weaker or -stronger according to the passion. For example, after -six months passed in the study of astronomy you like -astronomy all the more, and after a year of avarice money -is still sweeter.</p> - -<p>Spiritual pains are softened by time—how many -widows, really inconsolable, console themselves with -time!—<i>Vide</i> Lady Waldegrave—Horace Walpole.</p> - -<p>Given a man in a state of indifference—now let him -have a pleasure;</p> - -<p>Given another man in a state of poignant suffering—suddenly -let the suffering cease;</p> - -<p>Now is the pleasure this man feels of the same nature -as that of the other? M. Verri<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_66" id="TNanch_66"></a><a href="#TN_66">(66)</a></span> says Yes, but, to my -mind—No.</p> - -<p>Not all pleasures come from cessation of pain.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>A man had lived for a long time on an income of six -thousand francs—he wins five hundred thousand in the -lottery. He had got out of the way of having desires -which wealth alone can satisfy.—And that, by the bye, -is one of my objections to Paris—it is so easy to lose this -habit there.</p> - -<p>The latest invention is a machine for cutting quills. -I bought one this morning and it's a great joy to me, -as I cannot stand cutting them myself. But yesterday -I was certainly not unhappy for not knowing of this -machine. Or was Petrarch unhappy for not taking coffee?</p> - -<p>What is the use of defining happiness? Everyone knows -it—the first partridge you kill on the wing at twelve, the -first battle you come through safely at seventeen....</p> - -<p>Pleasure which is only the cessation of pain passes very -quickly, and its memory, after some years, is even distasteful. -One of my friends was wounded in the side by -a bursting shell at the battle of Moscow, and a few days -later mortification threatened. After a delay of some -hours they managed to get together M. Béclar, M. Larrey -and some surgeons of repute, and the result of their consultation -was that my friend was informed that mortification -had not set up. At the moment I could see his -happiness—it was a great happiness, but not unalloyed. -In the secret depth of his heart he could not believe that -it was really all over, he kept reconsidering the surgeons' -words and debating whether he could rely on them entirely. -He never lost sight completely of the possibility -of mortification. Nowadays, after eight years, if you -speak to him of that consultation, it gives him pain—it -brings to mind unexpectedly a passed unhappiness.</p> - -<p>Pleasure caused by the cessation of pain consists in:—</p> - -<p>1. Defeating the continual succession of one's own -misgivings:</p> - -<p>2. Reviewing all the advantages one was on the point -of losing.</p> - -<p>Pleasure caused by winning five hundred thousand -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>francs consists in foreseeing all the new and unusual -pleasures one is going to indulge in.</p> - -<p>There is this peculiar reservation to be made. You -have to take into account whether a man is too used, or -not used enough, to wishing for wealth. If he is not -used enough, if his mind is closely circumscribed, for two -or three days together he will feel embarrassed; while if -he is inclined very often to wish for great riches, he will -find he has used up their enjoyments in advance by too -frequently foretasting them.</p> - -<p>This misfortune is unknown to passion-love.</p> - -<p>A soul on fire pictures to itself not the last favour, but -the nearest—perhaps just her hand to press, if, for -example, your mistress is unkind to you. Imagination -does not pass beyond that of its own accord; you may -force it, but a moment later it is gone—for fear of profaning -its idol.</p> - -<p>When pleasure has run through the length of its career, -we fall again, of course, into indifference, but this is not -the same indifference as we felt before. The second -state differs from the first in that we are no longer in a -position to relish with such delight the pleasure that we -have just tasted. The organs we use for plucking pleasures -are worn out. The imagination is no longer so -inclined to offer fancies for the enjoyment of desire—desire -is satisfied.</p> - -<p>In the midst of enjoyment to be torn from pleasure -produces pain.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_258" id="Footnote_1_258"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_258"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Maupertius.</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>CXLI</h5> - -<p>With regard to physical love and, in fact, physical -pleasure, the disposition of the two sexes is not the same. -Unlike men, practically all women are at least susceptible -in secret to one kind of love. Ever after opening her -first novel at fifteen, a woman is silently waiting for the -coming of passion-love, and towards twenty, when she is -just over the irresponsibility of life's first flush, the suspense -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>redoubles. As for men, they think love impossible -or ridiculous, almost before they are thirty.</p> - -<h5>CXLII</h5> - -<p>From the age of six we grow used to run after pleasure -in our parents' footsteps.</p> - -<p>The pride of Contessina Nella's mother was the starting-point -of that charming woman's troubles, and by the -same insane pride she now makes them hopeless. (Venice, -1819.)</p> - -<h5>CXLIII</h5> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Romanticism</span></p> - -<p>I hear from Paris that there are heaps and heaps -of pictures to be seen there (Exhibition of 1822), representing -subjects taken from the Bible, painted by artists -who hardly believe in it, admired and criticised by people -who don't believe, and finally paid for by people who -don't believe.</p> - -<p>After that—you ask why art is decadent.</p> - -<p>The artist who does not believe what he is saying is -always afraid of appearing exaggerated or ridiculous. -How is he to touch the sublime? Nothing uplifts him. -(<i>Lettera di Roma</i>, Giugno, 1822.)</p> - -<h5>CXLIV</h5> - -<p>One of the greatest poets the world has seen in modern -times is, to my mind, Robert Burns, a Scotch peasant, -who died of want. He had a salary of seventy pounds as -exciseman—for himself, his wife and four children. One -cannot help saying, by the way, that Napoleon was more -liberal towards his enemy Chénier. Burns had none of -the English prudery about him. His was a Roman genius, -without chivalry and without honour. I have no space -here to tell of his love-affairs with Mary Campbell and their -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>mournful ending. I shall merely point out that Edinburgh -is on the same latitude as Moscow—a fact which -perhaps upsets my system of climates a little.</p> - -<p>"One of Burns' remarks, when he first came to Edinburgh, -was that between the men of rustic life and those -of the polite world he observed little difference; that in -the former, though unpolished by fashion and unenlightened -by science, he had found much observation and -much intelligence; but that a refined and accomplished -woman was a being almost new to him, and of which he -had formed but a very inadequate idea." (London, -<i>November 1st</i>, 1821, Vol. V, p. 69.)</p> - -<h5>CXLV</h5> - -<p>Love is the only passion that mints the coin to pay its -own expenses.</p> - -<h5>CXLVI</h5> - -<p>The compliments paid to little girls of three furnish -exactly the right sort of education to imbue them with -the most pernicious vanity. To look pretty is the highest -virtue, the greatest advantage on earth. To have a -pretty dress is to look pretty.</p> - -<p>These idiotic compliments are not current except in -the middle class. Happily they are bad form outside -the suburbs—being too easy to pay.</p> - -<h5>CXLVII</h5> - -<p class="date">Loretto, <i>September 11th</i>, 1811.</p> - -<p>I have just seen a very fine battalion composed of -natives of this country—the remains, in fact, of four -thousand who left for Vienna in 1809. I passed along -the ranks with the Colonel, and asked several of the soldiers -to tell me their story. Theirs is the virtue of the republics -of the Middle Age, though more or less debased by the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>Spaniards,<a name="FNanchor_1_259" id="FNanchor_1_259"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_259" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> the Roman Church,<a name="FNanchor_2_260" id="FNanchor_2_260"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_260" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and two centuries of -the cruel, treacherous governments, which, one after -another, have spoiled the country.</p> - -<p>Flashing, chivalrous honour, sublime but senseless, is an -exotic plant introduced here only a very few years back.</p> - -<p>In 1740 there was no trace of it. <i>Vide</i> de Brosses. The -officers of Montenotte<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_67" id="TNanch_67"></a><a href="#TN_67">(67)</a></span> and of Rivoli<span class="tradanch"><a href="#TN_67">(67)</a></span> had too -many chances of showing their comrades true virtue to -go and <i>imitate</i> a kind of honour unknown to the cottage -homes from which the soldiery of 1796 was drawn—indeed, -it would have seemed to them highly fantastic.</p> - -<p>In 1796 there was no Legion of Honour, no enthusiasm -for one man, but plenty of simple truth and virtue <i>à la</i> -Desaix. We may conclude that honour was imported into -Italy by people too reasonable and too virtuous to cut -much of a figure. One is sensible of a large gap between -the soldiers of '96, often shoeless and coatless, the victors -of twenty battles in one year, and the brilliant regiments -of Fontenoy, taking off their hats and saying to the -English politely: <i>Messieurs, tirez les premiers</i>—gentlemen, -pray begin.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_259" id="Footnote_1_259"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_259"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The Spaniards abroad, about 1580, were nothing but energetic -agents of despotism or serenaders beneath the windows of Italian beauties. -In those days Spaniards dropped into Italy just in the way people come -nowadays to Paris. For the rest, they prided themselves on nothing but -upholding the honour of the king, <i>their master</i>. They ruined Italy—ruined -and degraded it. -</p> -<p> -In 1626 the great poet Calderon was an officer at Milan.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_260" id="Footnote_2_260"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_260"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See <i>Life of S. Carlo Borromeo</i>, who transformed Milan and debased -it, emptied its drill halls and filled its chapels, Merveilles kills Castiglione, -1533.</p></div> -</div> - - -<h5>CXLVIII</h5> - -<p>I am ready to agree that one must judge the soundness -of a system of life by the perfect representative of its -supporters. For example, Richard Cœur-de-Lion is the -perfect pattern on the throne of heroism and chivalrous -valour, and as a king was a ludicrous failure.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> - -<h5>CXLIX</h5> - -<p>Public opinion in 1822: A man of thirty seduces a girl -of fifteen—the girl loses her reputation.</p> - -<h5>CL</h5> - -<p>Ten years later I met Countess Ottavia again; on -seeing me once more she wept bitterly. I reminded her -of Oginski. "I can no longer love," she told me. I -answered in the poet's words: "How changed, how saddened, -yet how elevated was her character!"</p> - -<h5>CLI</h5> - -<p>French morals will be formed between 1815 and 1880, -just as English morals were formed between 1668 and -1730. There will be nothing finer, juster or happier than -moral France about the year 1900. At the present day -it does not exist. What is considered infamous in Rue de -Belle-Chasse is an act of heroism in Rue du Mont-Blanc, -and, allowing for all exaggeration, people really worthy of -contempt escape by a change of residence. One remedy we -did have—the freedom of the Press. In the long run the -Press gives each man his due, and when this due happens -to fall in with public opinion, so it remains. This remedy -is now torn from us—and it will somewhat retard the -regeneration of morals.</p> - -<h5>CLII</h5> - -<p>The Abbé Rousseau was a poor young man (1784), -reduced to running all over the town, from morn till -night, giving lessons in history and geography. He fell -in love with one of his pupils, like Abelard with Héloïse or -Saint-Preux with Julie. Less happy than they, no doubt—yet, -probably, pretty nearly so—as full of passion as -Saint-Preux, but with a heart more virtuous, more refined -and also more courageous, he seems to have sacrificed -himself to the object of his passion. After dining in a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>restaurant at the Palais-Royal with no outward sign of -distress or frenzy, this is what he wrote before blowing -out his brains. The text of his note is taken from the -enquiry held on the spot by the commissary and the -police, and is remarkable enough to be preserved.</p> - -<p>"The immeasurable contrast that exists between the -nobility of my feelings and the meanness of my birth, my -love, as violent as it is invincible, for this adorable girl<a name="FNanchor_1_261" id="FNanchor_1_261"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_261" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -and my fear of causing her dishonour, the necessity of -choosing between crime and death—everything has made -me decide to say good-bye to life. Born for virtue, I -was about to become a criminal; I preferred death." -(Grimm, Part III, Vol. II, p. 395.)</p> - -<p>This is an admirable case of suicide, but would be -merely silly according to the morals of 1880.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_261" id="Footnote_1_261"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_261"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The girl in question appears to have been Mademoiselle Gromaire, -daughter of M. Gromaire, expeditionary at the Court of Rome.</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>CLIII</h5> - -<p>Try as they may, the French, in Art, will never get -beyond the pretty.</p> - -<p>The comic presupposes "go" in the public, and <i>brio</i> -in the actor. The delicious foolery of Palomba, played at -Naples by Casaccia, is an impossibility at Paris. There -we have the pretty—always and only the pretty—cried up -sometimes, it is true, as the sublime.</p> - -<p>I don't waste much thought, you see, on general considerations -of national honour.</p> - -<h5>CLIV</h5> - -<p>We are very fond of a beautiful picture, say the French—and -quite truly—but we exact, as the essential condition -of beauty, that it be produced by a painter standing on -one leg the whole time he is working.—Verse in dramatic -art.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> - -<h5>CLV</h5> - -<p>Much less envy in America than in France, and much -less intellect.</p> - -<h5>CLVI</h5> - -<p>Since 1530 tyranny <i>à la</i> Philip II has so degraded -men's intellect, has so overshadowed the garden of the -world, that the poor Italian writers have not yet plucked -up enough courage to <i>invent</i> a national novel. Yet, -thanks to the naturalness which reigns there, nothing -could be simpler. They need only copy faithfully what -stares the world in the face. Think of Cardinal Gonzalvi, -for three hours gravely looking for flaws in the libretto -of an opera-bouffe, and saying uneasily to the composer: -"But you're continually repeating this word <i>Cozzar, -cozzar</i>."</p> - -<h5>CLVII</h5> - -<p>Héloïse speaks of love, a coxcomb of <i>his</i> love—don't -you see that these things have really nothing but their -name in common? Just so, there is the love of concerts -and the love of music: the love of successes that tickle -your vanity—successes your harp may bring you in the -midst of a brilliant society—or the love of a tender day-dream, -solitary and timid.</p> - -<h5>CLVIII</h5> - -<p>When you have just seen the woman you love, the -sight of any other woman spoils your vision, gives your -eyes physical pain. I know why.</p> - -<h5>CLIX</h5> - -<p>Reply to an objection:—</p> - -<p>Perfect naturalness in intimate intercourse can find no -place but in passion-love, for in all the other kinds of -love a man feels the possibility of a favoured rival.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> - -<h5>CLX</h5> - -<p>In a man who, to be released from life, has taken -poison, the moral part of his being is dead. Dazed by -what he has done and by what he is about to experience, -he no longer attends to anything. There are some rare -exceptions.</p> - -<h5>CLXI</h5> - -<p>An old sea captain, to whom I respectfully offered my -manuscript, thought it the silliest thing in the world to -honour with six hundred pages so trivial a thing as love. -But, however trivial, love is still the only weapon which -can strike strong souls, and strike home.</p> - -<p>What was it prevented M. de M——, in 1814, from -despatching Napoleon in the forest of Fontainebleau? -The contemptuous glance of a pretty woman coming into -the Bains-Chinois.<a name="FNanchor_1_262" id="FNanchor_1_262"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_262" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> What a difference in the destiny of the -world if Napoleon and his son had been killed in 1814!</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_262" id="Footnote_1_262"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_262"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Memoirs, p. 88. (London edition.)</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>CLXII</h5> - -<p>I quote the following lines from a French letter received -from Znaim, remarking at the same time that -there is not a man in the provinces capable of understanding -my brilliant lady correspondent:—</p> - -<p>"... Chance means a lot in love. When for a whole -year I have read no English, I find the first novel I -pick up delicious. One who is used to the love of a -prosaic being—slow, shy of all that is refined, and passionately -responsive to none but material interests, -the love of shekels, the glory of a fine stable and -bodily desires, etc.—can easily feel disgust at the -behaviour of impetuous genius, ardent and uncurbed -in fancy, mindful of love, forgetful of all the rest, -always active and always headlong, just where the -other let himself be led and never acted for himself. -The shock, which genius causes, may offend what, last -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>year at Zithau, we used to call feminine pride, <i>l'orgueil -féminin</i>—(is that French?) With the man of genius comes -the startling feeling which with his predecessor was -unknown—and, remember, this predecessor came to an -untimely end in the wars and remains a synonym for -perfection. This feeling may easily be mistaken for -repulsion by a soul, lofty but without that assurance -which is the fruit of a goodly number of intrigues."</p> - -<h5>CLXIII</h5> - -<p>"Geoffry Rudel, of Blaye, was a very great lord, prince -of Blaye, and he fell in love, without knowing her, with -the Princess of Tripoli, for the great goodness and great -graciousness, which he heard tell of her from the pilgrims, -who came from Antioch. And he made for her -many fair songs, with good melodies and suppliant words, -and, for the desire he had to see her, he took the cross -and set out upon the sea to go to her. And it happened -that in the ship a grievous malady took him, in such wise -that those that were with him believed him to be dead, -but they contrived to bring him to Tripoli into a hostelry, -like one dead. They sent word to the countess and she -came to his bed and took him in her arms. Then he -knew that she was the countess and he recovered his sight -and his hearing and he praised God, giving Him thanks -that He had sustained his life until he had seen her. -And thus he died in the arms of the countess, and she -gave him noble burial in the house of the Temple at -Tripoli. And then the same day she took the veil for -the sorrow she had for him and for his death."<a name="FNanchor_1_263" id="FNanchor_1_263"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_263" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_263" id="Footnote_1_263"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_263"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Translated from a Provençal MS. of the thirteenth century.</p></div> -</div> - -<h5>CLXIV</h5> - -<p>Here is a singular proof of the madness called crystallisation, -to be found in Mistress Hutchinson's Memoirs:</p> - -<p>"He told to M. Hutchinson a very true story of a -gentleman who not long before had come for some time -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>to lodge in Richmond, and found all the people he came -in company with bewailing the death of a gentlewoman -that had lived there. Hearing her so much deplored, he -made enquiry after her, and grew so in love with the -description, that no other discourse could at first please -him nor could he at last endure any other; he grew -desperately melancholy and would go to a mount where -the print of her foot was cut and lie there pining and kissing -it all the day long, till at length death in some months' -space concluded his languishment. This story was very -true." (Vol. I, p. 83.)</p> - -<h5>CLXV</h5> - -<p>Lisio Visconti was anything but a great reader. Not -to mention what he may have seen while knocking about -the world, his essay is based on the Memoirs of some -fifteen or twenty persons of note. In case it happens that -the reader thinks such trifling points worthy of a -moment's attention, I give the books from which Lisio -drew his reflexions and conclusions:—</p> - -<ul> -<li>The <i>Autobiography</i> of Benvenuto Cellini.</li> - -<li>The novels of Cervantes and Scarron.</li> - -<li><i>Manon Lescaut</i> and <i>Le Doyen de Killerine</i>, by the -Abbé Prévôt.</li> - -<li>The Latin Letters of Héloïse to Abelard.</li> - -<li><i>Tom Jones.</i></li> - -<li><i>Letters of a Portuguese Nun.</i></li> - -<li>Two or three stories by Auguste La Fontaine.</li> - -<li>Pignotti's <i>History of Tuscany</i>.</li> - -<li>Werther.</li> - -<li>Brantôme.</li> - -<li><i>Memoirs</i> of Carlo Gozzi (Venice, 1760)—only the -eighty pages on the history of his love affairs.</li> - -<li>The <i>Memoirs</i> of Lauzun, Saint-Simon, d'Épinay, -de Staël, Marmontel, Bezenval, Roland, Duclos, -Horace Walpole, Evelyn, Hutchinson.</li> - -<li>Letters of Mademoiselle Lespinasse.</li> -</ul> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> - -<h5>CLXVI</h5> - -<p>One of the most important persons of our age, one of -the most prominent men in the Church and in the State, -related to us this evening (January, 1822), at Madame de -M——'s, the very real dangers he had gone through under -the Terror.</p> - -<p>"I had the misfortune to be one of the most prominent -members of the Constituent Assembly. I stayed in Paris, -trying to hide myself as best I could, so long as there was -any hope of success there for the good cause. At last, as -the danger grew greater and greater, while the foreigner -made no energetic move in our favour, I decided -to leave—only I had to leave without a passport. -Everyone was going off to Coblentz, so I determined -to make for Calais. But my portrait had been so -widely circulated eighteen months before, that I was -recognised at the last post. However, I was allowed -to pass and arrived at an inn at Calais, where, you can -imagine, I did not sleep a wink—and very lucky it was, -since at four o'clock in the morning I heard someone -pronounce my name quite distinctly. While I got up and -was dressing in all haste I could clearly distinguish, in -spite of the darkness, the National Guards with their -rifles; the people had opened the main door for them -and they were entering the courtyard of the inn. Fortunately -it was raining in torrents—a winter morning, -very dark and with a high wind. The darkness and the -noise of the wind enabled me to escape by the back -courtyard and stables. There I stood in the street -at seven o'clock in the morning, utterly resourceless! -i -I imagined they were following me from my inn. -Hardly knowing what I was doing, I went down to the -port, on to the jetty. I own I had rather lost my head—everywhere -the vision of the guillotine floated before my -eyes.</p> - -<p>A packet-boat was leaving the port in a very rough sea—it -was already a hundred yards from the jetty. Suddenly -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>I heard a shout from out at sea, as if I were being -called. I saw a small boat approaching. "Hi! sir, come -on! We're waiting for you!" Mechanically I got into -the boat. A man was in it. "I saw you walking on the -jetty with a scared look," he whispered, "I thought you -might be some poor fugitive. I've told them you are a -friend I was expecting; pretend to be sea-sick and go -and hide below in a dark corner of the cabin."</p> - -<p>"Oh, what a fine touch!" cried our hostess. She was -almost speechless and had been moved to tears by the -Abbé's long and excellently told story of his perils. -"How you must have thanked your unknown benefactor! -What was his name?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know his name," the Abbé answered, a little -confused.</p> - -<p>And there was a moment of profound silence in the -room.</p> - -<h5>CLXVII</h5> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Father and the Son</span></p> - -<p class="center">(A dialogue of 1787)</p> - -<p><i>The Father</i> (Minister of ——): "I congratulate you, -my son; it's a splendid thing for you to be invited to the -Duke of ——; it's a distinction for a man of your age. -Don't fail to be at the Palace punctually at six o'clock."</p> - -<p><i>The Son:</i> "I believe, sir, you are dining there also."</p> - -<p><i>The Father:</i> "The Duke of —— is always more than -kind to our family, and, as he's asking you for the first -time, he has been pleased to invite me as well."</p> - -<p>The son, a young man of high birth and most distinguished -intellect, does not fail to be at the Palace -punctually at six o'clock. Dinner was at seven. The son -found himself placed opposite his father. Each guest had -a naked woman next to him. The dinner was served by -a score of lackeys in full livery.<a name="FNanchor_1_264" id="FNanchor_1_264"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_264" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_264" id="Footnote_1_264"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_264"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> From December 27, 1819, till 3 June, 1820, Mil. [This note is -written thus in English by Stendhal.—Tr.]</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> - -<h5>CLXVIII</h5> - -<p class="date">London, <i>August</i>, 1817.</p> - -<p>Never in my life have I been so struck or intimidated -by the presence of beauty as to-night, at a concert given -by Madame Pasta.</p> - -<p>She was surrounded, as she sang, by three rows of -young women, so beautiful—of a beauty so pure and -heavenly—that I felt myself lower my eyes, out of respect, -instead of raising them to admire and enjoy. This has -never happened to me in any other land, not even in my -beloved Italy.</p> - -<h5>CLXIX</h5> - -<p>In France one-thing is absolutely impossible in the -arts, and that is "go." A man really carried away would -be too much laughed at—he would look too happy. See -a Venetian recite Buratti's satires.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> - -<h2>APPENDIX</h2> - -<h3>ON THE COURTS OF LOVE<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_68" id="TNanch_68"></a><a href="#TN_68">(68)</a></span></h3> - - -<p>There were Courts of Love in France from the year 1150 -to the year 1200. So much has been proved. The existence -of these Courts probably goes back to a more remote period.</p> - -<p>The ladies, sitting together in the Courts of Love, gave out -their decrees either on questions of law—for example: Can love -exist between married people?—</p> - -<p>Or on the particular cases which lovers submitted to them.<a name="FNanchor_1_265" id="FNanchor_1_265"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_265" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>So far as I can picture to myself the moral side of this jurisprudence, -it must have resembled the Courts of the Marshals -of France established for questions of honour by Louis XIV—that -is, as they would have been, if only public opinion had upheld -that institution.</p> - -<p>André, chaplain to the King of France, who wrote about the -year 1170, mentions the Courts of Love</p> - -<ul> -<li>of the ladies of Gascony,</li> -<li>of Ermengarde, Viscountess of Narbonne (1144–1194),</li> -<li>of Queen Eléonore,</li> -<li>of the Countess of Flanders,</li> -<li>of the Countess of Champagne (1174).</li> -</ul> - -<p>André mentions nine judgments pronounced by the Countess -of Champagne.</p> - -<p>He quotes two judgments pronounced by the Countess of -Flanders.</p> - -<p>Jean de Nostradamus, <i>Life of the Provençal Poets</i>, says (p. 15):—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The '<i>tensons</i>' were disputes of Love, which took place -between poets, both knights and ladies, arguing together on some -fair and sublime question of love. Where they could not agree, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>they sent them, that they might get a decision thereon, to the -illustrious ladies president who held full and open Court of Love -at Signe and Pierrefeu, or at Romanin, or elsewhere, and they -gave out decrees thereon which were called '<i>Lous Arrests -d'Amours</i>.'"</p></blockquote> - -<p>These are the names of some of the ladies who presided over -the Courts of Love of Pierrefeu and Signe:—</p> - -<ul> -<li>"Stephanette, Lady of Brulx, daughter of the Count of Provence.</li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Adalarie, Viscountess of Avignon;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Alalète, Lady of Ongle;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Hermissende, Lady of Posquières;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Bertrane, Lady of Urgon;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Mabille, Lady of Yères;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The Countess of Dye;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Rostangue, Lady of Pierrefeu;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Bertrane, Lady of Signe;</span></li> -<li><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Jausserande of Claustral."—(Nostradamus, p. 27.)</span></li> -</ul> - -<p>It is probable that the same Court of Love met sometimes at -the Castle of Pierrefeu, sometimes at that of Signe. These two -villages are just next to each other, and situated at an almost equal -distance from Toulon and Brignoles.</p> - -<p>In his <i>Life of Bertrand d'Alamanon</i>, Nostradamus says:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"This troubadour was in love with Phanette or Estephanette -of Romanin, Lady of the said place, of the house of Gantelmes, -who held in her time full and open Court of Love in her castle -of Romanin, near the town of Saint-Remy, in Provence, aunt of -Laurette of Avignon, of the house of Sado, so often celebrated -by the poet Petrarch."</p></blockquote> - -<p>Under the heading Laurette, we read that Laurette de Sade, -celebrated by Petrarch, lived at Avignon about the year 1341; -that she was instructed by Phanette of Gantelmes, her aunt, -Lady of Romanin; that "both of them improvised in either -kind of Provençal rhythm, and according to the account of the -monk of the Isles d'Or<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_69" id="TNanch_69"></a><a href="#TN_69">(69)</a></span>, their works give ample witness to -their learning.... It is true (says the monk) that Phanette or -Estephanette, as being most excellent in poetry, had a divine -fury or inspiration, which fury was esteemed a true gift from -God. They were accompanied by many illustrious and high-born<a name="FNanchor_2_266" id="FNanchor_2_266"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_266" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>ladies of Provence, who flourished at that time at Avignon, -when the Roman court resided there, and who gave themselves -up to the study of letters, holding open Court of Love, and therein -deciding the questions of love which had been proposed and sent -to them....</p> - -<p>"Guillen and Pierre Balbz and Loys des Lascaris, Counts of -Ventimiglia, of Tende and of Brigue, persons of great renown, -being come at this time to visit Pope Innocent VI of that name, -went to hear the definitions and sentences of love pronounced by -these ladies; and astonished and ravished with their beauty and -learning, they were taken with love of them."</p> - -<p>At the end of their "<i>tensons</i>" the troubadours often named -the ladies who were to pronounce on the questions in dispute -between them.</p> - -<p>A decree of the Ladies of Gascony runs:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The Court of ladies, assembled in Gascony, have laid down, -with the consent of the whole Court, this perpetual constitution, -etc., etc."</p></blockquote> - -<p>The Countess of Champagne in a decree of 1174, says:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"This judgment, that we have carried with extreme caution, -is supported by the advice of a very great number of ladies..."</p></blockquote> - -<p>In another judgment is found:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The knight, for the fraud that has been done him, denounced -this whole affair to the Countess of Champagne, and humbly -begged that this crime might be submitted to the judgment of -the Countess of Champagne and the other ladies."</p> - -<p>"The Countess, having summoned around her sixty ladies, -gave this judgment, etc."</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>André le Chapelain, from whom we derive this information, -relates that the Code of Love had been published by a Court -composed of a large number of ladies and knights.</p> - -<p>André has preserved for us the petition, which was addressed -to the Countess of Champagne, when she decided the following -question in the negative: "Can real love exist between husband -and wife?"</p> - -<p>But what was the penalty that was incurred by disobedience -to the decrees of the Courts of Love?</p> - -<p>We find the Court of Gascony ordering that such or such of -its judgments should be observed as a perpetual institution, and -that those ladies who did not obey should incur the enmity of -every honourable lady.</p> - -<p>Up to what point did public opinion sanction the decrees of -the Courts of Love?</p> - -<p>Was there as much disgrace in drawing back from them, as -there would be to-day in an affair dictated by honour?</p> - -<p>I can find nothing in André or Nostradamus that puts me in -a position to solve this question.</p> - -<p>Two troubadours, Simon Boria and Lanfranc Cigalla, disputed -the question: "Who is worthier of being loved, he who -gives liberally, or he who gives in spite of himself in order to pass -for liberal?"</p> - -<p>This question was submitted to the ladies of the Court of -Pierrefeu and Signe; but the two troubadours, being discontented -with the verdict, had recourse to the supreme Court of -Love of the ladies of Romanin.<a name="FNanchor_3_267" id="FNanchor_3_267"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_267" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>The form of the verdicts is conformable to that of the judicial -tribunals of this period.</p> - -<p>Whatever may be the reader's opinion as to the degree of -importance which the Courts of Love occupied in the attention -of their contemporaries, I beg him to consider what to-day, in -1822, are the subjects of conversation among the most considerable -and richest ladies of Toulon and Marseilles.</p> - -<p>Were they not more gay, more witty, more happy in 1174 than -in 1882?</p> - -<p>Nearly all the decrees of the Courts of Love are based on the -provisions of the Code of Love.</p> - -<p>This Code of Love is found complete in the work of André -le Chapelain.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_265" id="Footnote_1_265"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_265"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> André le Chapelain, Nostradamus, Raynouard, Crescimbeni, -d'Arétin.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_266" id="Footnote_2_266"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_266"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> -Jehanne, Lady of Baulx,<br /> -Hugnette of Forcarquier, Lady of Trects,<br /> -Briande d'Agoult, Countess de la Lune,<br /> -Mabille de Villeneufve, Lady of Vence,<br /> -Beatrix d'Agoult, Lady of Sault,<br /> -Ysoarde de Roquefueilh, Lady of Ansoys,<br /> -Anne, Viscountess of Tallard,<br /> -Blanche of Flassans, surnamed Blankaflour,<br /> -Doulce of Monestiers, Lady of Clumane,<br /> -Antonette of Cadenet, Lady of Lambesc,<br /> -Magdalene of Sallon, Lady of the said place,<br /> -Rixende of Puyvard, Lady of Trans."<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 10em;">(Nostradamus, p. 217.)</span><br /> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_267" id="Footnote_3_267"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_267"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Nostradamus, p. 131.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>There are thirty-one articles and here they are:—</p> - -<h3>CODE OF LOVE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY</h3> - -<ol style="list-style-type: upper-roman;"> -<li>The allegation of marriage is not a valid plea against love.</li> -<li>Who can dissemble cannot love.</li> -<li>No one can bind himself to two loves at once.</li> -<li>Love grows continually or wanes.</li> -<li>That which a lover takes from another by force has no savour.</li> -<li>Generally the male does not love except in full puberty.</li> -<li>A widowhood of two years is prescribed to one lover for the death of the other.</li> -<li>Without over-abundant reason no one ought to be deprived of his rights in love.</li> -<li>No one can love, unless urged thereto by the persuasion of love (by the hope of being loved).</li> -<li>Love will be driven out by avarice.</li> -<li>It is not right to love her whom you would be ashamed to ask in marriage.</li> -<li>True love has no desire for caresses except from the beloved.</li> -<li>Love once divulged is rarely lasting.</li> -<li>Success too easy takes away the charm of love; obstacles give it worth.</li> -<li>Everyone who loves turns pale at the sight of the beloved.</li> -<li>At the unexpected sight of the beloved the lover trembles.</li> -<li>New love banishes old.</li> -<li>Merit alone makes man worthy of love.</li> -<li>Love that wanes is quickly out and rarely rekindled.</li> -<li>The lover is always timid.</li> -<li>Real jealousy always increases love's warmth.</li> -<li>Suspicion, and the jealousy it kindles, increases love's warmth.</li> -<li>He sleeps less and he eats less who is beset with thoughts of love.</li> -<li>Every act of the lover ends in thought of the beloved.</li> -<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>The true lover thinks nothing good but what he knows will please the beloved.</li> -<li>Love can deny love nothing.</li> -<li>The lover cannot have satiety of delight in the beloved.</li> -<li>The slightest presumption causes the lover to suspect the -beloved of sinister things.</li> -<li>The habit of too excessive pleasure hinders the birth of love.</li> -<li>The true lover is occupied with the image of the beloved assiduously and without interruption.</li> -<li>Nothing prevents a woman from being loved by two men, nor a man -by two women.<a name="FNanchor_1_268" id="FNanchor_1_268"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_268" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></li> -</ol> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>Here is the preamble of a judgment given by a Court of Love.</p> - -<p><i>Question:</i> Can true love exist between married people?</p> - -<p><i>Judgment</i> of the Countess of Champagne: We pronounce and -determine by the tenour of these presents, that love cannot -extend its powers over two married persons; for lovers must -grant everything, mutually and gratuitously, the one to the other -without being constrained thereto by any motive of necessity, -while husband and wife are bound by duty to agree the one -with the other and deny each other in nothing.... Let this -judgment, which we have passed with extreme caution and with -the advice of a great number of other ladies, be held by you as -the truth, unquestionable and unalterable.</p> - -<p>In the year 1174, the third day from the Calends of May, the -VIIth: indiction.<a name="FNanchor_2_269" id="FNanchor_2_269"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_269" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_268" id="Footnote_1_268"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_268"><span class="label">[1]</span></a></p> -<ol style="list-style-type: upper-roman;"> -<li>Causa conjugii ab amore non est excusatio recta.</li> -<li>Qui non celat amare non potest.</li> -<li>Nemo duplici potest amore ligari.</li> -<li>Semper amorem minui vel crescere constat.</li> -<li>Non est sapidum quod amans ab invito sumit amante.</li> -<li>Masculus non solet nisi in plena pubertate amare.</li> -<li>Biennalis viduitas pro amante defuncto superstiti praescribitur amanti.</li> -<li>Nemo, sine rationis excessu, suo debet amore privari.</li> -<li>Amare nemo potest, nisi qui amoris suasione compellitur.</li> -<li>Amor semper ab avaritia consuevit domiciliis exulare.</li> -<li>Non decet amare quarum pudor est nuptias affectare.</li> -<li>Verus amans alterius nisi suae coamantis ex affectu non cupit amplexus.</li> -<li>Amor raro consuevit durare vulgatus.</li> -<li>Facilis perceptio contemptibilem reddit amorem, difficilis eum parum facit haberi.</li> -<li>Omnis consuevit amans in coamantis aspectu pallescere.</li> -<li>In repertina coamantis visione, cor tremescit amantis.</li> -<li>Novus amor veterem compellit abire.</li> -<li>Probitas sola quemcumque dignum facit amore.</li> -<li>Si amor minuatur, cito deficit et raro convalescit.</li> -<li>Amorosus semper est timorosus.</li> -<li>Ex vera zelotypia affectus semper crescit amandi.</li> -<li>De coamante suspicione percepta zelus interea et affectus crescit amandi.</li> -<li>Minus dormit et edit quem amoris cogitatio vexat.</li> -<li>Quilibet amantis actus in coamantis cogitatione finitur.</li> -<li>Verus amans nihil beatum credit, nisi quod cogitat amanti placere.</li> -<li>Amor nihil posset amori denegare.</li> -<li>Amans coamantis solatiis satiari non potest.</li> -<li>Modica praesumptio cogit amantem de coamante suspicari sinistra.</li> -<li>Non solet amare quem nimia voluptatis abundantia vexat.</li> -<li>Verus amans assidua, sine intermissione, coamantis imagine detinetur.</li> -<li>Unam feminam nihil prohibet a duobus amari, et a duabus -mulieribus unum. (Fol. 103.)</li> -</ol> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_269" id="Footnote_2_269"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_269"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Utrum inter conjugatos amor possit habere locum? -</p> -<p> -Dicimus enim et stabilito tenore firmamus amorem non posse inter -duos jugales suas extendere vires, nam amantes sibi invicem gratis omnia -largiuntur, nullius necessitatis ratione cogente; jugales vero mutuis -tenentur ex debito voluntatibus obedire et in nullo seipsos sibi ad invicem -denegare.... -</p> -<p> -Hoc igitur nostrum judicium, cum nimia moderatione prolatum, et -aliarum quamplurium dominarum consilio roboratum, pro indubitabili -vobis sit ac veritate constanti. -</p> -<p> -Ab anno M.C.LXXIV, tertio calend. maii, indictione VII. (Fol. 56.) -</p> -<p> -This judgment conforms to the first provision of the Code of -Love; "Causa conjugii non est ab amore excusatio recta."</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> - -<h3>NOTE ON ANDRÉ LE CHAPELAIN<span class="tradanch"><a name="TNanch_70" id="TNanch_70"></a><a href="#TN_70">(70)</a></span></h3> - - -<p><span class="smcap">André Le Chapelain</span> appears to have written about the year -1176.</p> - -<p>In the Bibliothèque du Roi may be found a manuscript (No. -8758) of the work of André, which was formerly in the possession -of Baluze. Its first title is as follows: "Hic incipiunt capitula -libri de Arte amatoria et reprobatione amoris."</p> - -<p>This title is followed by the table of chapters.</p> - -<p>Then we have the second title:—</p> - -<p>"Incipit liber de Arte amandi et de reprobatione amoris -editus et compillatus a magistro Andrea, Francorum aulae regiæ -capellano, ad Galterium amicum suum, cupientem in amoris -exercitu militari: in quo quidem libro, cujusque gradus et -ordinis mulier ab homine cujusque conditionis et status ad amorem -sapientissime invitatur; et ultimo in fine ipsius libri de amoris -reprobatione subjungitur."</p> - -<p>Crescimbeni, <i>Lives of the Provençal Poets</i>, sub voce Percivalle -Boria, cites a manuscript in the library of Nicolo Bargiacchi, at -Florence, and quotes various passages from it. This manuscript -is a translation of the treatise of André le Chapelain. The -Accademia della Crusca admitted it among the works which -furnished examples for its dictionary.</p> - -<p>There have been various editions of the original Latin. Frid. -Otto Menckenius, in his <i>Miscellanea Lipsiensia nova, Leipsic</i> 1751, -Vol. VIII, part I, pp. 545 and ff., mentions a very old edition -without date or place of printing, which he considers must belong -to the first age of printing: "Tractatus amoris et de amoris -remedio Andreae cappellani Innocentii papae quarti."</p> - -<p>A second edition of 1610 bears the following title:—</p> - -<p>"<i>Erotica seu amatoria</i> Andreae capellani regii, vetustissimi -scriptoris ad venerandum suum amicum Guualterium scripta, -nunquam ante hac edita, sed saepius a multis desiderata; nunc -tandem fide diversorum MSS. codicum in publicum emissa a -Dethmaro Mulhero, Dorpmundae, typis Westhovianis, anno Una -Caste et Vere amanda."</p> - -<p>A third edition reads: "Tremoniae, typis Westhovianis, anno -1614.".</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>André divides thus methodically the subjects which he proposes -to discuss:—</p> - -<ol> -<li>Quid sit amor et unde dicatur.<a name="FNanchor_1_270" id="FNanchor_1_270"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_270" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></li> -<li>Quis sit effectus amoris.</li> -<li>Inter quos possit esse amor.</li> -<li>Qualiter amor acquiratur, retineatur, augmentetur, minuatur, -finiatur.</li> -<li>De notitia mutui amoris, et quid unus amantium agere -debeat, altero fidem fallente.</li> -</ol> - -<p>Each of these questions is discussed in several paragraphs.</p> - -<p>Andreas makes the lover and his lady speak alternately. The -lady raises objections, the lover tries to convince her with reasons -more or less subtle. Here is a passage which the author puts into -the mouth of the lover:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"... Sed si forte horum sermonum te perturbet obscuritas," -eorum tibi sententiam indicabo<a name="FNanchor_2_271" id="FNanchor_2_271"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_271" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>Ab antiquo igitur quatuor sunt in amore gradus distincti:</p> - -<p><i>Primus</i>, in spei datione consistit.</p> - -<p><i>Secundus</i>, in osculi exhibitione.</p> - -<p><i>Tertius</i>, in amplexus fruitione.</p> - -<p><i>Quartus</i>, in totius concessione personae finitur."</p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_270" id="Footnote_1_270"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_270"><span class="label">[1]</span></a></p> -<ol> -<li>What love is and whence it is so-called.</li> -<li>What are the effects of love?</li> -<li>Between whom love can exist.</li> -<li>In what way love is won, kept, made to increase, to wane or to end.</li> -<li>The way to know if love is returned, and what one of the lovers -should do when the other proves faithless.</li> -</ol></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_271" id="Footnote_2_271"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_271"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> But lest perchance you are troubled by the obscurity of this discourse, -I shall give you the argument:— -</p> -<p> -From all antiquity there are four different degrees of love: -</p> -<p> -The first consists in giving hope. -</p> -<p> -The second in the offer of a kiss. -</p> -<p> -The third in the enjoyment of the most intimate caresses. -</p> -<p> -The fourth in the surrender of body and soul.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="r35" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> - -<h3>TRANSLATORS' NOTES</h3> - - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_1" id="TN_1"></a><a href="#TNanch_1">1.</a></span> The Portuguese Nun, Marianna Alcaforado, was born of -a distinguished Portuguese family in the second half of -the seventeenth century. About 1662, while still a nun, she fell -in love with a French officer, the Chevalier de Chamilly, to whom -she addressed her famous letters. The worthiness of the object -of her passion may be judged by the fact that, on his return to -Paris, the Chevalier handed over these letters to Sublingy, a -lawyer, to be translated and published. They appeared in 1669, -published by Barbin, under the title <i>Lettres Portuguaises</i>, and have -since been often reprinted. Marianna Alcaforado died at the -end of the seventeenth or the beginning of the eighteenth century.</p> - -<p>There are only five original letters, though many editions -contain the seven spurious letters, attributed to a "femme du -monde"—they are already in Barbin's second edition.</p> - -<p>There is an admirable seventeenth-century English translation -of her letters by Sir Roger L'Estrange.</p> - -<p>The passion of Héloïse for Abelard hardly calls for commentary. -There is no clue to the identity of Captain de Vésel and Sergeant -de Cento. A note in Calmann-Lévy's edition tells us that, in -reply to enquiries about these two mysterious people, Stendhal -said that he had forgotten their stories.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_2" id="TN_2"></a><a href="#TNanch_2">2.</a></span> <i>Justine ou les Malheurs de la Vertu</i>, by the famous Marquis -de Sade, was published in Holland, 1791.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_3" id="TN_3"></a><a href="#TNanch_3">3.</a></span> Cf. Coleridge, <i>Love's Apparition and Evanishment</i>:—</p> - -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">... Genial Hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love's eldest sister.<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_4" id="TN_4"></a><a href="#TNanch_4">4.</a></span> Cf. Chapter VIII, p. <a href="#Page_35">35</a> below. The ideas contained in -these two passages are the germ of a story written by Stendhal -with the obvious intention of illustrating his theories. The story—"Ernestine"—is -included in the Calmann-Lévy edition of -<i>De l'Amour</i>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_5" id="TN_5"></a><a href="#TNanch_5">5.</a></span> Cf. a letter of Sir John Suckling "<i>to a Friend to dissuade him -from marrying a widow, which he formerly had been in love with</i>":—</p> - -<p>"Love is a natural distemper, a kind of Small Pox: Every one -either hath had it or is to expect it, and the sooner the better."</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_6" id="TN_6"></a><a href="#TNanch_6">6.</a></span> Léonore: under this name Stendhal refers to Métilde -Dembowski (<i>née</i> Viscontini). His passion for the wife of General -Dembowski, with whom he became intimate during his stay in -Milan (1814–1821), forms one of the most important chapters in -Stendhal's life, but it is a little disappointing to enquire too -deeply into the object of this passion. At any rate, as far as one -can see, the great qualities which Stendhal discovered in Métilde -Dembowski had their existence rather in his expert crystallisation -than in reality. It was an unhappy affair. Métilde's cousin used -her influence to injure Stendhal, and in 1819 she cut off all communication -with him. Stendhal was still bemoaning his fate on -his arrival in England, 1821. There is, none the less, something -unconvincing in certain points in the history of this attachment; in -spite of his sorrow, Stendhal seems to have consoled himself in the -Westminster Road with "little Miss Appleby." It is worth noticing -that Métilde Dembowski had been the confidante of Signora -Pietra Grua, his former mistress, and it was from the date of -Stendhal's discovery of the latter's shameless infidelity to himself -and other lovers, that his admiration for Métilde seems to have -started.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_7" id="TN_7"></a><a href="#TNanch_7">7.</a></span> It is here worth turning to a passage from Baudelaire—which -is given in the Translators' note <a href="#TN_11">(11)</a> below. Liberty in -love, he says, consists in avoiding the kind of woman dangerous to -oneself. He points out that a natural instinct prompts one to -this spontaneous self-preservation. Stendhal here gives a more -exact explanation of the operation of this instinctive selection in -love. Schopenhauer's conception of the utilitarian nature of -bodily beauty is a more general application of the same idea. The -breasts of a woman <i>à la</i> Titian are a pledge of fitness for maternity—therefore -they are beautiful. Stendhal would have said a -pledge of fitness for giving pleasure.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_8" id="TN_8"></a><a href="#TNanch_8">8.</a></span> The well-known Dr. Edwards, in whose house Stendhal -was introduced to one side of English life—and a very bourgeois -side. He was introduced by a brother of Dr. Edwards, a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>man given to the peculiarly gloomy kind of debauch of which -Stendhal gives such an exaggerated picture in his account of -England. See note <a href="#TN_31">31</a> below.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_9" id="TN_9"></a><a href="#TNanch_9">9.</a></span> This brings to mind Blake's view of imagination and "the -rotten rags" of memory.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_10" id="TN_10"></a><a href="#TNanch_10">10.</a></span> <i>Bianca e Faliero ossia il consiglio di tre</i>—opera by Rossini -(1819).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_11" id="TN_11"></a><a href="#TNanch_11">11.</a></span> Cf. Baudelaire, <i>Choix de maximes consolantes sur l'amour</i> -in <i>Le Corsaire Satan</i> (March 3, 1846) and reprinted in <i>Œuvres -Posthumes</i>, Paris, 1908.</p> - -<p>"Sans nier les coups de foudre, ce qui est impossible—voyez -Stendhal...—il faut que la fatalité jouit d'une certaine -élasticité qui s'appelle liberté humaine.... En amour la -liberté consiste à éviter les catégories de femmes dangereuses, -c'est-à-dire dangereuses pour vous."</p> - -<p>["Without denying the possibility of 'thunderbolts,' for that -is impossible (see Stendhal)—one may yet believe that fatality -enjoys a certain elasticity, called human liberty.... In love -human liberty consists in avoiding the categories of dangerous -women—that is, women dangerous for you."]</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_12" id="TN_12"></a><a href="#TNanch_12">12.</a></span> Paul Louis Courier (1772–1825) served with distinction -as an officer in Napoleon's army. He resigned his commission in -1809, in order to devote himself to literature, and especially to -the study of Greek. His translation of <i>Daphnis and Chloe</i>, from -the Greek of Longus, is well known, and was the cause of -his long controversy with Del Furia, the under-librarian of -the Laurentian Library at Florence, to which Stendhal here -refers. Courier had discovered a complete manuscript of this -romance in the famous Florentine Library. By mistake, he soiled -with a blot of ink the page of the manuscript containing the all-important -passage, which was wanting in all previously known -manuscripts. Del Furia, jealous of Courier's discovery, accused -him of having blotted the passage on purpose, in order to -monopolise the discovery. A lively controversy followed, in which -the authorities entered. Courier was guilty of nothing worse than -carelessness, and, needless to say, got the better of his adversaries, -when it came to a trial with the pen.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_13" id="TN_13"></a><a href="#TNanch_13">13.</a></span> The Viscomte de Valmont and the Présidente de Tourvel -are the two central figures in Choderlos de Laclos' <i>Liaisons -Dangereuses</i> (1782).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_14" id="TN_14"></a><a href="#TNanch_14">14.</a></span> Modern criticism has made it uncertain who Dante's la -Pia really was. The traditional identification is now given up, -but there seems no reason to doubt the historical fact of the -story.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_15" id="TN_15"></a><a href="#TNanch_15">15.</a></span> Napoleon crowned himself with the Iron Crown of the -old Lombard kings at Milan in 1805.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_16" id="TN_16"></a><a href="#TNanch_16">16.</a></span> The reader is aware by now that Salviati is none other -than Stendhal. The passage refers to the campaign of 1812, in -which Stendhal played a prominent part, being present at the -burning of Moscow.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_17" id="TN_17"></a><a href="#TNanch_17">17.</a></span> <i>Don Carlos</i>, Tragedy of Schiller (1787); Saint-Preux—from -Rousseau's <i>Nouvelle Héloïse</i>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_18" id="TN_18"></a><a href="#TNanch_18">18.</a></span> Stendhal's first book. For the history of this work, which -is an admirable example of Stendhal's bold method of plagiarism, -see the introduction to the work in the complete edition of -Stendhal now in course of publication by Messrs. Champion -(Paris, 1914) or Lumbroso, <i>Vingt jugements inédits sur Henry Beyle</i> -(1902), pp. 10 and ff.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_19" id="TN_19"></a><a href="#TNanch_19">19.</a></span> <i>Jacques le Fataliste</i>—by Diderot (1773).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_20" id="TN_20"></a><a href="#TNanch_20">20.</a></span> The note, as it stands, in the French text, against the -word "pique," runs as follows:—</p> - -<p>"I think the word is none too French in this sense, but I can -find no better substitute. In Italian it is 'puntiglio,' and in -English 'pique.'"</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_21" id="TN_21"></a><a href="#TNanch_21">21.</a></span> The <i>Lettres à Sophie</i> were written by Mirabeau (1749–1791) -during his imprisonment at Vincennes (1777–1780). They -were addressed to Sophie de Monnier; it was his relations with -her which had brought him into prison. They were published in -1792, after Mirabeau's death, under the title: <i>Lettres originales -de Mirabeau écrites du donjon de Vincennes</i>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_22" id="TN_22"></a><a href="#TNanch_22">22.</a></span> Catherine Marie, Duchesse de Montpensier, was the -daughter of the Duc de Guise, assassinated in 1563. In 1570 she -married the Duc de Montpensier. She was lame, but she had -other reasons besides his scoffing at her infirmity for her undying -hatred of Henry III; for she could lay at his door the death of -her brother Henry, the third Duke. She died in 1596.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_23" id="TN_23"></a><a href="#TNanch_23">23.</a></span> Julie d'Étanges—the heroine of Rousseau's <i>Nouvelle Héloïse</i>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_24" id="TN_24"></a><a href="#TNanch_24">24.</a></span> Stendhal, we must remember, is writing as a staunch -liberal in the period of reaction which followed the fall of Napoleon -and the end of the revolutionary period. Stendhal had been one -of Napoleon's officers, and the Bourbon restoration put an end -to his career. His liberalism and his pride at having been one of -those who followed Napoleon's glorious campaigns, colour everything -he writes about the state of Europe in his time. In reading -Stendhal's criticisms of France, England and Italy, we must put -ourselves back in 1822—remember that in France we have the -Royalist restoration, in England the cry for reform always growing -greater and beginning to penetrate even into the reactionary -government of Lord Liverpool (Peel, Canning, Huskisson), in -Italy the rule of the "Pacha" (see below, note <a href="#TN_29">29</a>) and the beginning -of Carbonarism (of which Stendhal was himself suspected, -see below, note <a href="#TN_27">27</a>), and the long struggle for unity and independence.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_25" id="TN_25"></a><a href="#TNanch_25">25.</a></span> Charles Ferdinand, Duke de Berri (1778–1820), married a -Bourbon Princess and was assassinated by a fanatic enemy of the -Bourbons.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_26" id="TN_26"></a><a href="#TNanch_26">26.</a></span> Bayard. Pierre Bayard (1476–1524), the famous French -knight "without fear or reproach."</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_27" id="TN_27"></a><a href="#TNanch_27">27.</a></span> Of all foreign countries then to which Stendhal went -Italy was not only his favourite, but also the one he knew and -understood best. He was pleased in later years to discover -Italian blood in his own family on the maternal side. The Gagnon -family, from which his mother came, had, according to him, -crossed into France about 1650.</p> - -<p>He was in Italy with little interruption from 1814–1821, and -again from 1830–1841 as consul at Civita Vecchia, during which -time he became intimately acquainted with the best, indeed every -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>kind of Italian society. He tells us that fear of being implicated -in the <i>Carbonari</i> troubles drove him from Italy in 1821.</p> - -<p>One can well believe that a plain speaker and daring thinker -like Stendhal would have been looked upon by the Austrian police -with considerable suspicion.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_28" id="TN_28"></a><a href="#TNanch_28">28.</a></span> Racine and Shakespeare. Very early in life Stendhal -refused to accept the conventional literary valuations. Racine -he put below Corneille—Racine, like Voltaire, he says, fills his -works with "bavardage éternel." Shakespeare became for Stendhal -the master dramatist, and he is never tired of the comparison -between him and Racine. Cf. <i>Rome, Naples et Florence</i> (1817), -and <i>Histoire de la Peinture en Italie</i> (1817). Finally he published -his work on the subject: <i>Racine et Shakespeare par M. de Stendhal</i> -(1823).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_29" id="TN_29"></a><a href="#TNanch_29">29.</a></span> Stendhal knew Italy and was writing in Italy in the dark -period that followed the fall of Napoleon. The "Pacha" is, -of course, the repressive and reactionary government, whether -that of the Austrians in Lombardy, of the Pope in Rome, or of -the petty princes in the minor Italian states. See above, note <a href="#TN_27">27</a>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_30" id="TN_30"></a><a href="#TNanch_30">30.</a></span> Count Almaviva—character from Beaumarchais' <i>Marriage -de Figaro</i>, first acted April, 1784. The play was censored by -Louis XVI and produced none the less six months later. Its -production is an event in the history of the French Revolution. -Almaviva stands for the aristocracy and cuts a sad figure beside -Figaro, a poor barber.</p> - -<p> </p> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Stendhal's Acquaintance with England</span></p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_31" id="TN_31"></a><a href="#TNanch_31">31.</a></span> Baretti, Dr. Johnson's friend, has the reputation of having -learnt English better than any other foreigner. Stendhal might -well claim a similar distinction for having acquired in a short stay -a grasp so singularly comprehensive of England—of English -people and their ways. He was four times in England—in 1817, -1821, 1826, and 1838—never for a whole year in succession, and -on the first occasion merely on a flying trip. But Stendhal had -not only a great power of observing and assimilating ideas; he was -also capable of accommodating himself to association with the most -varied types. Stendhal was as appreciative of Miss Appleby—his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>little mistress in the Westminster Road—as of Lord Byron -and Shelley: he was at home in the family circle of the Edwards -and the Clarkes. From the first he was sensible of the immense -value of his friendship with the lawyer, Sutton Sharpe (1797–1843). -Sharpe was one of those Englishmen who seem made -for the admiration of foreigners—possessing all the Englishman's -sense and unaffected dignity and none of his morbid reserve or -insularity. Porson, Opie, Flaxman, Stothard were familiar -figures in the house of Sharpe's father, and Sharpe and his charming -sister continued to be the centre of a large and intelligent -circle. In 1826 Sharpe took Stendhal with him on circuit. -Stendhal was often present in court and learnt from his -friend, who in 1841 became Q. C., to admire the real character, -so rarely appreciated abroad, of English justice. He took this -opportunity of visiting also Manchester, York, and the Lake -district. Likewise to Sharpe he owed the privilege of meeting -Hook, the famous wit and famous bibber, at the Athenaeum. -He was present even at one of Almack's balls—the most select -entertainment of that time.</p> - -<p>With an acquaintance with England at once so varied, so full -and yet so short, as regards direct intercourse with the country -and people, it is rather natural that Stendhal was wary of subscribing -to any one very settled conception of the English. He -felt the incongruity of their character. At one time he called -them "la nation la plus civilisée et la plus puissante du monde -entier"—the most civilised and powerful people on the face of -the earth; at another they were only "les premiers hommes -pour le steam-engine"; and then, he merely felt a sorrowful -affection for them—as for a people who just missed getting the -profit of their good qualities by shutting their eyes to their bad.</p> - -<p>As for Stendhal's knowledge of English literature—of that -the foundations were laid early in life. His enthusiasm for -Shakespeare was a very early passion (cf. Translators' note <a href="#TN_28">28</a>). -As years went on, his acquaintance with English thought and -English literature became steadily wider. Significant is his -familiarity with Bentham, whose views were congenial to -Stendhal: Stendhal quotes him more than once. Hobbes -he was ready to class with Condillac, Helvétius, Cabanis and -Destutt de Tracy, as one of the philosophers most congenial and -useful to his mind. For the rest, the notes and quotations in -this book leave no doubt of the extent of his English reading—they -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>give one a poorer opinion of his purely linguistic capacities; -Stendhal's own English is often most comical. For a very complete -consideration of his connexion with England see <i>Stendhal -et l'Angleterre</i>, by Doris Gunnell (Paris, 1909). Cf. also Chuquet's -<i>Stendhal-Beyle</i> (Paris, 1902), Chap. IX, pp. 178 and ff.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_32" id="TN_32"></a><a href="#TNanch_32">32.</a></span> Of the three Englishmen referred to here, James Beattie -(1735—1803), the author of <i>The Minstrel</i> (published 1771–1774), -and Richard Watson (1737–1816), Bishop of Llandaff (1782), a -distinguished chemist and a man of liberal political views, will -both be familiar to readers of Boswell. The third, John Chetwode -Eustace (1762?-1815) was a friend of Burke and a Roman -Catholic, who seems to have given some trouble to the Catholic -authorities in England and Ireland. His <i>Tour through Italy</i>, to -which Stendhal refers, was published in 1813.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_33" id="TN_33"></a><a href="#TNanch_33">33.</a></span> The Divorce Bill, introduced in 1820 into the House of -Lords by George IV's ministers, to annul his marriage with Queen -Caroline, but abandoned on account of its unpopularity both in -Parliament and in the country generally.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_34" id="TN_34"></a><a href="#TNanch_34">34.</a></span> The Whiteboys were a secret society, which originated in -Ireland about 1760 and continued spasmodically till the end of -the century. In 1821 it reappeared and gave great trouble to -the authorities; in 1823 the society adopted another name. -The yeomanry was embodied in Ulster in September 1796, and was -mainly composed of Orangemen and Protestants. The body was -instrumental in disarming Ulster and in suppressing the rebellion of -1798—not, it has been maintained, without unnecessary cruelty.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_35" id="TN_35"></a><a href="#TNanch_35">35.</a></span> Sir Benjamin Bloomfield (1786–1846), a distinguished -soldier, ultimately did get his peerage in 1825. In 1822 he had -resigned his office of receiver of the duchy of Cornwall, having -lost the King's confidence after many years of favour.</p> - -<p> </p> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Stendhal's Acquaintance with Spain</span></p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_36" id="TN_36"></a><a href="#TNanch_36">36.</a></span> Stendhal's personal knowledge of Spain was less extensive -than that of Italy, England and Germany. He was early interested -in the country and its literature. In 1808 at Richemont he -was reading a <i>Histoire de la guerre de la succession d'Espagne</i>, -and the same year speaks of his plan of going to Spain to study the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>language of Cervantes and Calderon. In 1810 he actually took -Spanish lessons and the next year applied from Germany for an -official appointment in Spain. In 1837 he made his way as far as -Barcelona.</p> - -<p> </p> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Stendhal's Acquaintance with Germany</span></p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_37" id="TN_37"></a><a href="#TNanch_37">37.</a></span> In 1806 Stendhal returned to Paris from Marseilles whither -he had followed the actress Melanie Guilbert and taken up a -commercial employment in order to support himself at her side. -He now again put himself under the protection of Daru, and -followed him into Germany, though at first without any fixed -title. He was not at Jena, as he pretends (being still in Paris the -7th October), but on the 27th of the month he witnessed Napoleon's -triumphal entry into Berlin. Two days later he was nominated -by Daru to the post of assistant <i>commissaire des guerres</i>.</p> - -<p>Stendhal arrived in Brunswick in 1806 to take up his -official duties. Although his time was occupied with a considerable -amount of business, he found leisure also for visiting -the country at ease. In 1807 he went as far as -Hamburg. His observations on the country and people are -occurring continually in his works, particularly in his letters and -in his <i>Voyage à Brunswick</i> (in <i>Napoléon</i>, ed. de Mitty, Paris, -1897), pp. 92–125. In 1808 he left Brunswick, but soon returned -with Daru to Germany. This time he was employed at Strasbourg—whence -he passed to Ingolstadt, Landshut, etc., etc. Facts prove -that he was not at the battle of Wagram, as he says in his <i>Life of -Napoleon</i>. He was at the time at Vienna, where he managed to -remain for the <i>Te Deum</i> sung in honour of the Emperor Francis -II after the evacuation by the French. He returned in 1810, -after the peace of Schonnbrunn, to Paris. It was during his stay -in Brunswick that Stendhal made the acquaintance of Baron von -Strombeck, for whom he always preserved a warm affection. -He was a frequent guest at the house of von Strombeck and a -great admirer of his sister-in-law, Phillippine von Bülow—who -died Abbess of Steterburg—<i>la celeste Phillippine</i>. Baron von -Strombeck is referred to in this work as M. de Mermann. See -generally Chuquet, <i>Stendhal-Beyle</i>, Chap. V.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_38" id="TN_38"></a><a href="#TNanch_38">38.</a></span> Triumph of the Cross. In Arthur Schuig's sprightly, -but inaccurate, German edition of <i>De l'Amour—Über die Liebe</i> -(Jena, 1911)—occurs this note:—</p> - -<p>"Stendhal names the piece <i>Le Triomphe de la Croix</i>, but must -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>mean either <i>Das Kruez an der Ostsee</i> (1806), or <i>Martin Luther oder -die Weihe der Kraft</i> (1807)—both tragedies by Zacharias Werner."</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_39" id="TN_39"></a><a href="#TNanch_39">39.</a></span> The Provencal story in this chapter, and the Arabic -anecdotes in the next, were translated for Stendhal by his friend -Claude Fauriel (1772–1806)—"the only savant in Paris who is -not a pedant," he calls him in a letter written in 1829 (<i>Correspondance -de Stendhal</i>, Paris, Charles Brosse, 1908, Vol. II, p. -516). A letter of 1822 (Vol. II, p. 247) thanks M. Fauriel for his -translations. "If I were not so old," he writes, "I should learn -Arabic, so charmed am I to find something at last that is not a -mere academic copy of the antique.... My little ideological -treatise on Love will now have some variety. The reader will be -carried beyond the circle of European ideas." Saint-Beuve relates -that he was present when Fauriel showed Stendhal, then engaged -on his <i>De l'Amour</i>, an Arab story which he had translated. Stendhal -seized on it, and Fauriel was only able to recover his story by -promising two more like it in exchange. M. Fauriel is referred to -p. <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, note 3, above.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_40" id="TN_40"></a><a href="#TNanch_40">40.</a></span> The reference is to a piece by Scribe (1791–1861).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_41" id="TN_41"></a><a href="#TNanch_41">41.</a></span> Stendhal had no first-hand knowledge of America.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_42" id="TN_42"></a><a href="#TNanch_42">42.</a></span> Stendhal was writing before Whitman and Whistler; yet -he had read Poe.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_43" id="TN_43"></a><a href="#TNanch_43">43.</a></span> The entire material for these three chapters, and to a very -great extent their language too, is taken straight from an article -in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>—January 1810—by Thomas Broadbent. -See for a full comparison of the English and French, Doris -Gunnell—<i>Stendhal et l'Angleterre</i>, Appendix B.</p> - -<p>Stendhal has not only adapted the ideas—he has to a great -extent translated the words of Thomas Broadbent. He has -changed the order of ideas here and there—not the ideas themselves—and -in some cases he has enlarged their application. Where -he has translated the English word for word, it has often been -possible in this translation to restore the original English, which -Stendhal borrowed and turned into French. Where we have -done this, we have printed the words, which belong to Thomas -Broadbent, in italics.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>However, as Stendhal often introduced slight, but important, -changes of language, we also give below, as an example of his -methods, longer passages chosen from the article in the <i>Edinburgh -Review</i>, to compare with the corresponding passages literally -translated by us from Stendhal.</p> - -<p>These are the passages:—</p> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, l. 2:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"As if women were more quick and men more judicious, as if -women were more remarkable for delicacy of expression and men -for stronger powers of attention."</p></blockquote> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, l. 9:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Knowledge, where it produces any bad effects at all, does as -much mischief to one sex as to the other.... Vanity and conceit -we shall of course witness in men and women, as long as the -world endures.... The best way to make it more tolerable is -to give it as high and dignified an object as possible."</p></blockquote> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, l. 21:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Women have, of course, all ignorant men for enemies to their -instruction, who being bound (as they think) in point of sex to -know more, are not well pleased in point of fact to know less."</p></blockquote> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, l. 24:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The same desire of pleasing, etc.... We are quite astonished -in hearing men converse on such subjects to find them -attributing such beautiful effects to ignorance."</p></blockquote> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, l. 31:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"We do not wish a lady to write books any more than we wish -her to dance at the opera."</p></blockquote> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, l. 13:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"A merely accomplished woman cannot infuse her tastes into -the minds of her sons....</p> - -<p>"By having gained information a mother may inspire her sons -with valuable tastes, which may abide by them through life and -carry him up to all the sublimities of knowledge."</p></blockquote> - -<p>P. <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, l. 27:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Mankind are much happier for the discovery of barometers, -thermometers, steam-engines and all the innumerable inventions -in the arts and the sciences.... The same observation is true -of such works as those of Dryden, Pope, Milton and Shakespeare."</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>Stendhal's habit of quoting without acknowledgment from -all kinds of writings is so curious, that it demands a word to itself. -His wholesale method of plagiarism has been established in other -works beside the present one; almost the whole of his first work—<i>La -Vie de Haydn</i> (1814)—is stolen property. See above, -note <a href="#TN_18">18</a>. Goethe was amused to find his own experiences -transferred to the credit of the author of <i>Rome, Naples et -Florence!</i></p> - -<p>If there is any commentary necessary on this literary piracy—it -is to be found in a note by Stendhal (<i>vide</i> above, Chapter -XXXVII, p. <a href="#Page_132">132</a>) on a passage where, for once, he actually -acknowledges a thought from La Rochefoucauld:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"The reader will have recognised, without my marking it -each time, several other thoughts of celebrated writers. It is -history which I am attempting to write, and such thoughts are -the facts."</p></blockquote> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_44" id="TN_44"></a><a href="#TNanch_44">44.</a></span> The monitorial system (<i>Enseignement mutuel</i>) was introduced -into France soon after the Bourbon Restoration; but it -was not, like our monitorial system, designed with a view primarily -to the maintenance of discipline, but rather to supplying the want -of schools and masters and remedying the official indifference to -popular education, which then existed in France. As such, it was -warmly espoused by the liberals, and as warmly opposed by the -reactionaries. The monitors, it was thought, could hand on to -the younger pupils the knowledge they had already received; -after the Revolution of 1830, when no longer the object of political -controversy, the system gave way to more practical and efficient -methods of public instruction.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_45" id="TN_45"></a><a href="#TNanch_45">45.</a></span> Porlier (Don Juan Diaz), born in 1783, was publicly hanged -in 1815 as the result of a conspiracy against Ferdinand VII of -Spain. After having been one of the most active and bravest -supporters of Ferdinand's cause in the effort to re-establish his -throne and the national honour, he now sacrificed his life -to an unsuccessful attempt to set up a constitutional government.</p> - -<p>Antonio Quiroga (born 1784), also after having distinguished -himself in the national struggle against Napoleon, was tried for -complicity in the conspiracy, after the fall of Porlier. After a -series of adventures, in which he was more lucky than Riego, his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>subaltern, to whom he owed so much, he again distinguished -himself, after a temporary withdrawal from active service in -1822, by the stout opposition he offered to the French invasion -of 1823. His efforts, however, were of no avail and he escaped -to England, and thence made his way to South America. Some -years later he returned to Spain, was nominated Captain General -of Grenada, and died in 1841.</p> - -<p>Rafael del Riego (born 1785), after serving against the French, -first became prominent in connexion with the effort to -restore the constitution which Ferdinand had abolished in 1812. -He was elected by his troops second in command to Quiroga, -whom he himself proposed as their leader. This rising was a -failure and Riego was exiled to Oviedo, his birthplace. After -being repeatedly recalled and re-exiled, he ended by being one -of the first victims of Ferdinand's restoration in 1823, and was -dragged to the place of execution at the back of a donkey, amid -the outrages of the mob.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_46" id="TN_46"></a><a href="#TNanch_46">46.</a></span> Father Paolo Sarpi (1552–1623), the famous historian of -the Council of Trent, a Servite monk, and the ecclesiastical -adviser of the Venetian Government, at a time when it seemed -not impossible that Venice would break away, like Northern -Europe, from the Roman Catholic Church.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_47" id="TN_47"></a><a href="#TNanch_47">47.</a></span> Destutt de Tracy (1754–1836) was, according to Stendhal, -our only philosopher. It is on Tracy, one of the -Ideologists, that Stendhal, one might say, modelled his philosophic -attitude. Tracy's <i>Idéologie</i> (1801), he says, gave him -"milles germes de pensées nouvelles"—gave him also his worship -of logic. He was equally impressed by the <i>Traité de la Volonté</i> -(1815). Cf. Picavet's Sorbonne Thesis (Paris, 1891) <i>Les Idéologues</i>, -pp. 489–92, in which he speaks of Stendhal as "a successor -and a defender, <i>mutatis mutandis</i>, of the eighteenth-century -'Idéologues.'"</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_48" id="TN_48"></a><a href="#TNanch_48">48.</a></span> Giovanni Luigi Fiescho (15 23–1547), a great Genoese -noble, formed a conspiracy in 1547 against the all-powerful -Admiral of the Republic, Andrea Doria. The state fleet in the -harbour was to be seized, but in attempting this Fiescho was -drowned, and the conspiracy collapsed.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_49" id="TN_49"></a><a href="#TNanch_49">49.</a></span> Henri Grégoire (1750–1831), one of the most original -fearless and sincere of the Revolutionary leaders, was the constitutional -Bishop of Blois, who refused to lay down his episcopal -office under the Terror, and when the Reign of Terror was over, -took an active part in restoring Religion and the Church. He -resigned his bishopric in 1801. Napoleon made him a count -but he was always hostile to the Empire. He was a staunch -Gallican, and never forgave Napoleon his concordat with the -Papacy. He was naturally hated and feared by the Royalists at -the Restoration, but he remained popular with the people, and -was elected a member of the lower chamber in 1819, though he -was prevented by the Government from sitting.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_50" id="TN_50"></a><a href="#TNanch_50">50.</a></span> <i>La Génie du Christianisme</i>, by Chateaubriand (1802).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_51" id="TN_51"></a><a href="#TNanch_51">51.</a></span> See note <a href="#TN_47">47</a>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_52" id="TN_52"></a><a href="#TNanch_52">52.</a></span> See note <a href="#TN_37">37</a>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_53" id="TN_53"></a><a href="#TNanch_53">53.</a></span> See note <a href="#TN_37">37</a>.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_54" id="TN_54"></a><a href="#TNanch_54">54.</a></span> Johannes von Müller—the German historian (1752–1809).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_55" id="TN_55"></a><a href="#TNanch_55">55.</a></span> La Trappe—the headquarters (near Mortagna) of a monastic -body, the Trappists, a branch of the Cistercian order. The -word is used for all Trappist monasteries.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_56" id="TN_56"></a><a href="#TNanch_56">56.</a></span> Samuel Bernard (1651–1739), son of the painter and engraver -of the same name, was a man of immense wealth and the -foremost French financier of his day. He was born a Protestant, -not, as has been thought, a Jew, but became a Catholic after the -Revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685). He was ennobled and -became the Comte de Coubert (1725).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_57" id="TN_57"></a><a href="#TNanch_57">57.</a></span> Joseph Louis Lagrange (1736–1813), a celebrated mathematician -and scientist.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_58" id="TN_58"></a><a href="#TNanch_58">58.</a></span> Hazlitt, in a note to his essay on <i>Self-Love and Benevolence</i>, -remarked on Stendhal's absurdly exaggerated praise of -Helvétius. After quoting this passage, he adds: "My friend -Mr. Beyle here lays too much stress on a borrowed verbal fallacy." -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>Hobbes and Mandeville, he says, had long before stated, and -Butler answered, this fallacy, which not unfrequently vitiates -Stendhal's psychological views.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_59" id="TN_59"></a><a href="#TNanch_59">59.</a></span> Francois Guillaume Ducray-Duminil (1761–1819), the -author of numerous sentimental and popular novels.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_60" id="TN_60"></a><a href="#TNanch_60">60.</a></span> The <i>Argonautica</i> of Apollonius of Rhodes (222–181 B. C.).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_61" id="TN_61"></a><a href="#TNanch_61">61.</a></span> Jean Francois de la Harpe (born 1739) is frequently mentioned -by Stendhal in this hostile spirit. After winning considerable -notoriety, without very much merit, La Harpe in 1786 -became professor of literature at the newly founded Lycée. -Having started as a Voltairian philosopher, and still apparently -favourable to the Revolution, he was none the less arrested in -1794 as a suspect and put into prison. There he was converted -from his former Voltairian principles to Roman Catholicism. -He died in 1803.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_62" id="TN_62"></a><a href="#TNanch_62">62.</a></span> <i>Notices sur Mme. de la Fayette, Mme. et Mlle. Deshoulières, -lues à l'Académie française</i>, Paris, 1822.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_63" id="TN_63"></a><a href="#TNanch_63">63.</a></span> Pierre Jean de Béranger (born 1780): The bold patriotic -songs, which had made Béranger's name, brought him in 1828, -for the second time, into prison. He refused office after the revolution -(1830), for the principles of which he had already suffered; -he died in 1848.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_64" id="TN_64"></a><a href="#TNanch_64">64.</a></span> <i>La Gazza Ladra</i>, an opera by Rossini.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_65" id="TN_65"></a><a href="#TNanch_65">65.</a></span> Antoine Marie, Comte de Lavalette (1769–1830) was one -of Napoleon's generals. After the Bourbon restoration of 1815 -he was condemned to death, but escaped, chiefly owing to his -wife's help.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_66" id="TN_66"></a><a href="#TNanch_66">66.</a></span> Alessandro, Conte Verri, the contemporary of Stendhal -and a distinguished <i>littérateur</i> (1741–1816).</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_67" id="TN_67"></a><a href="#TNanch_67">67.</a></span> Montenotte (April, 1796), and Rivoli (January, 1797), two -victories in Bonaparte's Italian campaign.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_68" id="TN_68"></a><a href="#TNanch_68">68.</a></span> The existence of these Courts of Love has been denied by -many modern historians. For a brief statement of the arguments -against their historical existence the English reader may be -referred to Chaytor, <i>The Troubadours</i> (in the <i>Cambridge Manuals -of Science and Literature</i>, 1912), pp. 19–21. But while the direct -evidence for their existence is very flimsy, the direct evidence -against them is no less so.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_69" id="TN_69"></a><a href="#TNanch_69">69.</a></span> The monk of the Isles d'Or, on whose manuscript Nostradamus -professed to rely, is now considered to be a purely fictitious -person, an anagram on a friend's name.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_70" id="TN_70"></a><a href="#TNanch_70">70.</a></span> The date of André le Chapelain's treatise is a disputed -point. Stendhal gives its date as 1176; Reynouard and others, -1170. Others again have placed it as late as the fourteenth -century, though this has been proved impossible, since thirteenth-century -writers refer to the book. The probability is that it was -written at the beginning of the thirteenth or end of the twelfth -century—there is no evidence to fix the date with precision. -For a full discussion of the question see the preface to the best -modern edition of the work—<i>Andreae Capellani ... De Amore</i> -(recensuit E. Trojel), 1892.</p> - -<p class="tradnote"><span class="tradnum"><a name="TN_71" id="TN_71"></a><a href="#TNanch_71">71.</a></span> Cf. Montesquieu, <i>Lettres Persanes</i>, passim, and especially -Letter 48: ".... Our foreign demeanour no longer gives -offence. We even profit by people's surprise at finding us quite -polite. Frenchmen cannot imagine that Persia produces men.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On Love, by Marie Henri Beyle - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON LOVE *** - -***** This file should be named 53720-h.htm or 53720-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/7/2/53720/ - -Produced by Madeleine Fournier. Images provided by The Internet Archive. -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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