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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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