Chapter III: "to Corinne

"January 24, 1795.

"You refuse to see me; you are offended by my last
conversation, and, no doubt, intend henceforth to admit none
but your countrymen, and thus expiate your recent deviation
from that rule. Yet, far from repenting the sincerity with
which I spoke to _you_, whom, perhaps chimerically, I would
fain consider an Englishwoman, I will dare to say, still
more plainly, that you can preserve neither your own dignity
nor your own peace, by choosing a husband from your present
society. I know not one Italian who deserves you; not one
who could honor you by his alliance, whatever were the
_title_ he had to bestow. The men are far less estimable
here than the women, to whose errors they add worse of their
own. Would you persuade me that these sons of the South, who
so carefully avoid all trouble, and live but for enjoyment,
can be capable of love? Did you not, last month, see at the
Opera a man who had not eight days before lost a wife he was
said to adore? The memory of the dead, the thought of death
itself, is here, as much as possible, thrown aside. Funeral
ceremonies are performed by the priests, as the duties of
love are fulfilled by _cavaliéres servéntes_. Custom has
prescribed all rites beforehand: regret and enthusiasm are
nothing. But what, above all, must be destructive to love,
is the fact that your men cannot be respected; women give
them no credit for submission, because they found them
originally weak, and destitute of all serious employment.
It is requisite, for the perfection of natural and social
order, that men should protect, and women be protected;
but by guardians adoring the weakness they defend, and
worshipping the gentle divinity which, like the Penates of
the ancients, calls down good fortune on the house. Here
one might almost say that woman is the sultan, and men her
seraglio; it is they who have most pliancy and softness. An
Italian proverb says: 'Who knows not how to feign, knows
not how to live,' Is not that a feminine maxim? but where
you have neither military glory nor free institutions, how
should men acquire strength and majesty of mind? Their wit
degenerates into a kind of cleverness, with which they play
the game of life like a match at chess, wherein success is
everything. All that remains of their love for antiquity
consists in exaggerated expressions and external grandeur;
but, beside this baseless greatness, you often find the most
vulgar tastes, the most miserably neglected homes. Is this,
then, Corinne, the country you prefer? Is its boisterous
applause so essential to you, that every other kind of
destiny would seem dull, compared with these re-echoing
_brávos?_ Who could hope to make you happy, in tearing you
from this tumult? You are an incomprehensible person: deep
in feeling, superficial in taste; independent by pride of
soul, enslaved by a desire for dissipation; capable of
loving but one, yet requiring the notice of all the world.
You are a sorceress, who alternately disturb and reassure
me; who, when most sublime, can at once descend from the
region where you reign alone, to lose yourself among the
herd. Corinne, Corinne! in loving you, it is impossible to
avoid fearing and doubting too. OSWALD."

Indignant as Corinne felt at Nevil's antipathy to her country, she was relieved by guessing that the fête, and her refusal to speak with him, had ruffled his temper. She hesitated, or believed herself hesitating, for some time, as to the line of conduct she ought to pursue. Love made her sigh for his presence: yet she could not brook his supposing that she wished to be his wife; though in fortune, at least, his equal, and no way beneath him in name, if she deigned to reveal it. The uncontrolled life she had chosen, might have given her some aversion to marriage; and, certainly, had not her attachment blinded her to all the pangs she must endure in espousing an Englishman, and renouncing Italy, she would have repulsed such an idea with disdain. A woman may forget her pride in all that concerns the heart: but when worldly interest appears the obstacle to inclinations; when the person beloved can be accused of sacrificing himself in his union, she can no longer abandon herself to her feelings before him. Corinne, however, unable to break with her lover, trusted that she still might meet him, yet conceal her affection. It was in this belief that she determined on replying only to his accusations of the Italians, and reasoning on them as if interested by no other subject. Perhaps the best way in which such a woman can regain her coldness and her dignity, is that of entrenching herself in the fortress of her mental superiority.

"TO LORD NEVIL.

"Jan. 25, 1795.

"If your letter concerned no one but me, my Lord, I should
not attempt to justify myself. My character is so easily
known, that he who cannot comprehend it intuitively, would
not be enlightened by any explanation I could give. The
virtuous reserve of Englishwomen, and the more artful graces
of the French, often conceal one half of what passes in
their bosoms; and what you are pleased to call magic in me,
is nothing but an unconstrained disposition, which permits
my varying, my inconsistent thoughts to be heard, without my
taking the pains of bringing them into tune. Such harmony
is nearly always factitious; for most genuine characters
are heedlessly confiding. But it is not of myself that I
would speak to you; it is of the unfortunate nation which
you attack so cruelly. Can my regard for my friends have
instilled this bitter malignity? You know me too well to
be jealous of them: nor have I the vanity to suppose that
any such sentiment has rendered you thus unjust. You say
but what all foreigners say of the Italians, what must
strike every one at first; but you should look deeper ere
you thus sentence a people once so great. Whence came it
that, in the Roman day, they were the most military in the
world; during the republics of the Middle Ages, the most
tenacious of their freedom; and, in the sixteenth century,
the most illustrious for literature, science, and the arts?
Has not Italy pursued fame in every shape? If it be lost
to her now, blame her political situation; since, in other
circumstances, she showed herself so unlike all she is. I
may be wrong, but the faults of the Italians only enhance
my pity for their fate. Strangers, from time to time, have
conquered and distracted this fair land, the object of their
perpetual ambition; yet strangers forever reproach her
natives with the defects inevitable to a vanquished race.

"Europe owes her learning, her accomplishments, to the
Italians; and, having turned their own gifts against them,
would gladly deny them the only glory left to a people
deprived of martial power and public liberty. It is true
that governments form the characters of nations; and, in
Italy herself, you will find remarkable distinctions between
the inhabitants of different states. The Piedmontese,
who once formed a small national corps, have a more
warlike spirit than the rest. The Florentines, who have
mostly possessed either freedom or liberal rulers, are
well-educated and well-mannered. The Venetians and the
Genoese evince a capacity for politics, because they
have a republican aristocracy. The Milanese are more
sincere, thanks to their long intercourse with northern
nations. The Neapolitans are prompt to rebel, having for
ages lived beneath an imperfect government, but still
one of their own. The Roman nobles have nothing to do,
either diplomatic or military, and may well remain idly
ignorant; but the ecclesiastics, whose career is definite,
have faculties far more developed; and, as the papal law
observes no distinction of birth, but is purely elective
in its ordinance of the clergy, the result is, a species
of liberality, not in ideas, but in habits, which renders
Rome the most agreeable abode for those who have neither
power nor emulation for sustaining a part in the world.
The people of the South are more easily modified by
existing institutions than those of the North. This clime
induces a languor favorable to resignation, and nature
offers enough to console man for the advantages society
denies. Undoubtedly, there is much corruption in Italy:
its civilization is far from refinement. There is a savage
wilderness beneath Italian cunning; it is that of a hunter
lying in wait for his prey. Indolent people easily become
sly and shifting; their natural gentleness serves to hide
even a fit of rage; for it is by our habitual manner that
an accidental change of feeling may be best concealed. Yet
Italians have both truth and constancy in their private
connections. Interest may sway them, but not pride. Here is
no ceremony, no fashion; none of the little everyday tricks
for creating a sensation. The usual sources of artifice and
of envy exist not here. Foes and rivals are deceived by
those who consider themselves at war with them; but, while
in peace, they act with honesty and candor. This is the
very cause of your complaint. Our women hear of nothing but
love; they live in an atmosphere of seduction and dangerous
example; yet their frankness lends an innocence to gallantry
itself. They have no fear of ridicule: many are so ignorant
that they cannot even write, and confess it without scruple.
They engage a _Paglietto_ to answer letters for them, which
he does on paper large enough for a petition; but among
the better classes you see professors from the academies
in their black scarfs, giving lessons publicly. If you are
inclined to laugh at them, they ask you: 'Is there any harm
in understanding Greek, or living by our own exertions? How
can you deride so matter-of-course a proceeding?' Dare I,
my Lord, touch on a more delicate subject?--the reason why
our men so seldom display a military spirit. They readily
expose their lives for love or hate: in such causes, the
wounds given and received neither astonish nor alarm their
witnesses. Fearless of death, when natural passions command
them to defy it; they still, I must confess, value life
above the political interests which slightly affect those
who can scarcely be said to have a country. Chivalrous
honor has little influence over a people among whom the
opinions that nourish it are dead; naturally enough, in
such a disorganization of public affairs, women gain a
great ascendency; perhaps too much so for them to respect
or admire their lovers, who, nevertheless, treat them with
the most delicate devotion. Domestic virtue constitutes
the welfare and the pride of Englishwomen; but on no land,
where love dispenses with its sacred bonds, is the happiness
of women watched over as in Italy. If our men cannot make
a moral code for immorality, they are at least just and
generous in their participation of cares and duties. They
consider themselves more culpable than their mistresses
when they break their chains: they know that women make the
heaviest sacrifice; and believe that, before the tribunal of
the heart, the greatest criminals are those who have done
most wrong. Men err from selfishness; women, because they
are weak. Where society is at once vigorous and corrupt,
that is, most merciless to the faults that are followed by
the worst misfortunes, women of course are used with more
severity; but where we have no established etiquettes,
natural charity has a greater power. Spite all that has
been said of Italian perfidy, I will assert that there
is as much real good-nature here as in any other country
of the world; and that, slandered as it is by strangers,
they will nowhere meet with a kinder reception. Italians
are reproached as flatterers; it is with no premeditated
plan, but in mere eagerness to please, that they lavish
expressions of affection, not often belied by their conduct.
Would they be ever-faithful friends, if called on to prove
so in danger or adversity?--A very small number, I allow,
might be capable of such friendship; but it is not to Italy
alone that this observation is applicable. I have previously
admitted their Oriental indolence. Yet the very women, who
appear like so many beauties of a harem, may surprise you
by traits of generosity or of revenge: as for the men, give
them but an object, and, in six months, you might find that
they would have learned and understood whatever was required
of them; but, while they are untaught, why should females
be instructed? An Italian girl would soon become worthy of
an intelligent husband, provided that she loved him; but
in a country where all great interests are suppressed, a
careless repose is more noble than a vain agitation about
trifles. Literature itself must languish, where thoughts are
not renewed by vigorous and varied action. Yet in what land
have arts and letters been more worshipped? History shows
us, that the popes, princes, and people have at all times
done homage to distinguished painters, sculptors, poets,
and other writers.[1] This zeal was, I own, my Lord, one of
the first motives which attached me to this country. I did
not find here those seared imaginations, that discouraging
spirit, nor that despotic mediocrity, which, elsewhere, can
so soon stifle innate ability. Here a felicitous phrase
takes fire, as it were, among its auditors. As genius is the
gift which ranks highest among us, it inevitably excites
much envy. Peregolese was assassinated: Giorgione wore a
cuirass, when obliged to paint in any public place; but
the violent jealousy to which talent gives birth here, is
such as in other realms is created by power; it seeks not
to depreciate the object it can hate, or even kill, from
the very fanaticism of admiration. Finally, when we see so
much life in a circle so contracted, in the midst of so
many obstacles and oppressions, we can hardly forbear from a
vivid solicitude for those who respire with such avidity the
little air that fancy breathes through the boundaries which
confine them. These are so limited, that men of our day
can rarely acquire the pride and firmness which mark those
of freer and more military states. I will even confess, if
you desire it, my Lord, that such a national character must
inspire a woman with more enthusiasm; but is it not possible
that a man may be brave, honorable, nay, unite all the
attributes which can teach us to love, without possessing
those that might promise us content?

"CORINNE."

[1] Mr. Roscoe, author of the "History of the Medici," has since published that of Leo X., which recounts the proofs of admiring esteem given by the princes and people of Italy to men of letters; impartially adding, that many of the popes have emulated this liberality.