_The Same to the Same_
_Naples_
You will recollect, my St. Julian, that I promised to confess to you my
faults and my follies, and to take you for the umpire and director of
my conduct. Perhaps I have done wrong. Perhaps, though unconscious of
error, I am some how or other misled, and need your faithful hand to
lead me back again to the road of integrity.
Why is it that I feel a reluctance to state to you the whole of my
conduct? It is a sensation to which I have hitherto been a stranger, and
in spite of me, it obliges me to mistrust myself. But I have discovered
the reason. It is, that educated in solitude, and immured in the walls
of a college, we had not learned to make allowances for the situations
and the passions of mankind. You and I, my dear count, have long agreed,
that the morality of priests is to be distrusted: that it is too often
founded upon sinister views and private interest: that it has none
of that comprehension of thought, that manly enthusiasm, which is
characteristic of the genuine moral philosopher. What have penances and
pilgrimages, what have beads and crosses, vows made in opposition to
every instinct of nature, and an obedience subversive of the original
independency of the human mind, to do with virtue?
Thus far, my amiable friend, you advanced, but yet I am afraid you have
not advanced far enough. I am told there is an honesty and an honour,
that preserves a man's character free from impeachment, which is
perfectly separate from that sublime goodness that you and I have always
admired. But to this sentiment I am by no means reconciled. To speak
more immediately to the subject I intended.
What can be more justifiable, or reasonable, than a conformity to the
original propensities of our nature? It is true, these propensities may
by an undue cultivation be so much increased, as to be productive of
the most extensive mischief. The man who, for the sake of indulging
his corporeal appetites, neglects every valuable pursuit, and every
important avocation, cannot be too warmly censured. But it is no less
true, that the passion of the sexes for each other, exists in the most
innocent and uncorrupted heart. Can it then be reasonable to condemn
such a moderate indulgence of this passion, as interrupts no employment,
and impedes no pursuit? This indulgence, in the present civilized
state of society, requires no infringement of order, no depravation of
character. The legislators of every country, whose wisdom may surely
be considered as somewhat greater than that of its priests, have
judiciously overlooked this imagined irregularity, and amongst all the
penalties which they have ambitiously, and too often without either
sentiment or humanity, heaped together against the offences of society,
have suffered this to pass unnoticed. Why should we be more harsh and
rigorous than they? It is inconsistent with all logic and all candour,
to argue against the use of any thing from its abuse. Of what mischief
can the moderate gratification of this appetite be the source? It does
not indeed romantically seek to reclaim a class of women, whom every
sober man acknowledges to be irreclaimable. But with that benevolence
that is congenial to a comprehensive mind, it pities them with all their
errors, and it contributes to preserve them from misery, distress, and
famine.
From what I have now said, I believe you will have already suspected of
what nature are those particulars in my conduct, which I set out with
an intention of confessing. Whatever may be my merit or demerit in this
instance, I will not hide from you that the marquis of San Severino was
the original cause of what I have done. You are already sufficiently
acquainted with the freedom of his sentiments upon this subject. He is a
professed devotee of the sex, and he suffers this passion to engross a
much larger share of his time than I can by any means approve. Incited
by his exhortations, I have in some measure imitated his conduct, at the
same time that I have endeavoured not to fall into the same excesses.
But I believe that I shall treat you more regularly in the manner of a
confessor, and render you more master of the subject, by relating to you
the steps by which I have been led to act and to justify, that which I
formerly used to condemn. I have already told you, how aukward I felt my
situation in the first society of the gayer kind, into which my friend
introduced me. Though he politely freed me from my present embarassment,
he could not help rallying me upon the rustic appearance I made. He
apologized for the ill fortune I had experienced, and promised to
introduce me to a mistress beautiful as the day, and sprightly and
ingenious as Sappho herself.
What could I do? I was unwilling to break with the most amiable
companion I had found in the city of Naples. I was staggered with his
reasonings and his eloquence. Shall I acknowledge the truth? I was
mortified at the singular and uncouth figure I had made. I felt myself
actuated with a social sympathy, that made me wish to resemble those of
my own rank and age, in any thing that was not seriously criminal. I was
involuntarily incited by the warm description San Severino gave me of
the beauty and attractions of the lady he recommended. Must we not
confess, my St. Julian, setting the nature of the business quite out
of the question, that there was something highly disinterested in the
behaviour of the marquis upon this occasion? He left his companions and
his pleasures, to accommodate himself to my weakness. He managed his own
character so little, as to undertake to recommend to me a female friend.
And he seems to have neglected the interest of his own pleasures
entirely, in order to introduce me to a woman, inferior in
accomplishments to none of her sex.