Italian Letters, vols 1,2 | Page 5

philosopher of Geneva: "Man is not naturally amiable." If the human
character shews less pleasing and attractive in the obscurity of retreat,
and among the unfinished personages of a college, believe me, the
natives of a court are not a whit more disinterested, or have more of the
reality of friendship. The true difference is, that the one wears a
disguise, and the other appear as they are.
I do not mean however to impute all the faults I have mentioned to the
marquis of San Severino. He is probably in the vulgar sense of the
word good-natured. As you have already expressed it, he knows not
how to refuse the requests, or contradict the present inclinations of
those with whom he is connected. You say rightly that his gallantries
are such as you can by no means approve. He is, if I am not greatly
misinformed, in the utmost degree loose and debauched in his
principles. The greater part of his time is spent in the haunts of
intemperance, and under the roofs of the courtezan. I am afraid indeed
he has gone farther than this, and that he has not scrupled to ruin
innocence, and practise all the arts of seduction.
There is, my dear Rinaldo, a species of careless and youthful vice, that
assumes the appearance of gentleness, and wears the garb of generosity.
It even pretends to the name of virtue. But it casts down all the sacred
barriers of religion. It laughs to scorn that suspicious vigilance, that
trembling sensibility, that is the very characteristic of virtue. It
represents those faults of which a man may be guilty without malignity,
as innocent. And it endeavours to appropriate to itself all
comprehensiveness of view, all true fortitude, and all liberal generosity.
Believe me, my friend, this is the enemy from which you have most to
fear. It is not barefaced degeneracy that can seduce you. She must be
introduced under a specious name, she must disguise herself like
something that nature taught us to approve, and she must steal away the
heart at unawares.

Letter V

The Answer Naples I can never sufficiently acknowledge the friendship
that appears in every line of your obliging epistles. Even where your
attachment is rouzed without a sufficient cause, it is only upon that
account the more conspicuous.
I took the liberty, my dear count, immediately after receiving your last,
to come to an explanation with San Severino. I mentioned to him the
circumstances in your letter, as affairs that had been casually hinted to
me. I told him, that I was persuaded he would excuse my freedom, as I
was certain there was some misinformation, and I could not omit the
opportunity of putting it in his power to justify himself. The marquis
expressed the utmost astonishment, and vowed by all that was sacred,
that he was innocent of the most important part of the charge. He told
me, that it was his ill fortune, and he supposed he was not singular, to
have enemies, that made it their business to misrepresent every
circumstance of his conduct. He had been calumniated, cruelly
calumniated, and could he discover the author of the aspersion, he
would vindicate his honour with his sword. In fine, he explained the
whole business in such a manner, as, though I could not entirely
approve, yet evinced it to be by no means subversive of the general
amiableness of his character. How deplorable is the situation in which
we are placed, when even the generous and candid temper of my St.
Julian, can be induced to think of a young nobleman in a light he does
not deserve, and to impute to him basenesses from which his heart is
free!
Soon after this interview I was introduced by my new friend into a
society of a more mixed and equivocal kind than I had yet seen. Do not
however impute to the marquis a surprize of which he was not guilty.
He fairly stated to me of what persons the company was to be
composed; and idle curiosity, and perhaps a particular gaiety of humour,
under the influence of which I then was, induced me to accept of his
invitation. If I did wrong, my dear count, blame me, and blame me
without reserve. But if I may judge from the disposition in which I left
this house, I only derived a new reinforcement to those resolutions,
with which your conversation and example first inspired me.

It was in the evening, after the opera. The company was composed of
several of our young nobility, and an equal number of female
performers and other ladies of the same reputation. They almost
immediately broke into _tête-à-têtes_, and of consequence one of the
ladies addressed herself particularly to me. The