Irene was quite astonished at herself for finding Italian society so attractive. She, a stranger, speaking another language, holding another faith, felt quite at home in its circles. She looked back with a shudder at the old days in Petrograd, and at the bitter sense of resentment and irritation with which she had invariably returned home from all social gatherings. Here, Irene delighted in those exquisite sensual entertainments, with their music, their singing, their recitations. On leaving them, she loved to take deep breaths of the balmy night air, feeling that soft sense of luxury that a tired wanderer experiences on getting into a warm, fragrant bath. “How am I to explain all this?” wondered Irene.
Alas! Like most of us, Irene did not know herself. It never occurred to her that since her earliest childhood she had never been anything but a pagan. Whereas, however, Roman paganism was hereditary and the result of centuries of voluntary enslavement to antique culture and its ideals, Irene’s paganism was simply a morbid disease. Like sufferers from progressive paralysis, who gradually sink into a state of primitive bestiality, so a diseased soul not only cannot develop, but cannot even maintain itself on a level with its contemporaries, and invariably slips back to the ideals of a past civilization.
XIV
Of all the Roman houses in which Irene visited, she most liked that of Count Primoli, who, during the season, entertained the whole of cosmopolitan Rome in his luxurious villa. Count Primoli was only half an Italian. Through his mother, a Princess Bonaparte, he was French, of which fact he was very proud. He was a delightful mixture of French wit and Italian gaiety and hospitality. Absolutely everyone went to his Wednesdays and Saturdays! The diplomatic world, famous Italian writers, French painters and journalists, celebrated singers, Indian princes, American millionaires, Russians, Swedes, and Englishmen. Romans of the higher circles visited him with pleasure, even though they disapproved of his cosmopolitanism. Count Primoli was undismayed by this disapproval, for he well knew what a service he was rendering to society.
Gloomy dullards never see anything in receptions and other social gatherings but frivolous distractions, necessary, perhaps, to youth, but positively reprehensible when indulged in by older people. In truth, however, balls and parties of every description are indispensable to all human beings and to the maintenance of their moral and mental health. A man who leads a solitary confined existence loses his equilibrium. He ceases to see things in their just perspective, exaggerates and misunderstands everything, looks at life tragically, and makes mountains out of mole-hills.
As soon as he leaves off isolating himself, comes in contact with other people, exchanges ideas with them, laughs and talks a little, his mental balance is restored, and the mountains become mole-hills again. Also, the more various are the people he meets, the more his mind broadens and develops. People who exclusively frequent their own immediate circles, be they aristocratic or otherwise, invariably grow dull and stupid. That is why the hospitable host who receives very mixed gatherings renders a great service to society—though society itself is short-sighted enough not to recognize this service.
To receive on a large scale is not as easy as people think. It by no means suffices to be rich and to issue invitations broadcast. The principal thing is to know how to receive one’s guests, an accomplishment attainable only on the two following conditions: Aristocratic extraction and love of humanity. At least three or four generations of well-born and wealthy people accustomed to social surroundings are needed for the production of a good host. Everyone who has been in the house of a nouveau riche knows that he felt, on that occasion, as though he were in a restaurant. The hosts did not know how to greet their visitors, nor how to introduce or unite them, so the latter ate and drank, and having witnessed what entertainment was provided for them, left, sometimes even forgetting to say good-bye to the hosts. A love of humanity is as indispensable to a good host as blue blood, and Count Primoli may be said to have been richly endowed with both these qualifications. He was a true “Grand Seigneur,” and knew how to make his guests feel at home. He sincerely loved them all, and wished to give them pleasure. There were some vulgar people who made fun of his charming cordiality. Had he forgotten to invite them, or had he treated them with lofty disdain, they would immediately have begun to respect him. Nice people, however, valued his kind heart, and took no notice of the silly anecdotes that rumour spread about him.