“Twelve Letters” (“Le dodici lettere”)

Translated by Emanuela Pecchioli and Alexander Bertland

How to cite this work:

Pirandello, Luigi. “Twelve Letters” (“Le dodici lettere”), tr. Emanuela Pecchioli and Alexander Bertland. In Stories for a Year, eds. Lisa Sarti and Michael Subialka, Digital Edition, www.pirandellointranslation.org, 2022.

“Twelve Letters” was first published in the periodical La domenica italiana on February 21, 1897 and was then collected in the volume When I Was Crazy (Quand’ero matto; Turin: Streglio, 1902). However, Pirandello chose not to include this story in any of his own Collections constituting Stories for a Year (Novelle per un anno), and so it was added only posthumously by the editors of the Appendix in 1938.

The story is a relatively early work in his overall production of tales, and it focuses on the social games and duplicity of an upper-class, sitting-room environment typical of fin-de-siècle high society. Pirandello’s comic treatment of the characters in this setting prefigures later critiques that would emerge both in his work and in the anti-traditionalist theater movement of the teatro grottesco (grotesque theater) in Italy, with which Pirandello’s early plays are sometimes associated. Indeed, the setup in this short story focuses on the intrigues of a love triangle (or set of love triangles) and the efforts to “save face” that various characters undertake, with ironic results. Likewise, his descriptions resonate with what he would elaborate later in his theory of humor as he envisioned it in works like his famous essay, On Humor (L’umorismo, 1908). The ambiguity of the story’s ending could be seen as landing somewhere between the comic and the tragic, prefiguring his theory of humor in a light way. Written when Pirandello was still a young author relatively new to the Roman literary scene, the story is interesting as both a critically realistic representation of the pretensions of Italian salon culture and its “Frenchified” characteristics and also as an early development of key aspects of Pirandello’s techniques of tragicomic humor, which would be integral to his production throughout his life.

The Editors

As soon as she had closed the door, after a final bow and ostentatious smile to the blonde and fat but also very sad Mrs. Baldinotti, Adele Montagnani breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the living room to check the clock on the mantel. Very quickly, as if someone were spying on her, she adjusted the front and back of her hair and straightened the white lace blossoms that trimmed the neckline of her dress.

Rossani would arrive in a few minutes.

In anticipation of this guest, Adele had not been able to sleep the night before, and the whole morning she had been gripped in the throes of a powerful anxiety that had grown in the last hour and had become quite distressing when the unexpected arrival of Mrs. Baldinotti was announced.

Fortunately, Mrs. Baldinotti had not stayed long. Fortunately indeed because this poor woman (who was also a little deaf) was known for her long visits, and she could not recognize if and when she could sometimes be a nuisance to others.

Adele, now free from this danger, could laugh as usual at the painful yet also comic secrets that this naïve woman revealed. Mrs. Baldinotti, goaded by short, appropriate questions or a few interjections of compassion or surprise, would eventually reveal secrets and really intimate details of her marital life that were often very entertaining to hear. Every time, Adele enjoyed these revelations as much as she could and, afterwards, she used these spicy, tragic stories as topics of conversation with her friends.

God forgive me! she said to herself as she finished laughing, but she burst out in laughter again.

Mrs. Baldinotti bragged about preventing the insolent and numerous infidelities of her husband (who was eight years younger than her) by luxuriously beautifying herself in a manner that was in dubious taste and was neither suitable for her age nor her body. She confessed: "Do you think, my dear lady, that I would dress this way and spend so much on myself if I did not have such a young husband? And yet, would you believe my dear lady that I remain dressed and made up to wait for him until midnight, two, or three in the morning, or even until dawn? Many times I have waited until dawn!..." And while saying this, the poor woman's lips and chin shook, and her eyes were full of tears.[1]

The clock on the mantel rang four.

Adele wiped the comic figure of Baldinotti from her thoughts and began again to worry about the impending arrival of Rossani.

She had taken on a task that now started to look extremely difficult to her. However, it was in exchange for a service that a friend had done. This friend had agreed to do the exact same thing for her and had happily succeeded.

"You will see. The important thing is committing to it. I used my skills; you will use yours, which are more sophisticated than mine," Giulia Garzìa had told her as she departed the day before. This last comment had truly inflamed Adele's pride, because she had studied and worked hard to be recognized in social circles as a lady of quick wit.

The task was to secure from Rossani the return of the twelve letters that Guilia Garzìa had written to him during the two years of their so-called romantic relationship. This affair had ended about three months earlier, after a long series of scenes that disgusted them both. Giulia had done the same task for her: she had negotiated the return of the many more letters that Adele had written to Tullio Vidoni in a much shorter period. Tullio had broken up with her by using the wicked excuse that he could not keep on deceiving a close friend who was like a brother to him: Guido Montagnani.

The two break-ups had happened more or less at the same time. The two friends had consoled each other, and now they were helping each other.

At ten past four, Tito Rossani entered Adele's living room as if he were entering a beehive He was resigned to submit himself to the many stings of her presumptuous wit, as well as that French use of the formal vous that Mrs. Montagnani employed indiscriminately with all her friends.[2] In addition, she was in the habit of bejeweling her conversation with French phrases as if the corresponding Italian expressions were vulgar costume jewelry.

"Oh, here you are, at last!"[3]

Rossani bowed and replied to the exclamation, extending his hand:

"Very punctual!"

"I would not say 'very' to be honest. But, enough of this... take a seat... here, here, next to me... Are you scared?"

"I have the courage of Saint Sebastian, madam. Here I am next to you,[4] ready to receive as many arrows as you wish to bestow upon me."

While taking a seat, with a resigned smile under a thick mustache that curved upwards, Rossani tried to catch a glance of his own image in the mirror above the mantel.

"Beware, Saint Sebastian was very handsome, at least according to the artists."

"I know. So think of me as if I were Saint Sebastian from the neck down."

"Eh no, come on... also your head. Am I starting well? Listen to me, Rossani: I would like to court you. May I? Provided, of course, that you will not scuffle with my husband..."

"Ah, right... scuffle... very well," Tito noted while laughing and running a hand across his prematurely bald head, which was just like Guido Montagnani's. He added, "It will be really difficult…"

"No, no; I am serious: I would like to court you. Even if I know that you find me extremely unpleasant. To be clear, no one told me that. I figured it out by myself if I may say so."

"You are not very insightful, madam. Among all your many fine gifts, this is a skill that you lack..."

“How kind you are... Maybe it is as you say. But, in any case, I would not hold it against you. Likes, dislikes... you feel them, you do not discuss them. Let's suppose that it were not true. Then you must confess that I scare you... Eh yes, come on! If you need a formal invitation to come visit me... Nevertheless, let's not make things worse. I know, yes, I know why you have not visited any more. You were very wrong to do so, let me tell you. Do not interrupt me! Your absence has been duly noted and at the expense of... Rossani, I am sorry to inform you, at the expense of your reputation for being a man of wit."

"Ah," Tito said. "Do I also have that reputation? I did not know. I do not deserve it, madam! Do you want proof? I most definitely need to ask you why you did me the honor of writing me the message that I received this morning and how I can be of service to you."

Adele became a little upset by the serious tone of his direct question. Yet, she tried to slip away again so that she could prepare a better assault.

"So, you don't want to believe that I wish to court you?"

"Really? Beware, Madam Adele, I am going to take you at your word! And I will start by asking you for..."

"Endless love?"

"No! God forbid!" It would be an offense against nature..."

"So, excuse me, why... We’re becoming more intimate, don't you see? After all, we are in the process of flirtation, n'est ce pas?[5] But, do not think that I am jealous too. I was saying, why... I do not know how to tell you... Here it is: why do you bear such a strong and stubborn grudge, to put it mildly, against a person whom we both know, if you really consider eternal love an offense against nature?"

"I do not understand..."

"Oh, come on! Are you also dense? Don't make me say her name. You know very well that she is my dearest friend. I could call her a sister."

"Ah, really? Still?" Rossani said, faking a naïve surprise with evident malice.

"What do you mean 'still'?" Adele asked angrily. "Ah, my dear, among ourselves we women are not as fickle as perhaps..."

"I do not believe it! I do not!" Tito said, rising energetically. "Do not go on... I do not believe it! Besides, if it is so, I feel sorry for you. In any case, I am not used to harboring resentment against anyone, I assure you. Let alone..."

"No, come on, Rossani, be honest!" Mrs. Montagnani interrupted in turn. "You see, I am talking to you with my heart in my hand, while you hold in your hand a weapon to protect yourself from me. Be honest! So then, why..."

"What? Dear friend, allow me to point out that I consider myself extremely lucky to have freed myself of those shackles that, God knows, had been weighing me down for a long time. So why should I bear a grudge? Why? At most, if anything, I would bear one against myself if this were possible... I have been incredibly stupid... Do you want to have a laugh? Do you want to know why I dragged those shackles for such a long time? Because I was afraid for the health and also... yes, also for the life of your dear friend! It seems impossible, doesn't it? However, in my defense you need to know... but you already know. That lady constantly distressed me with cruel and even absurd acts of jealousy."

"She had reason for being jealous, it seems to me!"

"Ah, I do not regret it at all!"

"See, you men are all the same!" Adele Montagnani exploded while feeling triumphant. "Ah, the great Bourget![6] Wait, Rossani, wait!"

She quickly got up and went to the small adjacent study while flapping her elbows as if she wanted to fly. She pulled from an elegant English bookshelf the Physiologie de l'Amour moderne and rushed back to the living room, quickly flipping through the pages of the book.[7]

"Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Ah, here it is! It is underlined. Par amour propre simple.[8] Here, read it, just the aphorism. This one in italics."

Tito Rossani got up to look in the tempting mirror on the mantel and smile at himself. He took the book and glanced at the passage. Then, he shook his head a little and said slowly:

"This does not apply to me."

"Why not? Ce que certains hommes pardonnent le moins à une femme, c'est qu'elle se console d'avoir étée trahie par eux."[9]

"This does not apply to me." Rossani repeated, sitting back down. "If there is really someone I cannot forgive, it is me, Madam Adele. If your close friend got over my infidelities so quickly, so much the better or so much the worse for her. Ah, so, you too know that your friend got over it? Well, then, I must truly admire this reaction. It is truly uncommon."

"This reaction? Whose reaction?"

"Your reaction, Madam Adele."

"Thank you, but I do not understand. And excuse me, why, then, don't you want to return the letters she wrote to you?"

"Ah!" Rossani exclaimed. "Do you also know about those letters? My goodness! We must truly admit that your close friend has gone all over town announcing the gift she made me of this dozen elegant, perfumed cards! Maybe she wants to transform them into a precious limited-edition volume for readers of romance: A Short Collection of Romantic Letters by a Lady of High Society? In that case, I would make myself editor, even at the expense of the private little compilation of manuscripts that I am collecting as a pastime for my old age."

"Ah Rossani! You are a monster! To speak like this... Who else has talked to you about Giulia's letters?"

"You cannot possibly guess, Madam Adele." Rossani said, making a serious, pale facial expression, yet also smiling agitatedly with trembling lips. "You cannot suspect who. Otherwise, you would not have spoken to me about them. Have you guessed now?"

Adele changed expression and furrowed her eyebrows as if her vision had suddenly become cloudy. She whispered a name:

"Tullio Vidoni?"

Rossani nodded his head in response, revealing in his eyes what was practically the sneer of his unmoving lips.

Vidoni was the only one who could have been aware of the letters. Since Adele used to trust him completely, she had told him about the letters without even asking him to keep them a secret. Ah, she now realized why Giulia had such an easy time getting back Adele's letters! He had been quick to give to his new lover the letters of his old one. And who knows how much they must have laughed together at Adele's pronouncements of love and grief!

Adele twisted her hands on her lap until her fingers almost broke, yet her pale face smiled with clenched teeth at Rossani.

"A very comic occurrence," Rossani continued slightly hesitantly. "If you want, I can briefly tell you what happened..."

"Yes, yes, tell me, tell me," Adele hurriedly urged him, revealing in her voice and anxiety, her inner turmoil and the shudder of hate and distain.

"Yesterday, in the afternoon, I was walking down the Corso[10] with Vidoni... I did not imagine that he already was... how can I put it... my successor. We both spotted the lady in question, but we pretended not to. She passed by in a car right in front of us. I actually noticed that my friend started behaving somewhat awkwardly and suddenly grew pale. However, I did not imagine, as I have just said, that I ought to pity him, since I knew that he was not only aware of my own brief but already finished love story, but also of many other love stories (if we can call them that) the lady had in Milan, before her husband, the senator, poor guy, came to Rome... but enough of this. 'Ah, she is back!' I whispered almost to myself, hoping, I must admit, that Vidoni would give me some news. I knew he was just back from Milan as well, and he had certainly met her there."

"Go on, go on... So?" interrupted Adele, who could no longer tolerate Rossani's long-winded manner of speaking.

"Ah, excuse me, maybe you noticed some hints of this man’s passion for Mrs. Garzìa before I did?"

"Me? No... I mean, you know Tullio Vidoni as well as I do... he is the most ridiculous man walking the face of the earth... You know he suffers from an acute case of Don-Juanitis, and that he’s always seducing all the ladies...[11] Who could take him seriously?"

"Nobody, I know! But Vidoni, my goodness! He really has it bad for the lady. At least judging from what he did to me."

"You mean he spoke with you about the letters?"

"Listen to this. After my words, 'Ah, she is back!', he says to me that Mrs. Garzìa was in Rome for three days and that they travelled together. Then, he pushes me to talk about her. Since I don’t have any suspicions about him in particular, though I do have my suspicions about others, I admit having been too weak to hold myself back from speaking, and unkindly as you can imagine – though not because of what your great Bourget says in his aphorism.[12] As I’m talking, I begin to notice my friend's face getting darker and darker... 'You are suffering, dear friend!' I say to him as a joke. At this point, he explodes, going so far as to scold me quite forcefully for what I said and how I said it. I look at him in surprise: I still couldn’t believe he was serious. So he repeats his reproach in more forceful terms. Annoyed, I answer back. We thus move into a violent quarrel, even if in hushed tones. But enough, I told him to his face what I really thought, and I left him in the middle of the street..."

Becoming very nervous, Adele hid her face in her hands, groaning: "My God! My God!" Then she looked at Rossani anxiously, with hate in her eyes. She asked him:

"And now? Tell me the truth, Rossani. Are you in danger? You know that Tullio Vidoni..."

"No danger, Madam Adele! But after all, I have never decided to accept or decline a duel of arms based on how my rival fences in a salon or in a fencing academy."

"Oh God, no, Rossani! He fences very well, and the scoundrel is taking advantage of it, you see!" Adele yelled. "No! No! Listen to me. If you... if you could teach him a lesson, well, with all my heart I would say: do it and do it properly!"

"Let's hope so!" Rossani exclaimed.

"But no! You see," Adele continued, "I fear for you... And you can imagine his arrogance, returning to his lover as the unharmed winner! No... No..."

"But at this point..." Rossani said, shrugging his shoulders.

"What are you saying? So, is it set? Will you fight? Ah, Rossani, no! For such an unworthy woman? Yes, yes, let me say so... She came here to see me the day before yesterday... here, and she dared to kiss me, do you see? With that stereotypical smile on her painted lips... What a snake! Oh, my God... She dared to ask me, you see, to intercede to secure from you the return of her letters, while she... It is hideous, Rossani, don't you think so? Hideous! And you, should you pay for this? No, no, for goodness' sake! Listen to me... listen to me... do it for me..."

Adele slipped her arm around Rossani's neck and lowered her face close to his chest as she implored him.

Tito, not knowing how to extricate himself from her grasp, tried at least to stop the flow of her supplicating words.

"If I fight, I fight for myself, exclusively for myself. Believe me, madam! And I have here in my pocket the most blatant proof: Mrs. Garzìa's letters!"

"Ah," Adele yelled. "Do you have them here? Give them to me!"

And she immediately reached out toward his inside jacket pocket with an irresistible impulse of hateful joy.

Tito Rossani got up austerely.

"Ah, no, Madam Adele! Even if I do not care about her anymore, it is still important to me, now more than ever, that I act as a gentleman. Not to you... Not to you... I won't give them to you. I'm sorry. I will return them in a different way..."

As soon as Adele heard these words, she became excited, burst out laughing uproariously, and continued to laugh with palpable force as she collapsed on the back of the armchair.

Baffled, Tito looked at her.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Adele exclaimed, still laughing but getting up. "Let's shake on it, let's shake on it, Rossani! Don't you understand? This is precisely what I wanted! Now, pay attention, I have your word of honor. You will return the letters... Good, Rossani, thank you. You are a true and honorable gentleman."

Tito Rossani left in a shock, walking away clumsily, practically stunned with a hidden anger. Ah stupid! Stupid! Mrs. Montagnani had played him, hadn't she? She had tricked him by playing the part of the jealous woman, hadn't she?

What an actress!

Ah, but he would take revenge! He would not return the letters, not under any circumstances.

However, this was a meager satisfaction for Adele, who would have liked to have those letters in her hands and then...

"What an idiot!" Adele whispered with a strong gesture of spite toward Rossani, who had already left the living room.

Adele bent her face against the armchair and burst out crying, biting the armrest to silence her tears.