Checchina and Isolina: Female Friendship in Matilde Serao’s “La VirtÙ di Checchina”
Critics of “La virtù di Checchina,” the 1884 short story by Matilde Serao, have often taken as their starting point either the protaganist’s relationship with the seductive marchese, her bourgeois husband or even her sulky maid. But her relationship with her elegant friend, Isolina, and the role this character plays in the narrative, have rarely been treated. This critical blindspot is perhaps a result of the traditional neglect of female friendships, both in society and in literature. Critical attention has traditionally focused on male-female relationships within a text and has avoided the ties of friendship and love between female characters. In Writing a Woman’s Life, Carolyn G. Heilbrun remarks that “friendship between women has seldom been recorded” (98). This oversight seems particularly curious when dealing with Serao’s work, as her novels and short stories often focus on female characters and their friendships. Recently, Ursula Fanning examined the use of female friendship in Serao’s “Storia di una monaca,” concluding that this relationship challenges the sanctity of marriage, as well as other patriarchal institutions (285).[1]
With “La virtù di
Checchina,” Serao undermines the traditional structure of nineteenth-century
romances. According to Rachel B. DuPlessis, these romances offered two endings,
or options, for female characters: marriage or death. In their quest for
self-realization, women characters were allowed to enter into the “heroic”
plots favored by male protagonists, but their narratives still ended in
marriage or death. As DuPlessis points out in Writing beyond the Ending:
In nineteenth-century narrative, where women heroes were concerned, quest and love plots were inter-twined, simultaneous discourses, but at the resolution of the work, the energies of the Bildung were incom-patible with the closure in successful courtship or marriage. Quest for women was thus finite: we learn that any plot of self-realization was at the service of the marriage plot and was subordinate to, or covered within, the magnetic power of that ending. (6)
Serao does privilege the romantic aspect of her short story, but her treatment of it suggests a deviation from the traditional narrative ending. Marriage and death are both inapplicable to this story, and the female “quest” is internal. When Checchina attempts to embark on a romantic affair, she is not only searching for love but also for a new state of self-identification and definition. She would not be “closed” within a traditional male-female relationship, but would begin a new, more open existence in which self-assertion privileges self-sacrifice.[2] Lucienne Kroha posits that Serao’s depiction of Checchina marks the author’s attempt to create a new “type” of female character, one not limited by the literary images “femme fatale” or the “angel in the house” (59).[3]
In “La virtù di Checchina,” the complex character of Isolina has several different roles, all connected with the protagonist’s quest. It is Isolina who presents the main character to the reader, acts as a foil to Checchina’s drab existence, and gradually instills in her the desire to develop a more assertive personality. Likewise, the drama of Isolina’s illicit affair foreshadows that of Checchina’s.
Isolina’s roles are immediately established in the opening pages of the story when she visits Checchina, hoping to borrow money. The first two characters we encounter are Susanna, the highly religious and suspicious maid, and Isolina. Isolina literally calls the protagonist onto the stage with her question “C’è Checchina?” Thus she creates the scene for Checchina’s appearance and even supplies the entrance cue. This seemingly innocuous narrative technique underscores Isolina’s ability to govern a situation and reveals her dominating character.
Enter Checchina. Immediately, we are confronted with two contrasting personalities: one, a timid, mousy housewife, the other an assertive, elegant socialite. Isolina unquestionably dominates this relationship. Serao delineates their characters with a number of contrasting examples, exploring the dynamics of the friendship. The disparity between the two manifests itself instantly, through opposing “scents.” Greeted at the door by the pungent odor of furniture polish, Isolina takes refuge behind her handkerchief, from which wafts the delicious aroma of “Jockey-club.” This detail immediately places each woman into her respective social position. Isolina, with her expensive perfume, her new clothes and fine jewelry, clearly out-classes Checchina, who must clean her own furniture.
Serao’s choice of language emphasizes Checchina’s passivity and lack of identity. Isolina embodies action while Checchina personifies inaction; when Checchina first appears she is “sorridendo tranquillamente” (212). Serao repeatedly uses the word “senza” in this section in reference to Checchina. Checchina, “senza temperamento, senza avere un fremito nella bella persona,” (213) and “senza batter palpebra,” reacts submissively to Isolina’s effusions (212).
The dialogue between the two friends also reveals their different temperments. Isolina’s passion contrasts sharply with Checchina’s common sense. Checchina, after listening good-naturedly as Isolina prattles on about her new lover, a cavalry officer, replies “col suo buon senso naturale” (213). But despite Checchina’s bleak financial situation and her middle-class practicality, she is sufficiently overwhelmed by Isolina’s pleas for money to buy new clothes for her next assignation. As the money changes hands, we see how clearly Isolina controls this relationship. Also, we are first introduced to one of the story’s recurrent themes: love is expensive. Serao states, often through the voice of Isolina, how costly an affair can be for a woman.
But Checchina does manage to assert herself at one point in this scene, when she refuses to accept Isolina’s advice to change her outdated hairstyle. She steadfastly defends her bangs, a symbol of her dull but uncomplicated life. Isolina urges her to adopt her own curly hairstyle, the first indication that she wants to recreate Checchina in her own image. Isolina has little patience for a woman who has settled for such a passive, drab life. Checchina resists, not willing to leave the safety of her staid, secure existence for the more exotic one suggested by the risqué coiffure. Yet Checchina transfers her own responsiblity for the hairstyle, attributing the bangs to her maid’s inexpertise in hairdressing. “Susanna non sa fare altro,” she says (212). At the end of this scene, Checchina also refuses Isolina’s offer of help in matters of the heart, responding almost in a panic: “ ‘No, no,’ disse Checchina, presa da un lieve tremore” (214).
Isolina’s parting words foreshadow Checchina’s subsequent intrigue, and perhaps also serve as its inspiration. The declaration “L’amore è una gran bella cosa, Checchina mia,” surely lingers in the protagonist’s thoughts as she returns to the monotonous chore of polishing furniture. This short introductory scene establishes many of the themes that will be developed in following sections. For Checchina, Isolina represents freedom and beauty. Isolina appears to control her own life, and is not subservient to anyone. She has captured the affection of a cavalry officer, and now savors all the trappings of an affair: fine clothes, jewelry, billets-doux. Checchina, on the other hand, cowers before her own maid, and her relationship with her husband, as we find out, is less than rapturous.[4]
Isolina is not present in the next scene, although her influence is surely felt. We are introduced to Checchina’s husband, Toto Primicerio, a boorish doctor who trails the stench of carbolic acid wherever he goes. He announces that the marchese of Aragona will be dining with them the following Sunday. The two had met that summer when the doctor treated a slight injury suffered by the marchese, who was vacationing in the same area.
Checchina’s immediate worry is connected with the traditional female space; that is, the domestic sphere. She agonizes over what to serve for dinner and how to do it with her limited funds and kitchenware. Her sudden obsession with money echoes the theme introduced by Isolina: it costs money to “entertain” a man, whether he is a lover or a dinner guest.
At the end of her ruminations about this “grande cena,” as she absentmindedly cuts up turnips for their own dismal meal, Checchina’s thoughts focus on herself. She suddenly turns to her maid and asks: “ ‘Li sapresti fare, Susanna, i riccioli sulla fronte?’ ‘Quali riccioli,’ chiese l’altra sbalordita. ‘Come quelli di Isolina,’ mormorò la padrona, a bassa voce” (218). Through Isolina’s influence, Checchina has made her first conscious decision to change, to alter her identity in a deliberate imitation of her friend. Although the leap from a new hair style to a new personality is a large one, Checchina’s new concern with her appearance indicates that she has started her struggle to shed her subdued and passive image and substitute it for a more assertive one.
The marchese now takes over Isolina’s role as paradigm for Checchina. Isolina and the marchese are linked by their fine clothes and the scent of their perfume. “Ella [Checchina] sentì il sottile profumo che egli portava, forse nei capelli, forse nel fazzoletto: un profumo molle e dolce: le pareva di averlo sulle labbra, come un sapore di zuccherino” (219). And later, “[D]i nuovo sentiva quel molle profumo di violetta, che le dava un intenerimento ai nervi” (221). The sensuality of his “scent” suggests an assault on Checchina’s naivetà.
The marchese enthralls Checchina with his exquisite compliments, his caressing voice (an ironic contrast to Toto’s snores), his tender glances and his subtle wooing, as he describes his lonely set of rooms where incense burns and the curtains remain closed. He waits in this sumptuous setting for a female visitor: “. . . chi? Un sogno, un fantasma, una bella donna semplice e buona, che mi volesse bene, che io adorerei . . .” (222). The words “sogno” and “fantasma” indicate just what Checchina represents for the marchese: an abstract ideal of a woman. She does not exist as a person in his eyes, but rather an object to possess; she is a beautiful, pliable plaything whom he claims as his own by leaving his mark: a swift kiss on the neck. He then “baptizes” his new possession by giving her an exotic foreign name: “ ‘Vieni mercoledì, dalle quattro alle sei, vieni, Fanny,’ ” (222). Checchina, who was not persuaded by the kiss, is “vinta da quel nome” (222), by his “naming” of her.
The marchese continues his courtship by sending a bouquet of white roses, a gift that only brings trouble and anxiety. Checchina must tip the delivery boy (again, the expense of love). She would like to send a thank-you note, but does not have a proper envelope. This incident echoes that of the first scene, when Isolina spoke of her various billets-doux. Now Checchina attempts to write such a note, although she is hampered by her inexper-ience. On top of that, she has no vase large enough for the bouquet, and reluctantly agrees to Susanna’s suggestion that the flowers be given to the local parish. By placing the flowers in a church, the blooms no longer symbolize an illicit affair. Susanna warns her mistress that the scent of these luxurious blooms can be dangerous. “ ‘Stia atten-ta che la puzza dei fiori fa male al capo. Glielo avverto, perchè una signora dove ero a servizio, ne prese un mal di testa, uno sturbo da morirne,’ ” she cautions (224). The maid has realized that the flowers, or what they represent, threaten the secure, if dull, existence of her mistress.
Checchina, in fact, does feel ill, but not because of the heady scent of roses. Her perception of herself has changed, due in part to the seductive compliments of the marchese and his attempt to create a new image of her. She falls into a spiritual lassitude and cannot complete her daily household tasks. Serao’s description of Checchina’s internal quest is concise but telling. We see her bent over her needlework, “mentre le palpebre le battevano” (225). This image clearly contrasts with the docile and unresponsive Chechina of the first section, who enters “senza batter palpebre.” She drops her work on the floor, “lasciando sul vestito nero la gugliata rossa, come un filo di sangue” (225). This striking and violent image of blood evokes Checchina’s own turbulent inner struggle.
As she sits, surrounded by her needlework, her thoughts turn to the marchese and she hears again the soft murmur of his voice. She pictures herself in his opulent lodging, but is brought up short by the thought of her meager wardrobe: “Allora una grande malinconia la invase: la privazione delle cose ricche ed eleganti che aiutano e fanno risplendere la bellezza femminile” (226). She daydreams of beautiful new clothes, and even of a silver brooch that spells out “Fanny.” Resolved to take action, she starts remaking a rather pathetic and outdated hat. Her husband enters and brutally criticizes her attempts at millinery: “ ‘Ti sta male, ti sta male, ecco tutto, giacchè vuoi la verità. Era meglio l’altro’ ” (229). He restates, in his own brusque manner, Susanna’s warning about the dangers of changing identity. For this is surely what Checchina is trying to do, with her visions of new clothes and jewelry. In her study of physicality in Serao’s works, Maryse Jeuland-Meynaud posits that the act of changing clothes or appearances often reflects the first step in a conscious desire to change one’s identity (38). Checchina’s new obsession with her wardrobe is a manifestation of her quest to create a new self-image.
But Checchina, victim of Toto’s stinginess and domi-nation, cannot change her drab clothes. To make matters worse, Isolina drops by, sporting a new hat and shoes. In this brief scene, Isolina serves again as a model for Checchina’s desire to transform herself into a confident and desirable woman. But Checchina, by now almost obsessed with the idea of elegant finery, does not heed the lesson beneath Isolina’s chattering: that is, a woman often suffers financial and moral deprivations in the course of an affair. Isolina, with her talk of bribing suspicious servants, hurried and unsatisfying liaisons, and the debts incured in buying expensive apparel, indirectly warns Checchina of the high price of independence. Serao uses these material items to symbolize the dues a woman must pay for her freedom. An assertive woman, able to ignore societal prescriptions mandating female docility, must make sacrifices for her independence. Serao cautions that an assertive existence also has its incumbrances. “ ‘Non puoi credere, come si spende: è una rovina, ninuccia mia,’ ” Isolina warns Checchina (234). But Checchina sees only the promise of a brighter life, and after Isolina leaves, begins to cry, “poichè non aveva niuna di queste cose che servono all’amore” (235).
Because of Isolina’s example, Checchina has linked fine clothes with her quest for love and independence. In the stillness and safety of the night, Checchina fantasizes of a rendezvous with the marchese. She feels strong and brave as she mentally traces the path to his apartment. For the first time, we have an image of Checchina outside of her home. In this scene, Serao uses physical spatiality to underscore Checchina’s mental and emotional condition: the protagonist is trapped inside her house, just as she feels trapped in her subservient and passive individuality. Isolina, on the other hand, has freedom of movement and comes and goes as she pleases. Susan Gubar and Sandra Gilbert, in their monumental work The Madwoman in the Attic, have traced the importance of spatiality in nineteenth-century literature by women. They assert that these authors used the topos of lack of space to reflect not only physical imprisonment but a spiritual incarceration as well, one imposed by societal dictates and mores (84). By envisioning herself outside of her domestic sphere, Checchina is taking the first step in breaking the bonds that have kept her confined to the hearth.
But with the dawn, her fears return and her courage dwindles. In the daylight Checchina is ashamed once more of “la sua miseria, la sua inabilità, la sua inesperienza” (238). Toto sees his wife’s distress, but, incapable of understanding or even recognizing her emotional needs, he attributes her malaise to a physical ailment, an upset stomach or constipation. He sees her only as another one of his patients.
Checchina’s physical symptoms, however, serve a much more significant function. They mirror her emo-tional transformation. Her perception of herself has changed. While looking in the mirror, she discovers that she has “tre macchie di lentiggini sotto l’occhio sinistro” (242). Jeuland-Meynaud claims unconvincingly that this scrutiny, along with another instance in which Checchina examines herself in the mirror and sees “una figura molto meschina, molto miserabile” (242), reveals a masochistic tendency on the protagonist’s part.[5] Jenijoy La Belle’s work on the mirror motif in literature on the other hand reveals that female characters often observe themselves in a looking glass as part of the process of self-discovery. In fact, a woman’s very existence is often substantiated upon looking in the mirror (24). So Checchina’s moment in front of the mirror is more than a crisis of self-loathing. Instead, she is seeing herself in a new light, one inspired by Isolina’s assertive behavior. As a result, the question in this short story now becomes: will Checchina follow Isolina’s example or continue her increasingly unhappy life?
Friday arrives, and Checchina feels compelled to go to the assignation arranged by the marchese. But she must first overcome a series of obstacles: the disapproving looks of her maid, the disappearance of the family umbrella, the lack of a watch (Isolina suffers from the same deprivation), and finally the arrival of the washerwoman with her interminable list. The hour grows late, and Susanna suddenly decides she must accompany her mistress. Checchina at first rebels, saying: “ ‘Quando una va per la sua via, non le accade niente’ ” (246). She has finally articulated her declaration of independence, but is not strong enough to uphold it. Susanna joins her and Checchina is forced to instead make her way to Isolina’s home. Isolina is out and the two return home. Toto is already there, after having stopped at a café in an attempt to find and thank the marchese for sending a patient to him. But the marchese was not at the café; he was at home, awaiting Checchina.
Despite Checchina’s decision, the marchese does not relinquish the chase; the next day he sends Checchina an ardent note, begging her to come. Checchina once again feels ill, and once again those close to her fail to diagnose the symptoms. Instead, Susanna offers to fry some pilchards to ease her mistress’s upset stomach. Checchina takes refuge in her room, reading and rereading the marchese’s note. This time she is determined to go, again using a visit to Isolina as an excuse. But she is hardly out the door when she realizes she has left the letter in her housecoat where Susanna could accidently find it. She quickly returns home and rescues the precious note from the curious eyes of her maid. In this brief scene, Serao not only underlines Checchina’s desperate state but draws a parallel between the protagonist and Isolina, who must also worry about her maid’s curiosity. When we first meet Isolina, she describes how indebted she is to her maid, who “ ‘sa tutti i fatti miei’ ” (213). Checchina has acquired the same anxiety.
Checchina continues on her way, feeling more and more agitated. Suddenly she hears a familiar voice and sees Isolina, “vestita male, con un cappello vecchio e coi guanti ricuciti” (253). For the first time, we see Checchina on Isolina’s turf; that is, outdoors. Checchina has finally succeeded in breaking the chains that have kept her indoors and subservient. She meets Isolina as an equal.
But the image of the once smartly-dressed Isolina, now depressed and wearing mended gloves and old clothes, foreshadows not only her doomed love affair but also Checchina’s. Throughout this short story, Serao has used Isolina’s relationship with her cavalry officer to anticipate the steps of Checchina’s move toward independence and her subsequent failure. This relationship between the two characters is clearly delineated in the story’s final section.
Isolina describes her lover’s betrayal, and this time the message is clear: pain is often the price of independence. Checchina, unable to evade her friend’s curiosity, eventually confesses her own tryst. Isolina, although miffed that Checchina kept this secret from her, proceeds to offer advice. She approves of the marchese’s social position and of his love letter. Isolina’s parting words are: “ ‘Dammi un bacio, cara; siamo più che amiche, ora siamo sorelle’ ” (255-256). Isolina believes the transformation is complete: Checchina appears to have remade herself in her friend’s image. The bond is sealed by a kiss, one that echoes the swift kiss the marchese bestowed on Checchina’s neck. Isolina’s kiss signals Checchina’s initiation into her sorority.
But Checchina fails the test; she is not Isolina’s sisterly counterpart. Serao foreshadows Checchina’s uncon-summated affair in the exchange between the two women. Checchina does not want to show Isolina the marchese’s letter, but “Come sempre, subiva la volontà della persona che le era daccanto” (255). Checchina cannot fully free herself from her passivity. She will not follow Isolina’s example and consummate her affair as a symbol of her liberty. Instead, she will return to her docile existence, a subservient wife and a patient friend.
Checchina makes her way to the marchese’s apartment, but is brought up short by the sight of a porter, “alto e grosso,” guarding the entry. She tries to rally her courage, but cannot bring herself to walk past his bulk and impudent gaze. She passes in front of the door several times, but does not go in. “Allora Checchina abbassò il capo e se ne andò a casa rinunziando” (256). With this last sentence, Serao indicates that Checchina’s diffidence is stronger than her ability to assert herself. In the end, she is incapable of thrusting off years of compliancy in order to create the new, more positive persona she envisions would result from an affair.
Checchina’s quest for love is, finally, a quest for self. Isolina’s independent lifestyle provides the inspiration for this quest. Both women, however, fail to succeed in their endeavor. Isolina is deserted by her lover, and Checchina is defeated by her own inability to act. Their narratives do not end in death or marriage, but rather in a return to the limitations and desolation of their previous existence.
Works Cited
La Belle, Jenijoy. Herself Beheld: The Literature of the Looking Glass. Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1988.
Donovan, Josephine. “Beyond the Net: Feminist Criticism as a Moral Criticism,” Denver Quarterly 17 (1983): 40-53.
DuPlessis, Rachel B. Writing beyond the Ending: Narrative Strategies of Twentieth-Century Women Writers. Bloomington, IN: Indiana UP, 1985. 1-20.
Fanning, Ursula. “Sentimental Subversion: Repre-sentations of Female Friendship in the Work of Matilde Serao.” Annali D’Italianistica 7 1989: 273-86.
___. “Angel vs. Monster: Serao’s Use of the Female Double.” The Italianist 7 (1987): 63-87.
Federzoni, Marina, Isabella Pezzini and Maria Pia Pozzato. Carolina Invernizio, Matilde Serao, Liala. Intod. Umberto Eco. Florence: Il Castoro, 1979.
Gilbert, Sandra M. and Susan Gubar. The Madwoman in the Attic: The woman writer and the nineteeth-century literary imagination. London: Yale UP, 1979. 1-93.
Heilbrun, Carolyn G. Writing a Woman’s Life. New York: Ballantine Books, 1988. 96-108.
Jeuland-Meynaud, Maryse. Immagini, linguaggio e modelli del corpo nell’opera narrativa di Matilde Serao. Rome: Edizioni dell’Ateneo, 1986.
Kroha, Lucienne. “Matilde Serao’s Fantasia: An Author in Search of a Character.” Italianist 7 1987: 45-62.
Serao, Matilde. La virtù di Checchina. 1884. Naples: Liguori Editore, 1985.
Shemek, Deanna. “Prisoners of Passion: Women and Desire in Matilde Serao’s Romanzi d’Amore.” Italiana (1988): 243-53.
[1]The literary technique of using two antithetical female characters is common in Serao’s work. In her novel Fantasia, for example, the relationship between Lucia and Caterina seems more important than their relationships with their husbands and lovers. For an excellent treatment of this device, see Ursula Fanning (1987).
[2]This short story is one of the few in which Serao emphasizes the protagonist’s increasing self-awareness and development over the “love” drama. Deanna Shemek, who has studied the author’s love novels, has remarked that “Personal passione is the uncontested center of Serao’s novels” (246).
[3]For a more complete discussion of the traditional binary depiction of women in literature, see Josephine Donovan.
[4]Jeuland-Meynaud notes that in many of Serao’s short stories and novels “sembra accertato che matrimonio e piacere sessuale si escludano a vicenda” (103). Checchina and Toto offer a clear example of this observation.
[5]Umberto Eco has argued, in a short introduction to Serao’s works, that her characters are constantly defining themselves in respect to “lo squardo del maschio” (25). While that may be true in other Serao works, Checchina’s examination before the mirror seems to be more a signal of her internal awakening than a desire to refashion herself for the marchese. See Eco’s introduction to Carolina Invernizio, Matilde Serao, Liala, by Marina Federzoni, Isabella Pezzini and Maria Pia Pozzato.