_The_ Viscount de Valmont _to the_ Marchioness de Merteuil.
Your orders are enchanting, and your manner of giving them still more
delightful; you would even make one in love with despotism. It is not
the first time, you know, that I regret I am no longer your slave;
and yet, monster as you style me, I recall with rapture the time when
you honoured me with softer names. I have often even wish’d again to
deserve them, and to terminate, by giving along with you an example of
constancy to the world. But matters of greater moment call us forth;
conquest is our destiny, and we must follow it: we may, perhaps,
meet again at the end of our career; for permit me to say, without
putting you out of temper, my beautiful Marchioness! you follow me
with a pretty equal pace; and since, for the happiness of the world,
we have separated to preach the faith, I am inclined to think, that in
this mission of love, you have made more proselytes than I. I am well
convinced of your zeal and fervour; and if the God of Love judged us
according to our works, you would be the patron saint of some great
city, whilst your friend would be at most a common village saint. This
language no doubt will surprise you; but you must know, that for these
eight days I hear and speak no other; and to make myself perfect in it,
I am obliged to disobey you.
Don’t be angry, and hear me. As you are the depository of all the
secrets of my heart, I will intrust you with the greatest project I
ever formed. What do you propose to me? To seduce a young girl, who
has seen nothing, knows nothing, and would in a manner give herself up
without making the least defence, intoxicated with the first homage
paid to her charms, and perhaps incited rather by curiosity than
love; there twenty others may be as successful as I. Not so with the
enterprise that engrosses my mind; its success insures me as much glory
as pleasure; and even almighty Love, who prepares my crown, hesitates
between the myrtle and laurel, or will rather unite them to honour my
triumph. Even you yourself, my charming friend, will be struck with a
holy respect, and in a fit of enthusiasm, will exclaim, This is the man
after my own heart!
You know the Presidente Tourvel, her devout life, her conjugal
love, and the austerity of her principles; that is the object I
attack; that is the enemy worthy of me; that is the point I intend to
carry. I must tell you, the President is in Burgundy, prosecuting a
considerable suit, (I hope to make him lose one of greater importance,)
his inconsolable partner is to remain here the whole time of this
afflicting widowhood. A mass each day, a few visits to the neighbouring
poor, prayers morning and evening, a few solitary walks, pious
conferences with my old aunt, and sometimes a melancholy game at whist,
are her only amusements: but I am preparing some of a more efficacious
nature for her. My guardian angel led me here for our mutual happiness.
Fool that I was! I used to regret the time that I sacrificed to the
customary ceremonies. How should I now be punished, by being obliged to
return to Paris! Fortunately there must be four to make a whist party;
and as there is no one here but the curate of the place, my eternal
aunt has pressed me much to sacrifice a few days to her; you may judge,
I did not refuse her. You can’t conceive how much she caresses me ever
since; and above all, how much she is edified by seeing me so regular
at mass and at prayers. But little does she imagine the divinity I
adore there.
Thus, in the space of four days, have I given myself up to a violent
passion. You are no stranger to the impetuosity of my desires, and
how readily all obstacles fly before me: but I’ll tell you what you
don’t know, that solitude adds immensely to the ardour of desire. I
have but one idea; I cherish it by day, and dream on’t by night. I
must possess this woman, lest I should be so ridiculous as to be in
love; for whither may we not be led by frustrated desire? Oh, delicious
enjoyment! I implore thee for my happiness, and, above all, for my
repose. How happy it is for us, that the women make so weak a defence!
Were it otherwise, we should be but their cowardly slaves. I feel
myself at this moment penetrated with gratitude towards complaisant
ladies, which, naturally leads me to you, at whose feet I prostrate
myself to obtain my pardon, and finish this already too long letter.
Adieu, my charming friend!
_Castle of ——, Aug._ 3, 17—.