Madame de Volanges _to the_ Presidente de Tourvel.
You wish then, Madam, that I should form a good opinion of the virtue
of Monsieur de Valmont? I own I cannot bring myself to it; and that I
should have as much difficulty to think so from the simple fact you
relate, as to believe a man of acknowledged worth to be vicious for
the commission of one fault. Human nature is not perfect in any shape,
neither in good nor evil. The profligate wretch has his virtues as well
as the virtuous man his weaknesses. This truth is so much the more
necessary to be believed, because, from thence arises the necessity of
indulgence for the wicked as well as the good; and that it preserves
these from pride, and those from being discouraged. You will, without
doubt, think that I don’t now practise the doctrine I speak; but it
appears to me a most dangerous weakness, to put the man of virtue and
the profligate on an equality.
I will not take upon me to scrutinize the motives of Mr. Valmont’s
action; I’ll even think it in itself laudable; but nevertheless, has he
not, all his life, been employed in spreading trouble, dishonour, and
scandal in families? Listen, if you will, to the voice of the unhappy
people he has relieved: but let not that prevent you from attending
to the cries of a hundred victims that he has sacrificed. If, as you
say, he was only one example of the danger of connections, would he
be the less a dangerous connection? You suppose him capable of a
happy reformation: let us go farther, suppose this miracle completed;
would not the public opinion be still against him, and ought not that
to be sufficient to regulate your conduct? God alone can absolve at
the moment of repentance; he is the searcher of hearts; but men can
judge only by actions; and no one, after having lost the esteem of
the world, has a right to complain of diffidence, which makes this
loss so difficult to be repaired. I would have you think above all, my
dear young friend, that to lose this esteem, it is sometimes enough to
seem to set little value upon it, and do not tax this severity with
injustice; for as the world has a right to think that no one renounces
this precious jewel, who has good pretensions to it, whoever is not
restrained by this consideration, is on the brink of danger. Such,
however, would be the aspect, an intimate connection with Mr. de
Valmont would carry with it, were it ever so innocent.
Alarmed with the warmth with which you defend him, I hasten to
anticipate the objections I foresee you’ll make. You’ll quote Madame
de Merteuil, whose connection with him has escaped censure; you’ll
perhaps ask me why I admit him to my house? You will tell me, that far
from being rejected by the worthy part of society, he is admitted, even
sought for, by what is called good company: I can, I believe, answer to
all.
Madame de Merteuil, who is really a very valuable woman, has, perhaps,
no other defect but that of too much confidence in her own strength;
she is a dexterous guide, who delights in driving her chariot between
rocks and precipices, in which her success alone justifies her: it is
right to praise her, but it would be imprudent to follow her; she
herself is convinced, and condemns herself for it, and as she grows in
experience, her conduct is more reserved; and I can confidently assure
you, we are both of the same opinion.
As to what relates to myself, I will not excuse it more than in others;
I admit Mr. de Valmont: without doubt he is received every where;
that is an inconsequence to be added to the many others that govern
society. You know as well as me, that we spend our lives in remarking,
complaining, and giving ourselves up to them. Mr. de Valmont, with a
pompous title, a great fortune, many amiable qualities, saw early,
that to gain an ascendant in society, it was sufficient to know how
to manage with equal address, praise, and ridicule. No one, like him,
possesses this double talent; with the one he seduces, with the other
he makes himself dreaded: he is not esteemed, but flattered. Such is
his existence in the midst of a world, that, more prudent than bold,
would rather keep on good terms with him than combat him.
But neither Madame de Merteuil nor any other woman would venture to
shut herself up in the country, almost tête-à-tête, with such a man. It
was reserved for the most discreet, and the most virtuous among them,
to set an example of such an inconsequence; pardon the expression,
it slipped from me through friendship. My charming friend, even your
virtue betrays you, by the security it inspires you with. Think, then,
on the one hand, that you will have for judges frivolous people, who
will not believe in a virtue, the model of which they cannot find
among themselves; and on the other, profligates, who will feign not
to believe in it to punish you. Consider you are now doing what many
men would be afraid to risk; for among the young men of fashion, to
whom Mr. de Valmont is now become the oracle, the most prudent seem to
dread appearing too intimately connected with him; and you are under
no apprehensions; ah, return, I conjure you! If my reasons are not
sufficient to persuade you, at least give way to my friendship; it is
it that makes me renew my instances, it is it must justify them. You
will think it severe, and I wish it may be useless; but I would much
rather you should have reason to complain of its solicitude, than its
negligence.
_Aug._ 24, 17—.