Viscount de Valmont _to the_ Marchioness de Merteuil.
I received your letter yesterday at my return. Your anger is
enchanting. You could not have felt Danceny’s errors in a more lively
manner, if they had even affected yourself. It is undoubtedly for
the sake of revenge, that you accustom his mistress to commit little
infidelities: you are a mischievous creature. How delightful you are!
and I am not astonished that one can resist you less than Danceny. At
length I have gained the confidence of this hero of romance. He has
no longer any secrets with me. I much extolled the supreme happiness
attendant on an honourable passion; proved that one such passion
was infinitely superior to ten intrigues; and that even I am but a
timid lover. He was so pleased with this way of thinking, it being
so conformable to his own, and enchanted with my candour, that he
poured out his whole soul, and vowed an everlasting friendship without
reserve; however, our project is not more advanced.
At first he seemed of opinion, that a young lady should be treated more
cautiously than a woman, as having more to lose. He is particularly
persuaded, that a man is unjustifiable, who reduces a girl to the
necessity of marrying him, or living dishonoured, when the girl is
in much more affluent circumstances than the man, as is his present
case. The mother’s confidences, the daughter’s candour; every thing
intimidates and restrains him. The difficulty lies not in overruling
his arguments, however just. With the assistance of his passion, and
a little address, they might soon be overturned, being so open to
ridicule, and so opposite to fashion. But the obstacle to this having
the effect upon him is, that he thinks himself happy as he is. First
amours appear, in general, more honourable, or, as it is called, more
chaste, because they are slower, and not, as is imagined, from delicacy
or timidity: in those, the heart, astonished by an insensible instinct,
stops, as it were, to enjoy the delight it feels; and this powerful
delight takes such strong possession of a young mind, as absorbs it,
and renders it callous to every other kind of enjoyment. This axiom
is so true, that a libertine when in love, if such a being exists,
becomes from that moment less anxious of enjoyment; and to sum up all,
between the behaviour of Danceny and the little Volanges, and mine
with the prude, Madame de Tourvel, the difference is only in degree.
A few well-timed obstacles thrown in the young man’s way, might have
been serviceable; for obstacles, accompanied with mystery, have a
wonderful effect in inspiring boldness. I am apprehensive you have hurt
our scheme by being too useful to him; your conduct would have been
excellent with an experienced _man_, who had no view beyond desire: but
you might have foreseen, that a youth of honourable dispositions, and
immersed in love, the greatest value of favours, is to be proof against
love; and consequently, the more certain he might be of being beloved,
the less enterprising he would be. What is to do now, I know not; but I
am of opinion, the girl cannot be caught before marriage, and that our
labour will be lost. I am very sorry for it, but there is no remedy.
Whilst I am writing a dissertation on this business, you are better
employed with your Chevalier. That recalls to my memory your promise to
commit an infidelity in my favour; I have it in writing, and I don’t
intend it should be waste paper. I will allow, the time of payment is
not expired: it would be a generous act in you not to wait the day
fixed for discharging it; on my part, I would acknowledge myself your
debtor for the interest. What say you, my lovely friend; are not you
tired of your constancy? This Chevalier is a wonderful fellow, it
seems. But I am determined to compel you to acknowledge, that if you
found any merit in him, it arose from your having forgot me.
Adieu, my dear friend! I embrace you as ardently as I desire to possess
you. I defy all the Chevalier’s embraces to attain to an equal degree
of ardour.
_Sept._ 5, 17—.