_The_ Marchioness de Merteuil _to the_ Viscount de Valmont.
Admirable, my dear Viscount! now I love you to distraction; after the
first of your two letters, I might well expect the second, which did
not much surprise me; although you were so proud of your future success
as to solicit the reward, and ask me if I was ready, I foresaw there
was no necessity for all that expedition. Yes, upon honour, perusing
the recital of your tender scene, that had _affected you so much_; and
reflecting on your modesty, worthy the most glorious days of chivalry,
I exclaimed, “The opportunity is lost!” How could it be otherwise?
What would you have a poor woman do, who surrenders, and will not be
accepted? Why, faith, in such a circumstance, appearances must be
saved, and that is only what your Presidente has done. For my part, I
very well know, the step she has taken has its effect, and intend to
follow the example on the first serious occasion that offers; but I
swear, if whoever I take this trouble for does not make a better use of
it than you have done, he may certainly renounce me for ever.
Thus are you reduced, positively, to a mere nothing! by two women, one
of which was fixed for the next day, and the other wished for nothing
so much! Well, you will be apt to think I boast, and say it is easy to
prophecy after the event; but I swear I expected it; for you really
have no genius for your profession; you barely know what you have
learned; you have no invention; when circumstances do not assist your
formalities of custom, and you are obliged to go out of the common
road, you stop short like a school-boy; to sum up all, a childishness
on the one hand, a return of prudery on the other, because they are not
every day experienced, are enough to disconcert you; you neither know
how to remedy or prevent them. Ah, Viscount! Viscount! you teach me not
to judge men by their success, and we must soon say of you, “he was
brave such a day.” When you commit blunder on blunder, why then you fly
to me—One would imagine I have nothing else to do but retrieve your
follies: it is certainly work enough for any one person.
However, as to those two adventures; the one was undertaken contrary
to my inclination;—the other, as you have paid some attention to my
wishes, I take on myself.
Read first the enclosed letter, then give it to the little Volanges;
it is more than sufficient to recall her; but I beg you will pay some
attention to this child; let us join together to make her the greatest
curse and affliction of her mother and Gercourt: there is no danger
in giving her large doses; I see plainly the little thing will not be
frightened; and, our scheme once completed, she may act as she pleases.
I shall be totally unconcerned about her. I had some thoughts of
making her a subaltern intriguer, to take her to play the second parts
under me; but I perceive she has no genius; she has a kind of foolish
openness that has not given way to the specific you administered,
which, however, seldom fails; and, in my opinion, it is the most
dangerous disorder a woman can possibly have; it marks, more than any
thing, a weakness of temper, which opposes every thing, and which is
almost always incurable; so that our time would be lost in forming
this little girl for intrigue, as, at best, she never will be more
than a comeatable woman. I don’t know any thing so insipid, as that
stupid facility, that makes a woman compliant without knowing why or
wherefore; only because she is attacked, and knows not how to resist;
those sort of women are absolutely mere machines. You will say, that
is all we want; and that is sufficient for our purpose. Be it so: but
it must not be forgot, that every one soon becomes acquainted with the
springs and contrivers of those machines; so that to use this one,
without bad consequences, we must lose no time, stop when necessary,
and afterwards break it. We shall not be at a loss to get rid of her,
and Gercourt will be ready to cloister her when we please. When he can
no longer doubt his disaster, when it will be public and notorious,
what matters it us if he revenges himself, provided he is inconsolable?
What I say of the husband, I dare say you think the same of the mother;
therefore look it as done.
This measure, which I conceive to be the best, attracted my thoughts,
made me resolve to lead on the young thing briskly, as you will
perceive by my letter; it is also of the utmost consequence not to
leave any thing in her possession that may commit us, which I beg
you will attend to. This precaution observed, I take the morality on
myself; the remainder is in your department; however, if we should
hereafter find she improves, we shall always have time to alter our
plan; which had like to have been the case, and that we should one
time or other have been employed at what we are now about; but at all
events our labour will not be lost.
I must, however, tell you, mine had like to be destroyed; and
Gercourt’s good fortune had nearly overpowered my prudence. Madame de
Volanges, in a fit of maternal fondness, was on the point of giving
away her daughter to Danceny; from thence proceeded the remarkable
tenderness you observed the _next morning_. This would have been still
one of your master strokes. Fortunately the tender parent consulted me
about it; and I expect my answer will give her a disrelish to it. I
said so much in praise of virtue, and wheedled her so well, that I am
sure she will be pleased with my reasons.
I am sorry I had not time to take a copy of my letter, for your
edification, on the austerity of my morals. You would there see how
contemptible I hold those women of depraved principles who have
lovers. Nothing so commodious, as to be a rigourist in convention; it
only hurts others, and gives us no uneasiness. Moreover, I am informed
the good lady has had her little foibles, as well as others, in her
younger days. I was not sorry to humble her conscience, at least, which
was some consolation for the praises I was obliged to give her against
my own. It was thus, in the same letter, the idea of hurting Gercourt
inspired me the resolution to speak well of him.
Adieu, Viscount! I approve much of your plan of remaining where you
are for some time. I have no means for expediting your march: but I
recommend you should employ your time with our pupil. As to myself,
notwithstanding your polite summons, you find you must still wait, and
you will agree with me it is not my fault.
_Paris, Oct._ 4, 17—.