Viscount de Valmont _to the_ Marchioness de Merteuil.
_Ye heavenly powers! I have a soul formed for sorrow; grant me one for
bliss._[1]. I think it is the tender Saint Preux, who thus expresses
himself: more equally divided than he, I at once am possessed of both.
I am, my dear friend, at once very happy and very miserable; since you
are entirely in my confidence, I will relate my pains and pleasures.
My ungrateful devotee still perseveres in her inflexibility; she has
returned me four letters unopened—not four neither, for guessing
that after the first, it would be followed by another, I resolved not
to lose my time thus, to make my mournful complaints as common-place
without a date, and since the second post, it is always the same letter
goes and comes, I only change the cover. If my fair one ends as fair
ones generally do, and will relent, at least through fatigue; she will
at length keep it: then will be the time to renew the correspondence;
you may guess this new method hurts my intelligence.—I have, however
discovered the fickle woman has changed her confidant; I am certain
at least since her leaving the castle, she has not wrote to Madame de
Volanges; but has twice wrote to old Rosemonde. As she has not said any
thing of it to us, and does not even mention her _dear fair one_, who
she was incessantly talking of, I concluded she is appointed successor:
I conjecture the necessity of talking of me on the one hand, and the
shame of again assuming with Madame de Volanges, a subject so long
disavowed, have produced this grand revolution: I am apprehensive I
shall lose by the change; for the older women grow, the more morose and
severe they are: the first would have said every thing evil of me, but
the other will say more of the evils of love; and the sensible prude
is more afraid of the passion than the Person. The only method to be
informed is, as you will observe, to put a stop to the clandestine
trade; I have already given my huntsman ample directions, and am hourly
in expectation; until then, chance rules all. For these last eight
days I have run over all manner of known methods, as also those of
romances and secret memoirs, and cannot find a precedent neither for
the circumstances of the adventure, or character of the heroine. The
difficulty does not lie in getting into her house, even at night, or
even to set her asleep as in Clarissa, but after two months of care
and trouble, to be obliged to recur to such strange methods; follow
the track others have left, and triumph without glory!—No, she shall
not have _the pleasure of vice and the honour of virtue._[2] It is not
enough to possess her, she shall give herself up: to compass this, I
must not only get in to her house, with her consent; find her alone,
and inclined to listen to me; above all, blind her on her danger, for
if she perceives it, she will overcome it or perish. The more convinced
I am what is necessary to be done, the greater I find the difficulties
in the execution; were you again to ridicule me, I will confess my
embarrassment increases the more I think of it.
I really believe I should have gone mad, were it not for the pleasing
distraction our pupil gives me; my recreations with her are an antidote
to melancholy.
Would you believe it was three whole days before your letter had any
effect on the little terrified creature? Thus one false idea is capable
of destroying the best disposition.
At length on Saturday she came about, began to mutter a few words,
in such a low tone, and so inarticulate, with shame no doubt, it was
almost impossible to understand her: her blushes, however, declared the
business; until then, I assumed a consequential air, but soon softened
by so pleasing a repentance, I condescended to promise the pretty
penitent, to go to her at night; this favour was accepted with all the
gratitude due to so great a kindness.
As I never lose sight of your schemes or my own, I resolved not to
neglect this opportunity of coming at the intrinsic value of this
child, also to accelerate her education. To be more at liberty to
prosecute this business, it was necessary to change the place of
rendezvous, for as there is only a closet which separates her room from
that of her mother’s, she could not think herself sufficiently safe to
indulge at her ease: I was determined then to contrive _innocently_,
some noise which should frighten her, and make her resolve in future to
accept a place of more safety, but she saved me the trouble.
The little thing laughs much, and to keep up her spirits, I took it
in my head between the acts, to tell her some scandalous adventures
that occurred to me; to give them a greater relish, and fix her
attention the more, I put them all to her mother’s account, who I
loaded with vice and folly. My design in this, was to encourage my
timid scholar, and inspire her with a most despicable opinion of her
mother. I have always observed, that if this method was not always
necessary for the seduction of a young girl, it is indispensable, even
the most efficacious, to vitiate her; for she who has no respect for
her mother, will never have any for herself: this moral truth, which I
think so useful, I am glad to illustrate by an example to corroborate
the precept. But your pupil, who did not dream of the moral, was every
moment ready to burst with laughing, and once had like to have broke
out. I had no difficulty to persuade her she made a great noise; I
seemed much alarmed, so did she: that it might make the impression
more forcible, I did not suffer pleasure to make its appearance again,
but left her three hours sooner than usual, after having agreed to
meet the next night in my chamber. I have already received her twice:
in this short interval, the scholar is almost as learned as the
master: yes, upon my word I have taught her every thing as far as the
compliances: I have concealed nothing but the precautions.
Being thus engaged all night, I sleep the greatest part of the day;
and as, in the present state of the castle, I have nothing to attract
me, I scarcely appear an hour in the day in the saloon. To-day I have
taken the resolution to eat in my room—shall only leave it now and
then for a short walk: those oddities will be imputed to my health;
I have declared I was _devoured with spleen_; I have also talked of
a little fever; it will be sufficient to speak in a weak and languid
voice to make that go down; and for an alteration in my countenance,
rely on your pupil, _love will provide for it_.[3] My leisure hours
are taken up with the means of regaining the advantages I have lost
over my ingrate, in competing a catechism of debauchery for the use
of my scholar, wherein I call every thing by its technical name; I
anticipate my joy on the very affecting conversation it will furnish
between Gercourt and she the first night after their marriage. Nothing
can be more diverting than the ingenuousness with which she expresses
what little she knows of this language; she does not think people ought
to speak otherwise; this is really enchanting; this contrast of simple
candour, with the style of barefaced impudence, has its effect; and I
do not know how it is, but of late nothing pleases me but oddities.
I give too much way perhaps to this, as I commit my time and health;
but I hope my feigned sickness may, besides saving me the disagreeable
tediousness of the saloon, be of service with my austere devotee, whole
ferocious virtue is still allied to tender sensibility! I make no doubt
she is by this time informed of this great event, and I have a strong
desire to know how she takes it, as I would venture to lay a wager she
will take the honour of it to herself; I shall regulate the state of my
health according to the impression it makes on her. Now, my charming
friend, you have my whole story: I wish to have more interesting news
for you; and I hope you will be persuaded, that I reckon on the reward
I expect from you as a great share in the pleasure I promise myself.
_Oct._ 11, 17—.
[1] New Heloise.
[2] New Heloise.
[3] Regnard’s Amorous Follies.