Les Liaisons Dangereuses
Page 5
A CHRONOLOGY OF CHODERLOS DE LACLOS
1741
18 October: Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de Laclos born in Amiens, the capital of Picardy, where his father was a senior official; the family had had the status of nobility without a title since 1725.
1759
Became officer cadet in the artillery school of La Fère, in north-east France.
1762
Posted at his own request to the Colonial Brigade forming at La Rochelle, on Atlantic coast.
1763
End of Seven Years War ruins France’s colonial aspirations in India and Canada as well as Laclos’s hopes for foreign travel. Posted to Toul in eastern France.
1765
Posted to Strasbourg; starts writing verse (see Appendix 3 and note); at this time probably becomes a lifelong Freemason.
1769
Posted to Grenoble in south-east France, a provincial capital and important judiciary and legal administrative centre; it had the reputation of possessing an elegant and cultivated upper-class society.
1771
Received acting rank of captain.
1775
Posted to Besançon, near the Swiss frontier.
1776
Mentioned on the roll of the Military Masonic Lodge of his regiment Toul-Artillery.
1777
Made full captain. Seconded to set up an artillery school at Valence on the Rhône, where Napoleon was one of the first pupils. Comic opera Ernestine, with libretto by Laclos, adapted from a novel by Mme Riccoboni received a single performance.
1778
Posted back to Besançon. Starts work on Liaisons.
1779
Seconded for fortification work on the Île d’Aix (near La Rochelle) under the Marquis de Montalembert. Work on Liaisons interrupted in May until June of following year.
1780–2
Various leaves in Paris to continue work on Liaisons.
1782
Early April: Liaisons published in edition of 2,000; receives 1,600 livres (see note to p. 3); second edition appeared almost immediately. Scandal aroused by the novel leads to the order to return to unit at Brest, on Atlantic coast of Brittany; but quickly allowed to return to La Rochelle to continue fortification work on Aix. Starts affair with Marie-Soulange Duperré (b. 1759), daughter of a former senior official of petty nobility who had died in 1775.
1783
Begins but fails to complete his first essay on women’s education, followed shortly afterwards by a second essay, also uncompleted, on the same subject.
1784
Review in the Mercure de France of a French translation of Cecilia, an epistolary novel by Fanny Burney. Birth of Etienne-Fargeau, his son by Marie-Soulange.
1785
Elected to the Academy of La Rochelle.
1786
Publishes a letter addressed to the French Academy questioning the competence of Maréchal de Vauban (a sacred cow of the military Establishment) as a builder of fortifications. In disgrace, yet again ordered to return to unit in Metz, then La Fère. 3 May: marries Marie-Soulange.
1787
Made Knight of the Order of Saint-Louis, a nominal entitlement based on seniority.
1788
Dissatisfaction with his treatment by the army authorities grows when he fails to obtain military attaché’s post at French embassy in Turkey. Applies for indefinite leave from the army and moves to Paris, joining the staff of the Duke of Orléans, cousin of Louis XVI. The Duke’s residence was becoming the centre of political intrigue and revolutionary agitation, in which Laclos became heavily involved. Frequents one or two Parisian salons.
1789
Frequents various revolutionary clubs but is forced to leave hastily for London, with the Duke, under suspicion of being involved in organizing riots against the king in Versailles; Orléans, plotting to supplant his cousin and become Regent, adopts the title of Philippe-Égalité.
1790
On return to Paris in July joins the Jacobin Club, at that time a moderate club; its original title was Society of Friends of the Constitution. As secretary to the Jacobins, drops his aristocratic title to become Citizen Choderlos. Resigns his commission. Proposes Philippe-Égalité as Regent but shortly afterwards, as the Jacobins become increasingly violent antimonarchists, he resigns as secretary and ceases regular attendance.
1792
Despatched by War Minister to French army HQ in Châlonssur-Marne to help organize the army against invading Austro-Prussian forces but leaves before the battle of Valmy which causes them to withdraw. Rejoins the army as Brigadier-General in the infantry, appointed Chief of General Staff of the army in the Pyrenees, but immediately recalled; appointed Governor-General of the French settlement near the Cape of Good Hope; this appointment too is cancelled almost immediately.
1793
Arrested with other supporters of Philippe-Égalité; imprisoned, released, rearrested, again released. For some weeks conducts experiments with his brilliant invention of the hollow artillery shell to replace the solid cannon-ball. 5 November: rearrested and imprisoned. 7 November: Philippe-Égalité executed. Expecting the same fate, Laclos sends a lock of his hair to his wife as a memento and consoles himself by reading Seneca.
1794
5 April: Laclos’s protector Danton executed. 1 December: Laclos released; lives in Paris.
1795
Appointed Secretary-General of Mortgages, a post held till 18 Brumaire (9 November) 1799, when Napoleon seizes power as First Consul.
1799
Applies to be recommissioned as Brigadier-General in the artillery.
1800
Application approved; posted to Rhine Army as second-in-command of the artillery reserve; present but not actively involved at battles of Biberach and Memmingen. Moved to second-in-command of Royal Army Service Corps (Mines) at Grenoble, and ordered to Italy. 15 December: placed in command of the reserve artillery of the French army in Italy.
1801
Peace signed between French and Austrian forces in Italy; again frustrated, Laclos leaves Italy and returns to Paris.
1802
Appointed Inspector-General of Artillery. Posted as Artillery Commander in Saint-Domingue (Haïti); posting rescinded two days later.
1803
Appointed Artillery Commander of the French Army of Observation in the States of Naples, an appropriate, relatively important, command at last. 14 July: arrives in Taranto, southern Italy. 5 September: dies from the effects of dysentery and malaria.
LES LIAISONS DANGEREUSES
PUBLISHER’S FOREWORD
We feel in duty bound to warn our readers that, despite the title and the editor’s comments in his preface, we cannot guarantee the authenticity of these letters. We even have strong reasons to suspect that this is a work of pure fiction.
Furthermore, it seems to us that although the author claims to be trying to achieve credibility, he has himself crassly vitiated his own claim by his choice of the period in which these events are set. A number of his characters are so immoral that it is impossible to imagine them living in this century, this philosophical century in which, as we all know, universal enlightenment has made all men so honourable and all women so modest and reserved.
In our view therefore, if the adventures here related have any basis in truth, they can only have occurred at other times and in other places. We strongly condemn the author, no doubt misled by the hope of making his work more interesting by situating it closer to our times, for having had the audacity to portray people with morals so foreign to our own in modern dress and with our social customs.
In order at least to protect, as far as lies within our power, any over-gullible reader from being hoodwinked in this way, we support our contention with this argument, put forward with every confidence since it seems to us decisive and indisputable: although it is certain that identical causes would produce identical effects, we never see, in this day and age, any girl with a private income of si
xty thousand francs* a year taking the veil nor the young and pretty wife of a presiding judge dying of grief.
EDITOR’S PREFACE
Although our readers may perhaps find this work, or rather this collection of letters, still somewhat lengthy, it nevertheless represents a very small proportion of those included in the total correspondence from which they have been extracted. When I was commissioned to collate these letters by the persons into whose possession they had come and who, as I was aware, were intending to have them published, my only request in return for my effort was to be allowed to prune anything which I considered superfluous.
In fact, I have retained only those letters which seemed to me necessary for the understanding of the events or the development of the characters. Apart from this straightforward task, I classified the letters which I had selected almost without exception in chronological order,* and finally provided a few brief notes, chiefly with the aim of indicating the source of a few quotations or justifying some of the excisions I had ventured to make. This was all that I was required to do and I played no further part in the production of this work.*
I had suggested making greater changes, very largely relating to correctness of style or turn of phrase which, as can be seen, leave much to be desired. I should also have welcomed the opportunity to be allowed to abridge some excessively long letters, a number of which deal, almost without any transition, with separate, quite unconnected matters.* This suggestion, which was rejected, while doubtless not adequate to make this a work of real value, might at least have removed some of its imperfections.
It was pointed out to me that it was the letters themselves which it was intended to make public and not just a work based on them and that it would be unlikely, as well as misleading, for all the eight or ten people involved in the correspondence to write equally correctly. When I replied that this was anything but the case and that not one of the writers had failed to make crass mistakes which readers would be bound to criticize, I was told that any sensible person would naturally expect to find errors in a collection of letters written by ordinary people, since in all similar collections by different, highly regarded authors, not even excluding some Academicians,* none would be entirely exempt from such criticism. These reasons did not succeed in convincing me; I considered and still consider them easier to put forward than to accept; but since the matter was beyond my control, I did not persist, merely reserving my right to protest and make it quite clear that this was not my view, as I now wish to place on record once again.
It is perhaps no business of mine to discuss the possible value of this work since my opinion neither can nor will influence anyone else’s. However, those who like to know more or less what they can expect before they begin may read on; the others will do better to start reading the text straight away; they do not need any further explanation.
First of all, may I say that, while admitting that I advised publication of this correspondence, I am very far from expecting it to be a success. This is an honest opinion which must not be seen as false modesty on the part of an author, for I must state equally frankly that, had this work not seemed to me worth Publishing, I should not have become involved in it. Let us try to resolve this apparent contradiction.
The value of a work lies either in its usefulness or in the pleasure it gives or even in a combination of the two, if it is capable of providing them. But its success, which is not necessarily a proof of its value, depends more often on the choice of subject than on its realization, on its general content rather than on the way it is handled. Now since this collection comprises, as its title* indicates, letters from a whole social group, it represents a diversity of interests which weakens the interest of the reader. Moreover, since almost all the feelings expressed in it are contrived or disguised, they cannot even arouse anything more than curiosity which is always inferior to true feeling and which above all leads us to be less indulgent and makes us all the more aware of its particular faults inasmuch as the latter constantly undermine our only motive for wishing to read it.
These weaknesses can be redeemed to some degree by a quality inherent in the nature of the work, its diversity of styles,* a quality which an author finds it difficult to achieve but which here occurs naturally and which at least rescues it from boring uniformity. More than a few readers may also find some interest in the not inconsiderable number of observations,* novel or unfamiliar, scattered throughout these letters. To my mind, even looking at these letters in the most favourable light, this is also the sole enjoyment which a reader can hope to find.
However, the work’s usefulness, which may perhaps be even more strongly challenged, appears to me easier to establish. It seems to me, at least, that morality is served by unmasking the methods used by those with bad morals to corrupt those whose moral standards are high, and I think that these letters can contribute effectively to this aim. They also contain examples and proofs of two important truths which, seeing how poorly they are applied, we must suspect of being little known: first, that any woman who agrees to consort with an immoral man will end up as his victim; secondly, that any mother who allows anybody but herself into her daughter’s confidence is, to say the least, unwise. Young people of both sexes could also learn that any friendship which persons of loose morals seem so ready to offer them is never anything but a fatal trap, as disastrous for their happiness as for their moral welfare. However, the fact that goodness is separated from its abuse by such a narrow margin creates grave dangers and, far from recommending young people to read this book, I consider it most important to keep all such works away from them. The age at which such works may stop being dangerous and become useful seems to me to have been very well defined, as far as her sex is concerned, by one good mother, not only intelligent but sensible, who said to me: ‘Having read this correspondence in manuscript, I should think that I was doing my daughter a real service by giving her this book on her wedding day.’ If all mothers with families think the same, I shall be eternally glad to have published it.
But though I maintain this favourable view, I still think that few people are likely to enjoy this collection. Depraved men and women will consider it in their interest to discredit a work which may do them harm and since they are no fools, they may be astute enough to enlist the support of strict moralists alarmed by this fearless portrayal of immorality.
So-called free-thinkers will have no interest whatsoever in a pious woman since they will consider her a namby-pamby, while the pious will be annoyed to see a virtuous woman’s downfall, and protest that religion is depicted as lacking in strength.
For their part, fastidious readers will find the over-simple and incorrect style of some letters not to their taste while the ordinary reader, persuaded that anything printed is the result of a certain effort, will imagine that in some of the other letters they can detect the laboured style of an author who is visible behind the character he is portraying.
Finally, it will perhaps be fairly widely remarked that there is a time and a place for everything and if an over-polished literary style would indeed normally deprive private letters of some of their charm, slovenly writing leads to outright errors which are quite unacceptable in print.
I frankly admit that these strictures may all be justified; I also believe that it would be possible for me to reply to them, even within the limited space of a preface. But people are bound to think that if it seems necessary to provide an answer to everything, the work must be inadequate to provide any answer itself; and that if I had held that view, I would have dispensed with this preface and the book as well.
LES LIAISONS DANGEREUSES
PART I
1
Cécile Volanges to Sophie Carnay at the Ursuline Convent* of—–Paris, 3 August 17—
Well, Sophie dear, as you see, I’m keeping my word and not spending all my time on bonnets and bows, I’ll always have some to spare for you! All the same, I’ve seen more frills and furbelows in this one single day than I ever s
aw during the whole four years we spent in the convent. I think that stuck-up Tanville girl* will be more peeved on my first visit to you—and I’m certainly going to ask for her!—than she thought she made us when she used to call on us in fiocchi.* Mummy’s consulting me about everything, she’s not treating me half as much like a schoolgirl as she used to. I’ve got my own maid, a room and a study for my own use, and I’m sitting writing this letter at a very pretty secretaire—they’ve given me the key and I can lock away anything I like. Mummy’s told me I can come and see her every morning while she’s getting up and that I don’t need to put my hair up properly till dinner-time* because we’ll always be on our own and then she’ll tell me every day when I’m to come and see her in the afternoon. The rest of the time I’m free to do whatever I like and I’ve got my harp, my sketch-pad, and my books, just like at the convent, only Mother Perpétue won’t be there to tell me off and it’s up to me whether I want to spend all day doing nothing; but as I haven’t got you to have a chat and giggle with, Sophie dear, I’d as soon be doing something.
It’s not five o’clock yet and I’m due to see Mummy at seven so there’s lots of time if there’s anything to tell you! But nobody’s said anything yet; and apart from all the preparations I can see being made and all the dressmakers who keep coming just for me, I wouldn’t guess they’re thinking of finding a husband for me and would think that it’s just another bit of dear old Joséphine’s* nonsense. However, Mummy’s told me so often that a girl ought to stay in the convent till she gets married that as they’ve taken me away Joséphine must be right.