I have the honour to be your obedient humble servant.
168
Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 11 December 17—
Dear friend, there are some most surprising and extremely unpleasant rumours circulating here concerning Madame de Merteuil. You may be sure that I am far from believing them and would stake a great deal on their being nothing but wicked slander but I know so well how easy it is for such mischievous reports, however implausible, to gain credence and how hard it is to stifle them, not to be very much alarmed, even if I think they may be easy to squash. Above all, I should like them to be stopped early on before they can spread. I only heard yesterday of these dreadful things which people are beginning to hawk around; and when I sent someone round to Madame de Merteuil’s this morning, she had just left for the country where she will be spending a couple of days. They weren’t able to say exactly where she will be staying. I sent for her second maid to come and talk to me and she told me that her mistress’s only instructions were to expect her back next Thursday; and none of the servants she has left behind here knows anything more. As for me, I can’t suppose where she may be; I don’t know anybody amongst her acquaintances who stays on in the country as late as this.
However that may be, you will, I hope, be able to obtain between now and her return further information that may be helpful to her. These odious rumours are based on the circumstances surrounding Monsieur de Valmont’s death; you will obviously have been told if these are true or it will at least be easy for you to find out if such is the case and I would ask you, as a favour, to do so. What people are saying or rather, as yet whispering—but it won’t be long before it becomes a hue and cry—is this:
The quarrel between Monsieur de Valmont and the Chevalier Danceny was brought about by Madame de Merteuil and she was deceiving the pair of them, so that, as almost always happens, the two rivals started by fighting each other and didn’t discover the whole story until afterwards, whereupon they were completely reconciled; and in order to give the Chevalier Danceny a full account of Madame de Merteuil as well as to justify himself beyond any shadow of doubt, Monsieur de Valmont also produced a large number of letters representing a regular correspondence which he had been conducting with her in which she recounts, in the most abandoned terms, the most scandalous anecdotes concerning herself.
It is also alleged that in his first moment of anger, Danceny released these letters to anyone who wanted to see them and that they are currently circulating throughout Paris. Two in particular are being quoted;* one in which she gives a full account of her life and principles and which is said to be the abomination of abominations; the other one contains a complete justification of Monsieur de Prévan, whose story you will recall: it proves that, contrary to the general belief, all he did was to yield to Madame de Merteuil’s flagrant advances and that their rendezvous had been concerted with her.
Fortunately I have the strongest possible grounds for thinking that these imputations are as false as they are odious. In the first place we both know that Monsieur de Valmont was certainly never involved with Madame de Merteuil and I have every reason to believe that Danceny wasn’t involved with her either. It seems to me that this proves that she cannot have been either the subject or the instigator of the quarrel. Nor can I understand what possible interest Madame de Merteuil, supposedly in agreement with Monsieur de Prévan, could have had in causing a scene which was bound to lead to a great scandal and indeed might have proved dangerous for her, since she would be making an irreconcilable enemy of a man who knew part of her secrets and who had at that time large support. However, it must be noted that since that affair not a single voice has been raised on his behalf and that even he has made no claims.
These considerations incline me to suspect that he is the source of the current rumours and to view these foul insinuations as the product of his hatred and vengeance, hoping at least to raise some doubts and perhaps provide a suitable diversion. But wherever these vicious reports may be emanating from, the most urgent thing is to demolish them. They would collapse of their own accord if it turns out, as is likely, that Monsieur de Valmont and the Chevalier Danceny did not speak to each other at all after their unfortunate encounter and that no letters had changed hands. Being anxious to get to the bottom of this matter as soon as possible, this morning I sent over to Monsieur Danceny’s but he’s not in Paris either. His servants told my man that he left last night, acting on advice which he received yesterday, and that his whereabouts are being kept secret. He is obviously alarmed by the consequences of his duel. So, dear friend, I am entirely reliant on you for the details that interest me and which may become so necessary for Madame de Merteuil. I do beg you once again to let me have them as soon as possible.
My daughter’s indisposition has had no further consequences;* she sends you her regards.
169
The Chevalier Danceny to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 12 December 17—
Madame, you may perhaps think it very strange of me to approach you in this manner but I earnestly beg you to listen to me before condemning me and not to regard my action as impertinence or presumption; it springs purely from my trust and my respect. I am fully conscious of the harm which I have inflicted on you and I should feel guilty for the rest of my life were I for one moment to think that I might have been able to avoid doing so. You may even rest assured that while I consider myself free from blame, I am not free from regret; and may I further add, in all sincerity, that a great deal of my own grief comes from the thought of the grief I have occasioned you. In order that you may be convinced of the sincerity of these feelings which I am making bold to express, it will be sufficient for you merely to do yourself justice and to realize that, though not having the honour of being known to you, I nevertheless have the honour of knowing you.
However, whilst I am bewailing the cruel fate which has caused you such grief and me such misfortune, I have been led to fear that you yourself are intent solely on revenge and were looking to satisfy it even by recourse to the rigours of the law.
I ask you to allow me to observe that in this you are being misled by your grief, since in this matter my interests and those of Monsieur de Valmont are closely linked, and that he himself would be implicated in any condemnation that you succeeded in obtaining against myself. I should think, therefore, that instead I may be able to rely on you, Madame, to assist rather than oppose any efforts I may have to make to ensure that this unfortunate incident never sees the light of day.
However, my conscience will not be appeased by mere collusion, which suits innocent and guilty alike; so while I do not want you as my plaintiff, I appeal to you to be my judge. The esteem of those whom we respect is too valuable for me to allow yours to be taken from me without defending myself and I think I have the means to do it. Indeed, if you share with me the belief that revenge is legitimate, in fact a duty when our love, our friendship, and particularly our trust have been betrayed, then you will cease to think I have done anything wrong. You do not need to trust what I say; if you have the courage, then read this correspondence that I am passing over to you herewith.* The large number of original letters seems to guarantee the authenticity of those which are copies. Moreover, I received them in exactly the same state as I am handing them over to you from Monsieur de Valmont himself. Nothing has been added and I have retained only two letters which I have taken the liberty of making public. One of them was necessary for Monsieur de Valmont’s and my revenge; we both had the right, and he expressly requested me, to do this. I also thought that I should be doing society a real service in unmasking such a positively dangerous woman as Madame de Merteuil who, as you will see, is the true cause of everything that transpired between Monsieur de Valmont and myself.*
It is this same sense of justice which has impelled me to publish the second letter to justify Monsieur de Prévan whom I scarcely know but who in no way deserved the harsh treatment inflicted on him nor the even crueller public co
ndemnation which he has been enduring ever since without any chance of vindicating himself.
So you will find only copies of those two letters; I owe it to myself to keep the originals. As for the rest, I think I could not place this collection in safer hands since it is important for me that it should not be destroyed, though I should be ashamed to take unfair advantage of it. In entrusting these papers to your care, Madame, I believe I am serving the best interests of all those involved as well as I should be in handing them back to the persons concerned; I shall spare them the embarrassment of receiving them from me and thus of knowing that I am familiar with episodes in their lives which they are anxious never to be disclosed.
In this regard I think I should warn you that the enclosed are only part of a much larger correspondence from which Monsieur de Valmont extracted them in my presence and which you will find when the seals are lifted, under the heading, as I saw, of: Account opened between the Marquise de Merteuil and the Vicomte de Valmont. On those letters please take any decision you think appropriate.
I remain, Madame, with deep respect, yours, etc.
PS Following certain warnings and advice from friends I have decided to remove myself from Paris for a while and seek refuge in a place which I intend to keep secret from everybody but yourself. Should you be honouring me with an answer to this letter, please send it to the Commandery of ——, near P ——, addressed to the Knight Commander of ——.* It is from his residence that I am writing to you.
170
Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 13 December 17—
I am being jolted, dear Madame, from surprise to surprise and faced by one problem after another. Only a mother can have any idea of what I have been through in the course of this morning and if my most urgent fears have been allayed, I am still terribly worried and I can see no end to my miseries.
Yesterday morning at about ten o’clock, surprised at having seen nothing of my daughter, I sent my maid up to discover the reason for her lateness. After a moment she came back looking very alarmed and scared me even more by announcing that my daughter was not in her rooms and that her maid hadn’t seen her all that morning. Imagine my situation! I summoned all my servants and in particular my door-keeper: they all swore they knew nothing and couldn’t give me any information about what had happened. I immediately went up to my daughter’s bedroom. It was so untidy that it was plain that she had certainly left only that morning but apart from that I was unable to deduce anything. I went through her wardrobes and secretaire; everything was in order and all her clothes were there except for the dress she had put on to go out. She hadn’t even taken the small amount of money which she keeps in her room.
As she had heard the gossip about Madame de Merteuil only yesterday and is very fond of her, so much so that she had spent the whole evening in tears; and as I remembered too that she didn’t know that Madame de Merteuil had gone down into the country, my first thought was that she intended to call on her friend and had foolishly gone there unattended. But as time passed and she did not return, I once again became as alarmed as ever. But while I was growing more worried every minute and extremely anxious to obtain information, I was afraid to do so because I dreaded the thought of arousing too much attention as to her actions which I might later regret not having kept to myself. I really never have been so upset in all my life.
In the end it wasn’t until after two o’clock that I received a letter from her at the same time as one from the Mother Superior of the convent of ——. My daughter’s letter merely said that she was afraid that I might have prevented her from doing what she had decided to do; that she felt she had a vocation, wanted to take the veil, and hadn’t dared to tell me. The rest of the letter consisted of excuses for having taken this step without my permission but which, she added, she was sure I would not disapprove were I to know her motives, which she begged me however not to ask her to disclose.
The Mother Superior reported that, seeing a young person arriving alone, she had first refused her admission and then after questioning her and discovering who she was, she thought that she would be doing me a service by initially offering her shelter so that she would not need to continue her wanderings as she seemed bent on doing. The Mother Superior naturally offers to send my daughter back to me if I ask for her but, as was her duty, urges me not to stand in the way of a vocation which she describes as very positive; she adds that she had not been able to inform me earlier of this incident because it had been difficult to persuade the girl to write to me, as my daughter was anxious, so she says, for no one to know where she had sought refuge. Ah, the dreadful foolishness of children!
I immediately went to the convent, saw the Superior, and asked to see my daughter; she was very reluctant to come and very scared. I spoke to her in front of the nuns and then alone; the only thing I could get out of her, apart from floods of tears, was that she could only feel happy in a convent; I decided to let her stay there but not yet as a postulant, as she wanted. I am afraid that the deaths of Madame de Tourvel and Monsieur de Valmont have been too great a shock for her young head. However much I respect the religious vocation, I should feel sorry and indeed apprehensive were she to embrace it. It seems to me that we already have enough duties to perform without adding to them; and moreover, she is hardly likely to know what suits her at her age.*
My embarrassment is made all the greater by the imminent return of Monsieur de Gercourt: will it be necessary to break off this most attractive match? How can we provide for our children’s happiness when it is not sufficient for us merely to wish to secure it and devote all our efforts to achieving it? I should be so grateful if you could tell me what you would do in my place. I can think of nothing more frightening than having to make a decision that will settle the fate of other people and in this case I’m equally afraid of acting either too sternly as a judge or too weakly as a mother.
I keep reproaching myself for adding to your troubles by talking about mine; but I know how kind-hearted you are: any comfort you could bring to others would be of equally great comfort to yourself.
Goodbye, dear, valued friend. I am looking forward most eagerly to hearing your answers to my two questions.
171
Madame de Rosemonde to the Chevalier Danceny From the Château de —–, 15 December 17—
Now I have read what you tell me, Monsieur, I can only take refuge in silence and tears. When we learn such monstrous things, we can only regret still being alive; when we see a woman capable of such enormities, we blush for our sex.
For my part I am only too ready to consign to silence and oblivion everything connected with these events, now or in the future. I even hope that you will suffer no further distress through them than that inevitably resulting from having had the better of my poor nephew. In spite of his wrongdoing which I cannot but acknowledge, I feel that I shall never be able to reconcile myself to his loss; but the only revenge I shall allow myself to take on you will be to mourn him for ever and I shall leave it to your heart to appreciate how deeply that will be.
If you will permit an old woman to pass a reflection rarely made to the young, I would say that if we truly understood where our happiness lies, we should never look for it outside the bounds laid down by law and by religion.
You may rest assured that I shall keep strict guard over the letters you have entrusted to me but I ask you to authorize me not to hand them over to anyone, not even to you unless you require them to justify yourself. I venture to hope that you will not refuse my request, and that you no longer feel that seeking revenge, however justified, often leads to remorse.
I am so convinced of your generosity and delicacy of feeling that this is not the last of my requests: these two qualities would be even more admirable if they made it possible for you to let me have Mademoiselle de Volanges’s letters which you seem to have kept, though they doubtless have no further interest for you. I know that this young person has wronged you badly but I do not imagine that
you are thinking of punishing her for that; and if only out of self-respect, you will not want to blacken the character of someone whom you loved so much. So I do not need to point out that while the daughter doesn’t deserve any consideration, at least her mother certainly does; she is a most respectable woman to whom you perhaps owe considerable amends since, however much someone may delude himself by parading his delicate feelings, none the less when he is the first man to try to seduce a simple well-bred young girl, he is by that very action starting her on the downward path and must be held responsible for her later moral aberrations and dissolute behaviour.
You must not be surprised, Monsieur, at the stern note I am sounding: it is the best proof that I can offer you of the extremely high regard in which I hold you and you will stake further claim to it by agreeing to my wish to maintain secrecy in a matter which, should it become public knowledge, would not only harm you but be a death-blow to a mother’s heart which has already suffered through you. This is a service, Monsieur, which I wish to render to my dear friend Madame de Volanges and if I were to have the slightest doubt that you would refuse this request of mine, I would ask you to reflect beforehand that this is the only consolation that you have left me.
I have the honour to be etc.
172
Madame de Rosemonde to Madame de Volanges From the Château de —–, 15 December 17—
If, as you asked, I had been obliged to send, and wait, for the further details about Madame de Merteuil to arrive from Paris, it wouldn’t yet have been possible to let you have them and they would certainly have been vague and indefinite; however, I have received information which I did not and had no reason to expect and this information is all too definite. Ah, dear friend, how grievously has that woman deceived you!
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 46